A/N: This is the last chapter that can go here. If you have any suggestions for where I can take this from here that CAN be published, I'd love to hear it, but as I said, this thing has no plot. As before, if you want the rest, email me and I'll attach it—but I only have MS Word on this thing, so if you're running a Mac system, you're out of luck.

That oaf had marked her.

Aoshi didn't know when it had happened, but Misao's neck was dotted with small black bruises. Inexperienced idiot, he thought.

She had her hair down so it swung against her hips, a shiny curtain he could barely see through. It was only when she flung it back with a sharp, impatient toss of her head that he caught sight of the bruises.

She was moving differently, too, in spite of the fact that she'd changed back into her ninja outfit, and her spirit was low. What had she done? It was on the tip of his tongue, an enraged shout: What did you do, what did you do, you little fool?

He had vowed to show her through his actions how he felt about her, but his body was tense with suspicion and anger, and his tongue was tied by the unasked question. He wanted to press her against the wall as he'd done last night and kiss her and kiss her until she was gasping and out of breath and wide-eyed and would tell him anything he wanted to know—but he couldn't. The mood he was in, he would hurt her. What did you do, did you give yourself to him, to someone who wasn't me? Misao, do you really not love me anymore?

Well, whatever she had done, it had not made her happy. That idiot fool Tadoko. She was almost bristling with irritation and pent-up frustration. If she had really given herself to him and if he had not devoted hours to her pleasure, he, Aoshi, was going to kill him.

He was going to kill someone. He couldn't remember the last time he'd tasted this flat, cold rage in his mouth, like the taste of steel.

Misao finished the tea and set it in front of him. Normally, she'd be chattering away, but her face was pale and her eyes had dark circles under them. He wasn't in the mood to talk, anyway, and the only thing he wanted to hear out of her was an explanation.

Did I drive you to him? Did you feel like you had to prove something, Misao? Did I cause you even more pain?

"I broke up with Tadoko," she said flatly.

He wasn't expecting that. Suddenly the marks on her neck and her slow body movements took on a different significance. If Tadoko had dared to hurt her—wait. Aoshi took a breath. There was no way that bony gantry of a boy could possibly land a hit on Misao if she did not allow it. Still.

"Why?" he asked.

"You know why."

But she didn't sound happy about it. She fidgeted with the tea tray, making the clay cups clatter. "Misao, please stop," Aoshi said. "Look at me."

She straightened her spine and met his eyes. Hers were huge with sadness.

"Did you really love him that much?" Aoshi asked.

She shook her head no, her bangs sweeping across her bruised eyes.

"Then why do you look so tragic?"

"Because, Aoshi... I did something... very stupid."

Aoshi drew in another deep breath and held it as he waited. His hands fisted on his thighs.

"I—I gave away... s-something that belonged to you." Her eyes filled with tears, overfilled. She stared at him through a turquoise shimmer as tears slipped free of her lower lids to run down her face. "It wasn't worth it. I didn't like it much; I wasn't very good at it. I'm sorry—"

Aoshi shot to his feet. Wasn't worth it. Didn't like it. No deficiency in his Misao for that one—he knew well the energy and passions running through that tiny frame. All Tadoko, that fool, who doubtless rushed and was selfish. His first instinct was to find him, possibly turn the oaf into confetti. His second, revised urge was to punch something, like a wall. He went with his third, which was to go to Misao and wrap his arms around her.

Unaccountably, she fought him, twisting in his arms like an angry cat, wailing. He caught fragments here and there, nonsense: I don't deserve you and I betrayed you and such.

"Misao, shut up," he said.

She quietened, staring up at him with those flat, unhappy eyes. Tears beaded on her lashes.

"Listen to me carefully, Misao," he said. "Am I angry? Yes. I'm angry you didn't believe me last night. I'm angry you think I would stop caring for you just because you made an error in judgment, or that I place more value on your maidenhead than I do on you."

"But—"

"I said shut up and listen," Aoshi said, pitching his voice to its very coldest level. It stunned her, and she listened, her face all eyes. "I'm extremely angry that you allowed Tadoko one minute of your time, let alone rights to your body. But more than that, and above all that, I'm angry at myself, because I allowed your first experience to be a negative one."

She murmured a negation and turned her face against his chest. He gathered her up onto his lap, cradling her. Her hair smelled like ginseng. She'd bathed today, of course, to wash the experience off her body.

His fault. All his fault. Aoshi winced and pressed his cheek against her hair as she shook with sobs against him. He'd had more than enough opportunities to take her the way she should have been taken. He'd allowed her to be mishandled, and this was the result.

"I still mean everything I said last night," he said against her hair. "There is nothing you can do to change my mind, Misao. Because you can have any man in the world, but for me, there's only you. Please believe me this time."

The words were torn from him, but once they were out, he realized their truth.

Her tears subsided to small snuffles against him. She looked up into his eyes. With her hair down and slicked back from her face by his arms, she looked like a kitten. He felt the corners of his mouth curve upwards and was, for a moment, confused; then he realized.

He was smiling.

He smiled down at her, his green eyes no longer icy with rage, but gentle and warm like his arms.

He tipped his head down and brushed his lips against hers, once, twice; she followed the motion of his head, asking for more, but he always maintained the lightest contact. She trembled in his arms, the now-familiar thrum beginning in her lower belly.

"I'm sorry for everything," he said softly. "I'm going to make it up to you." He smiled again, a brief grin this time, showing a flash of teeth. "I'll start right now."

"Aoshi—I'm still sore—"

His eyes went cold and narrow again. "That idiot," he muttered, but it was only to himself. To her, he said, his lips still touching hers, "Misao-mine, there are many, many ways of loving."

"As many ways as throwing kunai?" Her voice was low and sleepy-sounding against his mouth. She smiled, remembering the years of training. Aoshi murmured assent and she said, "Mmm. I look forward to training then."

Aoshi kissed her then, gently covering her open mouth with his, waiting for the first shy flick of her tongue to respond in kind with slow, soft sweeps. This was how she'd wanted to be kissed. He tasted dark and velvety and spicy, like his scent, and his tongue stroked and teased her own.

She stretched in his arms, winding hers around his neck. That brought her breasts into contact with his chest, and she twisted, rubbing their sensitive, aching tips against him. Everything ached now, all through the center of her body—a hot white jolt of sensation from her mouth all the way down to her core.

Aoshi made a satisfied purring sound in his throat even as his breath began to break, making her body ache even more.

One hand cradled the back of her head against the force of his kiss; the other went between their bodies, finding and cupping one full breast through the cloth of her top. If Misao had still had doubts about whether he truly wanted her, they disappeared shortly after that. She shifted her body, drawing one leg over him so she faced him fully, no longer cradled by him, but straddling him. His arousal pressed against her, and although there was still a slight soreness, the pleasure she felt when she moved against him more than made up for it.

"Slow down, greedy one," Aoshi said softly, breaking the kiss.

She couldn't. "Give it back," she murmured.

"What? Give what back?" His voice was smoky, teasing.

She drew back to look him in the eyes, pouting. "Your mouth."

Aoshi's eyes turned absolutely wicked. "Don't worry. You're going to have it."