Two hours ago Nichika received this text from Mikoto:

Come over as soon as you can.

To start off, Mikoto doesn't text first. She hardly texts at all, really. Getting more than a three word response to anything Nichika sends her is cause for celebration.

(Nichika has decided this is simply a result of her being a youkai. She doesn't even know how old Mikoto really is, anyway—it's entirely possible she views cell phones about the same as one of Nichika's elderly relatives. Though, Mikoto has only one tail... Would that make her relatively young in fox years?)

And second, Mikoto is never so demanding. At least—not with her words. Her hands and mouth are a different story.

Nichika's only conclusion is that Mikoto must be seriously sick. (Can youkai get sick? And if they do, would human remedies even work on them? Nichika doesn't know.)

So here she is, standing in front of Mikoto’s door, carrying a backpack full of everything she could possibly need for an overnight visit, and a plastic bag with ingredients for miso soup.

It's not the first time Nichika's been to Mikoto's apartment. She's lost count of how many times she's been over now, actually. Half a year ago, she'd been intent on keeping track, committing all the details of every visit to memory. But staying over becoming so routine that she lost track is also wonderful, in its own way.

The thing is, though—all the other times Nichika has been by, she's been with Mikoto, going back to her place after work, or a date.

It's the first time Nichika's ever stood in front of this door and had to knock. She does, twice—not too loud, if Mikoto is sick she might be sleeping.

There's no immediate response.

After a minute or so passes, Nichika reaches around to fish her phone out of her backpack.

I'm here. Are you awake?

She's gotten better about not panicking over every single thing she sends Mikoto. Especially now it's become clear Mikoto probably, truly, just doesn't think about it much.

The message doesn't go through. Mikoto's phone must be dead.

Nichika feels anxiety starting to set in, and knocks again—louder this time. Even if it means waking Mikoto up, at least Nichika will know she's alive.

No answer.

Nichika reaches into her coat pocket for the additional keyring she always carries with her. Unlike the other one, with keys to her house, to the office, the storage rooms at Tower Records—this one houses only a single key, along with a kitsune mask keychain to keep it company.

Mikoto gave it to Nichika only the second or third time she stayed over. She'd been reluctant to accept it—Isn't this moving a little fast?—but Mikoto insisted. As their relationship deepened, Nichika realized that it may be less that Mikoto moves fast, and more that—perhaps, subconsciously—she's been lonely, for a very long time.

Nichika slides her key into the lock. When it turns easily, she feels relieved.

She pushes open the door, just a crack. The familiar earthy, animal smell of Mikoto's apartment hits her immediately. When Nichika smelled it for the first time, she'd felt the undeniable reality sink in: She is courting something truly inhuman and wild.

"I'm coming in," Nichika mumbles quickly, more to herself than anything, before opening the door all the way.

Mikoto lies curled up on top of the cover of her bed, eyes closed, hugging her tail. As quick as Mikoto was to reveal herself as a youkai, she still has only ever shown Nichika her true form once. However, within the safety of her home, Mikoto makes no effort to hide her fox features. The triangular, black-tipped fox ears on the top of her head twitch as she breathes. All she has on is a thin camisole and track shorts.

Mikoto is sensitive to the cold (even if Nichika is the only reason the old busted radiator in her apartment ever got replaced—) so she must be running a serious fever to be alright wearing so little in the midst of winter.

Nichika pulls the door closed behind her, and crosses the room as quietly as she can. She kneels down on the floor next to the bed. The sheets are covered with stray bits of fox fur—more so than usual.

Seeing her closer, Mikoto is breathing hard, and there's sweat beaded on her forehead. She isn't wearing a bra. Nichika reaches out to touch Mikoto's shoulder. "Mikoto-san...?"

Mikoto's eyes crack open. It seems to take her a few seconds to process the situation—but as soon as she does, she attempts to sit up. And then—as if doing so made her dizzy—immediately lies back down.

"Do you think maybe you've come down with something, Mikoto-san...?"

"I'm not sick," Mikoto says, at eye level with Nichika, now that her head is back on her pillow.

"Oh," Whether this is just Mikoto's usual ignorance of her body's needs, or what, Nichika doesn't know. "Okay!"

"This happens every year. I'll be fine in a few days."

Bad allergies, maybe? "Well, in any case! You sit tight, Mikoto-san. I'm gonna make you something to eat."

As Nichika moves to get up off the floor, Mikoto suddenly grabs at her arm. Her grip is weak, but the palm of her hand is so, so warm. Gears in Nichika's brain start to turn.

After Mikoto first showed her the truth, Nichika spent a lot of time researching foxes. It only seemed right—the same way it's critical to study all of an idol's work before you consider yourself a fan! In the end, most of it hasn't been all that useful. Mikoto is Mikoto before she is a fox.

But, this uncharacteristic desperation, the insistence that she isn't sick—it's making fragments of the articles Nichika skimmed about estrous cycles and mating seasons float to the surface of her brain and well, if Nichika tries veryyy hard to remember, she might have read that, in foxes, it falls sometimes in January or February...

This happens every year. I'll be fine in a few days.

It can't be, right? Nichika would have to have died and gone to heaven.

"I've always handled it myself, but now that I have you, I thought..."

What else could she mean, though?

Nichika shrugs off her backpack and sets it down on the floor, along with the plastic bag. She sits down on the edge of the bed.

"You thought?" Nichika reaches out to scratch Mikoto behind her ears, the way she's learned Mikoto likes best.

"Keep touching me," Mikoto gasps. "Please."

There's no doubt about it.

Mikoto rolls over onto her back, and Nichika is reminded of when animals expose their stomachs—a universal signal of submission. Trying her best to respond accordingly, Nichika crawls across Mikoto and plants her knees on either side of her lover's hips, and leans over.

Sometimes when she and Mikoto lock eyes, Nichika honest to God feels like she'll be devoured. Looking down at Mikoto's flushed cheeks and watery gaze, Nichika thinks she might understand that sentiment from the other side, now...

Nichika bends down to capture Mikoto's lips, expecting Mikoto's usual stiffness, but Mikoto opens her mouth to her immediately. Like she's been starved.

When Nichika pulls back, Mikoto's face looks even more flushed than before, her lips parted and panting audible. Completely undone.

Instinctively, Nichika slides her thumb into Mikoto's half-open mouth, pressing down on her tongue. Mikoto only gazes up at her, brow furrowed in confusion.

Is this how Mikoto feels, every time she has Nichika pinned beneath her, canines glinting and eyes hungry?

Those same canines seem so docile now. Nichika rubs the pad of her thumb against the pointed tip of one. Mikoto whimpers from the back of her throat, her drool already starting to drip onto Nichika's hand.

Is it wrong to get such a thrill from having a powerful youkai helpless beneath her? Nichika is past the point of caring now.

"Nihiha... ahn...," Mikoto whines, struggling to speak with Nichika's thumb still thrust into her mouth. Nichika feels a sudden burst of affection.

"I'm sorry, Mikoto-san." She pulls her hand away, wipes it off on the sheets next to her. "I'll stop teasing you, okay?" It's not a promise Nichika is sure she can keep.

Nichika pushes up the hem of Mikoto's camisole, taking a moment to savor the sensation of Mikoto’s firm core against her palm—so much strength, but in this moment, completely pliant—and with Mikoto's cooperation, pulls it over the top of her head.

Is she the only one who's ever seen Mikoto like this? Is she the only one that's ever had Mikoto like this? It's too much to think about. Nichika needs to focus on the task at hand. This is what she was put on earth for! This is her divine right!

Nichika pulls Mikoto's shorts and underwear off in one go, not wanting to keep the fox waiting any longer. But she does take a moment, now that Mikoto is fully undressed, to drink in the sight. Mikoto's normally frightfully pale body is flushed from head to toe. It's entirely possible that this is the most human she's ever looked.

Nichika brushes her fingertips against Mikoto's clit, trying to gauge how sensitive she is right now, how much pressure she should apply—but just that is enough to make Mikoto's whole body shiver. As if instinctively, Mikoto wraps her arms around Nichika's shoulders, like she's holding on for dear life.

Mikoto's expressions of pleasure are usually subtle. She hardly makes a sound. Over the months that they've been dating Nichika has become an expert at picking up on the indicators that she's doing something right—noticing when Mikoto's fingers press into her shoulders just a bit harder, or the way her ears start to flatten when she's about to come. To have her react like this feels unreal.

What Mikoto must've meant by "handled it myself" is starting to sink in. The imagery it conjures is—potent—Nichika had been convinced Mikoto would never indulge in that kind of thing. But that's to be filed away for later, for when she doesn't have a needy Mikoto beneath her, desperate for Nichika to give her some relief.

Mikoto needs someone to take care of her. And Nichika, she might be the only person who's ever been granted that privilege. Maybe that means Nichika is someone special, after all.

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