Required Reading

I don't own anything Star Wars, Star Trek, The Dark Knight Rises, The Fantastic Four, or Ninja Assassin. Characters you don't recognize belong exclusively to me. I tend to pair male protagonists with women of color, specifically black women. If this poses a problem with your ability to suspend disbelief, then this fanfic blog isn't for you. Otherwise, do enjoy.



First published: December 2010
Disclaimer: Everyone you recognize does not belong to me.  Everyone you don't does.

1   Kameko stood under the awning, ensconced in shadow.  She eyed the couple across the street, taking note of the attire, mannerisms, and obvious entitlement.  The woman, a willowy bottle-blonde, wore pale blue Chanel with a pair of five-inch Jimmy Choos.  In one hand, she carried a Chanel clutch, and in the other, the arm of her husband, a six foot two, 230-lb businessman turned political candidate.  

The limo driver opened the door and the bottle-blonde entered first.  The husband, a candidate for the U.S. Senate, followed shortly behind. 

Kameko slid her oversized Dolce sunglasses up her nose, licked her lips and started walking.  The couple, Mr. & Mrs. Sherwood J. Meyer, lived four blocks up the street, in a penthouse apartment.  Kameko already knew where it was located, the layout of the apartment and the building, the schedule of the servants and the building employees, and the rituals of Mr. & Mrs. Meyer once they got home.  It took her a week to get all of the information she needed to do her assignment.   She was extraordinarily thorough, which was why she was chosen to carry out this particular job.  Her father could not entrust it to any of his other children.

She would complete the assignment tonight and leave tomorrow, ready to take on another job and receive the honors and gifts that her father would bestow upon her.

The lights on the hallway went out shortly after midnight.  Kameko, clad in her favorite shinobi shozuku and sporting two sheathed katanas, balanced above the door of the Meyer penthouse.  She waited in perfect silence; it was Shannon Meyer’s way to poke her head out of the door every night.  Why was a mystery, but it didn’t matter because it would be Kameko’s way in.  She could have easily scaled the building, but she liked the challenge of getting into the Meyer penthouse through the front door.

Kameko blinked; there was a tiny crack between the door and the frame.  Shannon had not made her appearance, and Kameko had been waiting for the past hour.  With the silence imperative to a kunoichi  of her status, she dropped to the floor and slipped inside the apartment.  She pushed the door closed without making a sound, irritated as to what happened.  The Meyers never left their penthouse after ten p.m.  Not once, in all of her research and reconnaissance, had they ever deviated from that particular behavior.  She hid in the first corner and scanned the living room; it was dark except for one table lamp.  Kameko listened carefully.  There was no sound; nothing, not even breathing.  She closed her eyes and sniffed.  Her brow furrowed.  She knew that smell. 

It was blood.

Down on all fours, she quickly and quietly made her way through the living room, hiding in the shadows until she reached the bedroom.  It was there that the stench of blood was strongest and not a second passed before she knew why.

Sherwood and Shannon Meyer were dead.  Stunned, Kameko rose up and surveyed the room.   Sherwood Meyer’s head lay six feet away from his body and it was split down the middle.  Shannon Meyer lay facedown in the doorway between the bed and the bath; her back covered in shruiken, or four-point star blades.  Her legs had been cut off just above the knee, and from the pool of blood under her head, Kameko knew her throat had been slit.

So messy.   Kameko hissed, for she knew the culprit.   It was just like him to try and screw her over like this; though this was the first time he had actually succeeded.

She moved towards the slain bodies.  Kameko looked up, rolling her eyes.  The room was shrouded in darkness, but she knew he was there.  Waiting for her. 

He dropped down two feet in front of her and even though his face was covered by his tenugui, she knew he was smiling in triumph.


2    Everyone within the shido knew that Kameko Mari-Rin was not the one to fuck with.  She had taken to the education with genius-like precision fueled by rage.  By the time she sprouted breasts, she could beat all of her kunoichi sisters in less than thirty seconds, and they no longer provided a challenge for her.  As a result, Ozunu began allowing her to fight her brothers.  It did not take long for her to best most of them in hand-to-hand combat.  Kameko had no fear and she made for a dangerous opponent.

She was stubborn and vicious; she displeased Ozunu more than once and bore the scars to show it.  However, he could not dispel the fire in her heart and the ways in which she expressed herself.  While a master of Ozunu’s training, Kameko incorporated her own unique skills into her vocabulary of movement.  As she got older, Ozunu did not try to quell her nature, but encouraged it.  As a result, she worked her way up the hierarchy of Ozunu’s trained killers until there were only two ahead of her.  Undeterred, Kameko was ready to beat her older brothers out of the way and claim the top spot.  She could do it, but then found her rank among the elite greatly simplified.

Takeshi and Raizo fought each other often; as there were no other Ozunu ninja who provided a challenge to either male.  Typically, advanced sessions ended with them in combat.  Kameko watched from the sideline, brimming over with jealousy, as she believed she could defeat both men, were Ozunu inclined to let her fight them.   Raizo and Takeshi were equally matched, but Raizo burned with an intensity that Takeshi lacked, and Kameko recognized.  It was because of this intensity that Ozunu favored Raizo and thought him heir to his empire.

Takeshi was a hard man to read.  Being the eldest and able to command a shoji between him and his siblings, he was alone much of the time when his attentions weren’t required elsewhere.  Kameko finished her exercises early one day and entered the sleep chamber of the older siblings.  She saw Takeshi moving behind his shoji and he was mumbling.  Kameko dropped low and moved silently towards her cot, which was on the other side of Takeshi’s, and across from Raizo’s.

She smiled as she caught part of his tirade.  “…is not worthy…true heir…disloyal…Raizo…Raizo…Raizo…”

Clearly, her brother did not like the fact that their father preferred Raizo to him.

A week or two after that, Ozunu allowed Kameko to face Takeshi in the last combat session for the night.   They always fought in practice, but knew the boundaries and did not cross them.  It always left Kameko with a hunger and an ache that she could not explain or dispel, no matter how hard she tried.  But tonight was serious; the fight was for real.  There was nothing playful about what was about to go down.  Kameko wore her hair in thick cornrows to keep it out of her face and Ozunu allowed her to wear eye black whenever she had to battle.  It was part of her vicious nature that he encouraged and it set her apart from all of the other girls.

“Choose your weapon,” Ozunu instructed.  They were beyond fighting with balsawood swords
Takeshi liked to use a ninjato, and he was practically a surgeon with the double-edged sword.  Raizo preferred a kyoketsu shoge, and had beaten Takeshi’s ass with it more than once.  Kameko loved the katana and always used two of them.  But she wasn’t above using any other part of her body to win a fight.

They stared each other down for a moment longer than appropriate.  Takeshi was extremely attractive; he had wonderful pouty lips and beautiful gold-kissed skin, replete with scars.  She liked his scars.  He had a great body and he didn’t need to be naked for her to know it.  He had broad shoulders and a sexy body line; one which a lot of the older girls appreciated.   Kameko liked Takeshi’s hands; his palms were wide and his fingers strong.  He had a grip like a vise; he left bruises whenever he grabbed her arms during their practices together.  Kameko would die before admitting that she liked it when Takeshi grabbed her; she had a penchant for liking things rough.  Of course, every time he put his hands on her, she was obligated to knock the fuck out of him, and she did so with gleeful relish.  Tit for tat, and Takeshi wore his own set of battle scars from Kameko.

What he thought of her, she could only guess.  She really didn’t care.  Kameko was one of two black females in the shido, and while Chiasa was an excellent student, she lacked Kameko’s exceptional skills and fierceness.  Chiasa was lovely; slender, dark-skinned, doe-eyed and quiet.  The hushed scuttlebutt amongst the females was that while the males liked Chiasa, they wanted Kameko.  It was a heady bit of knowledge, if she gave weight to gossip and gave a shit what the males thought.  She knew she was beautiful and fuckable, so it didn’t make a difference.

Takeshi held out his ninjato and smirked.  Kameko moved into an L-stance and held out her katanas, keeping her eyes on her opponent.  Ozunu waited for a long moment and then nodded his head.  Takeshi came out swinging, and Kameko blocked each swing of the ninjato with a katana.  Then the fight was on.  Kameko met Takeshi head on, blocking and thrusting her blades with as much ferocity as she was capable of.  Takeshi did not have that kind of fire—in fact, was the opposite—but he was a superlative warrior and kept up with Kameko. 

Beads of sweat popped out on her forehead, but Kameko ignored them as she ducked, missing Takeshi’s swing.  When she moved towards him, spinning her katanas before aiming both at his head, he ducked and kicked one of her blades out of her hand.  Kameko hissed and held her other sword with both fists firmly around the handle.  She choked out an epithet in Japanese, knowing that Ozunu might discipline her for it, but not caring. 

Takeshi stared at her, a small smile glazing his lips.  The look in her hazel eyes was clear:  Come on, asshole!  Kameko was a very passionate woman and very easy to read.  She was ballsy and bad-ass and could beat anybody in the clan, with the exception of himself.  He was sure she could beat Raizo, if Ozunu would let her fight him.   He looked at Kameko’s neck and saw the rapid tick of her pulse.  He glanced further down and smiled again.  He could appreciate the sight.  This was their first real fight, and probably the last, for Takeshi intended to mop up the floor with the gorgeous kunoichi in front of him and he wanted a souvenir.  Something he had coveted for a very long time.

The thought lasted all of two seconds.  Kameko darted over and drop-kicked him.  Takeshi hit the floor and his sword slid out of his hand.  She jabbed her heel into his chest and bounced back to her side of the mat before Takeshi could get to his feet.  She held her katana and glared at him.  He popped up on the balls of his feet and she came towards him, swinging.   She spun with the intent to cut him and he yanked her katana out of her hands, slicing the tips of his fingers.  Quick as lightning, Takeshi flipped the sword and cut off one of Kameko’s long braids.  She hissed in rage as Takeshi moved backwards, holding her blade in one hand and her hair in the other.  Staring at her, he ran the braid under his nose and tapped it against his lip.  Kameko trembled in an anger that had another emotion attached to it.  She could not believe that Takeshi had enough balls not only to hack off one of her thick braids, but also kiss it and keep it.

Ozunu watched, impassive and still.  He had no intention on stopping this fight until one of them was on the mat and bleeding badly.  There was a potent tension between this son and daughter; a tension that needed to be beaten out.  Ozunu knew that there were some biological basics young people could not control, and no amount of training could make them harness it.  He had dealt with it before, with Raizo and Kiriko, but their connection did not come close to matching the intense heat between Kameko and Takeshi.  That heat was always present whenever they were in the same room, and their siblings had started to notice it.

Takeshi slipped the braid under his obi before extending the sword in her direction.   Kameko noted where he stuck her hair and vowed to get it back.  She hissed again and moved into a horse stance, balling one hand into a fist and extending the palm of the other.  She took a deep breath and flashed him a look.  Bring it on, bastard!  

A moment passed where neither moved.  Then Kameko jumped, kicking one of the flaming lamps into Takeshi’s face.  He grunted and Kameko kicked again, knocking the katana out of his hand.  Then she spun, hitting him in the cheek with an elbow before punching him in the side of the head.  Takeshi blocked her next blow and swept her feet out from under her.  Kameko hit the mat and rolled over, coming back to her feet.  Not wasting a second, she went towards her opponent, ducked a blow and then swung in a wide arc.  Takeshi blocked her punch, capturing her wrist between his arm and chest.  He punched her square in the face.  Kameko shook off the punch and smiled dangerously, licking the blood from her swelling bottom lip.  She swung with her other arm, and he caught her wrist in a snug grip, squeezing hard enough to bruise.  An unexpected shiver of pleasure rippled through her and Kameko sucked in a tight breath and rolled her eyes.  She was aroused, but also pissed off.  Takeshi stared at her and a second passed; a mere whisper of time, but it felt like an eon.

Then she head-butted Takeshi, who stumbled back and released her.  Kameko jumped and kicked him in the chin, and then finished it with a roundhouse to the cheek.  Takeshi fell down and Kameko was on him, punching him in the face.  She got in three good blows before he pulled her by the hair and yanked her off.  Kameko scooted backwards as Takeshi crawled towards her, blood leaking from his nose.  She couldn’t get to her feet fast enough and he straddled her.  Kameko tried to buck but he wouldn’t budge.  Takeshi punched her again, twice, and air burst out of her lungs in a tight little scream.  She lifted her hips and wrapped her legs around his torso in a scissor grip, bracing her feet under his chin.  With a violent twitch of her hips, Kameko threw her opponent and he landed on his back, out of breath.  She crawled over to him, straddled him and punched him until his eye puffed, his nose broke and his mouth bled.  Until he was as aroused as she was and it took all of three punches for her to realize it.

At which point, Ozunu stood up.   He never let them fight each other again.

Not too long after that, Raizo left the clan.  Ozunu was furious.   He wanted his top assassins to hunt down Raizo.  But there was money to be earned and marks to be taken out.  There were weapons to be made and siblings to steal.  There was a lot to do, and as he healed, Ozunu made plans.  By then, everyone knew Kameko had taken Raizo’s place as Ozunu’s master apprentice, bypassing Takeshi.  It was unspoken yet understood.  If Takeshi himself understood it, he never said a word.  Kameko never missed a chance to let him know it, at any rate.

Assignments were awarded based on skill and ability.   The tougher the mark, the better the ninja assigned.  As a result, Kameko and Takeshi got the hardest assignments.  Everyone in the shido kept silent count.  Kameko had more kills than Takeshi, but after the yakuza massacre in Osaka, he had pulled to within one.

Then Ozunu assigned the Meyers to Kameko.

3    She had her hands behind her back, palming twelve gleaming shuriken.  Kameko was going to slice up that bastard for ruining her assignment.  All because she gave him a black eye and broke his nose after he cut her hair.   Kameko had not had the chance to yank it from Takeshi’s obi before Ozunu stopped the fight, and she wondered what he had done with her hair.  Ozunu never let them fight again after that, and she knew Takeshi wanted to, and she wanted to as well.   But considering what had taken place, Kameko figured that her father knew best. 

Kameko gripped the shuriken, gazing into the darkness.  She didn’t need to see Takeshi to speak to him; she could hear his heartbeat and the quiet pull of his breathing.  She wondered briefly what Ozunu would do to her if she killed Takeshi.  The box, at minimum.

“You’re late,” he said.

“You’re an asshole,” she replied.

“Perhaps, but I am now in the lead.”

“Only because you cheated, and don’t think the others won’t know that you did.”

“Are you going to tell them that you failed?”

The moon peeked through the clouds and cast a sliver of silver light through the blood-drenched confines of the Meyer bedroom.  She narrowed her eyes as she appraised her opponent.

Kameko glared at him, realizing that no one could know Takeshi had bested her.  She had too much pride.  “Are you?”  He r stomach knotted in irritation.

“It will be our secret,” Takeshi said, bringing a finger to his lips.  Kameko could hear the smugness in his voice.  She closed her eyes and squeezed the shuriken tight enough that they poked through her gloves.  She welcomed the burst of pain and exhaled through her teeth.

Takeshi allowed his gaze to roam over her body.  He knew she was holding her blades and that she was unpredictable enough to throw them at him.  But he did not think she would.  Not yet, anyway.  Kameko was a highly desirable female, and he was not the only male in his clan that thought so.  She could actually make him respond.  Takeshi eyed the pulse in her throat and then quickly lowered his gaze before meeting her eyes once more.  It pleased him to know that she responded as well.

We have no secrets,” she said, and then scanned the room.  It was time to go, for the flies were starting to buzz.  “I’m going to get you for this, Takeshi.”

“Is that a promise, Kameko?”

Kameko sheathed her shuriken and turned her back on Takeshi.  “Absolutely.”

She was scheduled to leave the next day.  Kameko entered her hotel suite through the shadows.  Once inside, she began to disrobe.  She folded her shinobi carefully and laid it on the bed beside her tenugui, shin and arm guards, boots and belt.  She opened her large black duffel bag and placed the items in the bottom of the bag and covered them with a large black cotton drape.  She put the duffel in the closet and picked up her violin case.  She opened it and laid it on the bed.

Her weapons were on the pillows.  Kameko picked up her katanas and sighed.  She hadn’t even had the chance to use them because of that fucking bastard.  She removed the violin and carefully affixed the swords in the base of the case and tucked the shruiken into the velvet pockets.  Then she put the violin back in the case, securing it carefully.  She liked maintaining appearances when walking through airports, even though Ozunu provided a private jet and concourse for his assassins to use and their baggage never got checked as a result.

Kameko put the violin case back in the closet next to her duffel bag.  She stood in front of the mirror, massaging her neck as she took in her reflection.  She wore a black nylon catsuit underneath her shinobi.  It clung to her, emphasizing her curves.  There were times when she was growing up when she resented her physical form.  Breasts got in the way of superior knife work and sometimes her periods were so bad that she could barely get through her duties without collapsing.  She had to wear customized keikogi, for Ozunu’s standard uniforms could not accommodate her voluptuous form.   It was an annoyance, but it could not be helped.  She was female; every inch a woman, and she appreciated it now because she had the power to bring men to their knees, and not just in combat.

Sighing, she undid her braids, cursing at the unevenness.  Takeshi’s treachery had been several weeks ago and Kameko had resisted cutting her hair to even it up, but she had no choice now.  It wouldn’t grow properly if it was uneven.  Gods, but she was going to slit that sexy bastard from throat to testicle if she ever got the chance.  She reached into the drawer and grabbed a long, shiny pair of scissors.  Then Kameko went into the bathroom and put several towels on the floor and countertop, before draping one over her shoulders.  Kameko combed out her hair and cursed again as she began to cut it.  It fell down around her in thick black coils.  Takeshi had hacked off a good four inches, the fucker.   She was going to get that son of a bitch. 

4    After a pleasurable hot shower, Kameko stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in a silk tee and panties.  When she traveled on missions, she enjoyed the freedom of wearing and doing feminine things.  It was her own personal reward, outside of what she got from Ozunu for being his number one apprentice.  She looked in the mirror again and smoothed her fresh cornrows, significantly shorter now.  Kameko closed her eyes for a long moment, took an even longer breath, and then opened them.  She was not surprised at all to see her nemesis standing behind her, clad in jeans and a simple white T-shirt.  He had obviously entered the room while she showered.

He was not surprised that she was not surprised.  They were too much alike to be shocked at what the other did.

“You’ve already fucked up my assignment, so I can’t possibly imagine what else you could want.”

“I want your hair,” he said, staring at the back of her neck.  Takeshi was fascinated with Kameko’s hair; by its thickness and its texture.  She always kept it neat and she used a light, fragrant oil that he found appealing.  He coveted her hair.

Kameko chuckled.  “Fucking stalker.  I left it on the floor.”

Takeshi didn’t move.  Kameko massaged her neck and inclined her head.  “Go on and get it.  Don’t expect me to pick it up for you, you prick.  You’ve gotten everything you’re going to get from me.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes it is.  Now get out of my room.”  She closed her eyes and tried to slow her heart rate and her quivering nerves.  Why did being near Takeshi cause so much adrenalin to flow through her veins?  Kameko was tired and annoyed; she didn’t feel like fighting him.  And she didn’t want him, not like that.  Yes, he was wildly attractive, and there was a lot to like about him, but she didn’t want him.  She could have—and did have—any man she wanted, but she didn’t want Takeshi.

Perhaps if she kept telling herself that, it would eventually be true.

He stepped closer, alternating glances in the mirror and at her throat.  She knew that he was captivated with her neck because he always stared at it.  “I kept your hair,” he said.

“It’s under my pillow.”

Kameko swallowed the knot in her throat, but didn’t miss a beat.  “I want it back,” she said, forcing herself not to turn around.  She took a moment to recognize that she was woefully under-dressed and at a disadvantage, but it made not one bit of difference.  She could beat his ass fully dressed or completely naked.

“Then you’ll have to come and get it, Kameko Mari-Rin.”  His voice dropped in pitch.  “I won’t give up my prize so easily.”

She closed her eyes, taking the bait.  “Are you challenging me, Takeshi?  Do you remember the last time we fought?  Maybe you’ve forgotten that I broke your face.  I will do it again, do you understand me?”  She put her hands down and wiggled her fingers, closing her eyes as she felt her blood pressure rise.

“So do it,” he said in a low voice, staring hard at her throat.  “No one is stopping you, and Father isn’t here to stop it.”

Kameko turned quickly and punched Takeshi in the face.  Then she punched him again, pulled his head down and kneed him the forehead.  He fell back onto the bed.  Kameko jumped into a forward stance and beckoned him.

“Come on,” she said, feeling her body tighten in anticipation.  Tired or not, she was ready to swing.  “Come on!”

He smirked in spite of the red bloom on his cheek and slid his eyes lazily over her chest.  Wondering what her nipples looked like drove him crazy.  “Do you think you’re dressed for battle, little sister?”

“I can beat you clothed or naked, big brother.  Now stop talking and come on!”
He stepped in front of her, moving his eyes over her near-naked body.  He had never seen her like that before, and it was disarming as hell.  Completely distracted, he did not know he had been hit until she was standing over him.  His breathing deepened and his pulse began to race as he found himself staring up at her long, strong brown legs, at the lacy pink crotch of her panties, at the rise of her breasts underneath her silk tee.  Then she was straddling him and had his wrists pinned by his shoulders.  He smiled, storing the memory away for safekeeping and manual stimulation. 

Kameko closed her eyes, tightening her grip on his wrists.  She swallowed.  He was hard.  She didn’t think it was possible for the sociopath beneath her to respond to anything other than combat.

“The fuck are you smiling about?”  She tried not to focus on the fact that he was hard and how good it felt.  Ice-cold Takeshi, hunter and murderer of his own ninja siblings, was aroused by her.  Kameko did not repudiate the rush of pleasure she felt.  She was distracted, and in two quick moves, Takeshi had her on her back and her arms high above her head.  He clamped her wrists together and watched her bite her lips and squirm as he held her down.  Her nipples hardened and made tiny mounds under her silk slip.  It was as if any and all prior bullshit between them rolled out of the way.  Neither one of them was denying what was happening.  There was no point.

“Takeshi, let me go,” she said. 

“Make me let you go, Kameko.” he replied.  “You’re such a bad-ass, and you think you’re better than me, so…make…me…let…you…go…”

He crossed her wrists and pulled tighter on her arms.  Kameko moaned and closed her eyes; she could not help herself.  She liked tension.  But she wasn’t completely weakened by his actions.  She arched her back and spread her hips and then speared Takeshi with a look.  He stared back, loosening his grip on her wrists.  Kameko smiled and hooked her legs around him and tried to throw him off, but he did not move.  Not this time.

She groaned.  Her feet were on his shoulders and she was flat on her back, spread out like a turkey sandwich waiting for a slice of cheese.  And she was wet enough that she knew if she could smell her arousal, he could too.  She could feel his, growing ever harder, and could measure it by the rapid tick in his throat.  This was going to be explosive.

“Takeshi,” she said, her voice low.  Her wrists and shoulders hurt from the strain on her arms and she was so horny, she could barely breathe.  And suddenly, her wrists and legs were free.  She gasped as she felt his hand inside her panties and his mouth moving over her belly in slow, long squiggles.  He was murmuring something and his breath came in strangled gasps.  One hand slid underneath her silk tee and over her breasts and she wanted to tell him to squeeze it, to pinch the nipples, but she could not draw a breath deep enough to do more than squeak.

Kameko pushed up on her elbows.  Takeshi’s dark head moved back and forth over her stomach, covering it in kisses, licks and sharp little bites.  She bit her lip again and moaned, not even trying to hide her desire.  She dampened her panties.

“Um,” she said, pushing up on her hands so that she could watch him.  He hooked his fingers into the hem of her panties and pulled them down as far as he could.  

Apparently, it took too long, for Takeshi impatiently tore them off and ran the crotch over his nose, inhaling deeply.

“Kameko,” he murmured.

She uttered a response; what it was, she was not sure.  Kameko stopped thinking the moment she watched Takeshi run her panties over his face.  Then she was flat on her back again and looking at him.  There was something in his eyes; a wildness, a darkness, a hunger, a look that she had never ever seen before, not even during their fights.   

Kameko met his gaze, feeling the power shifting between them.  He had a hand under her tee, massaging her breast.  Her nipples ached.

“Takeshi,” she said, her voice surprisingly calm.

“What?” he replied, moving his gaze to the pulse in her throat.  It vibrated like the wings of a hummingbird.   He was going to leave a fat little bruise right there

“Are we…are we actually going to do this?”

He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes.  “It appears that we are.”

Neither expressed any doubt to the contrary.  It was about to be on.

“Then we are not on a level playing field.  You’re wearing more clothes than I am,” she said.

He murmured something in Japanese; something dirty and brief that she didn’t catch.  Kameko grabbed his T-shirt and pulled on it.

“Lift your arms,” she ordered.

In seconds, Takeshi’s T-shirt was over in a corner of the room.   Kameko ran her hands over his chest, kneading and knuckling his pecs and abs.  She caressed his biceps and shoulders, liking his sounds.  He shifted his weight and Kameko moaned as he pressed against her.  She ran her fingers through his hair and stared at him.  She slipped a foot between them and ran it over his crotch, stroking the bulge in his jeans.  He groaned, closing his eyes.  He pressed his head against hers and moved his hand between her legs.

“Wait,” she moaned as she felt his fingers against her.   “Unzip your jeans.”

There was a moment when his fingers left her vagina and she heard a snap and a sharp ziiiiip!  Then his fingers returned and two of them pressed against her lips and he used the knuckles to spread them.  A tiny burst of cool air danced over her clitoris and she sucked in a sharp breath.  Kameko realized that this, too, was a struggle between them, another kind of combat.  Who would climax first?  She hooked one bare leg around his back and pushed her heel into one buttock.  She pressed her other foot against his erection and stroked, spreading her toes to caress it.  Another strangled sound escaped Takeshi, and he matched Kameko’s move with his own.  He ran a knuckle over her clitoris and she gasped, arching up into him, but cognizant enough not to release the hold she had on his dick.  She ground her heel into his ass and increased the friction between her toes and his hard-on.  She had very flexible feet and this was not her first foot job.

There was nothing in the air but the sounds of their breathing, the rasp of clothing against the carpeted floor, and the heavy scent of arousal.  Takeshi pinched Kameko’s clit between his knuckles and she emitted a short scream and clamped her hands around the back of his neck as she climaxed.  She arched her neck and closed her eyes, shivering as her body tensed and released.  Takeshi groaned at the sight of her and his own breathing increased when Kameko shifted and caught his dick between both of her feet.  She increased the pressure and the friction, using her toes to anchor him as she got him off.  His breath caught and he stiffened, gripping her arms hard enough that she would have a nice set of bruises in the morning.  Kameko sighed as she felt her feet get covered in warm semen.

Perhaps it was a draw.  It was close enough to be, but neither cared about such distinctions.

Kameko exhaled hard and spread her legs, moving her feet away from Takeshi’s limp penis.  She would have to wash her feet whenever she got up.  Whenever he decided to let her get up.  She was far too relaxed to move; it’d been a while since she’d been with a man and achieved release.  Takeshi put his head in the crook of her neck and released her arm.

“That’s going to leave a bruise,” she said.

“You like it when I hurt you,” he replied.

So he did know.  Kameko sighed and one-upped him.  “You like hurting me.  Or trying to hurt me.  You can hardly do it, you know.”

His lips were by her ear, and he shifted so that he covered her entire body.  He caught her lobe between his teeth and bit down, drawing a bead of blood.  Kameko sighed gustily and arched up into him.  Just like that, she was wet again.

Then his voice in her ear, “I can do it if I choose to, Kameko.  I like this game we play.”

“Is that what this is?  Good.  I’m glad we got that cleared up.  Now get up off me so I can go and take another shower.”  She refused to acknowledge the bite of his words.

“No,” he said.  “Don’t wash me off.  Don’t ask me to get up.  Don’t ask me to stop.  You know that I can’t resist you; that I can’t stay away from you.  That I have to sabotage your missions to make you see me.”   Then he pushed against her, and for all the saints above, he was hard again.

“Takeshi, you know that I can’t stand you…”

“Is that right?”

She looked up at the ceiling, avoiding his eyes.  “You hate that I am better than you; that Father prefers my skills over yours.”

“I can deal with that, Kameko.  It makes no difference and changes nothing between us.”


“It doesn’t bother me.  You make it an issue because you want to keep a barrier between us.”  He moved his lips over her ear and bit down again.  Kameko moaned again, closing her eyes and savoring the pain.  Then he grabbed her wrists and pinned her once more, sliding his face down between her breasts.  He grazed his cheeks back and forth against the silk, making her nipples pop up like corks.  Takeshi murmured something again in Japanese, and this time she caught it.

I’m helpless… I hate that I’m so fucking weak when it comes to you…

“Takeshi,” Kameko breathed.  She was so wet that she could feel it dribbling out of her.  That she hadn’t soaked the carpet yet stunned her.

“Mmmn,” he breathed, trying to burrow his head between her breasts.  Then, savagely, in a move that made Kameko tremble, he captured the neck of her silk tee between his teeth and ripped it down the middle.  His hands moved over her aching breasts and he seized a nipple between his teeth.  Kameko’s hands found their way into his hair once more and she arched into his face as he bit her nipples.

“Takeshi…oh shit, I’m going to come if you don’t…if you do…if you…”

“Tell me what you want,” he said, moving his hips so that he was wedged firmly between her thighs.  The heat and smell of her drove him beyond his boundaries of sanity.  “Command me.”

That was easy.  “Touch me, bite me, suck me, fuck me…”

He did as ordered, sucking a breast deep into his mouth, wagging the back of his tongue over her nipple.  He tugged on the other, kneading and pinching her they throbbed.  True to her word, Kameko came again and wrapped her arms and legs around him, shivering as her orgasm crashed over her.  Her breath came in hitches and she didn’t feel his mouth at her throat.

Takeshi pulled up on his knees and anchored her in his lap.  She wrapped her legs around his back and braced her hands on his shoulders.  She started riding him, gyrating in tight circles, loving how he felt.  He was so hard and it was so good, as if he belonged.  She met his heated gaze and clenched her vaginal muscles, squeezing his dick hard enough to make him gasp.  He groaned as he dug his fingertips into the skin of her ass, and burrowed his face in her neck.  Takeshi pressed his open mouth to Kameko’s fluttering pulse once more, feeling the adrenalin surge through his body.  It took a woman with such a fiery spirit to draw forth the essence of his nature.  He had bedded many females, but he had never fucked any of them. 

Kameko felt his lips at her throat and rode him harder.  He released her throat with an audible pop! and met her sweaty face and glowing eyes.  Takeshi moved again and then Kameko was in the air for a brief moment before her back crushed into the bed.  Their bodies disconnected and Kameko had the vague feeling of being empty, even though all Takeshi was doing was taking off his jeans.

His erection was pink and slick and she thought it looked like a shiny piece of candy.  It made her avaricious and she fingered her clit.

“Come on,” she said.  “Hurry up before I do this without you!”

“No,” he said, covering Kameko with the swiftness of a jungle cat.  Like quicksilver, he was buried inside her again and thrusting hard.  Kameko met him stroke for stroke, spreading her arms for balance.  Takeshi stared at her, at her eyes, her lips, her nose, irritated that they had not yet kissed.  He had often wondered what her lips tasted like and what she tasted like.  Was she sweet as she looked?  Or was she as spicy as her nature?  He didn’t care either way, but he intended to find out.

“Squeeze me,” he said.  “Put your legs around me.”  A man could die happy that way.

Kameko nodded and wrapped her legs around his back.  She squeezed her thighs together, crushing him like a snake.  A strangled growl burst out of him as his thrusts increased.  Kameko continued to meet him and commanded him once more.

“Come on, Takeshi!  Do what I told you to do!  Fuck me, dammit!”

“I’m trying!”

She cackled, smiling at his sweaty face.  He was doing it, and well, but teasing him was part of their private little war.  He leaned in and bit her bottom lip, drawing blood and Kameko came again hard enough to see black dots swirling before her eyes.  Takeshi paused and clenched his buttocks as he climaxed.  They collapsed on the bed, a miasma of sweat, tangled limbs, limp hair and heavy exhales encased in a sexy cloud of sex.

5    The lamp was on the floor, broken in two.  Kameko had her legs around Takeshi and he held her arms over her head as they fucked up against the wall.  This time, they were kissing violently; lips, tongues, teeth, and it was so good, so intense.  Then she murmured something against his mouth and he moved, sitting her on the dresser.  She braced herself and spread her legs in a wide ‘V’.  Takeshi pulled her as close to the edge as he dared and held her under her knees as he pounded into her.  Kameko’s legs trembled and knocked over the lamp, which was how it got broken.  The dresser, a real one, banged against the wall with each thrust, in time with Kameko’s screams and Takeshi’s grunts.  The hotel suite was posh and expensive, but Kameko didn’t know—or care—if the room was soundproofed and that the neighbors might hear.  So the pretty lady in suite 814 was getting expertly fucked.  So what?  They should all be so lucky.

“Bend me over,” she demanded, and her lover, obedient as always, obliged.  He pulled out and turned her around.  Kameko bent over, holding on to the dresser, groaning with pleasure when Takeshi entered her again.  Time was an irrelevant stranger; all that mattered was the need to be with and within each another.  Takeshi came first and fell forward, bumping Kameko against the edge of the dresser.  She climaxed and her hands skittered wildly over the top, knocking over the clock and the other lamp, which promptly broke in three pieces.  For a long while, they remained like that and Kameko could not deny the sublime pleasure of their combined come sliding down the insides of her legs.

She lay on the bed with a pillow under her pelvis, hands knotting the coverlet, neck arched and head turned to meet his hot kisses as they fucked doggystyle.  He had her thighs pushed together and the fit was constricted and exquisite.  The crane of her neck was uncomfortable to the point of being painful, but Kameko liked it and demanded that it be harder.  And ever her slave, Takeshi obeyed, pulling on her cornrows as until she drenched him and the bed in pussy juice.  He murmured things in Japanese, in Italian, in French, and in English; all amounting to the same thing: how Kameko broke him down and he cursed himself for being so weak. 

Then Kameko, seizing control as was her wont, pushed him over on his back and did a sit-and-spin.  She grabbed him by his ankles and rode him hard enough to make her name pop out of his mouth in uncontrolled bursts of breath.  Takeshi held on to her ankles as she directed him once more.  Again, there was nothing but their breathing, her commands and his acquiescence somewhat muffled by the slap!slap! their bodies made every time they connected.

6    Later still, she was on her stomach, head against a pillow with her arms hanging over the edge of the bed.  Takeshi lay beside her, pressing tiny kisses and bites over her lower back and buttocks, leaving little red weals on her skin.  Kameko didn’t know how many times they had fucked, but she was pleasantly sore and very tired.  A long time passed before she spoke.

“I am going to miss my plane because of you, you asshole.”

“The jet will wait.”

“Father has another assignment for me to complete.  I must be in Berlin by tomorrow night.”

“The mark is complicated.  You’ll need my help, Kameko.”

She tried to frown, but her facial muscles were too tired.  “I don’t need any help, Takeshi.”

“Father insists.  There are multiple targets.”

“I can handle multiple targets, Takeshi.  Are you trying to fuck me over again?  I’m going to regain the lead, just so you know.”

“If that makes you happy,” he said.  “But you can check with Father so that you may hear it from his lips.  Jin has also been dispatched, but he’s assigned to the woman.”

She decided to believe him.  “Okay.  Who’s the target?”

Takeshi covered Kameko’s body with his own, pressing into her and bit the back of her neck.  She moaned as his hands slid underneath her to caress her breasts and welcomed his heat.  There was nothing like it, like him, and she knew that things were going to be different from now on.  She found that she didn’t mind.  His adrenalin was flowing again and hers would start once she heard the name of the target.  They would fuck, and then they would go after the mark.  Together.




  1. Never told you, by the way, about how well you used continuity in this one.


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