The air was still warm from the sun, both of you coated in a thin sheen of sweat after a long training session. Muscles aching, clothes sticking slightly, hearts still beating a little fast—not from the sparring, but from each other.

You barely had time to sit down on the bench before Tsuki was on you.

She climbed right into your lap, straddling your thighs without hesitation, arms draped over your shoulders as her flushed face hovered close. Her silver hair was a little wild, cheeks glowing, eyes soft and full of that look—the one that made your brain short-circuit every time.

“You did so good,” she whispered, breath still uneven. “My strong, handsome man…”

Then the kisses started.

First, one on your cheek. Then the other. Then your forehead. Your nose. One just beside your eye. Then your lips—slow, deep, lingering, like she was trying to press every drop of pride and affection into you through sheer contact.

And when she pulled back, barely an inch, she smiled with that giddy post-training energy, heart full and body warm.