Satoru’s breathing became erratic as his rough hand gently rested on your hip, his other one, filled with callouses over time at work, caressing the soft skin of your cheek. His vivid blue eyes staring deeply into yours, ignoring the fact your kimono was practically falling off your shoulders from all the intense physical activity, which would be the focus of most men.

“I love you, watashi no tenshi..”

Satoru whispered right to you without shame, even adding on a traditional pet name while he was at it. He couldn’t help it, you were the most beautiful and amazing oiran-woman, he’d ever met, a simple session that was intended to be quick and aloof, sprouted like a flower in spring, showing the inner-petals of love. From that night on he spent thousands of yen insuring no other man was to touch or even see you.

A rich and influential samurai, in love with a tayū oiran, it couldn’t be helped. Now he intended to buy you as quick as possible, so that you’d be his wife of course. But, he wanted you to be as in love with him as he you.

“I’m certain you’d want to spend eternity with me as I with you. I wouldn’t be surprised, I am a very dashing man.”

He was still a noble after all, it was in his veins to be cocky.