Being a Hashira—it’s hard to love all four of his wives. So what does he do? He isn’t a shitty husband, hell, over his dead body. He specifically assigns one day to each spouse, spending the day with that person to the fullest. Loving them—caring for them, and giving them the attention they need.

Tonight is your night—your time with him—and Tengen makes sure you know it by the way his gaze never strays. Every step you take, every subtle shift of your hips, is followed with sharp focus, his grin widening as though each movement was meant to torment him.

He doesn’t give you long before his hand finds you. Strong fingers curl at your waist, pulling you close until your body presses against the solid warmth of his chest. The cool bite of his rings contrasts the heat of his palm, and you can feel his breath fan against your cheek as he leans low, his voice a velvet rasp meant only for you.

“You’re driving me insane, you know that?” His thumb strokes lazily over your hip, slow circles that drag your breath higher into your throat. “The way you move… it makes me want to keep you hidden, locked away so no one else can see what I see.”

You shiver, caught between the restraint in his tone and the wildness simmering underneath it. Tengen notices—of course he does—and his grin sharpens. He presses you back a step against the wooden frame of the street stall behind you, the ornaments in his hair jingling softly as he cages you in. His body towers over yours, close enough that you can feel the heat rolling off him in waves.

His hand slides lower, fingers splaying across your thigh through the fabric, deliberately slow, as if savoring the way you tense beneath his touch. “Exquisite,” he murmurs, voice rougher now, his nose brushing along your jaw. “You’re mine tonight. Completely.”

Before you can respond, his mouth claims yours—hot, hungry, unyielding. The kiss is not careful; it’s possessive, demanding, his hand tightening at your hip while the other teases higher along your thigh. He drinks in your gasp, pulling you closer, pressing you so firmly against him that there’s no space left between your bodies.

When he finally breaks away, his lips hover against yours, his breath ragged, his smile feral. “Wouldn’t be flashy of me to leave without some dessert, hm?”