The sounds of the rain gently patting on the window comforted her as she was in the darkness, but the loud thoughts racing through her mind would not settle. She tried everything she could think of: teas, soothing meditations, mantras, incense, relaxation music. Nothing worked. Not even the tender feeling of his warm hands on her back. His soft hair between her fingers as she cupped his head, his long black tresses spilling over the lush array of pillows. She straddled him on the bed, her legs folded under and brushing his naked hips.

The crisp sheets shifted when he moved his long legs under her, bringing her up and down in a subtle wave of motion. Still her mind wandered and she continuously fussed about her being there; again. A sudden set of lips found themselves on her neck, spreading kisses laden with desire and yearning. His smooth forehead nudged her chin upwards, giving him access to the sensitive skin beneath her jaw. She let a low gasp escape despite herself, which she knew did not go unnoticed by her admirer. Nothing evaded his acute hearing; he was able to hear private conversations from the deepest recesses of his kingdom. In the dim light from the sodden window, she saw his three long ears twitch and she knew he had detected her approval of his ministrations.

One large hand moved from between her shoulder blades and slid up to slip deftly under her nightshirt. His calloused fingers traced your collar bone, lightly so as to make the flesh quicken. Using the back of his hand, he pushed the loose fabric away, revealing your perfect shoulder. The sound of the silky material pooling around your elbow made your heart accelerate. The night air was cool as it hit your goose-pimpled flesh, your left side exposed. Your lips met something hard and cold as he angled his head to kiss your chin. You smiled against the horn and tucked below to capture his mouth with yours. Picking you up gently, he switched positions, pinning you under him. Wrapping arms around his neck, you pulled him closer, wanting to be nearer to him. Bracing himself with his arm, the muscles flexing under the strain, he ghosted his free hand over your shoulder, your breast, your side. Finding the lace underwear snuggly on your hip, he carefully took the waistband and pulled down. You arched into his chest as his warm palm went over the swell of your hip and down to your upper thigh.

As he readied himself to take you, the thoughts raced back; the tournament was tomorrow and you were absent from your training. The others, especially Yusuke would demand to know where you had been on the eve of such an important day. What would you say? How could you keep to yourself a secret such as this? You were a human surrounded by demons capable of seeing your inner most thoughts, what measures would you have to take for them to remain oblivious?

The slow seductiveness as he entered you broke your chain of thoughts, leaving you inhaling sharply and longingly beneath him. You gripped his shoulders, his sides, marveling at the chorded muscle. The two of you soon moved together in even thrusts until he found the trigger to your bright sparkling visionaries. His hands and lips stroked your face, cheeks, and eyes; creating a mental image to enlighten his sightless void.

The emotions in your gut were stinging, burning, fueled by his powerful dominance. You never felt so wanting, so irrevocably connected to anyone before. The way this mighty demon king possessed you left you tingling with electricity. In the stands he watched you; in the city he followed you. When you sat next to Yusuke during political meetings, this demon encompassed you; owned you. Many women lusted after the blind king of that you were sure. Yet for reasons obscure to you, the black haired king chose to fixate on you.

You shivered as he panted against your neck, his warm breath dampening her skin. His hips moved with tension, for he bridled his demonic speed and stamina so as not to hurt her. But she could sense from the contraction of his thighs that he wanted nothing more than to claim her with a supremacy that only a demon of his caliber and standing could muster. She wrapped her legs firmly about his back, resting just above his sculpted buttocks; a sign in which he understood as permission to conquer. So, arching his back the demon king proceeded to ravish her deliciously and barbarically. Tears spilled from her eyes though not from sadness―they flowed from the overwhelming passion she felt for this man. He kissed her, weaving his tongue stealthy over hers. He kissed her with such feeling and homage that she might have sworn he loved her.

When it came time to quicken his pace, she whimpered into his mouth, for the fierceness with which he triumphed her nearly broke her. He held her as he sped, encircling her in a wall of muscled flesh. She moaned into his ears, gasping and writhing languidly. All too soon, his hips stopped, braced tightly against hers. His face, beautiful and ageless, contorted with ecstasy. He laid upon her for some time, listening to her heart beat, his long fingers tracing patterns along her arm and chest. Staring at the ornate cathedral ceiling, with its high vaults and cherry-wood buttresses, a great emptiness filled her heart. The beautiful palace, bright city lights, fine cuisine and soft bed would all be forsaken tomorrow for the purpose of every demon battling as themselves. All titles, rankings, anything of stature and meaning would be cast away like trash, all for a chance to test one's fighting skill. This night not only represented a passionate, carnal joining of the flesh, but the last semblance of competent governmental structure. She laced her fingers with his and kissed his hand; but the biggest fear eating at her bones was the possibility of never seeing him again. A thought that terrified her beyond reckoning.

The demon king looked at her, his sweat soaked tresses like black rivers along his neck and back. She memorized his face: the square jaw, the high cheeks, his eyes lidded behind curtains of creamy flesh. She counted the horns he bore and amounted to seven in total, a true sign of power by demonic quota. The two of them made love throughout the remainder of the night, each time escalating to more profound heights of feeling. As the dreaded dawn drew closer she stared as his broad back disappeared beneath robes of light purple and red, his long legs slipped into trousers of a similar shade of periwinkle. Barefoot, the demon king strode over to her still under the coverlet and bent to cup her cheek lovingly. Silky onyx hair fell onto her neck traveling to her waist. Saddened that he was leaving, she took his wrist and gave a slight tug. With a smile, the blind king sat next to her and brought her to his chest in a reassuring embrace.

She held onto him for fear of him never returning and she buried herself into his neck and shoulder. The strong demon lifted her to his lap to tighten his grasp on her. Words were spoken, words of promises and comfort. In a fit of anguish, she took his face and kissed him. The horned king eagerly returned the gesture, settling into the curvatures of her mouth, and held her so tightly to his chest she thought she would suffocate. She whispered affections to him, devotions to him. He nuzzled her nose and jaw, reiterating the same terms into her ear. She refused to let him leave, knowing he would be late for the registration period; yet she cared not and so began to kiss his mouth, ears, and neck. She pulled the expensive fabrics away from the pale skin and attacked all that was bared. Once more, that was all she wanted. Once more to feel him around her; within her. She pushed him back onto the bed, crawled over him, and opened his robes. His strong hands came up her arms, raising them above her. Her eyes closed in burning pleasure while he stroked her body; his fingers left searing trails down her chest and exposed breasts, down to her stomach and over her sides. He sensed the desire she had and wished to fulfill it. For he also knew he might never be with her again, and the prospect struck a panic in him he had not felt since his sight was taken. Undoing his trousers, he guided her to mount him.

They rocked with each other, savoring this last bit of intimacy. He was gentle, not holding back but truly gentle. He wanted this to last for as long as it could. After long wonderful moments of heartfelt love making, she cried his name as his warmth invaded her. By now, the sun had risen and he needed to resume his daily duties. It was the day of the Makai Tournament; a day in which the fates and lives of all who lived in this world would be decided and who would be chosen to become king of them all. The blind king rose and re-adorned his robes, securing them with a green sash. She wept on the bed, the sheets wrapped around her legs. She begged him not to go, not to enter. He refused, mentioning the fact that she would be entering the competition as well. She heatedly told him she would gladly decline if only he do the same. She told him how unbearable his death would be to her and that she could not stand the idea of him not being with her.

The blind king wiped her tears away, licking the watery drops from his thumb. It was then that he made a promise to her, a promise that if he were to live and win the tournament, that he should make her his wife. She told him that she would marry him no matter if he won or lost. It did not matter, she simply wanted him back alive. Bending he took her face into his large palms and kissed her softly. Her tears slid between their lips as she reluctantly pulled back. The demon king gave her a lordly bow and left, leaving her there alone to face her own inner demons and the challenge of winning the demon crown for herself.