Icy Flames- Rengoku Kyojuro-Demon Slayer/ Kimetsu no Yaiba

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My glazed eyes slowly slid over to him, almost as if I were looking through him.

We just lay there, simply staring at one another, our bodies still connected, our hands still clasped together, as the first light of day began to fully illuminate the room. It was a moment suspended in time, a moment where everything else ceased to exist, and there was only us, only the bond we had created, only the love that flowed between us as surely as the fluids that marked the aftermath of our union.

The heat of his body lingered against mine, a reminder of the fire that had burned so brightly between us. But it was tempered by the coolness of my touch, the two elements now perfectly balanced, perfectly in sync.

The first light of day began to filter through the shoji screens, casting a soft glow over us as we lay in silence, the only sound was our synchronized breathing.

His fingers traced light patterns along my skin, the touch both soothing and electrifying, as if he was trying to memorize every inch of me. The sensation sent a pleasant shiver down my spine, and I couldn't help the small smile that crept onto my lips. He was attentive, and caring, and the way he moved so gently yet purposefully in these quiet moments reminded me of how deeply he cherished the connection we shared.

"That was amazing," Kyojuro murmured, his voice a deep, satisfied rumble that vibrated through my body. He shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at me, his carnelian eyes soft yet still burning with the remnants of passion. There was a light in his gaze, a spark of something that went beyond the physical, a connection that I hadn't realized had grown so strong between us.

As he looked at me, I couldn't help but think back to all the times I had seen him before, those fleeting moments when our paths had crossed in the hallways or during meetings. You had only met Rengoku a few times in passing, but you couldn't help your eyes being drawn to him whenever he was around, and not just because of his uniquely flame-colored hair. The Hashira radiated warmth and positivity, something you could do with having more of in your life.

There was something undeniably charming about him. The way he spoke with such enthusiasm, the way his smile seemed to light up a room, and the way his eyes, those captivating carnelian eyes, would soften when he was truly listening to someone. And there was more. There was that look he got when he was serious and focused, that intense concentration that made you think he could take on the world and win. It was kind of hot, if you were being honest with yourself. Hell, even the grin of mischief he sometimes wore, the one that hinted at a playful side beneath all that fiery determination—it made your heart skip a beat.

Now, lying here with him, feeling the aftermath of his morning care, all those fleeting thoughts and half-formed feelings seemed to solidify into something real, something tangible. He wasn't just the flame-haired Hashira you occasionally passed in the corridors. He was Kyojuro, warm, passionate, and so full of life. And he was here, with you, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made your heart flutter.

Kyojuro leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against your temple, his breath warm against your skin. "I could get used to this," he said, his tone light, but there was a sincerity in his words that made you believe him. He wasn't just talking about the physical connection, though that was undeniably powerful. He was talking about something more, something deeper—a bond that had formed between you, one that had the potential to grow into something truly special.

"You shouldn't get too comfortable," I murmured, my voice steady and controlled, as always. "You have a mission to begin, and it wouldn't do to linger here."

Kyojuro didn't move, didn't even flinch at my words. Instead, he just smiled, a slow, knowing smile that softened the edges of his usually fierce expression. His carnelian eyes, glowing with warmth and affection, met mine, and I could see the resolve in them—though not the kind that involved leaving.