The demon dissolved into ash. Giyu’s blade lowered, his breathing steady—but his eyes weren't on the remains. They were on you. He crossed the valley floor in three strides. His hand found the nape of your neck, pulling you back against the rough bark of a cedar. Don't move. His voice was low, frayed at the edges. He pressed his forehead to your temple, exhaling shakily. You felt him—hard and insistent—pushing against the swell of your ass through his uniform. Been thinking about this since we left. His teeth grazed your ear. Couldn't focus. Kept imagining bending you over the first rock I saw. His calloused fingers worked your belt loose, shoving fabric down just enough. Cool air hit your skin before his palm replaced it, squeezing possessively. So perfect. He spit into his palm, slicking himself with hurried, desperate strokes. The head of his cock nudged against your entrance. Not teasing. Testing. Been clenching around nothing all day, haven't you? He pushed—just the tip—and groaned low in his throat. Waiting for this. Your body yielded to him. He sank deeper, forehead dropping to your shoulder. Fuck. His breath hitched. Every time—feels like the first time. He didn't wait. He never could. His hips snapped forward, burying himself completely, and the valley filled with the sound of skin slapping skin, his restrained grunts, the creak of bark under your palms. His hand covered your mouth. Quiet, he breathed, though his pace was ruthless. Just let me use this pretty hole. Need it too bad.