L’eau du Fuji

Jiroh curled beneath the blankets and inhaled the smell that surrounded him.

L’eau de Fuji, a scent that reminded him of musk, cinnamon, and something that was just Fuji.

Whatever it was, it smelled wonderful and sent him to dreamland quicker than a dropped hat.

It was when warm lips sealed over his own did Jiroh figure out what he liked coming over to Fuji’s so much. Opening his mouth beneath the onslaught, he groaned weakly, arching against the prodigy over him.

Fuji didn’t attack with no holds barred very often, he liked to play a bit too much.

When he did though, Jiroh enjoyed every minute of it.

And once the prodigy shows signs of waning and growing bored of the game, then Jiroh attacked.