MJS Romance: Miho and Goto’s Honeymoon

The sand was still warm from the day, and the glow from their sun-drenched bodies – Miho’s wrapped over Goto’s – kept them cozy even after the sun had disappeared behind the oceanic horizon. Their bodies relaxed after an active day, the world welcomed them into night to the rhythmic sound of nearby waves and the gentle appearance of bright sparks against the velvet sheet of the sky.

Exhaling a luxurious, contented sigh, Miho gazed upward at the twinkling expanse then stretched her hand out toward them.

“Can almost reach,” she murmured, fingers splayed.

“What do you need stars for?” Goto queried, kissing into her slightly salt-crunchy hair.

“True,” she grinned, turning her hand over.

Somehow, though the only real light came from the crescent moon slowly rising above, Miho’s engagement ring, her wedding ring nestled against it, still sparkled.

“I’m going to love you forever,” she told him, not for the first time.

“Forever is a pretty long time,” he pointed out. “You sure you’re not going to get sick of me?”

“I’m outraged you’d even ask,” Miho snorted, giving his chest a sharp slap.

Goto grimaced at the initial sting, but the heat that lingered in the shape of her palm was pleasant.

“I intend to be with you for this life, and the one after and the one after that, until the universe tears apart,” she added haughtily.

“I’ll look for you,” he smiled, stroking her hair. “Always.”

An easy silence settled over them, and Goto closed his eyes. He could have fallen asleep there until Miho began tracing around his bare nipple with her fingertip.

“Seiji, do you believe in fate?” she asked, her voice drifting upward, upward, into the dark unknown.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, looking up at her as she rolled and draped herself over him. “I think a lot of people use it as an excuse for a lot of things, so they don’t have to take responsibility for their actions, but…”

“Hmm,” Miho hummed, pushing herself up to straddle him, teasing sinuous traces from his collarbones toward his belly button. “But?”

“But,” he continued, his body shuddering involuntarily beneath her touch and his hands slid up her thighs, “the belief in fate; you don’t think if a person believes something is fated, that could drive them to do all in their power to reach that goal?”

“Like you?” she said, swirling patterns across his abdominal muscles, marking their definition with feathery lines.

“Like me,” he confirmed warmly, giving her legs a squeeze. “Though you certainly gave me a hard time.”

“You know though, don’t you?” she breathed, her brow suddenly creased. “That from day one I was in love? Desperately afraid but so painfully wanting you to touch me? Hearing your first words and knowing I wanted them to be the last I ever heard?”

Staring up at her, even in the dim, Goto could still see faint flecks of that fear. Before he could attempt to allay it, however, Miho beat him to it.

“I don’t know about fate,” she declared, her tone now sober, serious, “but looking at you, being with you, I feel like… like I spent an eternity trekking barefoot across a desert, seeing wavering mirages of happiness that disappeared as I drew near, and then… you’re this great body of shimmering, clear water I’ve finally stumbled upon. You’re my destination, and I’m plunging into your depths…”’

“Shouldn’t I be doing the plunging?” he interrupted.

Miho blinked, and for his cheek he was rewarded with another blazing red print of her hand on his chest.

“Shut up, I’m being poetic here,” she growled, leaning forward with her hands either side of his head, glaring down at him. “Fate or no fate, being with you, being this happy, feels like something I’ve been striving for far longer than the real time we’ve been together.”

“I know,” he whispered, smoothing his palms up her bare sides until large hands pushed the hair from her face. “Having you is like… I’ve kept some promise to myself.”

“Make me another promise?” she breathed against his lips, her words brushing with delicious anticipation of more.

“Anything,” he responded huskily as she lowered her hips and brushed her body against his lightly.

“Don’t let me sleep until dawn,” she grinned, then nipped playfully at his bottom lip.

Hungrily Goto pulled her closer and stole away her breath, tangling one hand in her hair and feeling down her spine with the other until they were both dizzy.

“Haa, but not on the beach again,” he told her a little darkly when their lips parted. “I’m still finding sand in uncomfortable places.”

Snickering at the recollection of what they’d done yesterday, Miho rocked back and scrambled to her feet.

“I suppose it is your turn to choose,” she mused flippantly, taking his hand once he’d folded their beach towel over his shoulder.

“I didn’t realise we were taking turns,” he chuckled, lacing their fingers and beginning to walk. “You’re just a target of opportunity,” he explained. “And sometimes, even when I know it’s not appropriate, I can’t help but touch you.”

“So adorable,” she smirked, her favourite way to make him blush.

… okay, her SECOND favourite way to make him blush.


Arriving back at their waterfront bure, Goto stopped Miho from entering.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed, and Miho’s brows raised.

“Mhm,” she murmured, complying after a moment.

Her husband reached around her and opened the door, guiding her in by the shoulders until he could close them in seclusion.

“What are you up to, Lieutenant?” Miho wondered suspiciously, sensing his arms moving around her before she felt the touch of something soft against her face.

“How much do you trust me?” he asked, tying the blindfold around her head snuggly, then checking she couldn’t see.

“What the hell kind of question is that?” Miho scoffed, a little stiffly stepping forward as Goto urged her to.

“A necessary one,” he replied, his tone suddenly very serious, almost the tone he used when he was in work mode. “Stand still, and answer the question.”

“You know the an… the answer,” she replied, faltering a little when he disengaged from her completely for a few seconds, before tugging at the strings keeping her bikini top fastened. “I trust you with everything. My life, my body, my soul, my future.”

“Likewise,” he hissed into her ear, but only his breath touched her now as he pulled her top away. “Take three careful steps forward, lay down on the bed, and put your hands above your head.”

Swallowing, Miho shuffled along, before positioning herself in the centre of the bed, reaching behind her to grip one of the vertical slats in the bedhead. She imagined handcuffs – wouldn’t be the first time – but again she felt the cool, smooth texture of soft cloth being wound around her wrists before the ends were secured to the bed.

Goto stood, breathing slowly as he looked down at his handiwork, realising this would perhaps be as much torture for him as it would be for her.

“Hey,” Miho prompted after an extended period of silence. “You didn’t sneak out did you?”

“No talking,” he told her, the heavy, ominous weight of his ‘interrogation’ tone forming goosebumps on Miho’s exposed skin. “I’d gag you, but it’s important you’re able to say the safe word if you become uncomfortable with anything I do.”

“Safe word?” Miho coughed. “Seiji, have you been reading a beginner’s guide to bondage?”


“You totally have!” she exclaimed, beaming and wriggling about as she giggled. “God damnit I can’t see you blushing right now, and I know you’re blushing.”

“Maybe I will gag you,” he grumbled as he slid down his board shorts and kicked them aside. “Pick your safe word.”

“Hmm, Domo,” she declared, still chuckling.

“You have an unhealthy obsession with that thing,” Goto huffed.

“It’s okay, it’s balanced out with my healthy obsession with your thing,” she volleyed.

“No more,” he commanded, placing his hand over her mouth. “No more words unless it’s that word. No sound at all.”

He said it, but he knew it was going to be impossible for a vocaliser like Miho.

She nodded as he removed his hand and licked her lips. Exerting as little pressure as he could manage, Goto undid the knot of Miho’s sarong. Helpfully she lifted herself from the bed, allowing him to remove it, and then her bikini bottoms.

It wasn’t cold, the tropical night air dry and warm, yet the deep pink of Miho’s nipples called for Goto’s attention: tall and hard.

And he hadn’t even touched her yet.

“What are you breathing so hard for?” he asked, and Miho’s lips parted. “Ah! No sound,” he chided, moving silently around the room to collect the implement he required.

With a fake, sulky pout, Miho shifted impatiently, rubbing her legs together.

“Be still,” he told her, sitting slowly down beside her, causing the mattress to move beneath his mass.

The fluffy tip of the long white feather trembled above the right side of Miho’s collarbone, hovering in Goto’s light grip until he wriggled it ever so lightly from one side to the other.

As predicted, Miho broke the rules instantly, gasping at the ticklish decadence of such a soft sensation.

Goto was a courageous man, Miho knew this, but she found it hard to imagine what it must have taken for him to take the leap – albeit a small one – from relatively vanilla to dominance. She had to wonder if Subaru’s teasing had something to do with it.

Whatever the reason, the darkness beneath her blindfold, the barely-there touch of the feather as it fluttered lightly around her breast, exploded unprecedented anticipation. Her body flushed with heat as she imagined the intensity of Goto’s stare as he sketched lazy patterns down her torso.

“Spread your legs, wide,” he ordered curtly. “Bend them up.”

Inhaling shakily, Miho obeyed.

She felt suddenly very exposed, not unsafe, but quivering with uncertainty and excitement.

“I’m going to suck your clit into my mouth,” he told her, his voice suddenly deeper, a thrumming, reverberating echo of the waves outside.

The feather moved – behind her left knee, tantalisingly slow up the inside of her thigh toward the inner crease of her leg.

“I’m going to torture it with my tongue,” he continued, drawing an invisible line around the top of her leg, up to her belly button, and back to her left nipple. “Press, and rub and swirl and maybe even… bite.”

As he said bite, he turned the feather around, and quite sharply stabbed the shaft into her nipple.

The yelp Miho emitted, the way her body jumped, made Goto flinch and lift the offending weapon.

The book Kaga had given him as a ‘wedding present’ did indicate the submissive partner might very well respond alarmingly, but he hadn’t expected Miho’s reaction to be quite so energetic. Yet when her body relaxed again, she swallowed hard, and as she licked her lips once more they parted in a luscious grin.

Teeth bared because it hurt, but smiling because it hurt so good.

“That sounded awfully like noise, Miho,” Goto pointed out, placing the feather’s tip against the centre of her other nipple, this time pressing down slowly.

With great interest he watched her expression change the more pressure he placed on it. There was a strange conundrum in the clear pain it caused, yet her body tensed and writhed in such a way he knew was an expression of pleasure. So he persisted, pulling away only when her lips peeled back to reveal teeth clenched.

“I’m going to drag my fingernails down your body,” he told her, scratching the slightly sharp tip of the feather around her areola, hard enough to leave a red line in its wake. “I’m going to leave lasting marks,” he went on, scrawling thin etchings over her white breast, using her bikini tan-line to indicate where his efforts would be hidden by clothing.

The bedhead groaned as Miho pulled against her bindings, and Goto found himself frowning – not because he thought she was uncomfortable, but because he didn’t realise how much effort it would take to resist devouring her.

Leaving glowing scrollwork across her chest, he flipped the feather and dusted lightly over the fine abrasions. As he worked his way lower again, Miho’s breaths shortened even further, and Goto found his other hand sought out the hardening length of his cock without conscious thought.

“My fingers are going to work between your folds,” he explained, stroking himself slowly as he brushed the feather’s softness down her slit, and he heard Miho swallow back a moan just before it escaped her lips. “They’re going to slip through your desperate wetness, and lazily circle your burning entrance. And you want me to push inside you, your whole body is on fire, hopelessly begging for me to drive deeply and stretch you…”

A whimper punctuated the shuddering of Miho’s legs, a sound that required Goto to bite down on his own lustful sound. She was oozing in eagerness of his follow through, and even though Goto’s own flesh cried out for him to bury himself in her, he was determined to drag it out. He wanted to see if he could…

“All of my weight will crush the air from your lungs, leaving your dizzy,” he narrated, “but as you gasp for air my lips are going to steal away your breath, my tongue filling your mouth.”

“Sei…” she cried weakly.

“No,” he snapped like the crack of a whip, but he was so hard now, so hard it was becoming a painful.

When the point of the feather’s spine touched Miho’s hood, her body shuddered and her legs twitched toward closing.

“Don’t move,” he chastised, dragging a barely-there route around her clit, but not touching it, and the tension in Miho’s body visibly increased.

Despite his instructions she was emitting a continuous stream of agonizing breathy whines, and her chest heaved as he dragged the feather through the drench between her labia in slow motions.

“I’m going to poise at your entrance,” he growled, precum slicking his shaft as he worked it, the images in his mind surely as vivid as in hers. “And I’m going to stop there, just pressing with the head of my throbbing… rock-hard cock… before driving it into you, so deeply, fill you so completely, and thrust, again, and again, and again, until you can’t stand it anymore…”

As he finished his sentence he finally dragged the feather’s tip upward against her clit – and with an uncontrollable, chortling gasp, Miho’s legs reflexively closed, her knees knocking loudly together as she trapped Goto’s hand. Her entire torso lifted from the bed as she came, her mouth now open but her breath seemingly trapped as her body shook violently in rapture.

She had no control now. None.

He… he also found himself quivering at the sight of his beautiful wife cumming so intensely, and any thoughts of further torture fled. Releasing his grasp on the feather, Goto climbed onto the bed before Miho, and had to exert considerable strength in order to pry her ecstasy-locked legs apart.

“Enough talk,” he rasped, shuffling forward and lifting her as to rest against his thighs, before sliding his erection through the significant flood of her juices.

“No…” Miho attempted to articulate, barely a word at all. “No it’s…”

Faltering as he ground the pulsing tip of his desire against her enflamed bud, Miho let out another cry and seemed on the precipice of another orgasm.

“It’s too…” she sobbed.

“That’s not the word to stop this,” he pointed out, and then fulfilled his promise, leaning suddenly forward and thrusting into her with full force.

Her next exclamation was consumed by him, as he finally brought their lips together.

There was ravenous urgency to his movements, pounding so powerfully Miho’s legs clamped around him, clinging as she was tumbled over the edge for a second time. Goto had had to hold back and watch her, all the while imagining the raw pleasure being physically united with her brought – but now there was no restraint.

The spasmodic clench of her walls as he fucked her through the aftershocks of each climax, dragged him toward his own end. All that effort hardly touching her at all, wanting it so much, and seeing her react so incredibly, made each sensation now so acute, Goto wasn’t sure he could stop even if Miho did sing out the safe word.

The entire bed leapt with each furious penetration; Goto pounded Miho into the mattress with growing ferocity, gnawing along her shoulder until he bit down fiercely. Managing to snarl only half her name through his teeth, he rammed forth with what was left of his energy and filled her.

And again

And again.

And again.

Hot and deep.

Until he was completely drained.

“Miho,” he whispered breathlessly, remaining within her but rolling their bodies on their sides.

“Fuc…king hell,” she heaved, licking her lips that he then gently kissed.

Reaching up, he languidly unbound Miho’s wrists and pushed away her blindfold. Immediately she wrapped her arms over him and snuggled against his sweaty chest, her quick breaths cool against the salty moistness of his skin.

“That… you…” she murmured, still struggling to form coherent thought. “Who are you… and where were you before I… before I married that Goto guy?”

Filled with endorphins that left their bodies humming softly, Goto chuckled into Miho’s damp hair.

“I’ll take care of him,” Goto told her gruffly. “There’s no way I’m letting anyone take you from me.”

“How do you plan to top this?” she sighed out, all tension from her body gone.

“I have some ideas,” he responded with surprising flippancy, gently kissing her once more before leaning back and grabbing a hand towel from beside the bed. “I know you’re always going to be dirty,” he grinned, “but let’s get cleaned up for now.”

For a moment Miho grieved for the loss of Goto’s warm, but no sooner had she grabbed the towel and moved to gingerly wipe her still tingling nethers, Goto dragged her to the edge of the bed and scooped her up.

“How do you even have the energy to lift me right now?” she laughed, curling her arms around his neck. “And if you have that energy, why the hell aren’t you still banging me?”

“What makes you think I’m not just changing the scenery?” he smirked, worming his middle finger between her ass-cheeks.

“Seiji,” she grinned, biting down on his lower lip before continuing. “You did make me a promise.”

“That I did,” he agreed, carrying her into the bathroom.


When the sun began to creep out of the water, Miho lay drowsily in Goto’s arms on the bure balcony swathed in a light blanket. Gently Goto massaged a soothing moisturiser into the patterns he’d marked over her chest – all the strength he had left for.

“Mmm,” she mumbled quietly. “We’re going to need another shower.”

“We’re definitely napping first,” he told her sternly. “And if I have to crawl back inside for those silk scarves to keep you down, I’ll do it.”

“No need,” she yawned, nuzzling her face into his neck. “I’m already irrevocably tied to you.”