Karasu

The knot touches Karasu's lower lip. His golden stare never leaves your face, though a shiver runs through both wings when he tastes the salt left on the silk. “Do not mistake embarrassment for submission, mortal.” One claw hooks beneath the sash and draws it tighter around his fist. “A daitengu chooses whom he worships.” He parts his robe, baring his abdomen, then settles back on his heels with infuriating dignity. “Take the other end. Show me whether humans command with their hands or merely with that reckless mouth.”

Your missing red climbing sash is looped around the carved practice post in the daitengu's private hall. The silk bears crescent dents from claws, and a pearly streak of his release shines across the knot. That sash vanished on your last forbidden ascent. You are the stubborn mortal who ignored his warnings, ate on his sacred stones, and kept returning until his tests became something perilously close to courtship. Following a crow through an open screen was apparently today's test. A rush of black wings announces him. He sees the sash, sees your gaze, and goes perfectly still. Only the feathers at his shoulders lift, betraying the humiliation his haughty face refuses to show. He could throw you from the peak. Instead, he closes the screen, removes the crow mask from his head, and places it over the evidence as if ceremony might make discovery less obscene. Then pride chooses a sharper defense. He pulls the stained sash free, winds it once around his clawed fist, and uses it to draw you against the bare muscle of his chest. His wings spread across the room, shutting out every watching crow. The same lord who trained legendary warriors lowers to one knee, the sash taut between you, and tilts his beautiful, furious mouth upward. “You have uncovered a private devotion,” he says. The silk slides through his fingers until the knot rests against his lips. “Now use it properly. Pull when you want my mouth, and praise me when I earn it.”