Adult-FanFiction.org : Inuyasha / Yashahime

Undenied	By : TheHatterTheory Category: InuYasha > Het - Male/Female > Sessh?maru/Kagome > Sessh?maru/Kagome Views: 5546 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own thr rights to Inu Yasha, nor am I making any money from this piece.

Chapter List
- 1-Pt 1
- 2-Pt 2
- 3-Pt 3
- 1
- 2
- 3
Standard disclaimers apply. I own nothing.
Once again, get proper training before pulling out the sharp objects.

He allowed a week to pass before she felt the tendrils of his yoki beckoning to her. Still tired from her ordeal with Hitomiko, she stumbled from her sleeping bag and into the forest, thankful that her companions were asleep. The events of the night before clung to her, making her restless. His call was a welcome distraction from her own chaotic thoughts.
As she limped through the wood, she was surprised when she saw him walking towards her, gold eyes reflecting the moon. When they were only a few feet apart from one another she stopped and nodded her greeting, staying silent.
“You have been injured,” He murmured, his clawed hand coming up to her chin and forcing her head to tilt to the side. A band-aid only partially covered a long cut made by the undead miko.
“It's nothing,” She sighed, pulling her chin away.
“You're lying.”
It was a quiet command, but no less demanding for it's softness. His cloud whispered into existence, and grateful for the reprieve from walking she got on, trying to ignore muscles still angry from their earlier abuse.
“We came across a priestess Naraku murdered. He was manipulating her body, and kept her spirit from leaving it,” She finally admitted, hugging her knees to her body. “I ended up facing her alone.”
“You were unable to defeat the hanyou.”
“I did, in a way I suppose. She died in my arms.”
“You said she was a corpse.”
“But she was still there,” She mumbled, feeling the tears that had wanted to escape burn her eyes. “He tried to force me into destroying her and damning her, literally. It would have opened me to his attacks.”
The memories she had forced back returned with a vengeance. The events of the night had been anything but kind. Perhaps the worst had been the woman smiling as she had passed, as if she was thankful.
“She was lonely. She hated fighting all the time. Every priestess I've met has only wanted to be a normal woman, to lead a normal life.”
“Then they waste their time. Those born with spiritual powers will never lead a normal life,” He intoned quietly. “Power sets one apart from other, and strength elevates them above the rest of the world.”
She thought of her own power, and it's strangeness, and of Hitomiko's declaration. Something, or someone, had sealed her powers, locking them away and preventing her from accessing them. And that she was powerful, more than even she knew. The idea that she was strong was as much of a mystery to herself as the miko had claimed to find her.
Then she looked up at his profile, sighing as she ran a hand through her hair. He would know better than anyone the price of being powerful, of being strong. He hadn't said a thing about loneliness, but she wondered if he was. Or maybe he had walled that part of himself off. After all, humans only had so much time to live, and few would succeed at learning to completely ignore their own needs in that short period. But he was a daiyoukai, he would have had centuries to perfect the art of apathy.
The thought depressed her even more as she contemplated him from behind the fringe of her bangs.
When they landed, she limped behind him, favoring the foot that had not twisted painfully when landing in the spiderwebs twenty four hours before. He seemed not to notice as she used one of the wooden columns to help herself onto the veranda. Once inside, the fire burst into life in it's basin and she walked over to it, trying to hide the signs of her injury.
The moment was incredibly awkward. She shifted from one foot to another, hugging herself as she waited for him to say something. However, he chose to remain silent, and she wondered if the awkwardness was what normal people felt after the first time they slept together.
“Show me,” He rumbled quietly, finally breaking the tense silence.
Quietly she began removing her clothes beneath his cool gaze, feeling a hundred times more exposed than she had during their previous encounter. Her shirt came off first to expose long arms littered with cuts and bruises, then her jeans, showing legs in even worse shape. She chose to keep on her bra and boy shorts, figuring he wouldn't want her naked.
“You are in no condition for such activities,” He told her, his voice completely void of any emotion as he turned and began walking back to the door.
“Please,” She mumbled, hugging her body. “I need, just-” And the tears began, falling quietly as she tried to keep her voice even, although her words wobbled dangerously.
“She didn't even want to hurt me. She kept trying to tell me about my power, how to save her. I need something to cover these, to make them less,” She admitted, the last coming out as whimper. “I'll be fine, I promise.”
He regarded her silently for several minutes before walking over and folding his legs gracefully below him. With a relieved sigh she sat, bringing her knees to her chest.
“You arm,” He commanded. She brought it up, trying not to look at the angry cuts and ugly bruises dotting the pale flesh. He made a small noise, almost a sigh, but it was lost in the anxious beating of her pulse and the sound of the fire next to them.
“The other.”
She showed it to him, and he looked at it then shook his head.
“You are already injured.”
“Please,” She whispered. “My back should be fine.” Without being told to, she turned her back to him and hunched over, letting him see the expanse of flesh. She knew there was at least one bruise, although it wasn't bad. Out of everything, her back had come out mostly unscathed, which she supposed she was thankful for. His hand fumbled with her bra strap for a moment before it came open, making her shiver.
The first cut was as cold as ice, contrasting sharply with the warmth of her skin. Heat followed in it's wake, trailing down as his claw made a path. Almost as if he was creating art, he was slow, methodical as he drug the pointed tip over her skin. When it lifted, she moved back, hoping to find the touch again.
Tears escaped, continuing down her cheeks and onto her knees, which her head rested upon. She remembered the miko' loneliness, and wondered if she was doomed to the same fate. The heat of her blood rising to the surface and trickling down her back made it easier to slip into a strange state of half awareness, where the world frayed at the edges.
The woman's eyes as she'd died -was it dying if she was already dead?- had been warm, content. And yet she hadn't lived a full life. There had been tastes bitterness and anger, longing and despair. Hitomiko had been a woman bound by duty, by her powers, just like Kikyo.
She cried for the two women that had died young and for the normal lives they'd wanted to have. Quiet sniffs were lost in the noise of the flames, and she didn't consider his youkai senses at all. Instead she hugged herself more tightly and grieved for the two women, for herself, and for the daiyoukai carefully marking her back, giving her pain freely instead of being forced.
She cried especially for him, because he was a daiyoukai, because he was a lord, and because she felt that his circumstances were even more tragic than those of her own kind. His power would always set him apart, as well as his desires, and she knew he would be cautious of revealing the truth to anyone. Even allowing her to know had come after one twist of fate and her own carelessness. In the end, he had centuries to endure, hiding behind a mask of propriety and strength.
“You are not pleased,” He murmured quietly.
“No,” She admitted, shaking her head, which felt light and empty suddenly, as if air had replaced her brain. “I'm sorry.”
“I thought pain brought you pleasure.” It was an accusation, all the more striking for it's detached, cool delivery.
“It usually does,” She admitted. “But it gave me something more tonight,” She sighed, feeling very tired. Darkness dimmed the edges of her vision, and she felt that she would finally be able to sleep without seeing Kikyo and Hitomiko's sad, resigned smiles as they died.
“What?” He finally asked, a hint of true curiosity mingling with a touch of bewilderment.
“Release.”

When she awoke, she was back at her camp, on top of her sleeping bag and sleeping face down. Knowing that he had somehow managed to sneak her back into camp without the others knowing, she stood and stretched, smiling at the pull of her knitting skin. The sun was just beginning to rise, and she walked to the nearby stream with a small cup and toothbrush feeling lighter than she had the day before.
After going through her solitary morning routine, she walked back to camp, feeling more buoyant with each step she took until she arrived, finding the hanyou shuffling through her bag.
“Inu Yasha, what are you doing?” She snapped, rushing over and pulling her bag from his grasping hands. He glared up at her through his bangs, blowing them out of the way impatiently.
“I was hungry,” He muttered.
“Did it ever occur to you to be patient?”
The morning only got worse from there. Despite her triumph over Naraku's plan before, already he was back to treating her as a useless member of their group, good for little more than cooking food and finding shards. And as far as she could tell, Naraku had almost all of the shards, excepting Kohaku's -which didn't count since he had the boy under his control- and the two she kept next to her heart. However, the hanyou refused to believe it, and had them scouring the countryside in search of any last, elusive pieces.
In the end, she walked next to Sango, trying to ignore the dirty looks being sent her way by their erstwhile leader. Right up until the presence near them came barreling at them with inhuman speed. Sensing the youki bearing down on them, she caught the bow Sango tossed to her and slung her quiver over her shoulder, already notching one of the arrows.
The demon was as simple minded as it was large, and it wanted her shards.
It also possessed insanely thick skin, a sort of hardened natural armor that even Inu Yasha had a hard time cutting. Her arrows flew and lodged in the thick casing, crackling and bursting in a brilliant display of light. When the light faded, only a small crack had been made. Determined to prove her usefulness, she aimed for the same spot again and again, hoping to create a gap in the armor for Inu Yasha to aim at.
The din of battle rose and crashed around her as the youkai's giant arms swept the ground, knocking Sango into the field on the side of the rough road. The bone boomerang fell to the ground, and the taijiya made no move for it.
“Everyone, move back!” Miroku called out, unwinding the beads from around his palm. Running over to him she grabbed his arm and shook her head, hoping to convey the demand with a look as she turned, another arrow already notched and ready to fly.
The youkai, taking advantage of her momentary distraction, or perhaps only having good timing, knocked her back with it's gigantic hand, the tree sized fingers connecting solidly with her middle and sending her hurtling towards Sango.
'Don't let me break anything, don't let me break anything,' She prayed as she began her descent, eyes clenched shut so she couldn't anticipate the landing itself. With a solid thud she landed against something soft and hard. Opening her eyes, she was greeted with the sight of a large metal spike. And another. And another.
“Oh Kami,” She muttered, looking up at Sesshoumaru's face. She had been two inches away from losing an eye, or something even more important, to the spikes on the daiyoukai's pauldron.
“You are still injured,” He rumbled as he set her down on the ground next to Sango. In the next instant he was gone, and she watched from a distance as he crashed into the giant, his claws neatly severing it's head from it's body. Acid dripped from the tips, hitting the body and eroding the flesh it touched until there was nothing but bone.
“You didn't have to fucking do that!” Inu Yasha shouted as the daiyoukai walked away, ignoring the hanyou piling epithets on his head. “Asshole!” The harangue continued long after the daiyoukai was out of sight, going from angry to bordering on hysterical.
Choosing to emulate the daiyoukai's silence, she walked over to Sango and helped her up. The taijiya had a nasty bruise on her face, and said her ribs hurt, but she could breath easily, indicating no serious damage. Walking back over to the pile of bones and the still fuming hanyou, she picked up her bow and shouldered it like a bag.
“That was strange,” Miroku commented in an offhand manner as Shippou came from his hiding spot and hopped into her waiting arms.
“What was?” Sango mumbled, gingerly feeling the bruise forming on her face.
“Sesshoumaru-sama came to our aid. He was the one that destroyed the youkai.”
“Fucker didn't need to do it. Just showing off,” Inu Yasha muttered sullenly.
Kagome couldn't help but be a bit grateful for the hanyou's anger. After all, as long as he was angry at his half brother for his interference, he wasn't thinking about why he had interfered.

In the course of a week they came upon him twice, killing youkai that were directly in their paths. Both times Inu Yasha had shouted and cursed and generally acted childish while the elder brother had walked away, completely apathetic to said noise and insults. Both times she wondered if he was following them, protecting her, or if Japan really was that small.
Logic told her that he was following because they had the best chance of encountering Naraku. After all, the pseudo hanyou wanted them all to be as miserable as possible and the daiyoukai had a score to settle with him. However, there was a small, childishly optimistic part of herself that hoped, even daydreamed wistfully, that he was protecting her. Strange their odd little relationship might be, but it was a relationship of sorts. Perhaps a very limited one, but he'd never gone out of his way to protect them before. Maybe now...
When they were close to the well again several days later, she told Inu Yasha she needed to return home. He made the usual complaints, the argument growing so heated she had to sit him several times. With a disdainful sniff she left him behind with the others, riding Kirara to gain some distance before he could free himself of the geis.
When she stopped in the clearing, he was waiting for her.
“Sesshoumaru,” She breathed, eyes widening. She slipped down off of Kirara and looked into the firecat's wide red eyes, rubbing the bridge of her nose softly.
“Don't tell the others, please?” She whispered. The firecat nodded her understanding, muscles cording and bunching as she prepared herself for flight. In a rush of wind she was in the air. Headed in the direction of the group. Turning back to Sesshoumaru, she tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled warmly.
“Come with me,” He rumbled quietly, the cloud of youki already swirling into existence. Ignoring the part of herself that screamed at her, telling her she had no plan in place, that Inu Yasha could go to her time and find her not there without explanation, that her mother would worry, she climbed on and sat, crossing her legs and holding her bag in her lap.
“The well is your way home,” He murmured.
“To my time,” She agreed. They had touched on the subject before, although she'd never gone into detail.
“Tell me about the future,” He commanded.
Before, she'd only told him about people like themselves, that being the only relevant thing she could bring up. But with a thousand, no, million different topics to choose from, she started with a basic concept, electricity, and built from there.
He listened intently the entire time, face a mask of thoughtful consideration as she told him about cars, light bulbs, and microwaves. Whenever he tilted his head just so, she took that as a need for further explanation, and used every piece of knowledge she had gained in school to try and break it down for him.
As carefully as she explained the concept of a bullet train, she avoided mention of youkai. They did exist in her time, that much she knew, she could feel them from time time. It was highly unlikely however, that he would appreciate being told that they had found ways to blend in and hide their presence from the unwary human populace that had grown and taken over the world.
When they landed, it was still afternoon, and she walked up the stairs to the small house. He watched her carefully, and she was proud when she moved without evidence of a limp. Even her back had mostly healed, and the scars he had inflicted had been deeper than any Hitomiko had given her. For the first time, when she stepped inside, he didn't light a fire or the lanterns.
The sun made everything feel different, although how she couldn't quite put her finger on. Or perhaps it was the events of the past week. Each time he had saved them, she had felt him lingering nearby, as if stalking them. She flattered herself to think that perhaps he had been following her, protecting her.
Without being asked, she began to remove her clothes, slipping off her socks and pants, then her shirt, leaving her in nothing but her bikini panties. Her last bra had been dirty, and she couldn't bear to wear it. Feeling oddly decadent beneath his gaze as she stepped away from the smile pile, she brought her arms to cover her chest, blushing lightly.
“You have not taken them out,” He observed as he came closer. She shook her head, blushing even more hotly. The jewelry in question still sent a thrill through her every time she looked down while in a hot spring, and it had made a certain few private moments very enjoyable. Not that she was going to admit to it aloud.
His hand pulled her arm away, and the other fell to her side willingly, letting him see the steel jewelry glinting in the light. Beneath his intense stare her nipples felt harder, more sensitive to the light air currents in the room. Heat pooled in her groin and her knees weakened as he continued staring, walking a small circle around her. His claws brushed against her back as he pushed her hair out the way to examine the marks he had left the week before.
“You heal quickly,” He commented in an offhand manner, earning only a small nod in response. Suddenly her hair tightened painfully, pulling at her scalp and stinging as her head jerked back. Her eyes watered at the unexpected tugging and her breath escaped in a gasp, sounding strange coming from her stretched throat.
Then his grip loosened and his hand came around to the front of her body, over her soft stomach. The floor beneath her feet rocked dangerously as a claw pressed dangerously into her skin, raising a welt in it's wake but never breaking the surface. He was slow, deliberate as he traced patterns on her skin, leaving raised, hypersensitive flesh in his wake, but never drawing blood.
She was almost to the point of begging when his fingers pinched one pierced nipple between two claws and they pressed in. Given no choice but to lean against him or fall to the floor, she let him bear her weight as he continued, moving to the other nipple and then dragging his claws over her skin.
The first tell tale drops of blood began rising to the surface, beading the pale canvas of her skin when she looked down at her chest. Little, almost miniscule drops that slid down for perhaps an inch before congealing into place. His breath was hot in her ear, coming in shorter and shorter puffs as he continued on in that vein, barely cutting into her flesh, drawing her into a slow spiral of lust.
The feel of his silk kimono at her back provided a contrast too sinfully delicious to ignore as it slipped smoothly, coolly, over the healing wounds while his claws left trails of fire in their wake. Her back arched, forcing her into his touch when his attentions skittered over her hip. His breath puffed in warm exhales over her cheek as his hand traveled upward again, further and further. She pressed her legs together, finding a small release in the friction as she slid them against one another.
A snarl escaped when she pressed her bottom to his groin, feeling the hardness of him, his readiness beneath his hakama. The claw traced the column of her throat lightly, and unable to resist the temptation, her hand found it's way beneath the waistband of her panties, sliding through the soft thatch of curls and into the slippery wetness of her slit.
Whirling, dizzying wanton heat ignored shyness and forced the moans that built in her chest past her lips and into the echoing silence of the house. His groin slid against her bottom, inciting another wave of heat as she shamelessly moved against him. Claws pressed into her side, over the scar where the jewel had been torn from her body and dug in, deeper than before. The friction of her fingers strumming her clit combined with the sudden vivid cold of the wounds pushed her over the edge, screaming his name as he snarled loudly behind her.
Feeling even weaker than before, she allowed him to hold her up as his growls and rumbles grew softer and softer. Eventually he sat, taking her with him. The bright light was fading, leaving her feeling sleepy and lethargic. Beneath the layers of silk she could hear his heart beating steadily. Drawn into the sound, it coaxed her into a lazy doze, a smile tilting up the corners of her mouth,

When he dropped her close to the clearing that night, she cast out her senses, looking for a spark of the hanyou's youki. Finding nothing, she made a mad dash for the well and threw herself over the rim, praying he wasn't in her time. Feeling the familiar wash of magic, she held her breath and hoped. And wished. And prayed some more.
When she got to the other side, she climbed up the ladder, finally forced to release her breath and inhale a deep lungful of air. A shadow fell over her and she looked up, a groan building in her chest.
Prayer answered. No.
“Hi, Inu Yasha,” She mumbled, pulling herself up over the edge.
“Where the fuck were you?” He shouted, getting so close she was pinned between the well and him. Extremely uncomfortable with their position, she slid to the side and walked around him, hoping against hope that he wouldn't smell the blood or his brother's scent on her.
'Let the antiseptic cover the scent,' She mentally begged the gods. Surely she had earned a little luck? Then again, perhaps she had used it all that afternoon. That memory brought a hot blush back to her cheeks as she stalked towards her house, ignoring the ranting hanyou following her.
“Kagome, I'm fucking talking to you,” He shouted as they stepped onto her porch..
Spinning on her heels she turned to him, her sleepy pleasure from hours before fading into nothingness, replaced with annoyance and a tinge of anxiety.
“I was attending to personal business,” She snapped. “Sometimes people have private things to attend to.”
“Private?” He demanded shrilly, voice grating on her ears. “What the hell could you be doing that's private?”
“It's none of your business,” She huffed impatiently. “That's why it's private!”
“Keh, you are my business-”
“Not all of the time.”
“Kagome, how good to see you. I knew you'd be home soon. Inu Yasha has been so worried about you,” Nodoka's voice broke in. One pair of blue eyes and one of copper turned to the opened front door where her mother stood, a polite smile on her face.
“Hi, momma. Inu Yasha, I'm sorry if I worried you,” She ground out, gaze swinging back to the hanyou. “But as you can see, I'm fine. I'll be here for a few days, so please give me some time with my family.”
In the face of her mother's smile and her own fury, he uttered a sullen 'keh' and nodded, darting back to the well house before either of them could say any sort of formal farewell. Not that she minded in the least.
“Kagome, he was just worried. You shouldn't be so hard on him,” Nodoka admonished softly. Groaning, she walked past her mother into the house and threw her bag on the couch. The smell of food wafted through the living room and she followed it to the kitchen where the steamer patiently cooked rice and chicken. Her stomach rumbled hungrily and she leaned against the counter, contemplating the device.
“Kagome, tell me what's on your mind,” Her mother urged softly.
“I think I might be falling in love,” She admitted bluntly, a frown tugging her lips down. Her teenage love life had not been a pleasant experience, more like a minefield, and she was as ill prepared for the current situation as she had been for the last.
“I assume from what I just heard that it's not Inu Yasha,” The older woman said as she began pulling plates down from a cabinet.
“No. It's his older brother, Sesshoumaru.”
“I can see how that might be a problem.” The sound of the plates sliding against one another was loud in the kitchen, and the gently puffing steam added to it, somehow amplified in the small space.
“It won't last,” She pointed out to her mother, crossing her arms over her chest only to be reminded of the marks still crisscrossing the sensitive flesh.
“I didn't say it would or wouldn't.”
“He hates humans.”
Nodoka paused and turned, leaning against the counter to face her. Her soft brown eyes were considering for several minutes as she stared her down, and for a brief moment Kagome was terrified her mother could see through her, knew the secret she was hiding.
“You say it won't last, which implies something has already started,” The woman finally pointed out.
She shrugged defensively, unsure of how to tell her mother that at the present moment, she was an outlet for him, someone that complimented his desires and perhaps little else. He hadn't said a word when she thanked him for killing the youkai before, or for saving her. If anything, he had seemed to withdraw.
“It's something. I'm not sure what it is,” She admitted.
“Are you two involved?” Her mother asked delicately, earning an incredulous stare. The older woman shrugged and sighed, a smile tilting the corner of her lips. “Kagome, you're an adult now. I'm not so foolish that I expect you to stay a virgin until you marry.”
For several minutes she regarded her mother curiously. They'd had 'the talk' years before. Back then her mother had told her to wait for the right man, and that he would be special and loved. For a brief period of time she had considered Inu Yasha to be that person, but in the end had grown past him both physically and emotionally. Sesshoumaru on the other hand-
They hadn't had sex. But a small part of herself knew what they were doing was just as intimate, had, in a sense, the same end. Hedging around the truth, she nodded lightly.
“We've been intimate,” She finally said, knowing it was close enough to the truth that she wasn't lying to her mother.
“It's can be a strong thing, intimacy,” Her mother told her in a sage tone. “If he hates humans so much, why would he choose to make love to one?”
Oh, her mother had to use those words. A hot blush rose stained her cheeks and she hugged herself more tightly, wanting to disappear into the floor.
“It's complicated,” She sighed. “Either way, it's stupid of me to care about him. He's as focused on being powerful as Inu Yasha was on Kikyo.”
That comparison was one she knew her mother would understand, seeing as how the woman had nursed her through dozens of nights of tears and angry outbursts. A sigh greeted the claim, and she looked back to the older woman, who had a sad, nostalgic look, as if she was remembering something that made her happy and hurt at the same time.
“I loved your father very, very much,” Nodoka finally said in a soft voice. “We pictured forever. We planned for forever. But even when two people love each other very much, forever is not guaranteed. If you love him, don't end it prematurely because you know it will end.”
She hugged her mother tightly, tears burning her eyes. Even if they were different, even if their situations were so diametrically opposed that comparing them wasn't just laughable, it was insane, the wisdom in the words sunk into her heart, settling in. Waves of profound joy and sadness mixed, in the end blanketed with a sense of hope and resignation.
If the memories of her father were enough for her mother, perhaps the memories with Sesshoumaru would be enough for her.

She had been carrying it around in her purse all week, and the purse itself was stuffed so deeply into her travel bag that not even Inu Yasha would find it searching for ramen. Each night she had the temptation to slip it out of the bottom and pull the small bottle contained therein out, needing the solidity of it to reassure herself of her choice. Each night she resisted temptation, instead choosing to finger the healed lines overlaying the centipede's bite. Most of the cuts had been so light they'd healed within days, as if they'd never been, except for those.
She wanted something more. In the face of her mother's advice and her own decision to follow it, she'd made a second decision, one just as life altering.
Now if only she could put it into action.
Her opportunity came when Inu Yasha was too buys shouting at her -something he'd been doing more of lately- to notice the youkai bearing down on them. Her bow was in her hands, and arrow at the ready the moment she felt them near.
The battle was a cacophony of noise and sights. The youkai attacking were a clan of wolves, ones that held little regard for her status as Kouga's 'future mate'. They only cared about the shards resting against her breast, each youkai making a concentrated effort to get them.
Because of their similarities to Kouga and his pack, she was having problems letting the arrow fly. They just reminded her too much of her friends. Opting instead to run, she tried erecting a barrier around herself, panicking when two of them slipped past her friends and began gaining on her.
“Now would be a great time to save me,” She gasped as she panted for breath. A dip in the ground sent her flying, head over feet into a jumbled mess on the path. Scrambling to get up with one hand protectively over her chest where the shards rested, she was knocked back on her behind by a surge of youki.
The two wolves snarled angrily, their clawed hands clenching as the daiyoukai descended from the sky. He was like a rocket, moving so quickly she could only see a blur of white and red as it rushed past her and slammed into one of the youkai.
For a moment the wolf looked angry, and then his expression turned into one of complete confusion and surprise as his hand went to his neck. A thin red line grew, and his body began falling. As it slumped to the ground in a thud, the head separated, falling and rolling a few feet away, the expression one of ghastly shock.
The other wolf, quicker than his brethren, jumped and twisted away from the blur that was Sesshoumaru, until he staggered and held a hand to his stomach. Very neatly, grotesquely so, the top half of his body separated from the bottom. She looked away, flinching when she heard the squelching noises of his intestines spilling out. Gorge rose in her throat, choking her. Standing and stumbling away, she wove several unsteady steps while holding her stomach.
“The wolves have fled,” He commented. “The others are looking for you.”
Which didn't make any sense, because she hadn't gone far, and Inu Yasha's nose was notoriously sensitive.
“Why can't they find me?” She asked quietly.
“I am masking our presence,” He admitted just as softly.
“Can we, I mean-” She stuttered. He had always approached her, always commanded that she follow. How was she supposed to ask, when she had no idea how to?
“I would not have taken such precautions otherwise. What will the hanyou think?”
“I'll tell him I got lost and made for the well,” She finally said, knowing the excuse would be flimsy at best, but desperation won out over caution.
“My bag, is there any way we can get it without them seeing?”
“They are further afield. The firecat is the only one with your things,” He said, already walking over to where the fight had broken out. She followed, jogging to keep up with him. Mentally she took tally of the after effects of the battle. Besides a surge of adrenaline and a few bruises, nothing had physically happened, so he wouldn't be able to deny it on the basis that she was injured.
Hope sparked into her chest, growing into a small flame as they walked by Kirara, who watched them with quiet, considering eyes. She dug through her bag and pulled the purse out, then closed her travel bag again.
“Please don't tell them,” She begged the fire cat quietly. “Please.”
Kirara butted her head against her chest, a purring sound like a giant engine beginning to vibrate the large form. Rubbing the feline's giant ears, she kissed her on the bridge of her nose and turned to Sesshoumaru. Already a cloud was waiting for her, and she hopped on, excitement mingling with the hope and making her hands tremble. She clutched the bag more tightly, smiling as she thought of the contents.
The sun set, twilight dimmed into night, and when they finally landed, she woke from a light doze, her arms still holding the purse in a death grip. Stretching her limbs, she followed him into the small house, watching as he lit the fire with nothing more than a careless flick of his wrist. The lanterns, likewise, began glowing gently, pushing the shadows further back to the walls.
“I brought something,” She whispered breathlessly. His brow arched in such a way that commanded she continue, and she pulled the bottle from her bag, holding it out to him. He took it in hand, reading the label silently.
“Sumi?” He asked, looking back at her.
“It's tattoo ink-” She began, but stopped when his eyes narrowed angrily.
“You want me to tattoo you, like a criminal?” She was surprised that he actually sounded offended.
Apparently her idea had not been a good one.
“In my time tattoos aren't just for criminals,” She defended, flushing hotly as she snatched the bottle from his hand and stuffed it back in the bag. “And it's not done in the same way.”
“You realize the marks will be permanent,” He snapped.
“Are you, I mean, is that alright?” She hadn't thought he might not want to mark her permanently, and suddenly she wished she had considered it, because it made her request seem all the more childish. Unfortunately, there was no way to take it back either.
“It is not my body,” He bit out.
“But you would be the one doing it,” She rebutted gently.
He was quiet for several minutes, contemplating her silently through narrowed gold eyes.
“Why?”
“Because-” She paused, unable to tell him the real reason. Scared of the words that were going to slip out, she shook her head, hugging her bag to her chest, feeling foolish. Hot tears of humiliation gathered in her eyes and spilled over, sliding down her cheeks.
“If you cannot tell me why you want such marks, I will not aid you.”
“Sango said her village did something similar, with the ash of their first kill,” She whispered, a tinge of desperation making her words higher than normal.
“That is a rite of passage for hunters,” He bit out coldly.
“It's a reminder, a mark to prove what they've done. What makes you think I wouldn't want something like that? Just because I wasn't raised to be a slayer doesn't mean I wouldn't want a reminder.”
“What you suggest is not the same.”
“How?”
“You are asking me to mark you,” He snapped, losing patience. Shocked by his display of temper, she stepped back, bumping into the screen behind her. “What's more, besides asking me to mark you, as if you were my property, you are asking me to mark you like a common criminal,” He finished in a snarl. Wishing the wall at her back was at least a few feet further back, she shook her head, the tears only increasing as he stepped closer.
For the first time since they had begun their strange relationship, she felt afraid of him, and she found it was not a feeling she enjoyed.
“I'm sorry, I didn't realize, I didn't know-”
“Just because I have indulged this perversity-”
“What?” She whispered, the words abruptly shocking her into cold numbness. He said them with such abhorrence that she wasn't sure he was even the same youkai she had stolen a handful of nights with, much less the person she had thought she might be falling in love with.
“You think this defect pleases me?” He growled. “You-”
“It's not a defect,” She snapped back, shaking her head in denial. “It's not. It's just what we are.”
“You accept so blindly-”
“I have not,” She shouted, angry that he was willing to dismiss her own feelings so easily. “It took me years to accept what I am, to understand it. You might live for centuries, but I only get eighty or ninety years at best! Years, think about that. I hated myself, hid it from everyone, have hidden it from everyone, would have kept hiding it if you-”
“If I hadn't what?”
“You were the one that asked the questions, that needed to know, that started this!” She accused, knowing she was wrong even as she shouted at him, but so angry the words wouldn't stop coming. “I spent years trying to figure out if something had happened to me to make me like this, but there was nothing, absolutely nothing! I felt guilty for being born different, and then, by the grace of the gods, I accepted it. It's just there, and I will be damned if I stand here and let you of all people tell me I'm defective or broken because of how I was born,” She finished, standing straight and keeping her head high despite the frustrated tears pouring down her face.
He said nothing, not even when she stalked away and opened the door. Not caring where she went, just needing to get away from him, she stumbled down the steps and ran blindly over the soft grass surrounding the small retreat into the woods.
It wasn't until the woods thinned and the ground turned to sand that she looked up from the earth. Breathing heavily, she could barely hear the roar of the ocean as it hit the beach again and again. Inhaling shakily, she stumbled through the sand, clumsy in her shoes. Pausing only to kick them and her socks off, she ran for the water, pulse pounding in and out in time with the tide.
Not thinking, just acting on impulse, she ran into the water, slowing as it tangled her pants and weighed them down. With an angry, frustrated scream she lobbed the bag, watching it land yards away and float on the current, then get pulled under as another wave swelled. As it disappeared from view, the small, hopeful part of herself broke down and the tears gave way to choking sobs.
Apathetic to the fact that she was knee deep in water. She sat down, pulling her knees to her chest and letting the sea push and pull at her as she openly sobbed, the salty mist mixing with her tears.
“Stupid male,” She muttered, rubbing her nose on her sleeve as the tears abated, leaving her alone in the vastness of the water and sky. Feeling like a small thing in such an open place, she found that it was comforting, in it's way. The universe was not infinite, but it felt like it was when she looked in the distance and couldn't see the line that distinguished the sea from the sky. In such a big place, her own problems seemed small, although no less hurtful.
“You imply this Sesshoumaru is stupid,” A voice said behind her. She turned, surprised to see two boots floating above the water. Above the boots were the legs of pants, which in turn led to a flowing white kimono. Above that was his face, which she didn't particularly want to see at the moment.
“Go away,” She muttered, turning away from him and looking back to the place where the ocean and the night sky met with a smidgen of longing. She wanted to go to that place, knowing she would never find it. Only another shore, which would doubtless be as disappointing as the one she currently occupied.
He said nothing, but he didn't leave either. She could feel him at her back, floating above the water as if he was the Christian messiah, although she had a feeling that male had been at least a little humble, and a little understanding.
“Sesshoumaru, if you think it's a perversion, why did you do anything? Why did you keep asking questions, why did you bring me here?” She finally sighed, accepting that he wasn't going anywhere. And unlike her, he was not getting cold.
“Because you accept it in yourself.”
“That's it?”
“I have never acted on my impulses before,” He admitted. Craning her neck to look over her shoulder, she eyed him warily.
“You've hurt enough people,” She grumbled sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
“It is not the same,” He argued quietly. “Do you find pleasure when an enemy hits you?”
She shook her head, a small smile on her lips. “I was being sarcastic. I figure it's probably like mine. I don't like it when an enemy hits me, or I stub my toe.”
“Then why that day?” He asked.
“I don't know,” She admitted, surprised by the honesty of it. Standing and ignoring how cold the wind felt hitting her soaked clothes and skin, she trudged back to shore. The water dripped down, then picked up sand as she trekked back to her shoes. By the time she picked them up, she was covered in a layer of grit, and shook her feet to no affect.
“Come,” He sighed, his signature cloud appearing next to him. Sitting on the transparent red mass, she crossed her legs and braced herself as he lifted into the air and took them up the hill and over the forest. When they landed next to the small house, she stepped off and looked to the building sadly. Resigning herself to never entering it again, she shrugged and forced a bright smile to her face.
“If you don't mind, could you drop me back at the well?”
“You will explain something first,” He rumbled, making her smile falter. Valiantly trying to keep it, she nodded once.
“Why would you ask for a permanent marking from me?”
That was a question she did not, under any circumstances, want to answer honestly, so she settled for a half truth, and hoped he wouldn't be able o tell the difference.
“You're the first person that's ever known me like this,” She finally said, breaking the silence. “I've never been with anyone before. I've never had sex, or even kissed someone. But this, it feels like more than that. It feels more intimate than I ever imagined it would. More fulfilling. Maybe I'm just overly sentimental, I guess.”
“You would take such marks for so little?”
“It's not little, not to me,” She admitted, not wanting to be hurt by his dismissal and failing miserably. Suddenly she was a teenage girl again, feeling the sting of rejection for something completely and utterly beyond her control. It was the ultimate irony that it was Sesshoumaru continuing where his brother had left off.
“You threw the bag in the ocean.”
She nodded, feeling miserable and foolish.
“Come,” He rumbled, walking up the steps onto the veranda. Unsure of what to do and given little choice but to follow, she gave in and walked behind him, a sodden, gritty mess. Left standing in the main room, she shuffled over to the fire, hoping to grasp what little warmth she could. He left her, walking behind on of the screens and emerging with a blanket.
“There is nothing here to fit you,” He said, offering it to her. She took it, still not completely understanding what he was doing. He left her alone again, and still lost, she peeled off her shirt and pants, then gave up and removed her underwear. Laying it out near the basin, she wrapped the blanket around herself and sat down, feeling infinitely small and very alone as she contemplated the flames.
A whisper of silk and she felt him behind her. Not wanting to look at him, she chose to continue looking forward, spots dancing in the darkness behind her eyelids when the fire became too much to look at.
Wordlessly, he pulled the blanket down, exposing her back. Tears pricking her eyes, she tried to keep it up, to resist his insistent tugging. In the end though, he won, as she knew he would.
“There is another way,” He murmured, a pointed claw grazing the line of her spine.
She wasn't sure she wanted the marks anymore. If he hated that part of himself, she wasn't sure she would feel the same looking at them as she had before. What she would have seen as something beautiful, and hoped he would at least remember fondly, would probably only be a distasteful memory to him, if he chose to remember it at all. That in and of itself would taint them, make them less than beautiful.
“Why would you do it?” She choked out.
“Perhaps because you are the first I have ever shown this side of myself,” He admitted in a carefully neutral voice. “Because you don't hate it.”
There was an undercurrent to his words, a tension she couldn't quite label with any one particular emotion.
“What would you do?” She finally asked, feeling more vulnerable, more exposed than ever despite the fact that he could only see her back.
“Ink is too common, it is for criminals only. Ash too susceptible to failure.”
“Meaning?”
“My youki,” He intoned.
That idea was as frightening as the thought of using ash. The ink seemed infinitely safer. Letting him use his claws on her like normal seemed a billion times safer.
“Your youki?” She stammered, heart climbing into her throat and finding a cozy spot for itself.
“Hnn. They will not become infected, as you fear with the others. And they will never fade.”
Could she accept marks from him? Could she endure having his youki make those marks?
“Alright?” She whispered, the word coming out as a question.
His hand moved over her flesh, the claws trailing lightly and calling forth goosebumps as they teased her sense of touch into overstimulated awareness. The familiar touch relaxed her, and unthinking, she began leaning into him, barely noticing when his legs unfolded to rest on either side of her body.
“Are you ready?” He asked. She hummed her agreement, already sunk into the featherlight sensation of his claws and the pads of his fingers slipping over her flesh..
When his youki swelled around them, her own ki flickered as a natural response. Quelling it, squashing it mercilessly beneath her will, she waited, savoring the feel of him slowly winding around her. At first the sensation was dull, the slight pinpricks reminiscent of a limb falling asleep. Quickly it intensified, gathering strength and bearing into her skin. Within seconds it had gone from static to red hot, like an iron heated as it was held to her flesh.
White light burst in her vision, obscuring the world as a scream echoed through the small house. Her sight gone, she was left with the feeling of his youki branding her, searing her flesh in a pattern she couldn't decipher. Above that, around that, she felt the solid warmth of his chest supporting her and his hand moving over her breast, down the soft plain of her stomach and between her legs. His fingers glided over her, slipping against the wetness and rubbing small circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves before moving again. His palm ground against her clit and his finger pushed into her, teasing her entrance.
The unfamiliar sensation of someone else touching her there combined with the euphoria spiraling around her sent her screaming over the edge, tears coursing down her cheeks as she called out his name.
She was still trembling violently when the world came back into focus, the blinding white seeping away into the darkness of the small house. The fire flickering next to them was unnaturally bright to her sensitive eyes, and she turned her head, finding comfort in the silken warmth of his kimono.
“It is done,” He murmured. She hadn't even noticed the youki was gone, so dazed from the force of her orgasm that coming down was proving to be a challenge she could not meet.
“Thank you,” She whispered, voice hoarse.
“You-” Here he stopped, and she wondered if he was often confounded when thinking of her. Feeling sleepy and lazy, she didn't notice that she was curling further into his form, shifting little by little until she was leaning fully against him, her legs tucked carefully between his and her cheek resting against his chest, right over his heart.
“Now more than ever I should frighten you,” He finally said.
“But this is where I feel safest,” She murmured sleepily, the darkness growing and pulling her under. In the distance she heard him saying something, although it was muffled and dim, like he was speaking to her through a cloud.
“Perhaps you are mad as well as perverse.”

When she woke, she was, by some miracle, in her own bed. Panic overwhelming her drowsy contentment and shattering it, she jumped up from her bed and looked down at herself, afraid the night had been a dream.
But the blanket wrapped around her was the one he'd given her. Dropping it quickly, she looked down at her body. The sight that greeted her sent her heart into overdrive, pumping madly in her chest as she struggled to breathe and hold back a fresh wash of tears.
Thin, elegant lines sloped over her skin, curving and coursing with the curves of her body gracefully. Whorls and dips, barely raised and only slightly paler than the flesh itself began and ended. From what she could see, there were two that swooped down from on her sides, and eager to see more she pulled the blanket up around her shoulders and rushed to the bathroom.
There she could see that he had begun between her collarbones, two lines sloping up over her shoulders. Turning, she traced them with her eyes and they curved in, mimicking the lines of her shoulder blades before swelling and coming back to come just barely show on the front of her stomach before curving again.
On her arms were another set,winding a long path down like a pale spiral tattoo. Reverently she traced one, shivering at the memory.
Then reality came crashing down on her. How had she gotten back to her time? As far as she knew, only Inu Yasha could travel through the well, and if that had happened, disaster had surely struck. Shuffling out of the bathroom back to her room, she dropped the blanket on her bed and began dressing slowly, zombie like as she considered the possibilities.
She was fairly certain Sesshoumaru would not have just dropped her off with Inu Yasha. Something had changed between them, but not for the worse, at least she hadn't thought so. Remembering his hand expertly manipulating her sex she acknowledged that it had never happened before, but that couldn't have been a reason for him to drop her with Inu Yasha. He had done it, after all, she hadn't trespassed over any boundaries. He had offered to mark her with his youki, and he had held her after. He wouldn't have held her if he was angry, right?
In all, she couldn't imagine him risking exposing their relationship, such as it was, for things he had done.
Which ruled out Inu Yasha. But then, how had she gotten back?
Running impatient hands through her hair, she growled softly and walked over to her desk and stared at her computer. The urge to contact Junpei was overwhelming, but he and his partner were both on vacation, visiting a convention of some sort in the united states. She wasn't sure what she would say anyway. She'd only told him that she'd begun a relationship of sorts with someone, and that she was having an amazing time. Not once had she touched on the fact that she was falling in love with him, and that he was as hard to reach as the top of mount fuji.
Groaning, she gave up on trying to figure out the mystery of how she'd gotten home and decided to just go back as she'd planned. After all, waking up in her own bed had effectively destroyed the high she was used to riding on, and she accepted with grim determination that as long as she went to Sesshoumaru, that was how it would be.
Sneaking out of her house was easier than she had thought it would be, owing to her family's apparent absence. Looking down at her arms again, she wondered if she would just explain the scars away as another rite of passage. Sango would accept it readily enough, although she wasn't so sure Inu Yasha would. He had seen people of her time, although in the past few years he'd come to the future less and less. Hoping the lie would withstand their perusal, she inhaled deeply and jumped down, feeling the magic wash over her.
When she grabbed onto the vine, she began pulling herself up, huffing impatiently as she did so. If the well was so powerful, why couldn't it just send her up to the top while it was at it? Ignoring the contrary magic, she drug herself over the wooden lip and began walking with long, determined strides.
He met her halfway to the village.
“Where the fuck have you been? We've been looking everywhere for you!” He shouted, stopping short of bowling her over.
“I got lost, so I headed for the village and decided to go home for the night,” She quipped, hoping he was too angry to notice her arms.
“You got all the way back to the well?” He muttered, disbelief obvious. “It was miles-”
“I was scared and running. Demons, remember? When I recognized where I was I headed for the well since they couldn't follow me through.”
Clearly he wasn't aware of what she had been doing, or he wouldn't be talking to her. Or he'd be screaming and calling her names, maybe even threatening her. Instead, he fell into step beside her, either accepting the lie or letting it go. She wasn't sure which, and she wasn't going to press the issue. They were silent as they walked from the woods into the outskirts of the village.
“What're those?” He demanded once they were out of the shade, grabbing her arm roughly to examine the raised line. Pulling away from him, she said the first thing that came to mind.
“A mark.”
“I can see that,” He snapped impatiently. “What for, where'd you get it?”
“Some people in my time get them,” She hedged. “And my reasons are my own.”
“You were only gone overnight,” He said, still eying them curiously.
“It's a future thing,” She lied, hoping he would believe it.
Shippou hit her with the force of a cannonball, arms going around her legs and hugging tightly. Sango and Miroku followed at a more sedate pace. Thankful for the interruption, she greeted her friends and repeated the lie she had told Inu Yasha, mentally flinching as she did so.
“Well, we can get going, there's still enough light,” The hanyou said, taking command of the group. Grateful for the reprieve from his questions, she ignored the curious glances and accepted her travel bag her bag, readying herself for another long bout of traveling.
Her gaze kept returning to the raised lines, and from time to time she brushed her fingers over them, allowing herself a small smile. It was real, they were real. Even if things were not ideal, she allowed a flush of warm pleasure to calm her fears. Even if he did not love her, he cared enough to mark her, to give her that much. In the grand scheme of things, it might have seemed small to anyone else, but she reveled in the knowledge, in the memory of receiving them and in the lingering feel of his body supporting her own.

Despite Inu Yasha's obstinate, mulish behavior, the rest of the week passed in a happy blur. She laughed and giggled, she joked with Sango and brushed off the inquiries into her marks with a secret smile, saying only that they had been a gift. Even when they were forced to camp in the open, she didn't complain. The more cheerful she seemed, the more cheerful everyone else became, except for Inu Yasha, who only grew more and more sullen.
When seven days had passed, she began looking for him again. When ten nights passed, she shrugged and determined that he was busy.
When two weeks went by without his presence, she became pensive, and began fingering her marks lightly, her smiles becoming more and more forced. There had been several battles, and not once had he shown up to help them. Not once had they stumbled upon him slaughtering a youkai they would have come across. In fact, it was as if he didn't exist.
Three weeks passed with no sign of him at all, and she began to worry that something had happened to him. With each day she became more and more withdrawn, trailing her fingers over the marks when no one was looking. As her mood spiraled deeper into worry, and then into self doubt, Inu Yasha's mood seemed to lighten.
There were many, many hanyou shaped craters created that week.

She carefully slipped past the sleeping taijiya and the two sleeping men across the doorway. Kirara blinked at her, pupils reflecting bright green in the darkness. Tip toeing out of the room, she slid the door shut behind her and stepped into the cool rainy night, looking up to the sky. Even if the moon had been visible, the rain clouds would have obscured it. Ignoring good sense she stepped from the small veranda onto the soggy ground, arms hugging her sides tightly.
Despite the warm night the rain was cold as it began soaking through the linen kimono she wore to hide her marks. Shivering, she looked back up to the sky, and tentatively cast her senses out, trying to expand her awareness.
There was nothing besides the feel of humans around her, the odd flickers of youki in her mind's eye easily recognized as belonging to her companions.
He wasn't there. He wasn't near.
“Oh kami,” She whimpered, understanding slowly creeping over her hope, smothering it beneath it's weight.
Since starting, he had never waited more than a week to come to her, and he had always come to her on nights of the new moon. It had been almost a month. And the moon was absent from the sky, hidden in it's own shadows. If he was going to retrieve her, he would have.
“He's not coming back,” She whispered, choking on the words as they came out, not wanting to believe them but unable to deny their truth.
She had accepted that it wouldn't last, that he wouldn't want to keep stealing moments in time to indulge their desires. But-
But she hadn't thought he would end everything so abruptly, so quickly. She had hoped for more, just one more time. Every time she had just hoped for one more night.
The world grew dim and foggy around her, even the rain seemed like an echo as it hit her skin, barely registering as she fell to her knees. A hand rested on her shoulder, and she looked up through the tendrils of wet hair covering her face. Concerned purple eyes peered back down at her, and Miroku knelt beside her.
“I promised myself it would be enough,” She sobbed, rocking back and forth, trying to stave off the crushing certainty that she was alone again. Alone and unwanted.
He seemed to understand, even if he didn't, and she didn't care that he didn't. It didn't matter, because it was her secret, and Sesshoumaru's, and she would never tell, not anyone. Not even Miroku as he brought his arms around her, hugging her tightly as she rocked back and forth, bawling into his damp robes. Her body shook with the force of her sobs, shoulders jerking as she gasped for breath around the thickness in her throat, the twisting of the knife in her heart.
“But it wasn't. It wasn't enough.”
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