Adult-FanFiction.org : Inuyasha / Yashahime

Sachi
By : Quillwing717
Category: InuYasha > General
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Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.
Chapter List
- 22
- 23
Warning: This chapter contains material not suitable for children under 18, or those easily offended by explicit descriptions and gratuity of all kinds, blah, blah, blah...
Anyway: Lemon=Sex. Long. Fairly explicit. You have been warned and/or promised. That is all. Enjoy.
Chapter 22: Touch Move (tsumu, sakusenkachi)
Ba-thump.
He ran, and she breathed.
Ba-thump.
The moon, even at half-disk, blazed through the razor-sharp air; it bounced, magnified off the thick snow, outlining the darkness as they raced through the Daisetsuzan's stark, frozen glow.
Ba-thump.
His hands, wrapped around her thighs, holding her secure against him through every gather and leap. His body, technically beneath her, shifting with the smooth ripple of muscle between her legs, along her belly. His claws, bare prickles high along her inner thighs, unrelenting, there. Something inside her clenched; held.
Ba-thump.
His heat, penetrating through the thick barriers of their clothes. The wind sliced viciously over her exposed face and hands, but his steady warmth countered it, made the numbing of her skin easy to ignore. Earlier, Abi-hime's infusion of heat had been a godsend, warming her when she'd been struggling to keep her eyes open and her attention on their mounting problems—but now, it was InuYasha keeping the cold at bay.
Ba-thump.
He ran so fluidly, practically skimming along the snow, his boots touching down in the softest of slushy thuds before pushing away again, eating up the bare expanse of fairground like Shippou devoured her cookies. In only moments, they'd hit the treeline, where the trees were thinnest and sparse, the snow still heavy and thick; some minutes later, deeper, into the wilder parts of the forest, where the snow and the trees flipped qualities, and the ground grew uneven, and the canopy filtered the moonlight. While she clung to his back, he dodged with startling agility and speed. Never once was she afraid.
Ba-thump. Ba-thump. Ba-thump.
Not long after the lights and sounds of Sounkyo had faded behind them, InuYasha slowed to a stop in a small, clear area. "Damn it," he said, and loosened his grip. "Hang on a sec."
Even though she didn't want to, she let her legs drop from around his waist and slid down his body. "What's wrong?" she breathed, faintly winded even though he'd been doing all the exerting. And yet, the even cadence of his breathing—in, out, in, out—hadn't changed once since he'd started running.
The second he was sure she had her feet under her, he knelt down and ripped at the laces on his heavy boots. "The terrain's about to get tricky. These'll just get in the way." The first boot came off.
She stared at him, aghast. "You're going to run barefoot? But it's freezing. There's snow on the ground."
"Doesn't matter. It's gonna get dark and I'm going fast. It'll be safer for both of us if I can feel what's beneath us." He grunted, and the other boot came off. He tucked his socks into one boot, tied the laces together, slung them around his neck, and shifted to motion at her over his shoulder. "C'mon. Let's not waste any more time."
She hesitated, her gaze on his bare toes, unprotected and planted in the snow as he balanced in a crouch. "But…"
He sighed, and the hot cascade of his breath skated on moonlight. "It's fine. The cold'll get to you long before it gets to me, you know?" He angled a look over his shoulder, the dark slits of his pupils thick, the luminescence of his eyes bronzed and unreadable in the silvery dim. "Trust me."
She inhaled a biting ice-shiv of air and shuddered as it seared her lungs, her temperature dropping already, only a few moments away from his warmth. Then she nodded and draped her arms over his shoulders.
He did the same as he'd done before, curling his hands around her thighs and taking her with him as he stood, guiding her legs along the sides of his waist. This time, he stood for a moment, adjusting his grip, sliding his arms until she was sitting more securely in the crook of his forearms and elbows. After she'd sunk against him once again, her heart beating a slow, heavy thud against his back, he stood there, breathing—in, out, in, out.
Then he angled his head in her direction, keeping his gaze toward the ground. "Okay?"
The question rumbled from him and into her, deep and thick and penetrating. It wrapped around her throat and electrified her heart, dripped like warm honey down her lungs and pooled low, heavy, and warm in her belly. Kagome curled her fingers into the material covering his shoulders and inhaled again, pressing her aching breasts against his back. "Okay," she affirmed, just as thick, her breath fogging, drifting over his neck.
Tension invaded his shoulders, his arms. It was palpable beneath her. His hands, just below her knees, tightened. His ears flicked. He gave a short, choppy nod, and then he was running again, her body gripping around him.
They hit a really dense patch of forest. The moonlight filtered down to almost nothing, and for the second time that night, darkness enveloped them. It was thick and black, like a cloud, with only faint gradients in the shadows to differentiate ground from trees. And there were so many trees. They grew trunk-thick and close together, slowing their pace significantly.
Until that moment, Kagome had been nearly dozing, surface-chilled, but lulled into a trance by the softly charged, strangely sensual cadence of their mad-dashing through the forest. The moment the moon disappeared, the cadence shattered, and frostiness rushed through her with a million tiny, piercing arrows. Something dark and heavy stirred in the back of her mind. She startled, sucking in a near-silent breath, widened her eyes, and blinked into the shadows.
InuYasha swore beneath his breath. His voice drifted back to her. "It's getting tight. Keep your head down."
She managed a hum of acknowledgment, tightened her arms, and tucked her cheek against the curve of his shoulder. He sped up again, twisting through a series of complicated leaps and dodges to avoid smacking into any of the thick trunks crowding them. She had the sense they were ascending, because they kept leaping, but she couldn't tell for sure in the nearly complete darkness.
The uncomfortable thing at the back of her mind rose and wriggled, an amorphous blob of shadows filled with whispers and disconnected movements, pressing in hard on her senses. It swamped her stomach, blotting the pleasant, thick sweetness she'd been enjoying with something oily and nauseating. When her stomach roiled, she swallowed and gritted her teeth, resolving to tamp it down no matter what, since InuYasha was doing his best to get them home as fast as possible.
It's just disorientation. You can't tell where you're going, so your body is a little confused. Endure it for a bit. They had to be getting close to home. They'd been out for…
—how long now?
Cold trickled down her spine.
—How long? How long had she been running? How far would be enough? How long could she keep going?
No, how long had he been running. She shook her head, feeling fuzzy, and narrowed her eyes against the cold breeze, trying to focus into the rushing darkness, trying to distinguish lighter shadows from darker shadows. They didn't whisper. Nothing out in the middle of the Daisetsuzan did. It was gentle, snow-silent, obscenely peaceful.
InuYasha took another leap, and they fell. Through darkness. Kagome nearly cried out at the sudden drop in her stomach, but managed to swallow it back. Frigid air crept beneath her jacket; it reached through her layers to caress her skin, then deeper to kiss her bones. She shuddered.
—couldn't suppress them at first, but after a while, her body was numb to the cold, and the shaking faded, and navigating through the unfamiliar terrain grew easier.
He landed nimbly, his bare feet barely tapping, and then he was running again along a flatter plane of ground. "You okay?" he called out, just loud enough for her to catch the concern in his words.
She sucked in another cold breath and nodded against his shoulder, ignoring the sick thrashing in her stomach, the staccato of her heartbeat, the struggle of her lungs to pull in oxygen. "I'm f-fine. Just surprised. You're going fast, and it's…dark."
—It was too dark. She couldn't see where she was going.
Whispers. The desperate sense of being hunted.
No. They were fine. They were on their way home. He was running for her sake. She trusted him.
"I told you I needed to feel the ground." He hesitated, dodging around another wide tree trunk, and they short-dropped again, his feet hard-thudding beneath his grunt. "The terrain is tough here, but it's the fastest way home. Just keep close. Won't take too long to get through."
She nodded again, and tightened her arms around his shoulders, adjusting her grip, clinging to his solidness. Branches from the trees scraped at her clothes—
—the branches simply blended in with the dark gray until they reached to snag at her, scratching like hands and claws, ripping at her scalp—
Her heart stuttered, stopped. Her lungs went numb, as if—
—she could barely breath, but she had to keep going, because he was—
Her heart burst back into motion, faster than she could breathe. Her fingers clenched into tight fists, bunching his jacket. Another shiver ripped through her, this one hard enough he noticed. He was midair, but she felt his hesitation, and when his foot came down on a thin, cracking branch—
—another crack ricocheted through the air, plunked into a tree somewhere behind her. They were softer than she'd thought they'd be, but she knew what they were, knew what would happen to her if—
She flinched, a whimper slipping past her lips. Her eyes squeezed shut as she turned her face into his neck.
"Kagome?" He slowed, his attention splitting back to her, his bare feet skidding through a loose slurry of snow and detritus.
—smaller rocks and sharp twigs cut into the tender skin of her bare feet, but she barely felt them because the cold—
She shuddered against him, her hands pinching and twisting, desperate to hold on to the real through the shadows. "Too close," she choked through a nearly closed throat, more ragged breath than sound.
"What?"
Distantly, beyond the panicked thunder of her heartbeat and the mental shroud of sensations that didn't belong to now, she was aware he'd come to a stop, aware the trees had stopped rushing by and now loomed large and threatening all around them.
"Kagome! What's wrong!" His shoulder jostled her, his attempt at a shake.
—his fury reached her even across the freezing distance between them—
"The trees!" she gasped.
"The trees? What…"
"I can't… Too close. Chasing me. Oh, god, can't breath." Her voice ached, her lips moving against the hot skin of his neck. The shadows around them had seeped into her, fogging her mind until the only thing she was sure of was the anchor of his body. "Please. Make it stop."
"Shit," he said. "Just…hold on."
And then they were moving, flying high above the trees where it was so much colder, but she could breath again. Since breathing was hard, since every strangled inhale pushed back the death skimming her spine, she closed her eyes and focused on that.
"Hey. Hey! Look at me, damn it! What the hell is wrong with you?"
They'd stopped. He'd set her down, pushing her onto something hard and freezing, its cold dampness seeping into her pants. Her boots were flat against the soft churn of snow. His hands burned around her wrists, holding them in the air between them, his grip firm enough to stop their shaking.
Kagome opened her eyes. Moonlight sheered down on them, a cleansing wash of silver reflected by the heavy snow blanketing all around them. The trees had receded, thinned and—save for a few saplings—gone absent within a small semi-circle of a clearing. Somewhere behind her, the soft rush of running water gurgled and soothed.
With the return of light, the thick darkness enveloping her dissipated, drawing back like the trees. The constriction eased away from her lungs, and the crushing sense of desperation lifted, evaporating in the moonlight. It left a strong chill in its wake, an unwelcome residue of shivers wracking her entire body. She blinked and drew a deep, shuddering breath, sucking at the crisp, untainted air.
InuYasha crouched in front of her, his knees framing her legs, braced against the hard and snow-dusted rock serving as her seat. The soft white ears atop his head flicked repeatedly as his eyes searched her features. The moment her eyes met his, the breath hissed out of him. "Kagome. Are you all right?"
Her brow wrinkled as she stared at him, still breathing hard, still struggling to shake the lurking sense of unreality. "I'm…f-fine?"
He snarled, showing his teeth. "Like fuck! Whatever the hell that was, it wasn't fine."
"That?" She blinked again, and more fogginess slipped away. "It wasn't…" Something in her brain clicked, and a jolt went through her. Her eyes widened. Her shivers intensified, reaching all the way up to the crown of her, all the way into the very core of her. Her body hunched in on itself, trying to contain the horror of them. "InuYasha," she whispered through numb lips. "S-someone was chas-sing me."
"What?" His brow cleared, and his fingers slipping away from her wrists, curling and cracking as he surged to his feet, his head whipping around to search through the trees around them. "You saw someone? Just now?"
"N-no." The phantoms sensations were still there, just beneath the surface. The exhausted burn in her legs. The scratches on her arms. The poke and tear of sticks and stones against her bare feet. The empty coldness along her back, pregnant with the expectation of tearing, burning flesh. She curled her hands over her arms and rubbed, and it took her another moment to force the word from her throat. "Be-efore."
"Before? What are you—" His entire body stilled. Slowly, he turned, his eyes wide, dark, wary. He dropped back into his crouch, his hands bracing on the rock on either side of her. "You…remembered something?"
She couldn't stop shaking, couldn't calm her heart or control her breathing, no matter how hard she tried. She stared at him, helpless, half-lost inside a miserable blur. "I was r-running. Someone was…ch-chasing me. It was c-cold. It hurt. I was…g-going to d-die. I knew it. I accepted it."
As she spoke, his mouth tightened, and when she whispered die, the muscle in his jaw ticked. "That's bullshit," he said. "You didn't. You're still alive. You survived the bastard." His gaze shifted, and he nodded at something behind her. "I found you, remember?"
Pressing her shaking hands into her thighs, Kagome twisted to follow his gaze.
It was a small river. More of a wide stream, really, populated as much with rocks as with water, though it seemed deep enough. Much of it was frosted over, thick white ice prickling out from the sloping, frozen banks and crusting around the stones that jutted above the waterline, but a strong current still pushed along through the center.
One particular rock, a thick, angled slab in the middle of the flow drew her eyes. "What are you—" Instinct widened her eyes, and soft, fluttery wings brushed through her stomach. "Here?" she breathed.
"Yeah." His voice had thickened, rumbled right in her ear. "Right there in that freezing water. You don't recognize it?"
She turned her wide eyes back up to him, and found him inches away. He'd stood and was leaning over her, braced on his arms. A delicate clutch joined the fluttering deep in her belly, but she just shook her head. "N-no. I…no."
His jaw ticked again, and he turned his head, jerking his chin upstream. "The place we were running—where the trees were too close—is back near the source of this water." His eyes met hers. "That's probably where you came from." He reached up, and his fingers grazed at her hairline, just over her scar. "Maybe where you got this."
They stared at each other, the only sounds the constant whooshing of the water and their breathing. Kagome's heart still pounded, dancing in her throat. The freezing stone beneath her pressed into her legs, and the subtle wrack of her shivering made each breath stutter. His gaze dropped to her pulse, and she swallowed.
His brows tensed. "Kagome," he said quietly, jaw still tight, eyes intense. "The person who was chasing you. Do you remember who it was?"
She hesitated, searching his features, touching on the grim set of his lips. Then, because he'd asked, she turned her gaze inward, to the nebulous thickness hovering somewhere at the edges of her mind. She poked at it, focused on it.
It lunged at her. Her mind shied away, rejecting the onslaught. Her body almost followed.
But…he'd asked so seriously. The whispery shadows writhed again, and this time she bit her lip and opened her mind to them. Sought them out. Let them slither over her, let them taint the terrorized beats of her heart.
Terror. Pain. Exhaustion. Despair.
Acceptance.
"Hey," he said.
She winced, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to sift through the confusion of ghosts. "I think…he was angry. He was furious, but…." Without conscious thought, her fingers snagged at his sleeve.
"Kagome…." His voice rumbled again, low and thick.
In the roiling dark, the entity chasing her had no face, no name. Just a sense of power, and an utter despair that made her throat ache. Another shiver gripped her, hard, and she released his sleeve to press both fists into her thighs until it passed. "He was somewhere behind me, but I knew at any moment…. I just…had to get away, but the trees, and I didn't know where I was going…." She took another shuddering breath through bloodless lips and shook her head. "I don't…know. It's—there's no time, no order. It's just…fragments, bits and pieces in my mind. I don't know how to—"
"Shit," he bit out. "Stop. Just…stop. Forget it. Let it go."
She opened her eyes to him glowering at her. There was something stark and angry in him—the stiffness of his shoulder, the hard set of his jaw, the way his hands dug into the stone on either side of her hips—and she wasn't sure how to react to it. "But," she spoke around tight lungs. "I can try. It's the only thing, in all this time. I should try, shouldn't I?"
It's right, she thought suddenly. Remembering.
Remembering might be the right thing to do, no matter how recalcitrant her mind, no matter how terrifying and confusing the memories. Here, now, for the first time since she'd opened her eyes in the Sachi, she felt as if it might be important—as if not remembering was something she was doing wrong. The feeling came in like a fist and clutched in her chest, clamping down and settling in. She grimaced, shivered, rubbed at it. "I should try," she breathed out again.
"No. It doesn't matter." He dropped his eyes to her hand, then dragged them back up to hers, their color near molten, even through the cooling moonlight. "Just forget it. It's not going to happen again. Whoever that son-of-bitch was, he's gone. And if he ever comes back…he won't get anywhere near you, all right?"
Kagome stared at him, her breath shallow. His ear kept flicking. Just the one. She wanted to reach up and run her fingers over the silky white fur, sooth the agitation; her hands curled around the urge. She opened her mouth.
He shook his head. "I'll protect you. No matter what, I'll protect you. Got it? So don't—" He broke off, averted his gaze. "You don't have to put yourself through that. You don't have to remember anything. It's not important."
"But you asked if I remembered. You wanted me to remember." He had. Not just earlier. At first, it had been the only thing he'd cared about. And then…that night in front of the fire, too, when he'd finally trusted her with everything.
He remembered; his eyes flashed back to search hers, and she watched the memories run through them: the conversation, the heat, the intimacy. His mouth tightened, and his canines peeked beneath the brief curl of a lip. "Tch. I said I wanted to protect you. I can do that even if you don't remember. So don't…. For fuck's sake, don't push yourself if it hurts you. I don't…like seeing you that way."
Awareness rippled across her skin. Her face was achingly cold, she couldn't even feel her fingers, or toes, or lips anymore, and a constant chill radiated up and down her spine. But awareness flickered beneath it all anyway. A deep ache bloomed in her stomach, hot despite her low temperature, and beneath the clench of her shivers was the warm, slick seep of longing. The elusive tease of pleasure.
Just a few inches. He hovered just a few inches away.
The temptation to press her icy lips against the fierce set of his, to coax and nip until they'd softened against hers, until he'd tilted his head and set about using his mouth to warm hers, was nearly overwhelming. Instead, still shivering, she leaned forward and rested her forehead against his shoulder. "Okay," she whispered to him for the second time that night.
He inhaled. From the corner of her eye, she caught the ripple as he swallowed. He cleared his throat, then scooped her off the rock, one arm sliding beneath her legs, one curling around her back. "You're freezing again, damn it. I shouldn't have stopped. We could have talked about this inside, where you wouldn't be shivering your human ass off."
Kagome kept her face turned into his shoulder to hide a small smile, and looped her arms around his neck—from the front, this time. His boots, still around his neck, dug into her abdomen, and she didn't even care. "But I'm glad I got to see it. The place where you found me." He snorted, then turned away from the stream, in the direction of Sachi, she assumed.
She frowned. "Wait. Shouldn't I—"
"It's fine this way. We're almost there."
"Strange," Kaede murmured, her frown filtering into her voice.
InuYasha paused mid-stride, halfway from the outer door to the open inner door, his hundredth such roundabout since he'd come shouting and bursting into the kitchen, Kagome cradled in his arms—and alarmingly still, since not long after he'd plucked her off that damn rock.
Her stillness had scared the shit out of him. He'd been in the Daisetsuzan long enough to know shivers meant "cold, but still functioning." When the shivers stopped out in the middle of a freezing winter night, it could only be because the body wasn't working right anymore. Hence his bellowing panic as he came slamming into the kitchen.
Then Kaede had scared the shit out of him by being right fucking there, waiting next to the door, several towels and a heavy blanket in hand, a hot pot of tea nearby. Miroku had called Sachi, she'd explained blandly as he moved to the kotatsu that had, since the last blizzard, taken up shared space with the kitchen table. And because InuYasha was a creature of instinct, Kaede had continued as he'd set Kagome carefully on the floor and helped her white, fumbling fingers strip her boots and damp socks, Kaede had figured he would come in through the kitchen without thinking of the obvious fireplace near the front entrance.
I brought her to the fire the first time, he'd felt compelled to point out.
As you would for any guest, Kaede had nodded. But not for one of us.
The wry old bitch.
"What?" InuYasha snapped over one tense shoulder.
Both women sat tucked under the kotatsu's long quilt. Kagome's scarf and hat were gone, her cold, wet socks replaced with warm, dry ones, and her jacket replaced with the heavy blanket—and InuYasha had never in his life been so damn glad to see a human being shiver. Her shivers seemed to be heading in the right direction, too, slowly receding into a muted tremble as her body warmed up. She had one hand wrapped around whatever herbal concoction Kaede had poured her, and kept it close so she could breath in the steam when she wasn't sipping.
Kaede had one of Kagome's hands cupped in one of hers, the gnarled old fingers of the other feeling carefully along Kagome's inner wrist. The frown on her face was concerned. "Her pulse is too fast."
"What does that mean?" He was across the kitchen before he'd even finished asking the question, crossing his arms as he plopped down opposite them, not bothering to tuck under the blanket. His heart was in his throat again—not that the cursed thing hadn't been losing its shit on and off for hours now.
"Hypothermia slows the body down, particularly blood flow." Leaving her fingers against Kagome's wrist, Kaede pressed the back of her free hand over Kagome's cheeks and patted down along her neck. "Her pupils are slightly dilated, and her skin is clammy. Are you certain you weren't injured, child?"
Kagome blinked, but the movement was off, sluggish. "A few bruises maybe. Nothing major."
InuYasha strummed his fingers, his claws making dull thunks into the wood top of the kotatsu. "I checked her, you checked her. You think we missed something? Should we take her somewhere?" Exposing her to the Sounkyo clinic—or even a hospital, which would take much longer to get to—was such a risky prospect it put his back up, but he would do it if he had to.
Kaede shook her head. "It's unlikely we wouldn't know if she were seriously hurt by now. But her symptoms are strange. Hypothermia, yes, but perhaps…. Has anything happened outside of her being trapped in the ice?"
S-someone was chasing me.
His stomach muscles drew tight as his mind flashed back to trees: the way she'd trembled against his back; the desperation invading the grip of her arms and legs as she'd clung to him; the sharp, sour bite of her panic reaching out to him through the pine-scented darkness. Kagome sitting on the rock, her face twisted and pale as she tried to remember, her muted scent bleeding fresh terror. The gut-twisting moment he'd realized she'd been caught away from him, into an event he'd never be able to reach—the moment some faceless killer had almost taken her life.
Before he'd found her. Before he'd been there to stop it. The tightness in his stomach spread up through his body, into his throat, and his hands curled into fists against the wood.
He never wanted to see her that way, scent her that way, again.
From the corner of his eye, he caught Kagome's fingers whitening around her mug, the quick flutter of her lashes as she glanced over at him. He lifted his eyes, met hers. They were wide and dark, turbulent instead of clear, tense around the edges, and he knew she was thinking of her reaction to the forest, too. Her lips, only just starting to lose that blue tint, parted.
"Nothing," he said abruptly, his eyes locked with hers. It was out before he'd thought about the wisdom of not telling Kaede, but he didn't take it back. "She was close to the generator when it blew, though. Maybe that has something to do with it."
Kagome's eyes widened slightly, and his ears flicked involuntarily as they caught the faintest hint of her inhaled breath. For a moment he thought she would correct him, tell Kaede anyway. But understanding flickered through her gaze, and then warmth and assent, and some of the tension went out of his shoulders.
That moment by the stream, when she'd leaned into him, her scent a confused mix of fear and relief shot through with heightened, tantalizing threads of awareness and sex, had been a moment of trust he'd never experienced before. He wanted to keep that moment separate, just between them. The complex undertones of her whispers in the moonlight had been for him alone, and they were damn well going stay that way.
His hands didn't uncurl from their fists, though, because now he was thinking of sex again, and the hot way she'd responded to him even in the ice and the cold. And how they'd made it back to Sachi, and the safety and privacy of its many rooms. And what Abi had said right before the night went sideways.
His heart kicked up that hard rhythm again, the anticipatory one. He inhaled, trying to suss out her scent, but still couldn't pick it apart. He kept catching heart-stopping threads of himself tangled up in her, but in the last few hours he'd been all over her by physical necessity, and his scent covered her almost as well as the blanket around her shoulders. He was on her for damn sure, but he couldn't tell if he was in her in a way that would denote something special. And what he could scent was still unnaturally blurred—which meant she still hadn't warmed up properly yet. His brows crinkled.
"Is that so?" Kaede's voice had never been so dry. It was enough to get him to blink and drag his eyes from Kagome's. Kaede's black eyes drifted from him to Kagome and back again. "Certainly, close proximity to the explosion could be the cause. Even mild signs of shock can take time to fade, and the hypothermia would have compounded things."
"Wait." He frowned. "You think she's hypothermic and in shock?"
"The shock is very mild, if so." Kaede sighed. "Well, the oddness may simply be a side effect of the yuki-onna's power, and regarding that I don't believe we can do much more than we've already done. We'll just have to watch her closely for a few days."
"A few days? But—" another visible shiver traveled down her arms and rippled the tea in her mug, "—I'm feeling much better already."
InuYasha snorted. "Like hell."
"It's not as bad a-as—" another shiver, "—it was."
He scowled.
"You said she'd been inhaling yuki-onna ice for an extended period of time?" Kaede grunted, flattened a hand against the table-top and started lumbering to her feet. "If the yuki-onna was strong, and enough ice-dust made it into Kagome's lungs and vital organs, her core temperature may fluctuate for quite a while before the ice is entirely melted."
Kagome set her cup down and moved to help Kaede to her feet, but InuYasha growled to warn her to stay put as he rounded the kotatsu. "Finish your tea," Kaede waved Kagome back as his hand on her elbow eased her upward. "You need to replenish your fluids, and the herbs will help regulate your temperature."
Kagome sighed, and obediently brought the mug to her lips while Kaede shuffled over to the appliance side of the kitchen. She moved the hot kettle to a warmer on the counter, turned off the stove, and pulled a pot from one of the burners. "I had prepared some soup, but I think it would be best if we give your body a few more hours before you ingest any food, just to be safe." Kaede poured the soup, which smelled of a pleasant mix of leeks and more herbs, into a container for later, then busied herself at the sink, washing out the pot.
InuYasha remained standing and watched Kagome's throat work with each sip of tea, his eyes narrowed, his arms crossed, one bare foot tapping against the wooden floor. Kagome peeked up at him, her gray eyes flashing once, twice, her pulse-beat still too rapid. Each glance from her was a touch, a fleeting spark of ignition deep in the pit of his gut, where molten lust had been pulsing and swirling for days now under barely-held restraint.
Trying to distract himself from that thump-thump-thump in her slender neck, trying to ignore the insistent pounding in his own chest, he eyed the rest of her. She sat with her legs curled to the side beneath the kotatsu; he knew because her socks peeked from underneath the kotatsu's covering, just inches from his bare toes. Her pants clung along the bit of one thigh he could see, sliding up along the curve of her ass, the soft round of her hip. The slightly damp patch beneath her thigh, where he'd sat her down in the snow, made him wonder why in the world she was still wearing them. The blanket on her shoulders enveloped the rest of her, but from his angle he could see her shirt beneath the blanket, the green knit with all the buttons, still half-undone. She'd never buttoned them back up.
Halfway was wrong. Done all the way up, or all the way undone. What the fuck kind of idiot leaves something halfway undone?
Frustration, with the unnatural chill blurring her scent and the situation in general, set his whole body on edge. His foot tapped out rapid thuds against the wooden floor; he gritted his teeth, then aimed his voice at Kaede, even if he couldn't quite pull his eyes away from Kagome. "Nothing we can do to speed it up? It's not good for her temperature to be all over the place."
Kaede grunted again, and moved to store the container of soup in the refrigerator. "With yuki-onna ice, who knows? It would probably help if we got her blood circulating, since her veins are probably constricted. If she were in a hospital, warm IV fluids and warm oxygen would be part of the treatment, but we don't have those things here."
"Warm air?" InuYasha's brows wrinkled again. He reached out his open hand to her, and his fingers curled in a brief come here gesture. "Hey. Go take a bath."
Kagome turned her head, and her eyes locked on his hand. Her eyelashes fluttered again. "A…bath?" Her voice was soft, a little breathy.
More slipper-shuffling from Kaede as she crossed the kitchen. "Hmm. Not a bad idea. A bath will bring her body temperature up safely as long as its not too low to start with, and she'll be breathing steam as well."
Somewhere beyond the table, Kaede's slow steps came to a stop, but he didn't even twitch in her direction. His eyes were glued to the woman staring at his hand.
"Oh," Kagome said, and touched her hand to his.
Her fingers were still cool, despite having been wrapped around the tea cup for the last few minutes; their chill penetrated all the way to his stomach, but the way it churned didn't have anything to do with the cold. Instinctively, he closed his fingers around hers, folding them inside the warmth of his palm. She lifted her eyes, moving her stare from his hand to him.
"Even InuYasha makes good suggestions sometimes, it seems. If you're feeling up to it, Kagome, I think a bath would do you good."
Kagome's eyes slid to Kaede, back up to InuYasha, then over to Kaede again, doubt a soft cloud in them. "All right." Her hand pressed into his. Before she could put more effort into it than that, he pulled her to her feet.
She came up smoothly, unfolding right into his personal space. One of her socks brushed against the side of his foot. Her chest—those mother-fucking tiny buttons—was only inches away from his. Her face turned up to his, her eyes wide and searching; her breath skated past her lips in shallow, rapid puffs. There was sex in her scent again, a teasing ghost of slick arousal that made his mouth water.
His lungs went tight. All the heat flickering in his gut flooded his body—living, breathing, electric fire. His eyes narrowed under hard brows.
Her chilled fingers still curled into his hand. His grip tightened, forcing her nails into his palm, and it was as if she'd dug them into his side or trailed them over his cock—and for the second time that night, he went thick and straining from the merest tease of sensations. He was about five seconds from putting his mouth on that throbbing pulse in her neck, another three from getting his hands back on that damn green top.
God, he wanted to taste her.
"Shall we, Kagome?"
His head whipped around to stare at Kaede. She watched them with a gleaming, near-mocking gaze, and an amused half-smile. He barely kept from baring his teeth at her. "We?"
Kaede nodded. "I shall accompany her, just in case. Hypothermia and shock can both cause confusion and coordination problems. The last thing she needs is more trauma from a stumble."
He blinked, seeing in his mind her body laid out in the hallway, soaked down to the skin after he'd pulled her from the bath. A frown flicked over his brow. He glanced back at her, and she was biting her lip, obviously remembering the same thing.
"Besides," Kaede continued, "it sounds as if the night was an exciting one. I'd like to check her body more thoroughly, to make sure no injuries were missed in all the confusion."
Trauma. Injuries. Right. Shit.
What the hell was he thinking?
He let her hand slip from his and took a big, hasty step back, even though his body protested every breath of space he got away from her. Kagome watched him, disappointment casting her mouth, her hands curling into the blanket draping over her body. He crossed his arms. "Yeah," he muttered, almost to himself. "You should make sure."
"Unless, of course, you'd like to be the one to do it." Kaede lifted a brow at him, her eyes deadpan.
His breath nearly stopped, and for just a moment, he saw his hands stripping her clothes, finishing those damn buttons, baring her skin to the caress of heat and steam. He saw her naked against the tiled wall, her legs wrapped around his waist. A hell yes hovered on his tongue, pushing to get past his lips.
"Kaede," Kagome hissed, a faint pink sliding over her cheeks, giving her back more of the color the cold had leeched away. "That's not funny." She stepped past him and around the kotatsu, reaching for Kaede's arm. Another hard shiver hit her frame just before she hooked her arm around Kaede's, and she paused while her body shook and her breath stuttered.
His teeth ground together in a hard 'tsk'. "Just get her warm, Kaede."
Kaede's response was another long, knowing look. "Well if I can't, who can?" Then she patted Kagome's arm and the two women walked out of the kitchen together.
He watched them leave, then collapsed into a sitting position next to the kotatsu and let his forehead thunk into the wood.
The wooden bath signs had changed. Now they indicated co-ed bathing facilities, and the tiny wooden figures underneath seemed a bit…risque in their positioning. Kagome was a little ticked at whoever had done it (she couldn't imagine it was Shippou), and wanted to stop and change them somehow, but Kaede just chuckled and pulled her inside.
In the changing area, Kaede checked her temperature with a critical eye before they went any further, making sure the heat around the water wouldn't be too much for her. They stripped and stepped into the washing area. Kagome, immensely grateful for the hot water, scrubbed vigorously with a soapy puff while Kaede checked over her body with thorough concern. A new round of shudders threatened from deep inside her (they kept doing that, coming back like the tide every time she thought she had them beat), but the heat of the water seemed to ward them off, and it was a relief.
She hadn't realized how utterly frozen she'd been until InuYasha had plopped her down in front of the kotatsu. The heater under the table had been so searing, she'd barely been able to stand it. Even the warmer air in the kitchen had felt suffocating and thick, hard to pull into her scratchy throat. She'd had to sit draped in the blanket Kaede'd given her for several minutes before she'd been able ease her legs under the kotatsu's cover. It had been the same when InuYasha had found her in the South Dragon, too—his heat had felt as if it were burning her.
Inside the ice, he'd hugged her, used his body to warm her. Out in the forest, she'd been literally wrapped around him, and even when her panic had forced them to stop, he'd been so easy about keeping himself within a breath of her body. When he'd taken off her shoes and socks, his hands had covered her arches for a few long moments in between the old socks and the new, and the contact had been heavenly. But then in Sachi's kitchen, he'd merely hovered and paced, hovered and paced. She'd watched him while she shivered by herself and desperately wished he'd sit down and put his arms around her again, a little miffed that he wouldn't.
Kaede finished her inspection, declared her whole and unbroken, and turned to see to her own scrubbing. Relieved when Kaede didn't ask her to help her wash, Kagome edged over to the smooth concrete lip of the bath and dipped a hesitant toe into the steaming water. She winced at the heat and decided to ease into it this time. Gingerly, careful about how she positioned her body, Kagome sat at the edge of the water, and slid her feet in, all the way to her knees. The water was nearly unbearable, but she gritted her teeth and waited it out, eager to get under the dubious cover of liquid and steam.
She felt a little guilty. It wasn't the first time they'd bathed together, by any stretch—but it was the first time Kagome had ever felt embarrassed during her skinship with the beloved older woman. It was also the first time she'd taken a bath with a body aroused so achingly out of her control. She crossed her arms over the stubbornly tight peaks of her nipples, self-conscious about how brazen they looked. Her skin was so sensitive to touch she'd practically cringed her way through Kaede's examination. And between her legs…
She was so slick and swollen, she was actually a little afraid to sit on the edge of the bath. She was a little afraid to go in the steaming heat of the water, too. But since her calves seemed to have adjusted, she pushed off and let herself sink, plunging until the water just touched the under-curve of her sensitive breasts. She stood for a moment in shock, gasping and breathing through the prickling burn as her cold body struggled to absorb the heat. The water soothed and lapped at her skin, seared and hurt it. She wanted to moan, but she wasn't sure if it would be a sound of pleasure or pain.
It had been like this for most of the evening, this constant barrage of conflicting sensations. Freezing and hot. Aroused and afraid. High adrenaline, pounding heart, sluggish body. Hazy mind, sharp desires, twining and fighting with each other inside her. She was so damn tired of it.
It was InuYasha's fault. If he hadn't spent so much time touching her, carrying her, holding onto her, it wouldn't have been so bad. At least three times tonight, she'd thought he would kiss her. At least three times, he'd wanted to and stopped himself. And each time, her body had ached, only to have him pull just out of reach; each ache had built on the last, and now she felt overdone, hovering on a razor's edge of pleasure and pain, a heavy knot of desire writhing deep in her belly, ready to unfurl at the smallest provocation. And as much as it was his fault, she couldn't much blame him, either, because it was understandable to pull away when lives were in danger.
Kagome drew a deep breath and dunked her head under. The heat wrapped her scalp in a searing hug, poked and pricked at her cheeks as if trying to peel her skin away, and she popped up quickly, afraid it would get to her. She came up smoothing her hair back, wincing again when she felt slickness coat her thighs, even under the water.
She'd really thought he was going to pounce on her in the kitchen. There'd been something utterly willing in his eyes, a hard intent on his face, a heaving want in the cadence of his breath. She'd wanted to pounce on him, too, but Kaede had been there, watching their every move, and he'd held back, somehow, while she hadn't dared.
If she'd dared, if she'd crossed the invisible line and grabbed his head and given him the kiss he'd been teasing her with all night, would he have picked her up and taken her to a room somewhere, warmed her up with his body instead of this agonizing bath? Or would he have held onto his resolve to deny himself and pushed her away like all the other times, and Kaede would have seen her rejection?
She sank into the water again, up to her nose this time, miserable and slightly dejected.
Ripples bounced against her skin, and she glanced up to see Kaede joining her, moving into the water via the shallow steps in one corner. Self-conscious again, she moved over, keeping a respectable enough distance to not make it seem like she was keeping a distance.
Kaede watched her, her black eyes curious. "How are you feeling? Less cold?"
"Yes. Much less." As she said it, of course, a bubble of sheer wintry chill whirled up in her stomach. It seemed to pop, and frosty waves lapped against her from the inside. She shivered, even though her skin was red from the water, and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to will the cold away. It was bizarre, how easily the cold came back to her, even in the midst of heat. "Mostly much less," she amended under Kaede's lifted brow.
Kaede sighed. "I am afraid it will take longer than is desirable. The kind of power you have inside you is difficult to counter." She paused. "Have you thought, perhaps, to try counteracting it yourself?"
"I…myself? You mean…my power? You think I'm strong enough to neutralize a yuki-onna?"
"It's certainly possible. When those wild youkai attacked you and InuYasha in the woods, you purified them with your bare hands, remember?"
"Yes, but what does that have to do with—"
"It takes a certain depth of strength to purify in such a raw way."
A frown wrinkled her brow. "Raw way?"
Kaede nodded. "Most humans with spiritual talent develop their power through training with various totems, using them to focus and strengthen their powers. These tools serve as filters, helping the humans who wield them discover the limits of their power safely, without risk to life. But for some, it is also possible for power to flow directly through the body, turning the body itself into the totem. In such circumstances, it is considered raw, and often has damaging consequences. The vast majority of spiritually talented never come close to the level of power and control necessary for that kind of wielding to be either possible or safe. But you did so instinctively, and with very little backlash to your own body." A frown flickered through her black eyes. "My sister could do the same, and her power was unmeasured. Very few could match her."
She fell quiet, absorbing the comparison to InuYasha's dead former lover with a little twinge of discomfort, rubbing her hands absently along her upper arms. The water lapped around them, a soft slapping in the background. "And you think I'm like her?"
"I believe your powers may be in the same range as hers, and therefore effective in combating the youkai ice in your own body. As I said, yuki-onna ice magic is rare and difficult to deal with."
"You think I can stop this on my own, without having to wait for it to run its course."
Kaede nodded, her thin lips twisting into a smile. "Perhaps you should try? You'll have to turn your power in toward itself, focus on where the cold is coming from."
The strange thing was, she understood what Kaede was saying. In a fundamental way, she knew how to do what Kaede suggested, despite the vague way she'd suggested it. Intrigued, and relieved at the thought of having something to focus on other than the embarrassingly sexual ache in her body, she closed her eyes. She drew a deep breath, and tried to get herself to relax in the water, let her hands float freely around her.
Breathe, and concentrate.
As if it sensed what she was doing, the cold radiated out from her stomach again, a small, insistent pulse. It felt as if the ice inside her were trying to lure her back to its home outside, and she wondered what kind of damage it could do if it stayed unmelted inside her for too long.
Still breathing, still concentrating, she felt her power well up. It glowed and sparkled, coming from a place inside her entirely separate from her body. It came so easily, it was almost as if it had been waiting, eagerly, for her to call it.
Breathe. Concentrate.
Instinctively, she prodded it. It rolled inside her, dancing with her blood and swirling beneath her fingertips. The sensation was warming and familiar, as if she'd done this very thing thousands of times before. Her lips parted in awe, and she almost laughed.
At the back of her mind, something dark stirred, but she barely noted it. Then the stirring slipped in with the flow of her power, coating her awareness of everything around her, thick and fog-like. Her vision dimmed, as if someone had thrown a dark screen over her eyes. She sucked in a sharp breath. Whispers came on the heels of the dimming, a cacophony of them, all talking at once, saying things she should remember. It was indecipherable, uncontrollable, and overwhelming. She gave a tiny shake of her head, and something shook loose from the raucous cloud—a tiny, delicate piece, fluttering like confetti, flashing like a mirror exposed to light.
—An old man in a hospital bed, wires and tubes running through him like worms, and the salty taste of tears.
"Jii-chan!"
A chuckle. Deep. Dark. A wriggling, slithering—
Her chest clutched in agony, and her eyes flew open, her head snapped up. Struggling for breath, she surged backward and slammed into the tiled side of the bath. Her whole body jarred, and the fragment slipped away amidst the sloshing and splashing of the water going everywhere.
"Kagome!" Kaede's old voice strained as she lurched through the water toward her.
Kagome let her head roll back against the edge of the bath, blinking and breathing as the seize in her chest eased. Kaede reached her, placing a gnarled hand on her shoulder, but the deep breaths were already clearing away the fog, pushing it back into the ether beyond her mind. She lifted her head and stared at Kaede with wide, shocked eyes.
"Kagome, what happened?"
Slowly, her heart still drumming in her chest and punching in her throat, she shook her head. "I'm sorry," she murmured, breathless. "I don't think…it worked."
"Are you feeling unwell?"
Kagome shook her head again, and pressed a hand to her face. Her hand shook, and her cheek felt hot against her palm, but a chilly trembling had invaded her muscles. "I'm not sure. I think I need to get out now." She turned and, using one of the sitting ledges lining the outer wall of the bath as a step, pulled herself out of the water. Steam curled up around her as she sat on the edge, shocky adrenaline rolling nausea in her stomach.
It was the same. The same as that feeling in the forest. The same shroud of darkness, the same misty trickle of knowledge. She recognized it now; it had followed her. Or maybe it had always been with her, stalking her in her dreams—the swirly, confused ones that sometimes woke her in the middle of the night.
"Are you certain you're all right?" Kaede was frowning up at her, her hands braced on the wall as if she would pull herself out to join her.
Kagome blinked down at her, and shook herself. "I'm…fine." A deep, fortifying breath. "I'm fine, Kaede. Really. It was just…strange. I felt it. I felt my power, but something wasn't…." She sighed, trying to will away the hyperness of her heartbeat. "I think I've had enough of everything for one day. I'm tired. I'd like to rest now."
Maybe a good night's sleep would help re-balance her, bring back some sense of equilibrium. It was premature to panic over something she didn't understand, right? Maybe the explosion had affected her more than she realized, and she was just jumpy, giving the shadows more power than they deserved, pulling a make-believe monster from thin air? Maybe the odd, whispery darkness would vanish come morning, and she would be mortified by her overreaction in the bath.
Some very quiet, very calm part of her—the same part that had urged her to look into the shadows and try remembering when InuYasha had questioned her—sat back to wait inside her. As if it knew better, and was waiting for her to realize something important.
She ignored it.
Kaede searched her face for a long moment before she sighed, her features softening. "It indeed has been a long night for you, hasn't it? Go, then. I believe you've recovered enough to be on your own."
Kagome nodded, but hesitated before climbing to her feet. "Should I help you out?"
Kaede chuckled, and waved a dismissive hand. "I bathe frequently on my own. I'm not so old that I can't climb a few shallow steps. Go. Rest." She had a look in her eyes, something keen and amused, as if she knew something Kagome didn't. "Be warm."
Since Kagome was still rattled, she barely caught it, and didn't care enough to wonder what it was. Instead, she climbed to her feet, quickly toweled off, tucked a heavy winter yukata around her body, and most certainly did not flee to her room as if her make-believe monster slithered in her wake.
InuYasha left the kitchen and just wandered the Sachi's halls, checking open rooms, bypassing closed doors, checking that everything supposed to be sealing out the cold still did. Stopping occasionally to search the wilderness beyond a window, not sure what he might be looking for. The Sachi's other guests had already withdrawn to their rooms upstairs, and everything downstairs was quiet and dark. The fire in the front room had died down to almost nothing; he put it out, made sure no embers would catch or hop around.
He wandered because he couldn't stay still. Restlessness pushed him to keep moving, and he'd already done his fair share of running through the snow for the night. His heart was still doing the same slow, heavy beating it had been doing in the kitchen, and with each turgid thump-thump his blood ran thick and hot. Every inhale came loaded with charged energy; it swirled and seeped through him like a massage, working its way into his muscles, tendon, and bone until his entire body was laced with it, tense and agitated. The painfully aroused pressure he'd acquired in the kitchen hadn't gone away, and seemed unlikely to do anything but get worse as the night went on.
The Uzumas were part of it. He'd forgotten about them, and the insane intent pheromones they'd seeded around Sachi, the drugging sub-scents he'd spent the last two days of torture trying to avoid. Tonight, he couldn't bring himself to care. He just let it invade his lungs and his body, let the adrenaline and raging heat build until his skin itched with it, let his mind paint him increasingly vivid images while he prowled the Sachi's dim, recess-lit hallways.
A long moan, from deep in her throat, vibrating against his mouth; her hair tangled around his fingers.
Kagome was in the bath. Naked, scrubbing, getting warm. He was trying to ignore it, and failing miserably.
Her naked thighs, sliding over his shoulders; her nails, scoring at his skin beneath a wail of mindless pleasure.
All he needed was one clear, unmarred scent. It was hard to scent yourself, but now that he knew what he was looking for, he'd be able to do it if he could just get a scent off her he thought he could trust. More than once already he'd caught teasing hints of something like a scent mark, but her scent had been blurry and wracked with an unnatural sheen of cold ever since the collapse—too much so for him to trust his nose to it when he wanted so badly for what Abi had suggested to be true.
The wet grip of her body, clinging and rippling around him with every deep thrust.
"Fuck!" He stopped and raked his hands through his hair, gripping at his scalp to keep them from reaching for soft skin that wasn't there. A growl rolled through his gritted teeth.
Yeah, he wanted it. He wanted a reason—any reason—to not have to fight this longing anymore. It had infected him, like a virus. His whole damn body was a fucking ache.
And what if he wasn't there, already inside her? If Abi had been full of shit, or just plain wrong? Scent marks were supposed to be unmistakable, but who knew what other weak-nosed youkai considered unmistakable? What if she'd just mixed up the scent of close living for something deeper, and his brain had been playing tricks on him those breath-stealing times he'd thought Abi might be right? Was he going to go back to his room and keep on torturing both of them in the name of protecting Kagome?
He inhaled again, taking in the subtle urge of sex and the ever-present, underlying threads of Kagome twining through the Sachi's air, and his body tensed all over again. He let his hands drop into fists at his sides.
Kikyou had died a horrible death because he'd been too distracted by a crack in their relationship to protect her when she'd needed it most. But Kagome had come damn close to dying tonight, too, even with him right there. And worse, she'd confirmed for sure it hadn't been an accident that brought her to Sachi. Before he'd even known she existed, someone had tried to take her life, and who knew if they'd ever be back? He'd promised to protect her. He couldn't risk letting anything stop him—not even himself.
He wouldn't be able to live with it if anything happened to Kagome, too. It was something he knew, way down deep without being able to explain it. If Kagome suffered the way Kikyou had suffered, if she died or was seriously hurt beyond healing, something fundamental to himself would go with her. The blow would hollow him out, once and for all; he wouldn't die, but he wouldn't be living anymore, either. A sense of self-preservation, so deeply ingrained he didn't even realize it was there most of the time, raged against such a repellent fate. His sense of responsibility, so strong he was never without it, raged against putting her in such a dangerous position.
Had he really let her become so important to him? He should distance himself, from her and from any distractions that might put them both at risk. It was the smart thing to do, damn it!
But his body was an ache, and hers was sheer, seductive balm, and if he was already inside her….
He covered his eyes with a hand and pressed his finger and thumb into the outer curve of his eye-sockets, trying to relieve some of the pressure knotting his neck and shoulders.
"InuYasha?"
He blinked, then glanced over at Kaede, who'd just rounded the corner, smelling of the fresh, youkai-friendly soap they stocked in the baths. She wore a heavy winter yukata, dark blue with purple flowers, and her feet were back in her thick socks and slippers. She was alone.
He glanced around the corridor, and scowled to realize his prowling feet had brought him almost right up to the entrance to the baths. His eyes went back to Kaede; her black eyes met his with serene interest.
"Kaede." His body strained under the urge to go check the bath. "Where's Kagome?"
Kaede nodded, as if she approved of the question. "Kagome left the bath some time ago. She was tired and needed rest."
She was in her room, then. In her own bed. Something clenched in his already-tight chest. Disappointment? Guilt?
Rest. Of course she needs to rest, after the night she's had.
He swallowed and shifted on feet that wanted to move in a direction he shouldn't be going, shoving his hands back into the pockets of the jacket he hadn't yet bothered to remove. "How is she?"
"Hm." A frown flitted through her wrinkles, which didn't help the tension in his neck any. "She's recovering well enough. Other than some minor scratches, her body is fine. The yuki-onna's ice does not seem to be completely gone yet, however. I caught her shivering even submersed in the bathwater, even after….hm."
"What?" he snapped. Damn it, she was still shivering? Several hours, hot drinks, and a steaming bath later? Just what the hell was it going to take to get her warm again? Fucking yuki-onna.
Kaede's pondered him, her brow lifting, but eventually she shook her head. "No, it's probably nothing. I imagine she's had quite a bit of mental stress over the course of the evening, along with the physical stress of the yuki-onna's ice in her body. Rest and warmth, in all likelihood, will do more for her recovery than anything else we can do. I assume you've made sure her room is sufficiently heated?"
"There's nothing wrong with her damn room!" But damn her for making him worry about it anyway. And what the fuck was that about it being nothing? He was getting hella sick of all the hemming and humming he'd encountered tonight. Why the fuck couldn't anyone just say shit?
"Of course, of course. I suppose there's nothing more for us to do tonight. She's almost certainly not in any danger if we just leave her be."
"Almost certainly?"
"Hmm." Her eyes closed, her wrinkles deepening in thought. "Well, I have heard of yuki-onna ice freezing its victims to death in their sleep, but from what you've said, this yuki-onna's ice was not crafted for that purpose, so it's probably not a risk. We've probably weakened its hold on Kagome by now, as well. I doubt very much she'll die if we leave her alone to rest." She opened her eyes and smirked at him,—smirked at him!—nodded, then brushed by, heading for her room.
Shit, he thought over the thud-thudding as his heart jumped into his throat, the sinking in his stomach. The old bitch had done that on purpose. She knew what it would do to him; she knew better than most why. She knew what it had cost him the first time, because it had cost her the same thing.
So why would you…?
He twisted, pivoting to follow her receding back. She hadn't quite made it down the hall when his voice drifted after her, low and desperate. "I let her die, Kaede."
Kaede paused. "Oh?" She turned back to him, and her eyebrows were raised in sincere surprise. "Strange. Did you kill her?"
"What?" His back went rigid. "You know I didn't!"
"I see. You stood by and did nothing while she breathed her last?"
"Of course not!"
"You sent her to the one who killed her, then."
"…What the hell are you getting at, you crazy old hag?"
Kaede sighed, her eyes going flat. "Your continued insistence on taking responsibility for her choices makes me doubt her wisdom in choosing you as a partner."
His throat worked. "I should have been there."
"Weren't you?"
"Too late!"
"Really? But didn't you pull her out of the water just in time? Isn't she sleeping, safe and sound in her room as we speak, thanks to you?"
All the rage building inside him went out of him in a gut-sock of surprise, and all he could do was stare at her. "Kaede…."
She smiled again and tutted at him. "Tell me, InuYasha. Aren't you weary yet of regretting that which you didn't do? Isn't what you can do now more important?" She turned her back to him again and waved a hand in the air behind her. "I believe I'll take care of breakfast. Just to be safe, we'll have Kagome spend tomorrow resting. Have a good night, InuYasha."
He watched, slack-jawed, as she shuffled out of sight.
"Feh." Then, clenching his teeth and hunching into his jacket, ears twitching in agitation, he told himself in no uncertain terms he didn't need to check on Kagome.
Just for a minute, he promised himself. No more than that. Just make sure she's still all right with the yuki-onna ice. Quick in and out.
His bare feet made soft, deliberate thuds against the wood as he wove his way through the Sachi's halls. He knew where her room was by rote, so he just let his body move him along, all while he kept assuring himself he wouldn't stay once he got there, and tried not to let himself think about finally being able to put his nose near her skin (never mind how he was going to bring himself to pull away) and getting the chance to really examine her scent for himself. Of knowing for sure.
So when he passed a room that looked suspiciously like the dining room, it took him a moment to pause, glance around, and frown.
What the hell? This wasn't the direction he'd been heading.
With a suspicious glare at the walls around him, he turned and headed for Kagome's room. A few turns later, he'd gotten himself turned back into the front living room. Kagome's room was in the back, on the other side of the Sachi. His glare turned into a scowl. "Not. Fucking. Funny," he muttered.
Out to the front door. Back behind the stairs. Right down one hallway. Left down another, and…
His lip curled in soft snarl.
The barely-there glow of the over-the-stove light spilled out from the open doorway, only a few feet down the hall from where he stood. He was back in front of the kitchen. It was impossible for him to be here.
Mother. Fucking. House.
He noticed another sign, on the wall next to him. Two thick wooden arrows, pointing in opposite directions. On one arrow, carved into the wood, was the word vacancy. Set slightly below, the opposite arrow proclaimed no vacancy.
He rolled his eyes hard to the ceiling and barely kept himself from ripping the blasted things from the wall. Enough was enough. He'd already wasted too much time wandering around in circles.
What the hell is this damned house trying to pull n—
He jerked his eyes back to the sign.
Two arrows, pointing in opposite directions. One toward Kagome's room…the other toward his.
He stood staring at them for a long, unblinking minute, while all the just-barely-bated lust in his system blazed out in a hot swirl of need so intense it stole his breath, set his heart pounding in rapid, knowing thuds.
He sucked in a breath—short, sharp, through his nose—and pushed it out again. After a long pause, he let his feet turn him in the direction of no vacancy.
Goddamn it, she'd come to him.
Two steps from the turn to the corridor outside his room, he froze, his nostrils flaring as her scent rolled over him. He'd expected it, and yet…. His whole body went rigid, and the throbbing ache of his cock pressed pain into his zipper. He shuddered and closed his eyes, stuffed his suddenly trembling fists into his pockets and leaned back against the wall, bracing to keep himself still against the sudden, brutal urge to sweep around the corner to where she waited and pin her to the nearest wall. To tear at anything keeping her skin from his, pick her up and slide into her hard, swallow all those delicious moans and sighs, and just fuck.
He inhaled again because he couldn't help it, took her into his lungs, tasted her in the back of his throat, the flavor absorbing into the blood pounding through his body.
For sex. She'd come to him for sex. It was right there, saturated in her scent: thick with arousal, longing, intent. Her scent was so damn clear, it was practically a command, as plain as if she'd walked up to him and said "fuck me." His chest heaved a quiet, choked breath, practically panting at the mere thought, and he thanked all the gods who might exist she never had, because if Kagome ever said those words to him in her gentle voice, he would, immediately and without a thought to who was around or what they would see. Like he was about to do right now.
God. Fucking. Damn.
But then he caught the bitter twist of fear streaking through all the feminine heat. It struck him like a palm to the back of the head, and cleared his lust-fogged mind, gave him back some control. His eyes snapped open, searching through the recessed-lit dim, a ferocious scowl tightening his features. She was afraid. Why the hell was she afraid?
It wasn't the kind of fear that came from anxiety or nerves. It was darker, deeper. He recognized it immediately: the same sour note from earlier that had brought him to a standstill while she rode his back though the thick congestion of trees; the same rage-inducing tinge from when she'd sat right in front of him on a freezing rock and relived being hunted while he could do nothing to help her. It had offended him then, and it sure as hell offended him now, when her scent, cleansed and warmer than it had been all night, should be nothing but the mouth-watering musk of a female ready for sex. What the hell had brought back the fear?
The fear was wrong, and he was failing her every second he let it stay. He pushed away from the wall, ready and willing and determined to do anything it took to banish the coolness of her fear until nothing but the heated husk of desire remained.
As he did, almost accidentally, he caught it. It socked him right in his already-tense gut, and everything about him strangled to a halt. His blood. His breath. For a moment of sheer awe, his heart stopped beating and even his scowl vanished.
Ho-ly. Fuck.
It didn't belong to her, only clung to the very essence of her. Clear as the most crystalline stream. Buried deep beneath all those other scents. Himself. Recognized at last not because it was his, but because it wasn't hers.
It was impossible. Un-fucking-believable. Kagome carried a scent mark made of him, stamped onto the very core of what made her her, and it was so damn obvious he couldn't understand how he'd missed it before now. He couldn't understand how it had happened at all, because he was a hanyou, and she was a human, and they'd only known each other for a few spare months.
How long had she had it? When had it started? Was she as clear on him as he was on her?
He closed his eyes and inhaled again, filling his lungs with her scent, taking it apart and finding that singular signature of his own existence, apart but together with hers. It was a pure thread of scent. Solid. Unmistakable. Abi hadn't been full of shit; he really was there, already inside her. And she was, he knew without even a shadow of doubt, already inside him.
The last remnants of his resistance melted like the ice outside would melt beneath the spring. He exhaled, and it flowed away like bits of debris down a stream, leaving nothing behind but hot impatience and chop-licking, sensual hunger. Even more amazing was the realization that, in a way…it hadn't fucking mattered.
A scent mark was a place to belong, a bond made up of trust and affection so deep it was impossible for it to be created on a conscious level—which was why youkai considered it so unshakable. A rarity among humans, even rarer among youkai, and unthinkable for someone like him, who'd been caught between both existences, never quite belonging to either, for the entirety of his life. Someone who'd had to fight like hell for every grudging scrap of acknowledgment and trust now had the ultimate form of acknowledgment and trust.
And it didn't make a whiff of difference, because it didn't change a damn thing.
It was already too late to be anything more than confirmation. From the moment Abi had claimed Kagome smelled like him, he'd known—not because he'd believed her, but because it hadn't mattered if the scent mark existed or not. The very second Abi suggested the possibility, he'd been done with this damn fight. He might've been done before that, even.
If the mark hadn't been real, he'd still be in this hallway right now, sniffing her down. If it hadn't been real, he'd have done his damnedest to make it real, made it one of his life's goals to get his scent embedded on her body, to get her to accept him in one of the most fundamental, instinctive ways possible, but it wouldn't have made one damn difference to any of the actions he was about to take. When he'd tensed to go after Kagome—in those few precious seconds before the world had tried to blow her up, and failing that, freeze her to death—it had been with the full intention of bringing her here, to his room, regardless. He known it right away, but hadn't been able to admit it to himself until now.
The scent mark hadn't mattered, because marked or not, somehow they'd already taken the risk. Both of them, together. So the rest of it—all that agonizing over what he wanted and how best to keep her safe—was bullshit, a way to avoid a painful truth he hadn't yet been willing to face: how vulnerable they already were to each other. It was impossible to protect Kagome while avoiding her, too late to protect himself if something did happen, and absurd of him to try doing either. Protecting her and being with her were one and the same, and it was about damn time he quit wasting time, and got on with protecting her.
Kaede had been right, damn the old hag and her dubious blessings. It didn't matter what he'd done before, only what he did from now on.
He lifted his head and inhaled again, embracing all the scents, letting the lust swamp him, letting the satisfaction rise up in a growl so low she couldn't possibly have heard. Kagome carried his goddamn scent mark. Her body, which had been driving him nearly out of his mind with need for most of the night, was just around the corner. She smelled soft and damp, so eager he could almost taste her on his tongue, so what was he doing wasting time in the hallway? The sour, chilled bite of her fear still irritated the hell out of him, but his scowl was brief, his snort soft. Nothing he could do about it standing around over here, was there?
Fuck the Uzumas and their intent, anyway.
The darkness was not her friend. Not tonight, maybe not ever again. The shadows followed her everywhere, whispering into the blank void of her memories, sketching on them with phantom images. They taunted her, tempted her, chilled her. It was like being possessed by ghosts, only as far as Kagome knew, no one had died. Except maybe her.
And now she sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, right in front of his door, struggling to hold back her shivers, the whispering darkness, the quivering wet ache between her thighs. Once again, she tried to pull them all apart so they weren't the same amalgamated, confused entity; once again, she failed, and desperation swamped her, nearly suffocated her.
The dim yellow light barely held back the shadows. InuYasha had done it so easily earlier, in the tiny clearing by the stream. He'd simply sat her down and demanded she come back to him, demanded the shadows leave—and she had, and they did.
She couldn't do it for herself. They'd followed her from the bath and waited for the darkness, for her to pull the comforter over her head, before they'd pounced, slithering back into her mind with the same thick, oily fog that had tried to pin her in the ice, the same creeping whispers that had ambushed her in the trees. She'd closed her eyes and tried to ignore it all, and they'd leapt on her like she was prey.
She'd been trying hard not to think about the clearing in the woods, and the way he'd surrounded her with his body, the husk of his whisper, the ferocity in his eyes. But they'd reminded her, forcibly, and somehow, in the dark, they'd managed to blend with all that heady want until she couldn't distinguish terror from desire. It had clenched and curdled inside her, slicked longing through her body and nipped with distant terror at her mind, and finally driven her from her bed to pace in the light, trying to shake the confusion. The cold had returned, a frozen vapor hovering somewhere between her stomach and her lungs, swirling through her and mixing with everything else until she couldn't tell if the shivers were from the whispers, the cold…or the deep, liquid heat.
She'd rubbed her hands along her arms, paced, and remembered. The strength and heat of his hands shackling her wrists. The solidness of his body caging her in on the freezing rock. The way he'd chased the fog from her mind without even knowing he'd done it. It had all overwhelmed her, and sheer instinct had moved her feet.
I'll protect you. No matter what, I'll protect you, he'd said. He'd meant it. She trusted him. More than anything, she trusted him. He would help her. He might be the only one who could.
She knew how he would do it, too, and arousal wrenched through her again, her bare toes curling against the cool wood. Beneath her yukata, she wore his shirt—the one she'd claimed as hers without knowing it was his—and nothing else. Her experience in the bath had so rattled her, she hadn't even bothered with underwear before she'd escaped into her bed. Now she huddled and waited, her nakedness throbbing against the abrasive chafe of her clothes, her breasts heavy and full, her body tingling with excitement and shuddering with cold. Terror and nerves choked her, and the blood rushed hot and lush through her body—a sharp, burning contrast to her unnatural chill—and just beyond the edges of her consciousness, shadows and oily whispers lurked, threatening something stark and unbearable. There was a hitch in her chest, a near-wince, and she dropped her head onto her arms, fighting back a squirm.
She needed relief from it all, and she didn't care how she got it.
"Kagome," he said, his voice drifting over her, the same husky rumble from earlier in the woods.
Shock twisted her stomach and a sensual thrill sizzled along her spine. She jerked her head up with a gasp, the bath-wild strands of her hair flying around her shoulders, her heart jumping into her throat.
He stood in front of her, his bare feet nearly touching hers, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, still as fully dressed as he'd been the last time she'd seen him. The only difference was his hair, loose now, a full, silver-white cascade over his shoulders, the soft white ears rising from the strands pricked and still. He stared down at her with solemn eyes, intensely gold in the yellow dim, his slitted pupils sharp black slashes, his black brows tensed into an almost-frown.
He knew. She knew it the instant her eyes met his. He knew why she was there. It was in his stance, the set of his shoulders, the way his eyes drank in her form…or maybe just in the thick erection straining the front of his jeans, the one he wasn't even trying to hide. Her tongue swiped along her bottom lip. His gaze followed the movement; something subtle and hard-to-read shifted in his expression, and his nostrils flared, his chest expanding beneath his inhale. The sight of him already like that, just waiting, stole her breath, set off a tumble of wild flips deep in her belly, prompted the roiling need inside her to seep through her veins, to pool low and warm and heavy in all the sensitive places in her body.
He knew, yet there he stood.
God.
Her lips parted, her lungs cluttered and tight. "InuYasha."
She pushed to her feet on weak limbs and clumsy feet, nearly stumbling as her body protested the sudden change in positions. He scowled and his hand emerged from his pocket to catch her elbow, hot and steadying, his golden eyes locked on her face with an intensity that sparked a heady rush of adrenaline. His fingers tightened, and her lips parted, her lungs arrested, as they stared at each other.
"Kagome," he repeated in that thick, youkai rasp. "You're afraid. Why?"
His words rumbled into her, tumbling through the small space between them, gathered deep in the pit of her stomach, where the snarled, tangled cluster of lust from her bath was unraveling, touching itself to every part of her and thrumming through her with an agonizing sexual energy. It razed over her skin, prickled it, soaked into the most sensitive parts of her body, and she lowered her eyes, sucked in a breath and fought a moan. Her breasts barely brushed the front of his jacket, and the tiny hint of abrasion rucked her nipples, tight and quick. She shuddered and, with a mental startle that semi-cleared the haze in her mind, realized how close he'd prowled to her in the hallway. When she'd stood, she'd come up almost into him, close enough for his body heat to reach out to her, stroke over her cold body, close enough for their bodies to tease. And he'd done it deliberately.
He knew why she was there.
"No." She tilted her head back to meet his gaze, lifting a hand to his face. "Not with you," she murmured, her fingertips brushing along his jaw, and the electric charge of her skin grazing his stole even more of her breath, dropping her voice to a whisper. "You promised. You said you would protect me."
At her touch, at her words, tension tightened his features, and his chest heaved with a sudden, harsh breath. He cursed, soft and obscene. Then both hand were grasping at her waist, hard fingers tugging her closer—a half-step was all it took for her body to nestle into his, until the hard ridge of his cock teased against her lower belly, until he'd lowered his head and touched his nose to hers, and her breath hitched on a razor-whip of anticipation. Heat drifted over her lips in time with the harsh, shallow cadence of his breathing. Each exhale was a threat and a promise, a wash of awareness against her lips. For a moment, they lingered there, gasping, tantalizing, longing. But he didn't move in. He just hovered—a not-quite kiss when she so desperately needed the real thing.
"Tell me," he demanded, each word a ragged caress. "Whatever it is, I'll help."
"I…." She breathed him in, tasted him on the air while his mouth stayed just out of reach. "I don't…"
The heel of his palm slid along her jaw, his long fingers spreading and curling, firm and skin-rough against her neck. His thumb brushed along her cheekbone, almost soothing, his claw drawing an almost ticklish line beneath her eye. Something inside her clutched at the sensation, something edgy and excited rather than wary and afraid.
His gaze burned into her. "Tell me."
She didn't know how to tell him about the confusion that had driven her to him, the whispering shadows that stalked her in the dark, so she told him about her need. Her clear, stark, clamoring need. "The cold," she whispered, sliding her hands up the front of his jacket, longing for hot skin beneath her palms, hating the cool fabric. "InuYasha, I'm cold."
Another sharp inhale, and he blinked and pulled his body back, his eyes searching hers.
Her own voice echoed back at her, from earlier, in the ice, when his hands had hovered uncertainly between her breasts: I'm cold.
His eyes darkened, narrowed, flickered with memory and hunger—and wandered back down her body, hot and sensual, starkly possessive. Her body gave a hard throb, and she squeezed her thighs together, trying to contain the ache, the growing wetness. He inhaled and exhaled again, and his lip curled, his breath hissing through his teeth. The fingers still at her waist flexed, and his claws pierced her yukata, scraped at the skin beneath. He could hurt her so easily, she knew. She also knew he never would, and she yearned to feel his claws on the rest of her body as proof.
"I can fix that," he muttered, voice thick. His hand dragged upward to cup her breast, his long fingers fitting to the curve of her, his palm weighing. His thumb swiped over the point of her nipple, pert and hard even through the heavy material. "Like this."
She sucked in a staccato breath and arched her back, pushing the aching heaviness harder into his palm. His heat seeped through the flannel as if it were tissue, infecting her, flushing her cheeks, swirling beneath her skin. The hollow ache inside her spread, tweaked her nerves, gripped her lungs and made her gasp. The warmth of him overtook the icy vapor clinging somewhere in her torso and banished it by sheer force, leaving only the dark shadows twined intimately with the shivering lust.
It was pure relief, just from him being. Doing.
"Oh." Her eyes closed and her head fell back, and this time she couldn't fight off the moan. A helpless, sighing moan. "Yes."
She needed more. She needed him to break and come at her with everything he had. She needed him to kiss her. She needed the sheer physical madness of his body invading hers, chasing away the confusion and the cold with all the fire and pent-up lust nearly bursting the seems of the air between them. It was an explosion waiting to happen. She wanted it to happen; her body ached for it, spurred on by a sensuality made edgy and reckless at the threat of the whispering dark.
"Kagome." The stroke of his finger stilled. "I won't hurt you," he said, hot, thick, dark.
She knew. She knew.
"But I won't be gentle, either. Not this time."
Hot desire lashed at her, a lick of fire through her body, a hard pulse of anticipatory pleasure that went from her throat all the way to her clit, and she trembled under the force of it. God, yes.
She slid her arms up his chest and cupped his face between her hands. "I don't want gentle." Tugged hard to get his mouth back within tasting distance and his eyes burning that hard-edged gold back into hers, need stretching and curling in her stomach until she was panting with the overwhelming want. Moving on pure fevered instinct, she pushed up on her bare toes and just touched her mouth to his. "The cold." Her lips caught at his, dragged at his with each syllable. "Just make it stop. Now."
"Fuck," he gasped. Growled. "Yes."
And finally—finally—his open mouth slanted down over hers, the kiss every bit as fierce as it had threatened to be, as she needed it to be: his hands clasped at her head, his grip hard, fingers spearing into her hair, holding her, angling her, his palms hot against her cheeks, her jaw. His tongue slicked into her mouth at the same time he stepped forward, pushing her back—one step, two—until her back thudded against the wall, and he had her pinned. His body pressed into her, one knee nudging between her thighs through the yukata, his erection thick and hard, digging into her hip.
In an instant, they went from hesitant longing to mad impatience. He devoured with his mouth, taking and suckling, his tongue thrusting, licking and tasting, breaking away only for a stolen breath here, then there, coming back again, compulsive, harsh. Kagome kissed him back, relearning the taste of him, reveling in his pine-flavored scent, his sharp masculine edge. She pushed into him, up on tiptoe, taking from him like he was taking from her. Her fingers slid around to his nape and curled into in his hair, and she tugged, wanting to be even closer, wanting more of his hot skin burning away the unnatural chill of hers.
The restricting wrap of the yukata stopped him from getting any more of his body between her legs; the moment it did, another growl vibrated into her mouth and he pulled back to hover over her lips again, breathing hard. He paused to glare at her mouth, just long enough for her to whimper and tighten her fingers in his hair. Then his mouth smothered hers once again, taking a long, deep taste before he kissed away, his thumb tilting her head back so he could drag with lips and teeth downward, scraping her chin, biting at the soft, delicate skin beneath her jaw, letting her feel the pinch, then laving it with a soft, wet tongue before repeating the process lower, and lower still.
Kagome let her head roll back against the wall as he nipped and soothed his way down her neck, her starved lungs sucking oxygen, little sounds of pleasure she'd never heard herself make before coming from her throat. Her heart was trying to pound a path out of her chest, and she could practically hear the blood rushing through her body, but none of it seemed as essential as his mouth nudging at the edge of her yukata so he could get at more of her skin. Or as important as tucking her fingers beneath the collar of his shirt and letting her chilly fingers glide over the hot muscles bunching along his shoulders.
Cool air drifted over her calves and up along her thighs, and she realized he'd gathered the bottom of her yukata into one hand and was working it upward, bunching the material in small tugs despite how tight the press of his body made it against hers. His claws and his fingertips dragged beneath her knee, scraped teasingly at her thigh, each passing caress fueling the convulsive need churning and bubbling low in her belly, shivers running through her whole body.
She wriggled her hips, pushing away from the wall to give the material some slack. She gasped, and his groan rumbled against her skin, because her attempt at helping rubbed her against the thigh he'd refused to take from between her legs, even though it would have made his task easier.
The fluttery shot of pleasure it gave her made her do it again without thinking, grinding harder this time, squeezing a little with her thighs. He nipped her collar-bone—hard. She retaliated with a sharp tug to the hairs at his nape, and with a growl, he surged back up to her mouth, sealing his lips back to hers. The yukata's hem came with him, and suddenly he had it yanked up to her hip on one side, and his bare hand was sliding skin-to-skin along her thigh, curving beneath it to tug her knee up and around his hip. His hand was calloused, and she cried into his mouth at the warm, sensuous scrape, the bare hint of his claws, at the heated trails and tingles they left in their wake.
He said something back into her, something mumbled and profane, and the second he had her knee hooked around his waist, he slid his hand back down, over her hip, curving around beneath the round globe of her—
His mouth tore away from hers, gasping out a soft "sonofabitch." His forehead dropped to her shoulder, his face turned into her neck, and his breath gusted damp over her skin. "No underwear." His words were the definition of strain, and even as he said them, his fingers skimmed over the slippery, swollen flesh exposed beneath the curve of her backside, the caress mostly knuckles and fingertips, with only the barest hint of sharp claws.
"Ah!" Pure pleasure lashed through her, added to the mounting pressure, and she arched and writhed against him. Her hands went to his neck, pulling, insistent. A long, low moan left her throat. Then, "More."
He grunted, dropping a hot-mouthed, suckling kiss onto the soft spot where her neck met her shoulder. The rough pad of one long finger slid through her folds, reached high, seeking and finding the throbbing little bundle of nerves that was her clit. He swept over it with a light, skimming touch—brief, rough, exploring. Everything inside her clenched. Heat flushed over her skin and her hips rolled back against his hand; her head banged back against the wall, a strangled shriek the only thing she could manage as her teeth dug into her bottom lip. A ripple of pleasure, devastatingly pre-orgasmic, shuddered through her.
InuYasha swore again and pulled his hand away, clamped his body-slick fingers on her hip instead. Kagome cried a mindless protest and grabbed at his wrist. Another growl ripped from deep in his chest, and he grabbed her wrist instead, slamming it back against the wall, next to her head. His mouth came down on hers for another crushing, open-mouthed kiss, his tongue thrusting back into her mouth and curling around hers while she whimpered beneath him. It was ferocious enough to steal the imminent threat of orgasm away from her, absorbing it back into her body while his hands gripped her wrist and curled around her nape hard enough to bruise, and all she could do was dig her nails into his bare neck and hang on.
When he pulled away from her clinging lips, he rested his forehead against hers and glared into her eyes, his chest heaving and gasping and teasing pressure against her sensitive breasts. She glared right back, baffled by his actions, head swirly and hazed, body throbbing.
"You," he rasped raw at her, "are not going to come for the first time with me in the middle of a fucking hallway, got it?"
"So," she gasped back, "get me out of the hallway."
"Yeah." He groaned, and closed his eyes. "Fuck me."
"I'm trying."
Something that could have been a chuckle grumbled deep in his chest. "Hold on." Then his mouth was back on hers, and he wrapped an arm beneath her backside and hefted her up until she was suspended against him, somewhere between his chest and the still-bare leg she had wrapped around his waist. He had her high enough on his body she had to cling to him for balance, wrapping her arms around his neck and tipping her head down to keep their kiss from breaking. She only peripherally noticed when the wall left her back.
Behind them, the door scraped open on its track. Then InuYasha stepped through, carrying her from the dim yellow of the hallway into the silver-washed darkness of his bedroom. A chill went through Kagome, just a hint of dark whispery clouds, but he was still kissing her, his mouth still hot and desperate, and they wisped away as quickly as they'd floated in. His body moved again, a smooth ripple and flex as he reached behind him, and the door scraped shut, cutting off the artificial light.
His hand went to her thigh, and he eased her down, sliding her along his body, their kiss shifting with the dynamics of her position against him. Without the fold of her hip, the yukata fell around her again, which might have been a bit of a blessing, since his room was chillier than the hallway had been.
As soon as she had her feet under her, InuYasha reached for his jacket, his mouth still hard on hers. She reached out to help him, yanking at the zipper when his claws might have gotten in the way of sex-clumsy fingers, shoving the thick material off his shoulders while he jerked the zipper free at the bottom. The jacket hit the floor, and both their hands were scrabbling at his sweater and the shirt underneath it, tugging and ripping and fumbling. The only sounds in the room were the soft, damp gasps of the breaths that made it through their kiss and the even softer shifting of clothing.
Kagome got her hands on his bare skin and stroked up, the sweater and the undershirt both bunching at her elbows as she ran appreciative palms and fingers over the taut, smooth ripples of his abdomen, spread them wide over the definition of his chest. She remembered what he looked like, from that time in the baths, the one time he'd been shirtless in front of her. She remembered the easy, mesmerizing way he'd moved, the sinewy-but-subtle grace of a fit body, gifted with deceptive power. She remembered how much she'd wanted to put her hands on him then, and reveled in the fact she was doing it now. Everything inside her squirmed to get at more of him, for the blood-thundering opportunity to rub her body against his.
He got his fingers under the hem and it all came off in a heft of material, breaking their kiss.
In that broken-kiss moment, she had a spare impression of his room: large floor space; various dark shapes of furnishings against the walls; two huge, circular, paned windows spaced along the outer-facing wall letting all that partially brilliant moonlight spill into the room. Cool tatami mats beneath her feet. A huge futon dead center in the room, piled with a mess of blankets; the sight of it sent her already pounding heart tripping over itself, her already trembling body tightening with anticipation.
His arm flicked in a careless motion, and his sweater-and-shirts bundle went flying across the floor, and her attention was back on all that exposed skin.
His was on her. He found the belt at her waist and tugged at the knot, once, twice, and then it fell away, and her yukata came unwrapped from her body. In the silvery dim, he hesitated at the sight of the shirt still hiding her from his eyes. His eyes flicked up at her, and it was too dark for her to read them, but not too dark for her to catch the curl of his lip, or the rumbling growl that thinned her gasps. He cupped his hands around her neck again, then smoothed them along her shoulders, sliding his fingers beneath the edges of her yukata.
"Tell me," he pushed the words like gravel through a rough throat, "that you wear this damn thing every night." He stepped forward and shoved, running his hands down her arms. The yukata fell from her shoulders to pool around her feet.
As soon as she was free, she returned her hands to his abdomen, slid her palms over the subtle shift of muscle as his lungs pulled in deep, ragged breaths. "I wear this damn thing every night," she breathed, and leaned forward to press her mouth to his chest. He groaned again, the sound rolling beneath her lips. Another kiss—soft, wet—a little higher. A long, slow, flick of her tongue to get a taste of his collar bone.
Another curse edged from his throat. "First those damn buttons."
She meant to ask him what he meant, but then his hand tangled in her hair and he pulled her head back, and his mouth came down over hers with the same urgency that had slammed them against the wall in the hallway, and oh god, she didn't know what to do; she wanted to crawl into him, curl up and roll around in his strength and heat. His arm curved around her back, and he yanked her into him once again, and the only remaining barrier preventing her aching breasts from cuddling skin-to-skin with his chest was "this damn thing."
His jeans abraded her bare legs, the heavy jut of his cock into her belly made rough by the thick material. The presence of him there, just a few inches above where she wanted him, made the ache deep inside her a pressing one, and she squirmed against him, resenting the barriers. She curled her fingers, raked her nails down his front, and tucked her fingers into the waistband of his jeans. "Off," she whisper-moaned into him, wriggling her fingers. "Off now."
"Damn it," he breathed back. "Wait.
Impatience whiplashed through her, enhancing the building urgency tightening her skin. "I don't want to w—"
He hooked his hands beneath her thighs and hauled her up his body, this time wrapping both legs around his waist. Skin slid against skin, and her sex came into intimate contact with his stomach; pleasure burst through her like sparklers, fizzing and rushing through her blood, and a bloom of thick heat spread all the way out to her fingertips. A cry left her throat and her head fell back as she curled her hands over his naked shoulders, tightened the grip of her legs, and clung to him. His mouth latched onto her neck, a series of hard, suckling kisses along the delicate skin. His hands dug into her ass, pressing her close, and she whimpered again, squeezing him with her thighs, barely aware of what they were doing, that they were moving again.
Then something jarred her, and softness cradled her back, and his mouth left her neck. She blinked up, gasping, and found herself lying against a cushion of blankets. InuYasha loomed above her, his chest heaving, the breath pushing noisily from his throat, as if he'd just run a marathon and it had actually tired him. His hands rested on the naked skin of her hips, fingers curled and still. Strands of his hair fell around his shoulders, pale skeins catching and shimmering silver with the faint moonlight, wild, untamed, inhuman; his ears flicked, the pale fur making them nearly glow. He was sitting back on his spread knees, with her thighs draped and splayed wide over his. The hem of her shirt had fallen to bunch at her waist, leaving the slick heat of her lower body exposed and trembling to the chill of the room.
He wasn't looking at her face. Of course he wasn't. Blood flushed hot beneath her skin, her heart pounding faster than her her lungs could ever hope to follow.
His eyes burned into her flesh, studying her, taking in the soft, glistening skin on display for him, the way her wetness had already dampened the frame of dark curls and even slicked the skin of her inner thighs, the way the occasional shiver of pleasure shook her there, and nowhere else. A growl, hard and more animalistic than any sound she'd ever heard from him, rolled into the air between them, and it was suddenly too thick to breathe, tangling up with the racing drumbeat in her throat. The moment was so intense and lewd and intimate, she almost quailed, wanted to cover her face…but couldn't quite bring herself to pull her eyes away from him. Couldn't quite bring herself to move, either.
His hands left her hips as he leaned over her, moving to where her shirt had piled onto her stomach—quick, smooth movements that had anticipation clutching at her spine, heat radiating through her in deep, rippling waves. He slid his fingers under the hem of her shirt, the barest hint of claws scraping around her belly button. Her stomach quivered beneath his fingertips, but she still couldn't manage to pull in enough air to gasp. Then, with a flick of his fingers, he'd tossed the rest of the thin cotton to pile on her upper chest, exposing her breasts to the room, to the sear of his gaze. Her nipples were tight little points, thrusting into the air, straining for him. He smoothed his hands up her body until he had a soft mound in each palm, his thumbs brushing over them like he had before, only this time the rough callous scraped her exposed, sensitive skin, his long fingers curling and burning, branding. A soft shudder rippled through her, and her head whirled and her vision dimmed as the smaller pleasures of touch joined the larger ones.
His eyes skated over her, skipped along her exposed body to lock onto her face, and narrowed. He lowered his head, curled his body over her until his lips were at her abdomen, the ragged puff of his breath hot and damp. Gooseflesh prickled up, racing across her body. "Kagome," he smirked at her just before his tongue laved at the soft, unprotected dip of skin above her diaphragm, "breathe."
And, as if she'd been waiting for permission, her throat unlocked, and her lungs sucked at the air. Her spine curved, her breasts pressed into his palm, and the nipples he'd been stroking tightened unbearably. He kissed her with an open, sucking mouth…then, groaning and surging up her body, as if he didn't have the patience, replacing one of his hands with his hot, swirling tongue, spreading the newly free hand along her ribcage, using it to urge her closer to his mouth.
She moaned, low and catching, in her throat. Her hands had fallen away from him when he deposited her onto the futon, but now—desperate in a way she'd never been before—she buried them in his hair, tangled the strands around her fingers and pressed his mouth to her nipple. She found his ears with her exploring fingers and stroked them. They were hot, the fur fine and silky, the skin a little thicker at the base and along the edges. She raked her nails along the thickness near his skull like she'd seen him do so many times before. Another deep, vicious growl ripped from his chest, rolling through her like a separate, internal caress, and he nipped with teeth sharp enough to make her jump. Before she could do more than yelp, his lips closed over her abused nipple and suckled. Hard. Each wet pull of his mouth tugged through the core of her body, skated like a phantom touch against her slick, vulnerable folds, danced like a teasing ghost against the bundle of nerves that was already swollen and throbbing. Her protest turned into a sharp cry and her hips gave a helpless, thrusting twist, seeking contact, any kind.
Deep in the pit of her stomach she was tight and hot, coiled, ready to spring. She wanted to spring, needed the release so badly it was almost a pain. The slide of his hands, the hot caress of his mouth, the wet stroke of his tongue, it was all so good—and yet still, not quite enough.
He was still kneeling, keeping her spread before him with the solid force of his body. Still wearing those irritating jeans. Still keeping himself away from her when she needed him to be a part of her.
She slid her hands along his body, fingers skimming his shoulders, his chest, the bunched ridges of his stomach, reaching for the catch on his jeans, where the material was strained so tight it had to be hurting him. He caught her wrist in a hard grip and she did her own version of growl, tugging at her hand. He lifted his head, leaving her nipple wet and bereft against the cold air. His eyes met hers, shaded such a deep amber they were nearly brown, swirling and raging, glowing with a drugged, barely restrained lust.
"These come off," he graveled through bared, gritted teeth, "and I'm inside you."
She closed her eyes and arched her back, thrusting her breasts at him. Her veins hummed with energy, her mind a thick red haze, her body vibrating with need. The ache was everywhere, centered deep between her thighs, permeating muscles and tendons, making them tense and strain. "Yes. Inside me."
His voice was all rough edges, tumbling into her skin, skittering along her nerves. "I want something else first."
"What?" She gasped, her heels dug into the futon and her body moved again, a slow, sensuous undulation of breasts to hips, seeking some kind of contact. "God. Take it."
A rumble choked in his throat. "Damn."
He dropped her hand, reached down. His knuckle teased her first, skimming over her. She arched again, pushing her hips into his hand, crying out with startled pleasure at the sparing touch. Then the backs of his fingers slipped through her folds, stroking and caressing, spreading and exploring, provoking dormant pleasure to active, spiraling life. The soft, wet sounds of his fingers sliding over her filled the space between them, alongside the ragged, choppy gasps that could have been him, or her, or both.
"Later," he muttered, almost to himself. "Later, I'm gonna put my mouth right here and find out if you taste as good as you smell."
The mental picture, along with the indulgent pleasure buried in his promise nearly tipped her over. Her body bucked, and it was her turn to grab at his hand, her nails digging into his wrist as everything inside her strained for more. A thin, unintelligible cry raked out from her tight throat.
He dropped to his elbow over her. The heat of his naked torso hovered along hers without actually touching, and his fingers tangled into the splayed strands of her hair—just enough to make her aware, not enough to hurt—while he continued to stroke her.
"InuYasha…." She pried her eyes open, met his again and found him drinking in her reactions with the same hard, heavy-lidded intensity he'd used to study her spread-open sex, and she was caught, unable to stop watching him watch her. Everything inside her gathered and tightened unbearably. Amidst that tightening, he slipped a long, careful finger inside of her. Her body gripped at him, at the hint of a claw that never quite scratched, at the delicate, incredible, intimate slide. Her head tossed, her body arched, and she wailed and mumbled, wordless encouragements. Before she could adjust or recover, another finger joined the first, thrusting into her with more force this time. His palm covered her, grinding gently against her rocking hips, and she squealed, her fingers tugging without any effect at his hand. She was hovering, high, right on a razor's edge. "Oh, god…"
Still braced on his elbow, still watching her with that expression of intense fascination, he dropped a hot kiss onto her chin, on her lips. "We're not in the hallway anymore," he growled into her mouth. The youkai was so close to the surface of him it clutched in her chest, coiled excitement along her spine. The roughened pad of his thumb swiped up, his claw a barely-there shadow, swirled a pattern against her aching, straining clit. "So come."
And damn him, she did. Again, as if she'd been waiting for a command. She convulsed around his fingers, thrashing and straining from the pleasure whiplashing through her, around her, deep inside her. Her vision dimmed and sparked, and she sobbed, nonsense words he swallowed with his mouth, his lips catching at hers again and again in a series of deep, brutal kisses. She clung to his mouth, to whatever part of him touched her, her whole being rocked by the hard, rapid nature of her orgasm, the overwhelming wave of intensity and pleasure.
She came down barely breathing, her body shuddering. Her cheeks were hot—everything was hot—and the aftershocks bit and teased. When her awareness returned and she blinked around, he'd pulled his fingers from her body and braced himself on both hands above her, his breathing coming in rasps and pants, the muscles of his arms and chest taut, straining. Sometime during all that, she'd wrapped her hands into his hair, and her fingers still gripped the strands tight to his scalp. He either didn't notice, or didn't care. He still hovered, still watched, his amber gaze narrowed, tight, threaded with molten heat and a single-minded ferocity that made her pounding heart stutter and her damp body clench all over again.
He was still on his knees, and she was still stretched across the spread of his thighs, and she was so aware of how open she was. Of how empty she was. It hadn't been so bad with his fingers inside her to sooth it, but now the ache was back, and it was deep, yearning, demanding. The release he'd given her had been a start. The edge had come off, the sheer insanity abated, but it still wasn't enough. She still needed.
Breathing hard and still trembling around the blood-pounding aftermath of her first orgasm, she filled her lungs with air and loosed his hair. Slid one shaking hand to his shoulders and along his arm, caressing him, communicating her pleasure through touch.
He tilted his head at her, narrow eyes still on hers. "Back?" There was just the faintest hint of a self-satisfied smirk in his voice, the tiniest of curls at the corners of his mouth even through the tension locking him up.
A slow, cat-and-cream smile curved her lips, drew his gaze like a magnet. She cupped his face with both hands and pulled him to her.
He came to her as if he couldn't help himself, the look on his face almost entranced, his eyes locked on her smile, his searing attention delighting her on a deep, feminine level. She nuzzled her nose to his, flicked her tongue along his lips, and was delighted again at the deep, visceral growl that rolled through him.
Entranced herself, she spread her fingers against the pounding pulse in his neck. It was hard, and so fast. She'd never seen, felt, experienced his body under so much strain. Not even carrying her at a run through the forest had so much as winded him, but she…she had done this to him. He was in this ragged, barely-held-together state right now because of her body in front of his. It was intoxicating and exciting, a luscious, dizzying drug spreading through her system—and god, she wanted more.
"Did you get what you want?" She pulled him into a kiss before he could even think to answer, tasting his lips, his tongue, his barely-leashed urgency. His mouth took hers immediately, deep, hot, greedy, and she let a moan melt from her mouth into his. He groaned back, and pressed her harder into the futon.
A whimper slipped past her lips, and she dragged her hand down his body, stroking her palm over his chest, over his shaking inhale. A growl rumbled against her fingers, and he broke away from her mouth, tipped his head down to watch the progression of her touch. Her fingers fluttered down his stomach, tracing the bunched muscles. Brushed at his hips, smoothing along the sharp cut of muscle plunging below his waistband. Reached his zipper and…paused. Another rumble echoed from his chest, his eyes glued to her questing fingers.
She drew her nail over the impossible hardness of his erection, and watched a shudder ripple through the straining muscles of his arms, his shoulders.
Her breath shimmering through her lungs in soft, shallow pants, Kagome leaned up and bit down on InuYasha's lower lip. She waited until his eyes had come back to burn into hers, then gently pulled away, releasing him, and let her nail tap tap tap against the button closure…and gave him a command of her own. "Because I'm ready for these to come off now."
His eyes narrowed to slits. Another shudder wracked him, shook his whole body. His voice, when he found it, was hoarse, barely audible. "Goddamn."
It sent delicious little thrills rolling through her, clustering knots of excitement in her stomach, making her aware, once again, of just how empty she felt. His mouth slammed back down over hers, tongue swirling and sliding with hers, urgent licks and tangles. His hand joined hers at his button, and suddenly they were battling it, tugging with one hand each as if between the two of them they made a set.
An impatient noise escaped her, and then she had both hands at the front of his jeans, lifting her head to push her mouth harder into his. His claws got in the way a bit, so she batted his hand aside and tugged at his button, her trembling fingers nearly too clumsy to slip the frustrating little metal piece through the slim hole keeping it fastened. His fingers curled beneath her wrist and slid along her forearm, a carefully loose caress of encouragement. His other hand wrapped against the back of her head, holding her close so her mouth didn't slip away from his while she worked, and the desperation of his kisses deepened with every second it took her to free him.
But then the button slipped free, and her fingers were grappling with the zipper.
He winced into her mouth and pulled away from their frantic kisses. "Shit," he gasped. "Let me."
"Hurry," she said. "Hurry."
But then she got distracted from what his hands were doing, because his mouth went back to her breast, dropping hard, suckling kisses around her nipple before swirling his tongue against the swollen peak once more. She closed her eyes and moaned, the sound deep and still husky from her orgasm, her hands stroking over his shoulders, her fingers curling around his neck to hold his mouth to her skin. The ripples of anticipation were back, shivery little contractions from deep inside her, bursting and spreading out beneath her skin.
The sound of the zipper was nearly musical to her ears.
And then he left her.
A soft cry of protest left her throat, and she sat up. The shirt fell forward, covering her once again, but she barely noticed, because he was shucking the jeans, pushing them off his hips and kicking to get his feet free. And then he was naked and the jeans forgotten, back on his knees between her spread legs, his cock thick and straining between them, curving his hand around her calves, the calloused skin satisfyingly rough against the smoothness of hers, sliding them up to hook beneath her knees.
His eyes met hers, and even in the silvery darkness, her breath caught. All the restraint he'd shown until then was gone. Everything. Every last scrap of hesitance or struggle she'd seen in them since she'd come to the Sachi had vanished, and in their place was a determination, a searing heat, and an affection that nearly stopped her heart. Something, something deep and fiery and fierce, passed between them, something barely acknowledged.
Then his hands tightened beneath her knees and he yanked, dragging her forward on the blankets. She unbalanced, and her back hit the futon once again, and the shirt dragged up, exposing her belly and gathering beneath her breasts. Her shirt was unimportant, though, because his pull had draped her thighs over his once again, bringing her backside right between his legs—except this time, there was nothing to keep the hard, heavy length of his erection from dragging through her slick folds. The caress was burning and intimate, smooth and hot—hotter than anything she'd felt with him so far—and her whole body rippled beneath it. Her inner muscles shuddered and clenched with need, but the thick, velvety strain of him was frustratingly out of reach, his presence against her sex frustratingly shallow.
There was something hard and set in his face, something utterly captivated. Her name whispered past his lips, and his hips rolled against hers, just a small, exploratory push. Another intimate caress, another drag through shudderingly sensitive, swollen flesh…and this time a hot nudge at the oversensitive nub within her folds. Fresh pleasure burst through her, tangling with the hot breath in her throat, strangling her cry down into a whimper. A plaintive, pleading whimper.
She wanted. She was desperate with it, dying with it, a butterfly in the desert. The heavy length of him burned against her, but not in her, and it was almost more than she could stand. Her hand, without her permission, slid down her stomach and between her thighs. Her fingers found him and stroked him, stroked herself at the same time, swirling and dancing over trembling, aching flesh. His hot skin, silky and hard, slid beneath her fingertips, coated and slippery with her wetness; she curled her fingers around him, pressed him against her and couldn't help the helpless little roll of her hips at the increased pressure, her soft little moan meeting his choked groan in the air.
She was barely breathing, her head pressed back into the futon, her neck arched. "InuYasha, please."
"I know. Fuck." Snarling, he grabbed at her hand and pulled it away from the heat of his erection sliding against her sex, circling her wrist with his fingers and slammed it back against the bedding before shifting his body on the futon, away from her.
And then, oh god, he was in her, sliding thick and hard and searingly hot, the first stroke of his body going deep. She was wet and slick and soft, achingly ready, taking him in with an eagerness she hadn't realized she was capable of. His unforgiving heft against her inner tissue, the gentle give of her body to his hardness, was a form of instant, sheer bliss. She wailed her satisfaction to the room, her inner walls clamping down around the sudden fullness of him, a compulsive caress from her body to his. He groaned and her thighs pressed into his as she rolled her hips up into his thrust, her heels digging into the soft futon beneath them, craving him even deeper.
He didn't stop, didn't give her any time to adjust, and he wasn't particularly gentle. She didn't care, exulted in every roughly plunging thrust, even, in the fact that he couldn't be gentler just then. All she wanted was to be swept away by his body gliding pleasure against hers, into hers, his hips slamming against hers over and over, and she told him so, without words, her moans and throaty cries mingling with his grunts and competing erotically with the wet, frenzied slap of skin against skin as he moved, and she moved, and somehow they established a rhythm that was hot and fast, burning through them like lava.
The pleasure was overwhelming, building and slipping between them with each glide of his cock into the heated grip of her body, every trembling press of her thighs into his as she tried to keep him inside her—even though each time he pulled out of her, the drag ripped through her with another shot of adrenaline, heightening her senses, sharpening the pressure. He'd turned her body into a subtropical swamp of heat, her blood thick and muggy with pleasure, and she was gratified when her skin-roaming hands started slipping over the fine sheen of his sweat. She licked her lips, and even the slide of her tongue was a sensual caress, another moan to add to the lewd chorus.
She reached up, slid her hands around his hot neck, tugged. "Kiss," she moan-demanded again, arching her back at him, the rough bounce of her breasts tucked tight beneath the shirt.
His eyes had narrowed on her, burned into her, watched her as he thrust into her, and now they skimmed down her body. He groaned and swore and leaned over her, bracing on a forearm and changing the angle of his thrusts, his mouth latching onto hers with bruising intensity, his tongue thrusting like his body while his fingers buried into the damp, wildly tossed strands of her hair. His other hand stroked along her leg, curled around her thigh, pulling her higher, hooking her knee over his hip, and she shrieked again at this new pleasure, her body curling and tightening around the way he slid into her harder, faster, grinding his hips into hers. His mouth slid away as he nuzzled the side of her hot, sweaty face.
"Again," he rasped into her ear. "I wanna feel you."
Somehow, he'd taken control of her body, because her second orgasm hit her with the shock of an electric charge. One moment, she was high and hot, reveling in the deep haze of pleasure, the addicting fervor, the raw physicality; the next, she'd snapped, arching and keening and not breathing (who needed to breath?) all because he'd growled at her. Her body gripped at him, squeezed him, rippling desperate pleasure around him. He growled again and slammed into her harder, his cock growing thicker inside her, shattering the rhythm they'd had, his hips frantic, his hands digging into her ass, and clutching in her hair. And then he was breaking, too, shuddering and choking, his mouth hot on her jaw, and the searing gush of his orgasm was another pleasure, another layer to the already thick, mind-numbing, senses-stealing euphoria of release. It rocked her, deep and hard, and she drowned in the sensations, losing track of all of it, where he was, where she was, where they were—clinging only to the fact of them together, disconnected and riding on wave after wave after wave.
She wasn't sure if she'd closed her eyes or not, but Kagome came back to herself with lids heavy but open. InuYasha had collapsed on top of her, his weight pleasant and heavy, his elbows barely propped against the futon on either side of her head. They both still heaved for breath, his chest brushing against her sensitive breasts with every gasp, the harsh rasping alternating between them in the quiet, and either one or both of them trembled, because the shaking still rocked them, a soft, steady trembling interrupted occasionally by harder, more violent shocks.
She had one hand curled around the back of his neck, beneath the scattered spill of his hair, the other fallen helpless to the cushion beside her head, just grazing the muscle of his forearm. Her body was limp, flush and satiated, an inferno of heat rising through her skin from deep in her core while her heart slowly lowered its thundering to a distant rumble. At that drugged pleasure-soaked moment, she couldn't even remember what it had felt like to be cold.
He turned his head into the hollow of her neck, and his mouth and tongue soothed and scorched her skin. She tipped her head to the side and moaned. His fingers curled into her hair, his claws combing teasing, absent trails over her scalp.
He shifted, moving more of his weight onto the shoulder and elbow of one side, lifting his head above her, and nuzzled his mouth to her ear. His voice was deep, a pleasured rasp that feathered along her spine. "Hey. You okay?"
She turned her head to him, and brushed her lips lazily over his, humming into his mouth. "Mm."
His eyes were a dark, burnished gold, catching and searching hers with heavy-lidded satisfaction. A smirk quirked his mouth. "Told you I could help."
A soft giggle slipped past her lips, banishing some of her lethargy. She stroked her fingertips over his neck. "If only I'd needed help sooner."
He grunted, dismissing her, and dropped another soft kiss to her mouth. Then to her chin. Then the underside of her jaw. He worked a slow path down her throat, then stopped at her collar-bone, his ears flicking in a gesture she'd always associated with annoyance.
Kagome sighed, enjoying the lazy caresses, and slipped her arms above her head to stretch beneath him, curling her calf around his leg, reveling in the—
She sucked in a breath as little ripples of pleasure echoed through her. "Oh."
He was still inside her. And still more than a little erect. She turned wide eyes to him. "Again?"
InuYasha snorted and shrugged. "It's been five years. That's a long time for a youkai, you know." He pushed up off her a bit more and frowned down at the shirt still twisted tight around her breasts. He set a claw at the collar and dragged it along the cotton ribbing, his brows scrunching thoughtfully. "Ignore it. Take your time to rest. Sleep if you want."
The tease of his claw over her shirt skittered over her skin, and with another little gasp, her body tightened around him reflexively. He twitched and thickened inside her, and her breath caught in her throat.
He swore and turned his scowl back at her. "Don't do that, though."
"No?" Her throat felt tight. Her stomach felt tight. Her breath skimmed in and out of her lungs, charged and excited, ready to unravel once again. "Why not?"
His gaze narrowed down at her, and he slid out of her a fraction and harder back in, pushing the growing thickness of his cock deep—deeper. She was still sensitive and very slick, and the stimulation had her gasping and throbbing around him, squirming beneath him. He grunted, and the heavy rasp rumpled his voice again. "That's why."
Kagome whimpered, and slid her arms up his chest and around his neck. "That's not very convincing," she whispered. Her body had only just settled down from the aftershocks, and yet, somehow, she was ready for him to be thrusting into her again. She should be sore and exhausted after everything they'd just done, and instead her body thrummed with a subtle energy, her nerves crackling with fresh anticipation. "Maybe you should try harder?"
"Harder." He inhaled, and his expression and his body tensed, his eyes growing heavy and intent with lust. "I can do harder."
His talon still skimmed along her shirt collar. She arched her neck, offering the collar up for elimination. He considered her for a moment, then scowled again, and dropped his hand to where the shirt had rolled up beneath her breasts. "Damn it."
She blinked at him, surprised, but obligingly helped him take the few extra minutes to untuck and work the cotton loose from her body before tugging it over her head.
"I though you were going to cut it off," she remarked, breathing hard as it cleared her head and momentarily locked her arms above her.
"Hn." He paused, his gaze dropping to the study way her breasts plumped up at him, at the way she shivered and perked at him, then lifted to where her arms were trapped above her. He smirked again, and for another moment, she thought he might leave her that way. Then he tugged the material all the way off. "Thought about it," he said, tossing the plain cotton t-shirt off to the side.
He reached down and hooked an arm beneath her knee. Pressed her thigh into her body. The resulting penetration had her arching her back and grinding her hips into his. Her hands went to his shoulders, nails digging hard, and a moan rose in the back of her throat. He shuddered and closed his eyes, and they took a moment to absorb the new, spiraling pleasure.
"Why didn't you?" She gasped at him.
He gave her another smirk, widened and gloating a little, before he reared back and thrust into her, completely distracting her from his answer. "Didn't want to have to give up another fucking shirt."
A/N: Aaaaaand, there you have it. The first major lemon of the main couple…the first.
God, I hope it turned out all right. The lemon style is slightly different than my norm (I think? Not sure, and it's hard to tell when I've been so close to it for so long. Maybe it represents an evolution, maybe I'm just blind, deaf, and dumb.). I wanted to have it written and posted by January or February at the latest, but my writing plans always seem to get more waylaid than mice who play with men, you know? Well, a big portion of it is the job. It just sucks the soul out of me during our season, and it takes me longer and longer to recover each year. I's gots ta do sumthin' 'bout dat. I live in a super-power first world nation. I do wonder why I let something I barely tolerate (my bill-paying job) get so in the way of something I love quite possibly more than life (my writing).
Anyway, this one was a tough one. I seriously contemplated giving up at several points in the last six months or so, but…well, seems I just can't, no matter how (ahem) hard it seems to be.
This was written, as it's arranged, in sections. The whole thing was supposed to be designed to be one big build-up and culmination, so to speak, structurally. Dunno how successful it was, though. These two definitely had minds of their own with this one. I rewrote each scene at least once, most multiple times, and one in particular got no less than six complete deletions and blank slate re-writes, and I'm still not sure I'm completely satisfied with it. (That's another warning. I may come back and re-edit a bit after my eyes stop going blurry and cross-eyed every time I look at this chapter.) Side benefit: this chapter is the longest one I have ever written, cresting well above the twenty-two thousand word mark—very close to ten thousand of that being the actual lemon. So…enjoy?
On the upside! Since I was having such a hard time writing it, I did a lot of writing around it instead, and I've got most of the next chapter written. So I'll cross my fingers and not say anything more optimistic about that. Comments and critiques are always more than welcome, and to everyone still reading, a big and grateful thank you. I will finish this story someday. And I have a deep hope, bordering on actual confidence, that it will turn out good, and maybe even really good.
Thanks again, guys.
Quill
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Sachi	By : Quillwing717 Category: InuYasha > General Views: 18692 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.

Sachi