Adult-FanFiction.org : Inuyasha / Yashahime

Citrus Rain	By : northstar Category: InuYasha > Het - Male/Female > Sessh?maru/Rin > Sessh?maru/Rin Views: 5186 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters,
settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original
characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way
associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No
copyright infringement is intended.

Warning: Oral
Lyrics are from George
Michael�s Father Figure.

=#= Till The End of Time =#=

That's all I
wanted, something special,

Something sacred in your eyes,

For just one moment, to be bold and naked

At your side
From the very beginning, she
does not heed the silent, subtle threat he exudes with every graceful, precise
motion of his body. Any creature gifted with an instinct of survival would know
not to touch, yet she seems to lack even a basic understanding of her place in
the world as a weak, fragile thing.

He writes her ignorance off
as being a fault of her humanity, of her youth and naivet�. He does not hold
her accountable for the actions that would earn any other being a swift and
sudden death. And so, in his own way, he forgives her for not knowing what her
touch does to him. Whether through indulgence or passive apathy, he allows her
familiarity with his person to continue unhindered until he has subconsciously
granted her his trust.

Sometimes I think that you'll never understand me

Maybe this time is forever, say it can't be

From the moment she
sees him in the forest, he fascinates her. With a childlike belief in her own
invincibility, she approaches him unafraid. Her offerings of food are met with
rejection, yet since he does not enlighten her as to what food he does eat, she
is left only with the option of presenting him with everything edible she can
get her hands on. No matter what, she does not give up because she understands
that she must earn the favor of this
dangerous, glorious being.
She is too young to recognize within herself the
passionate, obsessive fervor of a lifelong love in the form of her feelings for
him. She can only respond to the driving need deep within her to make him see
her as more than just another human.
That's all you wanted, something special,

Someone sacred in your life

Just for one moment, to be warm and naked

At my side
Nightmares drive her
closer and closer to the safety he represents; she migrates in her sleep
towards him until she is practically in his lap. For days afterwards his fur
carries the scent of her body, her tears. At first he religiously grooms away
the offending smells, a momentary irritation that motivates him to protest for
a time. Complacency eventually wears away his fussiness, and the day passes
unnoticed when he does not take offense at her scent being present on his body.
Time slides by and
there is a moment, when he has been away from her too long, that he notices the
way her scent has faded from his clothes. A whimsical notion almost like
homesickness overcomes him at the absence of her familiar smell.
Sometimes I think that you'll never understand me

But something tells me together, we'd be happy
She cares not for the
seasons, for the press of summer heat on her skin or the biting cold of winter
frost. She pays no attention to the rain that falls in grey monotony or the
bright sunshine that bakes the ground dry. Only when he away from her does she
feel the desperation of famine, and only when he is beside her does she feel
the contentment of plenty.
Her body is a vessel
for the burning flame of her adoration for him, the light touch of her
fingertips on him a prayer of exaltation. Sweet and heady is her joy when he
accepts the press of her small hands against his body, the stroke of them in
his fur, the brush of them through his long mane.
I will be your father figure (Oh baby)

Put your tiny hand in mine (I'd love to)

I will be your preacher teacher (Be your daddy)

Anything you have in mind (It would make me)

I will be your father figure (Very happy)

I have had enough of crime (Please let me)

I will be the one who loves you

till the end of time
Her dark gaze always
follows him, observing and memorizing his minutest of expressions, the way he
holds his body, the light and shadows in his amber eyes. When he slips off to
bathe, she follows. It is strangely intimate, to be unbothered by baring his
body to the living world around him and yet feel reluctant to disrobe because
he knows she is watching. Almost, almost
he calls out her name with the intent of ordering her to leave.
But he doesn�t.
When she steps up with
fingers outstretched to help him with an awkward piece of armor he is silently
struggling with, he accedes to her offer with a single, sharp nod. Even in the
slight time he has known her she has grown so much, and when her shoulder high
head of glossy dark hair is beneath his nose, he inclines his head to inhale
deeply of her sweet scent. Mingled with the sensitive awareness of her fingers
on his virgin skin, he finds himself curious to find out what it might be like
to touch her in return.
That's all I wanted

But sometimes love can be mistaken for a crime

That's all I wanted just to see my baby's blue eyes shine

This time I think that my lover understands me

If we have faith in each other

Then we can be strong
She understands that
she has been honored, not degraded, when he allows her to serve him. To be this
close to him when he is devoid of his armor, to be able to reach out and stroke
the fine silk of his undershirts while it is still warm from his flesh, this is an intimacy she knows he has
granted to very few. For him to be without one arm is the singular imperfection
that makes him attainable to her, and
so although she can sympathize with his feelings of frustration and anger, she
cannot regret his loss which is her gain.
With his arm, he would
never come to be hers. She knows that the addition of her two able hands at the
price of his one is a trade he wouldn�t even consider, and she is secretly glad
he cannot read her thoughts as she assists him in undressing. She can only
savor the moment, caressing her fingers gently over his exposed skin as she
makes the pretense of removing the next layer of his clothing.
I will be your father figure

Put your tiny hand in mine

I will be your preacher teacher

Anything you have in mind

I will be your father figure

I have had enough of crime

I will be the one who loves you

till the end of time
The idea of touching
her tantalizes him, bringing forth a warm melting low in his middle that eases
the edge of his self consciousness. Whether he has the right to touch her never occurs to him, with a selfish assurance
that the world revolves around him,
he naturally assumes she is his for the taking. Already immersed in the heady
oblivion of her scent, he reaches out to explore her with another sense. The
first tentative flick of his claws through her hair entangles his fingers in
the silky strands, holding him captive as she stares up at him with wide eyed
wonder.
Her eyes are at their
softest, her smile at its gentlest, and still he is made to feel an awkward
fool. Hot anger yawns ravenous and furious deep in his heart, but before he can
express it, she places her two small hands over his one and cups his large palm
against the velvety, petal soft skin of her cheek. He is not impervious to her
sense of awe, allowing himself to marvel at the texture of her face until his
temper cools, forgotten in his preoccupation.
If you are the desert, I'll be the sea

If you ever hunger - hunger for me

Whatever you ask for, that's what I'll be
His surprise is a
mirror of hers as the fall of his pants reveals the rigid, erect state of his
sex. His slow blink of confusion is at odds with the hot blush of recognition
that darkens her face. He does not know to feel mortification or shame as the
first gentle stroke of her fingertips over the flushed hardness elicits bright
starbursts of pleasurable elation throughout his body. The husky, eager growl
that trickles from his throat is a sound he has never heard himself make before
and he is forgivably distracted as she kneels to place a chaste kiss against
his flesh, the moist silkiness of her lips replaced by the wet velvet of her
tongue. Shivers of electric excitement wrack his body, and it is all he can do
to hold still with mute compliance as she grows ever more daring, ever more
confident, ever more devastating with her caresses.
So when you remember the ones who have lied

Who said that they cared

But then laughed as you cried

Beautiful darling, don't think of me
She is the only one
acutely aware of the shift between them, of the bliss and heady, humbling power
that comes from being the one in control. For him to be willing to blindly
follow where she leads is like nothing she has ever felt before, a truer
expression of love and trust from him than she believed him capable of making.
In this moment she recognizes that he
is the fragile one, reliant on her
for guidance. The awesome sense of responsibility that settles on her shoulders
is a precise balance to the impulse to do wicked things to him that curls in
deep in her belly.
Hot and bitter, silky
and vibrant, the taste of him is a dark counterpoint to the soft feel of him.
Giddy, restless urgency opens its petals within her, fluttering against her
insides until she is hypersensitive. She is aware of the way each minute shift
of her weight whispers the silk of her kimono over her nipples, her skin and
throbbing sex.
When he cries out and
his body arches as if in pain, when his hand descends to her head and his claws
prick in her scalp, when his hot white seed spurts unexpectedly onto her face,
she knows she has found what she has been seeking at last. From the first time
she set eyes on him and yearned to be something of worth to him, she
understands what it was she longed for�this intimate equality that melts away
every last barrier between them.
Because all I ever wanted

It's in your eyes baby, baby
The carnal knowledge he
sees in her dark eyes, in the edging around her affectionate, triumphant grin
is a deeper, sharper sense of vulnerability than he is comfortable with. Yet,
the hazy veil of her fanatical devotion is strangely gone, as if she sees him
clearly for the first time. Part of him mourns the loss of perfection in her eyes,
even as another guarded part of his self restraint relaxes under the freeing
absolution of no longer being measured against her illogical faith.
His hand lifts from her
head in hesitant surprise, his memory of having placed it there faulty. She
chuckles, low and husky and choked, at the look of shock that crosses his
usually stoic face and another slow curl of desire roils sluggishly in his gut.
Any other creature he would instantly kill for that assumption of mirth at his
expense, yet he finds he has no interest in striking her down. Foremost in his
mind is the insistent, acute, intention to explore and master her body as
completely as she has his.
And love can't lie, no...

(Greet me with the eyes of a child)

My love is always telling me so

(Heaven is a kiss and a smile)

Just hold on, hold on

I won't let you go, my baby
He follows her down,
kneeling until he is eye level with her, his eyes roaming over the cum spattering
her face. One callused thumb whisks away a dollop from the corner of her mouth
as he tips her chin and kisses her with inexperienced demand. His fingers cup
the nape of her neck then glide down to push the side of her kimono impatiently
off her shoulder.
�You are over dressed,�
he tells her, his husky voice not quite softening the undeniable command. �You
will assist me in bathing.�
�Yes,� she replies; her
throat tight and body burning with the heat of intent she sees in his eyes, �As
you wish.�
She shivers as the silk
falls away from her body, baring her to his gaze. Fangs glint and claws gleam
as he delicately strokes the gentle slope of one shoulder. The sharp tips are
nothing more than a light brush that prickles her skin with goose bumps. Urgently
aroused and aching with the need to be touched, she cannot suppress the
frustrated moan that vibrates in her throat. Something alien flashes in his
eyes, and a thrill of fear shoots down her spine, spiking her desire for him
when she realizes that there is nothing tame
about him.
I will be
your father figure

Put your tiny hand in mine

I will be your preacher teacher

Anything you have in mind
He exploits every sense as he studies her, the
minutest gasp, twitch, or curl of her toes does not escape his notice as he
touches and tastes. He defines the difference between tickle and tease,
torturing her with his inquisitive exploration until she cries out blindly for
relief. He allows her to cling to him, knowing that she will do nothing to
hinder him from taking advantage of her any way he pleases.

Her skin is flavored with
salt and satin, warmth and vitality, and it is all he can do to capture it
between his fangs without breaking through. Carefully he rakes her with his
claws, leaving shallow impressions that fade quickly and drive her wild. A
hesitant nudge is all the encouragement she needs to open her legs for him,
lifting her hips in wordless supplication. Tears trickle from her clenched
eyes, her fingers grasp his shoulders, yet even in the grip of her passion she
does not demand. Instead she whimpers and begs, beseeches and pleads until he
bows his head and touches tongue to the wetness of her sex.

I will be your father figure

I have had enough of crime

So I am gonna love you

till the end of time

The muskiness of her arousal
is at once sultry and sweetly clean, like an exotic spice dried in the
sunshine. Her taste is that of nectar, unrefined and slightly tart, slick and
flavorful like spring rain. Moisture coats his lips and tongue like honey,
glistening on his fingers as he probes deeply into her virgin opening.
Mindlessly she squirms and pleads in surrender, her fingers tangled in the
silkiness of his pale hair. Touch to one small, swollen nub of flesh makes her
whimper as if in pain, yet as soon as he ceases she is begging for more.

Softly and delicately he
explores, afraid to damage her in the most intimate of places. Gradually her
words degrade to incoherent mutters, tormented moans that increase in volume
the moment he pauses. Not until he has two fingers buried to his knuckles
within her and he suckles her flesh with long pulls from his mouth does he
understand that the erratic jerks of her hips are a cry for harder.�
Her breathing catches in a sob as he drags the smooth edge of his teeth
over the nub, her body seizing in one tense spasm as every muscle strains
towards something intangible just out of reach. He lifts his head, intent on
asking her a question, and as his exhale ghosts a phantom hand over the wet
folds of her sex she goes limp with a harsh cry of relief.

I will be your father

I will be your preacher

I'll be your daddy�

Her world fractures and
breaks and blindly she trusts him to be there to catch her. For a heartbeat,
his scent is all she is aware of within the cradle of his warm embrace. Skin
slides against skin as she twists to look up into his eyes, afraid that he will
hate himself because of her bold seduction. Instead all she sees is a lazy sort
of sated complacency that does not quite hide the ambitious, inquisitive,
devious gleam of curiosity that promises further explorations into this new
realm of pleasure. The smell of water and the forgotten soap encircle them like
an errant reminder of their original task. He follows her gaze with his eyes,
tightening his arm around her waist when it becomes apparent she might
entertain some rebellious thought of moving. He puts his lips to her ear,
smiling with wicked intent as she shivers at the light brush.

�Rest,� he bids her with mild
authority. �I will put you to work indulging me again soon enough.�

This time she shivers at the
unmistakable, carnal threat his words imply. Her fingers trace idle patterns on
his chest as her thoughts fill the quiet, impossible trains of supposition that
all end with one question.

�Sesshoumaru-sama, do you
love me?� she asks, risking it all as he goes very still beneath her.

�I do not know,� he replies
at last, after a long, tense silence. �I have never had any use for such
sentiments as a taiyoukai. But I will give you as much of myself as I am able
if you will love me in return.�
She digests his statement for
a moment, before breaking into a brilliant smile. Her answer comes easily, as
gently as dawn on a warm summer day.

�Yes, Sesshoumaru-sama.�

�I will be the one who loves you

till the end of time

=#=
- 2
- 3
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