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A Darkling Alcove	By : Foxgloveyoukai Category: InuYasha > Het - Male/Female > Sessh?maru/Rin > Sessh?maru/Rin Views: 4052 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.

Chapter List
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Author's Note: This fic was written for Tomoe, who granted me the prompt "Ribbon" in exchange for the prompt "Marshmallow" Muhaha. The warnings stand thus: Minor, OOC, Vague Sexings . . . They're vague, but they're there. Just so's you know. Onward, then.

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Blood Ties

It had been too much.

Simply too much.

Too much change in such a short time.

First, there was the child . . .

Born of a half-demon and a mortal priestess, Sai was the living image of his father right down to the ears, barely less a Hanyou than Inuyasha himself, and a testament to the strength of the Dog General's lineage. According to Kaede, Rin had been present and on-hand for every birth in the village since her second month there, but she had bonded with none of those whelps as she had with this baby boy. And arriving unannounced to find her tousle-headed, glowing with cheer, softly singing a Hanyou to sleep bathed in the burnished hues of sundown . . .

Sesshomaru had lost all track of thought at the sight.

Then there was the boy . . .

He had always thought of him as such. But why did he continue to do so, even now, when he was very clearly not a boy, having returned to the village only a week ago after five years of travel? Why, he was several inches taller than his sister, even. Having grown well, learnt much, and yet retained his inherently down to earth and unassuming nature, Kohaku had arrived in Edo to a heroes welcome. Rin had flown into raptures at the return of her childhood friend, and as for the boy . . . Yes, he too had been delighted to see his young companion again . . .

Most especially if those continuous looks of pleasant surprise and . . . appreciation . . . were any indicator.

And then there was . . . the blood.

She was late, according to the old woman. At fourteen years old - or so was the general consensus among her caretakers - Rin had been due to shed her first for some time now. Sesshomaru was inclined to agree. He'd sensed the first few internal rumblings months beforehand, and yet nothing had come of it. And then one day he'd placed his hand upon her soft dark hair, bade her farewell, left in pursuit of an upstart Neko Youkai faction . . . and returned to find a woman-child in the place of his ward.

The scent brought every part of him to a stumbling halt. The sight of her crawled down his spine. Then she'd turned, caught sight of him and smiled, and as if for the first time, it had truly struck him just how beautiful she was. Even bound in the simple peasants garb they'd clothed her in - not wanting to risk any "accidents" with the kimono he brought during her cycle - she outshone every other female he'd known in his long life. Perhaps it was in her imperfection. Perhaps it was in her fragile mortality. Perhaps it was in her blunted human teeth, her clawless, harmless hands, her weak, warm body, her fearless, ferocious spirit. Perhaps it was in those bright dark eyes that never looked upon him with anything less than warmth.

Perhaps it was, simply, that she was Rin.

His Rin . . .

Five days were very nearly longer than he could wait.

At first light she'd roused and dressed, cleaned the ashes from the fire pit, woken her elderly caretaker and donned her woven hamper, ready to set out on her first and favored errand of the day, gathering early-blooming herbs. Yawning cheerfully all the while, she slipped outside into the gray light of dawn and bid the Taiyoukai a sleepy and wholehearted good morning. He'd inclined his head in return from his perch on the roof, where she would find him every morn and eve of his stay, and watched her disappear into the forest. First of all, she headed off towards the river, intending to cleanse herself of the messy aftermath of one more night in heat.

Now that just wouldn't stand . . .

Before the hunting owl returned from his night's predations, before the morning mists had finished rolling down from the mountains, before she'd made it half the distance to the waterside from the well-meadow, he'd taken her, and staked his claim.

And he'd encountered no resistance . . .

No rejection . . .

And no regrets.

Only wide, wide dark eyes and fumbling hands and soft, flushed skin . . .

Unconsciously, he found, he'd already chosen the spot. A tree, old and wise as the Goshinboku but long since passed, mightily rooted, broad and stolid, and hollowed out from age. Uncounted nameless creatures had died within this space, lived within this space, birthed within this space; it was empty, and full of life.

But Rin did not know any of this. All that Rin knew was the first ravenous embrace of mouth, the first rush of blood to the head in being lowered to the earth, the first slide of claw and fang down fevered skin. Blind in the dark, she let him feast, wary, wild-shy, but never fearful. He stripped her bare and gorged himself.

She quivered, she shook, she was not afraid. Her hands were warm, her skin was slick, her flesh was pliant and her eyes were bright. The taste of her called to his body. The blood called to his own. He slaked his thirst when he spread her legs, pinned her when some foolish modesty incited a protest, drove them both mindless when he curled his tongue deep. In that deep, dark place he sought after the deepest dark . . .

His mouth trailed coppery paths along her spine, set her shoulder blades alight, bathed the sweat from her fragile shoulders. His tongue pursued the tender structures of a tiny, rounded ear. His arm coiled fast about her waist, supporting her on hand and knee as he slid himself against the red wet heat. In the dark he was quiet and clear about the things he wanted to do to her, about the reasons he wouldn't do those things to her just yet . . .

The question was if she would wait for him.

The question was were he to call her his own . . . would she answer?

Rin arched, wept, and anointed his arousal.

Sesshomaru snarled and drenched her thighs.

And it was a pact if ever he'd known one.

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OWARI

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A Darkling Alcove