Adult-FanFiction.org : Inuyasha / Yashahime

Want	By : theMaven Category: InuYasha > Het - Male/Female > Sessh?maru/Rin > Sessh?maru/Rin Views: 12030 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Want
- 1
Disclaimer - I do not own the characters of InuYasha, nor do I make any money from this.
Author’s note: This is a rather odd tale with an even odder ending. MUCH darkness ahead and,
please, pardon any mistakes you may find. This fic is straight from you to me. And because I
didn’t specifically state it anywhere in the following prose, Rin is around 19 in this fic.
I hope you enjoy :)

                                                                   Want
            He was waiting for the toad to fall asleep, and she was waiting for his signal. It wasn’t
something he would say or even something he would do; he would simply . . . glance at her from
his spot across the campfire, and she would know. One look in those amber-colored orbs, the
molten bronze seamlessly blending, melding, mixing with hues of crimson and gold, and she
would know. She would know that he wanted her. She would know that he needed her. She
would know there was only one way such a heated staring match could end: her in his arms, him
seated deeply within her, stretching and straining, pushing and pulsing, thrusting his thick, hard
phallus into her warm, wet womanhood till both had met their just ends--hair damp, bodies
sweaty, desires spent, their limp limbs entangled in a lovers’ embrace.
            Rin fought the urge to sigh and shifted slightly in her seat, careful not to make so sudden
a move as to startle the toad into alertness. Ever since “the incident,” Jaken had made it a point
not to sleep more than three feet away from her, so he would immediately awake should someone
try to cause her harm. She fully appreciated his point of view, but what he thought had
happened, wasn’t what really happened.
            There was no “rogue” youkai. There was no “attack,” and there was no “heroic” rescue
by her Sesshomaru-sama.
            It was an accident; that’s all. There had been too much wanting and waiting, too much
tension and teasing. Sesshomaru-sama would never hurt her intentionally, and she, for her part,
had welcomed his advances. She’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted her . . . But youkai
wants were much stronger, much keener, much more aggressive than anything a human could
ever claim to have felt.
            Her lord had no experience with human females and no idea that she would be so...
fragile.
            That first time, though she was anxious for him–and he for her--she wasn’t ready for him.
He was too swift, too strong, too . . . big. She was nervous and uncertain and unclear on
precisely what he wanted her to do. But, apparently, her arousal, her inexperience and the
slightly acrid odor of fear made for a potent aphrodisiac, and before she knew what had
happened, he had her bent over on all fours, her kimono hiked high above her hips, her forehead
pressed flat into the ground, his fangs clamped on to the right side of her neck, his claws flexing
and extending, grasping and sweeping, ripping through cloth, rending her flesh, flicking across
bone.
            Then there was the part that made every man a male . . .
            And her Sesshomaru-sama was quite a male. Quite honestly, she still didn’t understand
how he could squeeze all of himself into what little of her there was, but, that didn’t make her any
less glad that he could. There was no greater feeling, no higher thrill, no ecstasy more ultimate
than sheathing her Sesshomaru in her warmth, her juices easing his entry, his smooth, hard shaft
gliding in and out of her body, his strong hands bouncing her up and down in his lap as she
wrapped her arms and legs about his slender frame, her head buried in his shoulder, his breath
hot on her ear as his teeth and tongue made their way along her neck, over her collarbone and
between the valley of her breasts, his lips lightly pressed against her abused flesh, skimming over
scars both old and new, making her feel just as delicate as the flowers she used to pick and pluck,
making her forget that he was a youkai lord and she was but his simple, human servant, making
her near faint as he hoarsely called broken bits of her name; that word alone more loving, more
longing, more . . . licentious than any poem or prose work that had ever been printed and more
illicit than any image ever imagined.
            Yes, she had developed quite a craving for her lord and a marked appreciation for his
amorous abilities and his (she snickered quietly to herself) as some would say, enormous
endowment. But that night, the only thing she had to be thankful for was unconsciousness,
which mercifully came quickly after he penetrated her.
            He was simply too much for her . . . The blood, the bruising, the broken bones and
serrated skin . . .
            He didn’t mean to, though. Of course, her Sesshomaru-sama was far too proud to admit
something like fault or guilt or apology, but he did see that she was appropriately cared for
afterward, and they halted their travels, altogether, until she was completely healed.
            She’d seen her lord in several serious moods, but she’d never seen such brilliant eyes
look so somber, so sad, so dull and deeply disturbed. “This will not happen again,” he’d told her
shortly after she’d regained consciousness.
            She’d opened her eyes, wildly searching the area for him, shocked beyond belief that they
seemed to be indoors. It wasn’t the castle; that she’d been sure of. They were in a hut of some
human healer, an old miko with deep wrinkles and dark grey eyes. Someone had already taken it
upon themselves–perhaps the miko, perhaps her lord or maybe even Jaken--to see that she was
bathed, her hair was washed, her clothes were cleaned and repaired, and her wounds were
wrapped.
            She’d opened her mouth to speak and found her throat almost too dry to utter a single
whisper. But, still, he heard her. Though he towered over the crouching crone, the toddling toad
and her own prone form, spread out on a futon buried in blankets and covered in healing herbs,
her soft words reached his sensitive ears. “Where am I?” she’d asked.
            She’d stared up at him then, patiently waiting for his reply, and as she did, she saw
something . . . almost unreal flash across the front of his eyes, the feeling flickering and fading all
within an instant. This . . . foreign, fleeting thing she saw reflected in her lord’s eyes made her
feel more uneasy, more unsettled, more sick than any of her physical injuries.
            “Safe,” he’d finally said, and then, as if everything had been said and done on the matter,
he’d turned to leave, Jaken apparently turning to do the same.
            She’d tried to sit up, but both the miko and the pain in her ribs and lower extremities
forced her to stay flat on her back. “Are you leaving me here?” She spoke more loudly than
before, as close to a shout as she could manage. Her voice cracked and her eyes stung with
unshed tears. She would not disgrace her lord with a blatantly emotional display in front of this...
strange woman, but she had questions, and she wanted–no needed answers. “Am I to stay here,
Sesshomaru-sama? All alone?”
            The elderly miko dipped a wooden ladle into a large bucket, presumably of water, beside
her head off to the right side of the futon. She then offered Rin the contents, placing one hand
gently behind her head, helping her to sit up. She took a few sips, then coughed and sputtered,
spitting up a small amount of blood.
            The entire time Sesshomaru-sama stood stationary, Jaken just behind him. He did not
turn around, but he did reply. “Jaken will stay with you.” And, almost as an afterthought, he’d
added, “This will not happen again.”
            And then he’d left. The emptiness she’d felt at his departure, the pain she felt after he’d
spoken those five words was more unbearable than all her injuries combined. His meaning was
all too clear. She’d displeased him. She’d been a loathsome lover, and now, because of her
injuries, she was useless as a servant. Sesshomaru-sama had no room for one such as her in his
life.
            “Is the pain so great, child?”
            She rolled her head away from the miko, away from the open door, away from the
retreating form of her lord and master. She didn’t want anyone to see her tears.
            “I’ll brew some more tea,” she said as Rin felt the floorboards shift beneath them. She
listened quietly as the old miko’s footsteps faded to the rear of the hut, then reached up and
dabbed the corners of her eyes with the sleeve of her kimono.
            Much to her surprise, she then felt a small, cold hand pat her lightly on an uninjured area
of her upper arm. “Be strong, Rin. Have faith in Sesshomaru-sama.”
            She rolled her head back to its previous position to find Jaken by her bedside. His eyes
were uncharacteristically gentle and his touch reassuring.
            “But where is he going?” she croaked out. “Why is he leaving me here?”
            The toad scoffed, donning his usual scowl across his misshapen face. “To avenge you, of
course. To hunt down and kill the vile beast that besmirched both your honor and his.”
            “But--” She closed her mouth before she could utter another word. Of course, Jaken
wouldn’t have known what had happened. He was sleeping when she and her Sesshomaru-sama
silently slipped away . . . And Sesshomaru-sama would never divulge such intimate information
about their activities; any questions Jaken might have had would have been answered with a cold
glare. So . . . the toad must have simply made up his own mind about what had happened. Their
Sesshomaru-sama would never hurt little Rin, so it must have been someone, something else...
            The miko returned with the tea, settling down beside the imp after throwing him a
disapproving glance. “Drink this.” She, again, reached behind the young woman’s neck, helping
her to sit up with one hand, while holding the cup with the other. “It will make you feel better.”
            Jaken huffed loudly, crossing his stubby arms over his concave chest, the Staff of Heads
clutched tightly in his grasp. “The only thing that will make her ‘feel better,’ as you say, is the
blood of her attacker.”
            This time it was the miko that huffed. “Imp, I need you to step outside for a few
moments.”
            The toad’s eyes narrowed. “And why would this Jaken be doing that?”
            “Because your lord and master has left this girl in my care. To properly care for her, I
must change the bandages on her wounds, and, in order to preserve what’s left of her modesty, I
insist that you wait outside.”
            “Who do you think this Jaken is? I’ve been watching over this girl for twelve of your
ningen years. There is nothing she has that this Jaken hasn’t seen on more than one occasion.”
            “That may be, but while you are in my home, you will respect my wishes.”
            Rin watched in mild amusement as the old miko set down the teacup, pushed herself to
her feet, grabbed Jaken by the collar of his robes and the seat of his hakama then, quite
unceremoniously, tossed him outside. She listened as the toad squawked then hit the ground
with a loud thump and watched with wide eyes as the miko pulled a thin slip of paper from her
sleeve, affixed it to the door frame, then secured the leather hide hanging off to the side of the
doorway over the entrance, blocking out the sun’s rays. The withered woman then turned to face
her.
            “Now, child, do you wish to tell me the true source of all your ails?”
            “I don’t know what you mean.”
            A bright flash of light followed by a loud scream and a stream of curses caught Rin’s
attention from the other side of the flap. She fought the urge to giggle as a more colorful barrage
of profanity assaulted her ears, filling up the silence that had fallen over the hut.
            “Barrier,” the miko said simply, glancing briefly over her shoulder. “Now, about the
demon lord’s mating mark on the right side of your neck . . .”
                                                               888888888
            Her lord’s eyes focused in on her, following every contour of her face, tracing every dip
and curve of her body–from the tiny piece of hair at the top of her head that refused to lie down
to the rounded tip of her longest toe tucked just beneath her bottom as she continued to kneel by
the tree both she and Jaken shared, resting her head against its rough bark, presenting herself in
profile to her lord. Before “the incident,” she came to the conclusion that was the view of her
body her lord most appreciated. It was how he’d watched over her all these years, silently, slyly
out of the corners of his eyes. So, she’d taken to “flaunting” herself in front of him whenever the
opportunity presented itself, and, oh, how he watched her!
            Not that she’d been entirely innocent of stealing glances at him . . . whenever she thought
his head was turned, whenever she walked behind him, and, especially, when she helped in the
bath. That was her duty, after all, and she’d been doing it for years. It was shortly after Jaken’s
mention of the “Sesshomaru-sama Empire” and her run in with Ongonki. When she was safe at
home, back with her traveling companions, she’d taken a chance and asked Sesshomaru what her
role would be in the Sesshomaru-sama Empire. He’d given a somewhat puzzled look, then she’d
qualified her question by saying that Jaken had said he would be minister of the state. “What
will Rin do?” she’d asked.
            He seemed to think for a moment then replied, “Whatever you like.”
            “Can Rin . . .” she dug her toe into the ground, her eyes downcast,, a bright blush heating
her cheeks. “Can Rin help Sesshomaru-sama with his hair?”
            Again, he seemed to consider her question, then gave a slight nod.
            She’d jumped up and down, laughing and clapping, knowing that her place in his life was
now secured. She would be his servant, and she would serve him well.
            When she was younger, she didn’t think much of their bath times together. They’d both
strip down to their under robes, enter the water, complete their respective tasks, and that was that.
But as she grew older . . .
            She drew in a deep breath and pushed it out. No, her lord never completely undressed in
front of her, but the way the wet silk clung to his damp flesh, accentuating every muscle,
following every move of the smooth skin over taut sinew . . .
            Well, she was only human, and, being a sexually mature, human female, her body reacted
the only way it could. Her fingers, once steady and sure, faltered as she released the tangles from
his silvery mane and massaged the soap deeply into his scalp. Her breathing hitched as she
noticed that the collar of his kimono had slipped slightly, exposing more of his unmarred flesh to
her curious gaze. Her cheeks flushed at the thought of being so close to a being so perfect, and a
liquid pool of heat settled between her thighs as she temporarily lost her footing on the bottom of
the spring, and her small, but sensitive breasts briefly brushed against his back.
            Now, Sesshomaru-sama never paid her much mind while they were in the bath. He kept
his eyes directed forward, his hand at his side, his spine straight and his head erect. But that
time, that time she supposed he first caught whiff of her, he’d turned slightly to the side, glanced
over his shoulder and stared at her.
            It wasn’t a glance. It wasn’t a glimpse. It wasn’t a quick peak at the girl over his
shoulder. It was long. It was lasting. And it was . . . lustful--the way his irises darkened, his
pupils constricted, thin rivulets of red bleeding into the whites of his eyes.
            “Enough,” he’d told her as he’d turned away, ripples forming in the water around his
right hand. “Dress and leave.”
            She stopped immediately, letting her hands fall from his hair to her sides, but her feet
remained stationary at the bottom of the spring. “Have I done something wrong?” she’d asked.
“Sesshomaru-sama has never stopped me before.”
            “It is enough,” he replied, somewhat gruffly. “Your duties are completed. Return to
camp.”
            She’d nodded obediently, left the warm water behind and dressed behind him on the bank
of the onsen. She, then, did as her lord commanded her, returning to camp, never having rinsed
his hair.
            But, that one incident didn’t excuse her from future bathing duties. They carried on as
normal for years afterward. She continued to service him as she had in her youth, but from that
day on, till the night of “the incident,” he always stopped her just before she had the opportunity
to rinse his hair.
            That night, the night of “the incident,” he didn’t stop her. He’d risen from their campsite,
as he often did, and commanded her to come. Nothing had struck her odd about the request; her
lord had often bathed in the moonlight. But that night–no, that day–she had noticed his eyes
upon her more than once, and even when they’d stopped to make camp, his eyes never wandered
far from her form . . . And she, unconsciously, found herself returning is gaze . . . though,
somewhat timidly at first.
            But the time for timidity had passed, and the night of “the incident” was little more than a
distant memory to her. True, only nine months had passed between now and then, and two of
those months had been spent apart from one another, but . . .
            It didn’t matter. Things were different now. She understood his want, and he, now, knew
what she needed.
            She straightened her spine a little, feeling much taller than her five-foot frame, and
returned her lord’s current heated gaze with one of her own. She allowed a slight smile to grace
her lips as her eyes wandered over and around the quiet creature sitting a few feet across from
her, admiring his slim silhouette and flawless features as the flames of their campfire flickered
and danced in the depths of his eyes. Soon, they seemed to say, and soon it would have to be.
            Already the toad’s bald head was drooping, his eyelids were sagging, and his beak was
slightly agape.
            Soon, she’d be in Sesshomaru-sama’s arms, and they’d both find their release. Soon,
they’d both ride the tides of bliss and be swept up on the sweet shores of oblivion. Soon, they
would be together as they were always meant to be.
            Soon . . .
                                                               888888888
            “Today, Kaede-sama? Can I go back to him today?”
            Two months had passed since “the incident.” Her wounds had healed, her bones had
mended, and her bruises had faded. The sun was up, birds were singing, the village was bustling,
and the gentle warmth of spring had given way to the sweltering heat of summer. Rin was ready
to get out of this hut and on with the rest of her life.
            The old miko gave her a gentle nod.
            “It’s about time,” the toad squawked. “You ningens are such slow healers.”
            Kaede frowned. “After the wounds that child received, she is more than lucky to be
alive.”
            “But I’m all better?” Rin asked. She wanted to be certain she was at her best and would
have no trouble keeping up with Sesshomaru-sama once they began their travels again.
            “Aye,” the one-eyed miko nodded. “Except for your internal injuries. There was little I
could do to repair the damage.”
            Rin nodded. They’d discussed this before. She was barren, now. Her womb far too
battered and bruised to ever produce a life beyond her own.
            It had . . . saddened her at first. She had wanted children. She had wanted to be a
mother. She had wanted . . .
            She stopped her traitorous train of thought before it brought down her upbeat mood. She
could go home today. She could see her Sesshomaru-sama again. She could serve him again,
and everything would be as it was before. There was no reason at all to be sad.
            “Rin.”
            She looked down to see the toad tugging at the skirt of her kimono. She nodded and gave
him a reassuring smile. “Let’s go, Jaken-sama.”
            He released his hold on her kimono, gave a terse nod then headed for the door.
            Rin gathered what few belongings she’d accumulated during her stay in the village,
deeply bowed to the old miko, then made her way to the door.
            “Rin.”
            She stopped at the sound of the miko’s voice, again, turning to face her. “Yes, Kaede-sama?”
            “Must you go to him?” she asked. “You know what happened before could happen
again.”
            Rin nodded. “I know. But I need him, Kaede-sama. He wants me, and I need him.
There wasn’t a day he didn’t come to see about me, after all.”
            “Aye.”
            “Well, I’ll be off, then.”
            “Child.”
            Again, her footsteps halted.
            “Yes?”
            “If you must go, then remember all that I’ve told you.”
            “Hai, Kaede-sama. I’ll remember. Now, this time, I’m really going.”
                                                                88888888
            Snoring. A slack green body by her side. It was time.
            Rin watched with bated breath as her lord gracefully made his way to his feet then silently
slipped into the surrounding forest. She waited a few moments, then rose to her own feet,
following in his unseen footsteps.
            This wasn’t the first time they’d done this, nor would it be the last. They’d been carrying
on like this every night for the past six months. His mark led her to where she needed to go, her
bare feet treading softly in the tall, green grass. But even without it, she knew where she’d find
him. Though he would never admit it, her lord was oddly sentimental.
                                                                88888888
            He’d entirely ignored her for the first month after she’d returned. He wouldn’t look at her.
He barely spoke to her, and he refused to let her help him bathe. The tension among those in
their traveling party had built to an unbearable level. While he wasn’t talking to her, Jaken was
constantly snapping at her, warning her to keep close to them to avoid inviting another attack,
and Ah-Un was following her everywhere she went. Jaken and the dragon were giving her
claustrophobia while Sesshomaru made her feel as if she’d sprouted two extra heads, an arsenal
of tentacles and six additional legs. The way he watched her now wasn’t as he’d looked upon her
before. There was . . . caution in his glance, wariness in his posture and a certain . . . sadness
seemingly deep-seated in his soul. He seemed lost, lonely and adrift. More than his distance,
more than his sparse spoken words, more than being relieved of her servant duties, his detached
demeanor disturbed her.
            She knew that she’d displeased him with her previous performance, but she never
dreamed things could deteriorate this badly between the two of them. He couldn’t even look at
her.
            And with that unpleasant thought, she drifted off to sleep, the toad by her side.
            A few hours later, she awoke feeling an odd, but familiar presence upon her. It was not a
weight. It was not a physical presence, but she felt it just the same, and she opened her eyes in
response to it.
            There, sitting a few feet across the campsite from her, beneath the branches of an aged
oak tree, bathed in the delicate light of the full moon and the dying light of their campfire, her
Sesshomaru-sama watched her, his eyes clear and focused, his posture slack but aware. They
said nothing at first, only regarded one another with unblinking eyes and quiet fascination.
            Sesshomaru was the first one to speak. “Why do you stay?” he asked loudly enough for
her to hear, but softly enough not to disturb their other two companions.
            She remained slumped against the bark of her own tree, her profile presented to him, her
eyes wide, her voice quiet but sure. “Why do you not command me to leave?”
            He seemed to consider her question a moment, and then he was gone–vanished in a hazy
cloud of his youki.
            Normally, she would have been content to simply sit there, silently pondering his
behavior till sleep once again came upon her, but not that night. She pushed herself upright then
up on the balls of her feet. She threw a hesitant glance down at the sleeping toad, then silently
slipped away into the surrounding forest.
            All the wounds she’d received three months ago had healed, save for her internal ones
and the odd puncture wounds that graced the area between her neck and right shoulder. They had
closed, and were flat now as opposed to raised, but they remained amazingly sensitive, and any
time she passed her fingers over them, they seemed to pulse with a life of their own, and she
immediately felt warm and achy and wet at her core. This wound filled her with a want, left her
with a need, imbued her with a desire that she instinctively knew only her lord could fulfill.
            And maybe–no, not maybe–definitely. Her lord was definitely feeling the same way. She
could feel it deep within her–his want, his need, his desire for her presence, his hunger for her
body, his thirst for her unique taste. She’d only recently become aware of these sensations and
their source, and already she thought she would go mad if she couldn’t have him and have him
now. Why he refused to act, she wasn’t entirely sure, but she assumed it had something to do
with “the incident” three months ago. But just as she could feel herself being drawn to him, he
had to have felt her approach.
            At first, it seemed the closer she got, the further away he moved, but then it stopped. He
stopped, and her heart jumped with joy. The closer she got, the warmer her flesh, the shorter her
breath, the more desperate her desire.
            She had to find him. She had to have him. Even as she walked she began peeling away
her clothing. She tugged loose the ties of her obi and tossed it aside, letting it fall where it may,
leaving her outer robes to hang open. She then fixed her hungry hands on the sash of her inner
robe and discarded it as well. He was so close she could smell him, taste him, feel his ghostly
caresses along her fevered flesh.
            She pulled her hair free of the satin ribbon that kept it bound into a low ponytail that hung
well past her hips, shaking the inky tendrils free, allowing them to cascade around her face, over
her shoulders and between the valley of her breasts.
            If he refused her, she would kill him. It was as simple as that. In the back of her mind,
she knew she was entirely incapable of completing such a feat, but rational thought had all but
escaped her and only her body’s burning desire remained.
            She broke through a particularly thick patch of underbrush, and there she found
him–almost exactly as she’d found him all those years ago wounded and helpless, slumped
against the trunk of a magnolia tree, his armor discarded, his swords at his side, but off his
person. He was as flawless then as he was now, and the pulsing of the mark on her neck told her
that he was hers, and she had every right to demand that he fulfill her body’s desire for him.
            Their eyes met, and she continued to move forward. She didn’t wait to be acknowledged.
She didn’t wait for his permission to approach. She didn’t say a single word as she sat herself at
his side, grabbed a few locks of his silvery mane and pulled his head within inches of her face.
Her pulse was racing, her flesh was damp, and her breath came only in shudders and gasps.
            Though considerably calmer than her, he too was having difficulty breathing, his lips
slightly parted, warm rushes of air passing from his mouth to the side of her face.
            “Why do you do this to me?” she asked. “What have you done to me?”
            “Unhand me,” his voice was soft but gruff.
            “I cannot,” she replied. “I’ll die if I can’t have you.”
            “Nonsense.”
            She tightened her hold on his hair, brought him closer, talked a little lower. “I am not
above begging,” she spoke hoarsely into his pointed ear.
            “It cannot be,” he replied. “It will not be.”
            She could feel the heat his body gave off, see the dark flames of desire burning brightly in
molten bronze eyes. Why, she could even smell his growing arousal and taste the slightly acrid
aroma as it formed itself on the flat of her tongue. An uncharacteristically wicked grin stretched
the corners of her mouth, her lips peeling back to reveal the ivory of her teeth. “You want me.”
            Sesshomaru drew in a short, sharp breath as she felt a tiny tremor shoot through his body.
            Rin smiled, something deep inside her rejoicing in delight. Despite her previously poor
performance, Sesshomaru-sama still desired her companionship as a lover.
            She tightened her hold on his hair, bringing them even closer together, their lips a hair’s
breadth apart. If he wanted her, and she wanted him, there was no reason to continue denying
themselves. Her eyes drifted closed.
            But they snapped open the instant she heard the low growl emitted in front of her face, the
hot, humid air blowing over her parted lips. Her heart slammed into the back of her ribcage as
she was met with a pair of red-rimmed eyes, jagged stripes and lengthening fangs.
            As quickly as the sight appeared, her lord forced it to regress. He drew in a few labored,
but barely noticeably, breaths. “Leave.”
            The look in his eyes and the tone of his voice left little room for question, but . . . “No.”
            His eyes hardened somewhat, his gaze locked with hers.
            Rin swallowed hard but, remembering the miko’s words, didn’t back down. Submission
would only be met with abuse, while defiance would earn a modicum of respect and open
curiosity. As Kaede-sama had said, Sesshomaru-sama did not strike her, but he did attempt to
stare her down.
            Rin did not blink.
            A flash of anger sparked in her lord’s amber-colored eyes, but it wasn’t long-lasting. It
soon diminished to frustration, confusion, understanding and finally, that lonely longing, that
soul-wrenching sadness, that deep despair she’d noticed shortly after her return to him.
            She released the hold she had on his hair, running that hand down the right side of his
face.
            He seemed to lean into the caress, tilting his head slightly to the side, his eyes drifting
partially closed.
            “You’re afraid of hurting me,” she said softly.
            She felt another shudder course through his body, but this one, she knew, had nothing to
do with a sexual thrill. She drew in a deep breath and pushed it out, trying to keep herself steady,
her resolve strong. They both couldn’t fall apart in this instance.
            “I don’t want you to, either,” she finally said.
            He lowered his eyes.
            Rin sighed, her heart clenching painfully. So this was Jaken’s so-called “vile beast.”
            Courage, she reminded herself. “The--”
            He looked up at her at the sound of her voice, her hand still caressing the side of his face.
            She continued. “The way I see it, we only have three options. And I say ‘we’ because
what you decide ultimately affects me, as well.”
            He gave a slight nod, encouraging her to continue.
            “You can continue to deny yourself my company, making us both miserable and running
the risk of what happened before happening again.”
            “It will not happen again.”
            “It will,” she insisted. “Do you even know why it happened?”
            He didn’t reply.
            “It’s because you want me,” she said. “Wanted me, have wanted me for quite some time,
according to Kaede-sama.”
            He glared at her, and she dropped her hand to her lap. “I told her what happened, and she
told me why. I didn’t want to tell her, but she refused to believe the story Jaken told her because
she recognized your mark on my neck.”
            His eyes softened, his gaze, again, lowering.
            “Youkai have needs just like humans, but because youkai are stronger than ningens, their
desires are stronger as well. Humans tend to . . . repress certain needs when they feel they’re
inappropriate, and youkai do the same. I . . .” She wet her lower lip, dropping her gaze to the
hands loosely folded in her lap, her robes still hanging open, but covering her flesh. “I am not
worthy of a youkai lord. I’m just a lowly, human girl, and . . . shouldn’t even be able to provoke
such desires in one such as you.” She swallowed hard then raised her head to look him in the
eye. “But I do.”
            She watched as his eyes darkened from their normally golden color to a more burnished
hue. She listened as his breathing quickened and smelled the musky scent of his arousal.
            “And you’re ashamed of it,” she said. “You’re ashamed of me. You’re ashamed that you
let this lowly, mortal woman get so close to you, and you’ve become attached to her presence.
So you . . . deny it, repress it, refuse to acknowledge the feelings you’ve come to have for me.”
            Her lord said nothing, did nothing, his eyes gradually returning to normal.
            “But . . . everyone has their limits,” she said. “It’s like a dam. You dam up all those
things you don’t want anybody to know, all those feelings you don’t want to express, and it’s fine
for a while–controllable, manageable. It may even be the best solution if handled properly. I
mean, most dams have a release hatch to let some of the water out little by little to prevent too
much pressure from building up. But . . . if the water isn’t allowed its proper release, the
pressure just builds and builds till the dam breaks, and everything comes pouring out in one
enormous flood.”
            She blinked at that point. “And floods can be deadly.”
            They were quiet for a moment, Rin needing a few moments to collect herself,
Sesshomaru sitting silently beside her.
            “So,” she said, breaking the silence, “we have three choices. You can continue to deny
yourself my company, making us both miserable and running the risk of what happened before
happening again. You can,” she swallowed hard, refusing to let her throat close up the way it
wanted to, “send me away.” She, again, took a moment to collect herself. “Or I can tell you
what Kaede-sama suggested.”
            Again, the two fell quiet.
            “Well, we’ve both agreed we don’t want . . . the dam to break again, so that’s one option
down. I . . . You asked me why I stay, and I asked you why you don’t command me to leave... so
I don’t think either one of us really wants to be without the other.” She drew in another deep
breath and pushed it out, tossing her hair back, away from her face. “So, that only leaves one
option. Do . . . w–would you like to know what she said?”
            She took his silence as a sign to continue. “Y–you only . . . hurt me because you took too
long to take me. Had you taken me when–whenever it was you’d first wanted, yes, it would have
hurt me to an extent, but . . . there wouldn’t have been any permanent damage, and I certainly
wouldn’t have needed two months to recover. But,” she suddenly perked up, “that needn’t be the
case this time. If you want, that is. If you want me.”
            His lips slightly parted; his eyes regained the slightly burnished hue.
            “I . . . I was nervous that first time. I didn’t really know what to expect, and I . . . wasn’t
ready when you . . . took me. But,” she reached up, slipping the fingers of her left hand beneath
the innermost layer of her open robes, lightly brushing them over the mark on her neck, “this
wound on my neck . . .”
            “It is a mating mark,” Sesshomaru said. “It allows the feelings of one to be transferred to
the other.”
            “It let me find you,” she said.
            He gave a slight nod. “It is also a beacon and a warning to other youkai that you have
been claimed by another of their kind.”
            “Claimed?” she repeated.
            He, again, nodded. “You now belong to this Sesshomaru. No other male may have you.
The mark produces a barrier, preventing anyone from joining with you aside from this
Sesshomaru.”
            “So, even if you did send me away, I wouldn’t have a normal life. I couldn’t marry and I
couldn’t . . .” she let her sentence trail off. She didn’t want to think about the other thing she
couldn’t do. What man wanted a barren woman? Every man wanted heirs, and if she couldn’t
give them any . . .
            Then there were the scars. Gods, she’d forgotten about those. She quickly drew her
robes around her, holding them closed with both hands. What was she thinking? Before, her
skin was smooth, flawless, the vicious bites and cruel claw marks of the wolves erased by
Tenseiga’s magic. But her body’s own healing powers were much deficient from the mystical
blade, and she now had scars–her chest, her shoulders, at the swell of her hips. How could she
think of showing her lord such marred and unappealing flesh? How could she think he wanted
such an ugly creature as a bedmate?
            She turned her head from him, biting her lower lip, silently willing the tears not to fall.
You, stupid, stupid thing . . .
            “Rin?”
            “I am sorry, Sesshomaru-sama. I made a mistake. I misjudged.” She scrambled to her
feet and made to leave.
            He grabbed her.
            She kept her back to him, her left wrist captured in his grasp. “Please, Sesshomaru-sama.
Rin doesn’t want you to see her like this.” Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
            “This Sesshomaru has decided.”
            The threat of tears temporarily stilled, her hand going slack in his grip.
            “This Sesshomaru acted improperly, taking you against your will. It is the affects of the
mark you feel, nothing more. It is my claim upon you that drives you to act so wantonly.”
            She stood stock still, listening to his every word, allowing them to sink in.
            “This Sesshomaru will not take advantage of your situation. It is one of the greatest of...
wrongs to take a mate against her will. I had no right to lay a claim upon you without your
permission. This Sesshomaru is not an animal. ”
            “The mark,” she repeated quietly. “The mark makes me feel this way?”
            “Hai.”
            She slowly turned towards him, no longer attempting to hide her tears from him. “Just
the mark,” she spat out. “Was I marked when I first found you? Was I marked when I decided to
follow you? Was I marked when I asked how I could best serve you? Was I marked that night I .
. . first began to appreciate you, not just as my guardian but as a male? Was I marked any of the
following days and nights?” Her tone softened, her voice losing some of its raw edge. “It is not
this . . . ‘mark’ that makes me respond to you the way that I do. It is my heart,” she added
quietly.
            He tilted his head to the side, staring up at her . . . curiosity? Confusion? Compassion?
Shining through the depths of his amber orbs.
            “I knew it was a pointless endeavor, a fruitless dream to have you return even the smallest
amount of my feelings for you . . . Youkai do not feel as humans do, after all. But I thought this
would be enough. I thought if you wanted me, I could at least pretend it was something more,
some greater depth of emotion than simple lust.” She sniffed, forcing her lips to curl into a
smile. “But if you say it is simply the mark that makes me feel this way, then I clearly have no
hope. I wish you would send me away.”
            She felt his hold on her slacken.
            He spoke barely above a whisper. “If you . . . wish to go, you may leave.”
            She jerked her wrist free then sat herself down with a loud thump, grabbing the edges of
his haori with her hands, yelling directly in his face. “I do not wish to go!”
            “Then stay,” he said simply.
            “But you said you decided,” she argued, her hands fisted in his haori.
            “Did this Sesshomaru say what he decided?”
            Her face frowned as she ran over the recollection of his words . . . He spoke of taking her
against her will, marking her without permission, the mark making her behave so “wantonly...”
But, no, he hadn’t told her what he decided.
            Her anger quickly deflated, and she released him. Before she could withdraw her right
hand to the confines of her lap, he took hold of it. She opened her mouth in surprise but said
nothing.
            He pushed the sleeve of her kimono back with the thumb of his right hand, then ran it
around the surface of her palm and up and down the wrist. He then brought it up to eye level,
critically turning it over, examining every inch. “It is the fault of these hands,” he spoke against
the thin flesh of her wrist, his warm breath sending pleasant tingles of sensation up and down her
spine. “They are too giving, too gentle, too kind. It is not the youkai way. They cause such...
strange sensations.”
            Her pulse quickened, her breathing becoming rapid and shallow.
            “After what happened, you should fear this Sesshomaru. You should hate him, shun him
with everything that you are.”
            “I can’t do that,” she said.
            “No,” he agreed. “Were it another that had caused you such pains, he would have been
long-since dead. But it was not another, it was this Sesshomaru.”
            “It was an accident.”
            “Hai.”
            She stared up at his face, into his eyes. Oh, how she wanted him.
            “You will . . . show this Sesshomaru how to treat you appropriately. You will stay with
me, and you will be known as my mate.”
            “But . . .”
            “You do not wish it?” he asked. “You . . . may reject me if you choose.”
            “No, but . . . you said it’s already been done. I’ve already been marked. You’ve already
made your claim.”
            “It is not a lasting one. This current mark will only last three cycles of the moon. If it is
not renewed, it will fade, and our bond will break.”
            “But you said I’d never be able to lead a normal life–no other could male could touch
me.”
            He gave a slight nod. “The mark will fade. The bond will break, but its effects will
remain. Part of you will always be mine. Joining with another male would feel . . . most
distasteful to you.”
            Rin frowned. “Is this . . . temporary marking normal among youkai?”
            “All mating marks are temporary. They last only as long as the two parties desire the
bond or three cycles of the moon. Whichever is shorter.”
            “But it’s been nearly three months,” she said.
            “Hai.”
            “And it hasn’t broken.”
            “No.”
            “So you . . . you want this.”
            “Iie. This Sesshomaru wants you.”
            Her heart caught in her throat, rendering her unable to speak. He then brought her hand
to his lips, placing a chaste kiss in the center of her palm. “You will show me,” he repeated.
“Show me how to please you.”
            She nodded breathlessly, as he released her hand, allowing it to fall where it may. His
words reverberated along her outer ear. Show me. Show me how to please you.
            Did he really expect her to . . .
            She met his heated gaze, and she knew. She knew he wanted her. She knew he needed
her. She knew if he didn’t have her, and have her soon, they would both be sorry.
            She swallowed hard, heat and color rising in her cheeks. She had no idea why this was so
hard.
            Show me how to please you.
            “I . . . I liked the way we first started–when you . . . touched my hair and stroked the side
of my face with the back of your hand. And I liked it when you hugged me and rubbed my back
and... nuzzled your nose against my neck and . . .”
            “And?” his voice was low, hoarse, husky.
            “When you started kissing me. On my neck. And down my throat and across my
collarbone.” As she spoke her hands unconsciously followed the path her words dictated. Her
breaths became heavy but shallow. The edges of her vision blurred, becoming hazy and dull.
The only thing that remained clear was her Sesshomaru-sama. His breathing, too, had become
labored, his lips slightly parted, his eyes focused solely on her.
            “And when you touched me here,” she continued, the palms of her hands sweeping over
her breasts. “When your hands squeezed and stroked as you licked up and down my neck then...
sucked on the bottom of my ear.”
            “And?”
            “It felt good,” Rin said. “It felt nice, but then . . . you got a little too rough. You . . . you
have to be gentle with me. And you have to do things slowly. I . . . I wasn’t ready last time, and
it... it really hurt and . . .”
            “You lost consciousness,” he supplied.
            Rin nodded. “It just . . . Please, don’t do that again.”
            His eyes softened, his lips almost forming a smile. “Come,” he said softly.
            “Now?” she asked.
            He nodded. “You have told me what you like. This Sesshomaru will behave
appropriately.” This time a slight smile did curl his lips. “Come here, Rin”
            She bit her lower lip and nodded, moving from his side to kneel between his bent leg and
the one outstretched. He then proceeded to put her words to use, stroking and caressing, licking
and sucking, rubbing and squeezing, his lips never losing contact with her flesh for more than a
few seconds at a time. Before she knew it, her robes were lining the ground and she sat
completely bare before him.
            Gods! She quickly covered the various scars their last encounter had left her with,
turning her face away from him. She sat that way for what seemed like several minutes. Then
she felt it–a touch so light, so feather soft, she doubted it had really happened. But when she
looked down to find the source of the sensation, she was surprised to find a very large clawed
hand resting just above the curve of her hip, the pad of one finger, tracing over the slightly raised
scar.
            “Does it hurt?” he asked softly.
            “No,” she shook her head. “Not any more.”
            “And here?” He brought his hand to caress the contours of her ribs, casting ghostly
touches across the angry-looking red lines.
            “No.”
            “And here?”
            She drew in a short, sharp breath as he passed the pads of four of his fingers over her left
nipple and along, yet another set of scars. “It doesn’t hurt,” she finally said. “None of them do;
they’re just . . . ugly.”
            He looked down at her, something akin to an . . . apology shining in his eyes. Before she
could utter two words, his lips were on the damaged skin, the smooth, wet warmness melting
away any shame she may have felt showing her lord such an imperfect form. “S–Sesshomaru-sama . . .”
            He pulled her flush against his form, rubbing slow circles into her lower back as his lips
blazed lazy trails across her forehead and down the sides of her face. “So nice,” she murmured
into his shoulder.
            “Hai,” he breathed hotly against her flesh. He continued to kiss and caress her, his hands
exploring every inch of her flesh till she felt faint and certain of collapse.
            “Sesshomaru-sama, please . . .”
            “It is enough?” he asked her, his right hand repeatedly running over the roundest part of
her posterior.
            “Hai,” she panted
            “Then lay down for me. Show yourself to me.”
            “Show my . . .” What?
            He released his hold on her and eased her gently backwards, keeping his gaze locked with
hers.
            “Sesshomaru-sama?” Something similar had happened the last time. He’d pushed her
down on her back, his claws ripping at her clothing, tearing into her flesh, then he’d rolled her
onto her knees, grabbed hold of her hips and . . .
            Be calm, she told herself. It isn’t like before. You know it isn’t like before. Pain is
natural the first time; the miko said so. It won’t be like that this time.
            You can do this. You want this.
            But all her resolve dissolved the instant her lord peeled away his remaining garments,
exposing himself to her wide eyes.
            “Wait!”
            He tilted his head to the side, his kneeling form situated between her spread legs.
            If there was one thing the miko had taught her in the two months she’d stayed with her, it
was that there was no time to be shy with a demon. If there was something you wanted, ask for
it.
            “Rin?” he leaned slightly forward, his two hands making contact with the ground.
            “I’m not ready. I . . . I need something . . . more,” she finished weakly.
            “More?” he asked.
            “I . . .” Her eyes traveled down the center of his body to his fully erect member. How
could something that size not cause her pain? Even though the miko had said, “The bigger, the
better,” her only experience still fresh in her mind, Rin had her doubts.
            Her eyes grew wider still as he leaned farther forward, positioning his huge hands on
either side of her hips, lowering himself down to her, giving a light lick to the mark he’d made on
the right side of her neck.
            She shivered, a pure shot of sensation shooting straight down her spine.
            “You are ready,” he insisted. As if to demonstrate, he shifted his weight to one side,
balancing his body on his right arm, while he sent his left hand between their two bodies.
            She automatically stiffened when she felt two fingers sweep along the seam of her sex.
            “Relax,” he said softly. “This Sesshomaru has sworn that he will not harm you. I am in
control.”
            Rin nodded, trying to stave off the strange sensations burning in her belly, as his hand
made pass after pass over the entrance to her body.
            “So,” he spoke against the side of her neck, “human females enjoy this as well.”
            She tried to listen to his words, but her body was too focused on the feeling of his fingers
as they rubbed and caressed her most intimate area.
            Just as she was growing accustomed to the attention, he pulled his hand away and
presented it to her. The two fingers were slick with her own moisture, and she watched in a daze
as he first sniffed, then licked the two digits clean.
            Rin groaned. It was there again. She could smell it. His scent, his want, his need, his
arousal.
            Wasn’t that why she’d come to him in the first place? To fulfill his want for her? To
spend her desire for him?
            He hadn’t hurt her once this evening. She knew he wouldn’t, but there was small part of
her in the very back of her brain that kept whispering, “What if?”
            “As long as his desires for you are released in the proper place at the proper time, and
he is willing to listen to your requests, you should both be able to enjoy yourselves,” Kaede-sama had said. “InuYasha and his mate went through something similar the first time they
attempted coupling.” A wry smile spread across her wrinkled lips. “A bashful maiden and a
stubborn youkai are not the best match, and they both learned the hard way that things meant to
be WILL be. He wasn’t so rough with her as your demon lord was with you, but the young miko
gave him quite a few “sits” afterwards.”
            “Sits?” Rin repeated.
            “A subduing spell that is charmed into InuYasha’s rosary. Kagome punished him quite
severely for taking her feelings so lightly.”
            “I could never ‘punish’ my lord. He didn’t mean to do it, after all. It wasn’t really HIM
that did it; my lord is a gentleman.”
            “Aye,” the one-eyed miko agreed. “But though he is a noble, he is youkai first and a
male second, and youkai males aren’t exactly known for their gentleness in the bedchamber.”
            “But--”
            Kaede-sama waved her away. “As I have said, as long as you don’t wait too long
between encounters, as long as his need for you does not become too great, you shall be able to
carry on as a ‘normal’ couple . . . If that is your wish, that is.”
            “Rin . . .” He didn’t say it, but she could feel it, sense it–the silent pleas of his body to
become one with hers. He was restraining himself, holding himself back till she said it was okay
to continue.
            Please, his eyes seemed to say. Please, let me have this. Please, let me have you. Please.
            Rin nodded, his need and her want too great to be denied. She closed her eyes, blocking
out the sight of him, waiting for the inevitable intrusion of his male member into her body. But,
to her surprise, instead of the odd probing sensation, she felt a hand slip beneath her back, pulling
her into an upright position. When her lord sat up, she sat up with him, her legs straddling his
thighs, his rigid length standing between them.
            His one hand remained on her back, while the other slid lower, beneath her bottom,
urging her to lift herself off his lap. She followed the silent commands of his hand, grabbing
hold of his shoulders, raising herself to a crouching position, both feet flat on the ground. He
then pulled her closer to him, latching his lips around one pert nipple as his right hand ran up and
down the length of her spine; his left hand supported her weight. Her back arched of its own
accord, and she found herself whimpering and panting, her core convulsing in time to the
movements of his mouth.
            “Gods . . .”
            A low rumbling noise rose from the center of Sesshomaru’s chest, sending vibrations
throughout her body as he licked a lazy trail from one breast to the other.
            The pulsing between her thighs intensified, an intimate itch building deep within her.
            “Rin . . .” He looked up at her that same pleading expression in his eyes–crimson and
gold and bronze, blending, swirling, melding into one dazzling display beneath thickly-lashed
lids.
            She glanced down between them, noticing that he’d positioned her in the proper place for
penetration, but he seemed to be leaving the rest up to her. He made no move to push her down
or thrust himself upwards. She was in control of the situation. She would decide how much to
take in and how quickly or slowly they would proceed.
            He pulled her slightly forward, brushing his warm, smooth lips over the mark on her
neck.
            She shuddered at the sensation, tightening her hold on his shoulders, slowly allowing
herself to sink down. Their eyes locked, and as his head cleared the first set of her inner muscles,
she groaned, her head falling forward to rest against the crown of his head, his hold on her hind
end tightening slightly, a quiet hiss of pleasure escaping his parted lips. She took a moment to
catch her breath, her heart pounding, the heat from his male member adding fuel to the fire now
blazing in her loins.
            Slowly, surely, determinedly, she continued her descent, her hands gripping his shoulder,
her forehead pressed to his, his strong arm bracing her back as the left one helped control the
speed of her downward journey. When her thighs met his and she’d completely seated him
within her, they both took a moment to appreciate the smooth, tight feel of their union, her
woman’s interior holding him in a wonderfully wet and warm embrace.
            Once she’d completely adjusted to the feel of him–his long length and wide girth, the
pulsing and throbbing, the deep, penetrating heat it gave off–she straightened her knees slightly,
gradually raising herself off him.
            She bit her lower lip, her head rolling back from the fabulous friction she’d just created
between their two bodies. “Gods,” she panted. “That felt sooo . . .” She sucked in a breath as he
ground his hips into hers, holding her in place with his left hand, his right carefully caressing her
lower back. “Yesss,” she hissed. “That’s it . . . Th–that’s goo–oood.”
            “Move,” he urged her. “Up and down.”
            She nodded, breathlessly, again raising up then sinking down.
            This time, it was he that nodded, his skin warming beneath her touch.
            After a few minutes of awkwardness, she discovered a rhythm and pace that suited them
both, and soon they were both sweaty and sticky, hair damp, vision blurred, muscles straining,
pulses pounding, breathing labored, grunts and groans of passion and pleasure filling the full
moon night.
            “S–Sesshomaru-sama . . .” she buried her head in the crook of his shoulder, rolling it
listlessly to the side, too tired to carry on with their love play, but mere moments from her
release. She had pleasured herself on previous occasions and was well aware of the
symptoms–the teasing, the tightness, the tension. She could feel it in the pit of her stomach,
building and building, wave after wave pushing her further and further up, freeing her from the
constraints of her physical form. Her toes tingled. Her thighs quivered. Her legs jerked. And,
yet, he continued. Continued to lift and lower her, continued to fill her, stroke her, driving
himself deeper and deeper into her scorching hot core.
            “Please,” she sighed. “Please, Sesshomaru-sama . . .”
            “T–touch yourself,” he commanded, hoarsely. “Let me . . . see you.”
            “H–hai.” Always eager to please, she removed her right hand from his shoulder and
slipped it between their two bodies. At first, it felt too heavy to move, but the moment it
discovered her center of pleasure . . . she was there, and he was there with her.
            She cried out brokenly as he released inside her, his head tucked into the crook of her
neck.
            Slowly, the sweat cooled, their breathing evened out and their limp limbs regained their
strength. He reached up and brushed the damp strands of hair back from her face, and smiled at
her, carefully caressing her cheek with the back of his index finger. She smiled in reply, and at
that moment she knew. She knew that he was all she ever wanted, all she ever needed, all she
ever dreamed and desired come true. No matter the bloody beginning, this was the beautiful end.
                                                                88888888
            And, there, she found him again. It was a different tree, of course, on a different patch of
land, in another of the land’s many forests, but the scenario was the same.
            Unbidden, she walked over to him and knelt beside his seated form, his back resting
against the rough bark of an aged maple. All those years ago, it was food she’d offered him,
water, and herbs for his wounds. Perhaps, she was also offering friendship, companionship,
another body to be ordered about, another creature to lend its ear.
            Why he revived her, why he let her follow him afterwards, still remained a mystery to her
and, perhaps, to him, as well. But everything was clear, now. He wanted her, she wanted him,
and that was all that mattered.
            No, she would never bear his heirs. Neither would ever know if he could truly love a
hanyou and proudly count him among his line, but he could call her “mate” and showed no
shame in walking by her side. Though she knew he would never say it, she was certain that he
loved her, and she had no qualms at all about openly declaring her affection for him.
            She reached out to him, lightly running her fingers over the fine features of his face, then
down his neck, across his collarbone and around his shoulder.
            “Show me,” he said softly.
            And she did. Every night for many years afterwards. She was his ageless companion,
and he was her beloved youkai lord. And many centuries later, when the time came for heirs, he
took another female to his bed, then quickly pushed her to the side, allowing Rin to raise the pup
as if it were their own.
            But ageless is not immortal. The two lovers eventually died, each in their own time. Rin,
of course, went first, some strange sickness having swept across the land, killing all in its wake.
Caught up in the age of men, and without the aid of his faithful companion, Sesshomaru soon
passed his title to their son, Yasashiku. Desperately wanting to be near his departed, he began
the one war he knew even he could not win–a war against the gods themselves. If they would not
return his mate to him, they would send him to join her.
            They were not gentle, and his death was slow, painful, and, to any youkai you would have
asked, pointless. But, in the end, he got what he wanted.
            “Is this Hell?” she asked him, nothingness filling their vision as far as the eye could see.
            “Hai,” he said simply.
            Her cold, dead hand grabbed hold of his, and she smiled. “Good. There is no other place
I would want to be.”
THE END
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More notes: Yasashiku means “gentle, polite”
Thanks for reading and reviewing, and I hope I didn’t disappoint,
theMaven :)
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