Adult-FanFiction.org : Inuyasha / Yashahime

Three Months Complete	By : cukid9 Category: InuYasha > Het - Male/Female > InuYasha/Kagome Views: 7319 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
A/N:
I know, I know, people write these roommate stories all the time and
this is probably far from original. This was intended to be a
writing exercise for myself (for what, I don't exactly remember...I
think maybe writing something that wasn't dialogue driven...), but it
actually grew into something substantial...sort of. It
was also intended to be a one-shot, but that obviously isn't going to
happen. There may only be two or three chapters. There isn't
any deep plotting going on here (at least, there isn't supposed to
be, hence the PWP code), just something a little light, a little
fluffy, and maybe a little lascivious.

Also,
the description of Inuyasha in this was inspired by a piece of fanart
I saw awhile ago called "Domestication" by kite which I
can't find anymore -_-

Enjoy.

Three
Months

Chapter
1

He
was just supposed to be her roommate -nothing less, and certainly
nothing more. The circumstance of them living together wasn't
something she particularly cared to think about. It had been one of
those moments where she had been desperate and he had been
convenient.

Kagome
frowned as that thought flitted through her mind. It
sounded...dirty…naughty. She had been having more and more of
those thoughts lately; completely innocent thoughts that, when
twisted around this way and that, like a Rubik's Cube, turned into
wicked little things that left her blushing. She ground her teeth in
frustration and pushed the shower curtain violently aside. She
blamed this new ability to turn even the most innocuous comment into
something lewd on her new roommate's mouth rubbing off on her.

Her
fingers paused as they adjusted the temperature of the shower. There
went another one of those thoughts. With a huff of
exasperation, Kagome pulled off her tank top, dumping it and her
underwear in a small pile under the sink.

What
it really came down to, she thought as she stepped under the steaming
spray of water, was the lack of modesty her roommate had. She hadn't
expected him to overtake the two-bedroom apartment, hadn't really
wanted to have to deal with him at all. She had been hoping he would
be like her last roommate who had holed herself up in her room
constantly, only coming out to use the bathroom or have the
occasional chat. He was just there to pay half of the rent and the
utilities.

But
she couldn't seem to get away from him. When she stumbled out of her
room in the mornings, there he was, standing in the kitchen, leaning
against the counter, drinking tea -tea, of all things!–
or sitting in the living room, watching television, one arm slung
along the back of the couch, a foot resting on the cushions, knee
pulled up to his chest and looking for all the world like he belonged
there…which, technically, he did, but that wasn't the point.
When she came home from school or work, he was there, sitting at the
kitchen table, perched on the counter top, reading the paper,
shoveling food in his mouth, or sprawled out on the living room
floor, playing video games, the controller resting on his stomach.

His
stomach.

That
was another problem she had with the whole situation. She had seen
more flesh in the past three months than she had ever seen in her
life –aside from the occasional sex scene in movies or the
scantily clad men in cologne advertisements, neither of which really
counted. While leaning against the counter in the kitchen or
watching television or playing video games, he tended to be
shirtless. His fitted jeans sat dangerously low around his narrow
hips, showing the trail of fine white hairs that made their way from
his bellybutton and disappeared into his pants; a trail that, Kagome
was sure, all too many women had been happy to follow. If he had
been an average, pasty-skinned college guy with the beginnings of a
beer-belly, she wouldn't have minded so much.

But
no. Of course his skin would be a deep gold, like burnished copper,
and pulled taut over hard muscle that shifted and flexed every time
he moved.

And
he did it on purpose, she knew. Yesterday morning, he had come
walking out of his room, clad in only a pair of boxer shorts –red
with black and white dogs running across them- and had actually posed
for her. Well, not posed, exactly, but she had noticed that he had
waited until she was looking at him before raising his arms up and
stretching, like a cat after a particularly satisfying nap, making
the muscles in his back ripple (she had never thought it was possible
for muscles to really ripple until she had met him). She was
instantly in need of a bib.

Until
she had noticed his smirk in her direction.

Like
a wall changing the flow of a river, that damn smile had instantly
changed her desire into something more like annoyance.

Last
night, lying in bed, staring at the black void of her ceiling, she
had decided, in some fit of insanity, that two could play this game.

When
she had stumbled out of her room this morning, making her way into
the kitchen with eyes only half-open, following the delicious scent
of coffee, she had nearly stumbled into him. Her shoulder had
brushed against the firm planes of his chest, her arm had caressed
his solid stomach before she had jerked away from him, scowling even
as a blush blazed across her cheeks. She ignored him as she poured
her coffee, as she took one large swallow of the scalding liquid,
concentrating on how it burned its way down her throat and into her
stomach. When she finally looked up at him, she was startled to find
him watching her.

No,
not exactly watching her. Staring.

"Good
morning," he said, softly.

That
was another thing she hated. He somehow had picked up on her
irritation with loud noises or voices in the morning and now always
spoke quietly to her for the first half-an-hour she was mobile.

And
it didn't help that his voice reminded her of the soft purr of a cat,
encasing every sound he made, including the occasional petulant
"keh," in rumbling velvet. It didn't help that, to her
ears, simple words like "good" and "morning"
seemed to have dozens of hidden implications –none of which
could have conceivably received anything lower than an R rating- when
passing through his lips.

His
lips.

She
jerked her eyes away from his face. She thought, the first few days,
that after looking at him for a while he wouldn't be so
knee-weakingly stunning.

But
it hadn't passed and, after three months, she had come to the sullen
conclusion that she would just have to get use to her heart
temporarily stopping in awe when he entered a room.

He
had strong features; a patrician nose, high, sweeping cheekbones, and
a square jaw that had a tendency to be stubbornly set. His eyes were
large and golden, like one would imagine a lion's to be, with
impossibly long lashes that appeared to have been kissed by a heavy
frost, weighing the lids down, making his expression eternally blasé.
His eyebrows, arching like two raven's wings across his brow, tended
to be pulled together whenever he was concentrating on something or
when he was irritated, creating a faint crease between them. His
lips looked soft, perfectly balance with the bottom one just slightly
fuller than the upper, and usually were quirked up on the right side
in a small grin.

Then
there was the matter of his hair. It was cut short in the back,
layered in a sort of haphazard way that still managed to look stylish
even if he had just rolled out of bed. His bangs fell rakishly
across his forehead, with two longer chunks framing his face and
falling almost to his shoulders.

And
it was white. Virginal white. Moonbeam white. Pristine snow white
with shadows of silver ice dancing through it. It was soft and fine
–Kagome knew because she had pulled a strand of it from his
brush in the bathroom and had run it through her fingers, thinking
how unfair it was that he should have such beautiful hair without
even having to work for it.

But
more unsettling than any of his physical attributes was the simple
fact that he was inu-youkai. Well, inu-hanyou, but Kagome wasn't
sure how much the distinction mattered. Atop his head sat two fuzzy
ears, reminiscent of an Akita-ken's. Through the left one were two
silver hoops that winked at her if the appendage moved -which it did.
Often. His left ear would swivel toward her if she took in a sharp
breath, if she made a muted sound of frustration in the back of her
throat. Sometimes even when she wasn't doing anything, when she was
just sitting quietly in the kitchen, textbooks open on the table in
front of her, homework half-finished and forgotten because her
attention was focused on the back of his head while he lounged in
front of the television. It was like a satellite dish, that ear, the
way it turned toward her, like a freakin' GPS monitoring her location
and her actions at all times.

Kagome's
fingers clenched around the handle of her coffee cup. There was
something about those ears. Each time she became aware of them, she
had an almost irresistible urge to reach up and pet them. He would
catch her staring sometimes. And she would catch his small smile
before she made her way out of the room.

This
morning, he was, per usual, sans shirt. His jeans, worn and soft
looking, were a little threadbare at the knees, the edges of the
pockets and the bottom hems frayed. And she realized, much to her
dismay, they seemed to sit lower than most of his other pants, giving
a fantastic view of those shallow depressions where his hips curved
in.

However,
it wasn't the state of his dress, or lack of it, that bothered her
this morning. It was the fact that she could still feel his skin
against her shoulder, along her arm. Granted the contact had been
brief, almost non-existent…

But.

His
skin had been surprisingly soft and warm. So warm that it would have
been considered feverish coming from anyone else.

In
that moment, as his skin busied itself with searing its velvety
texture into her very pores, something changed. Kagome's fingers
tightened even further around the handle of her mug, and only the
slight twitch of that left ear warned her something was about to
happen.

The
handle cracked, the mug shot to the floor. Before the ceramic could
shatter against the linoleum, before the dark, inky liquid it
contained could splatter across the cabinets, a long-fingered hand
interfered with gravity's notorious plan.

Her
roommate held the broken mug out to her, but all Kagome could do was
stare at it, the handle dangling limply from her fingers.

It
seemed impossible that someone could be that fast, could have
reflexes like that. She watched his arm as he set the mug on the
counter, fascinated by the cord of tendon standing out from the
inside of his wrist. The claws that adorned all five fingers trailed
lightly across the counter top as he pulled his arm back to his side.

And
Kagome found herself wondering just how nimble he was with those
claws. How much control did he have over them? Not to mention the
inhuman strength he had been blessed with. If he were to take her,
right there, right now, would she carry away scars from the affair,
or merely scratches? These thoughts led to other things, indecent
things never spoken of among respectable people, and Kagome felt
something warm spread through her stomach before pooling somewhere
more useful.

"You
want another cup?"

Mercurial
grey collided with molten amber as Kagome looked into his eyes. She
saw his nose twitch, saw his left ear swivel toward her, silver hoops
winking shrewdly at her. And, much to her dismay, the other ear
joined its twin, both standing at attention while a look of intense
concentration came over his face.

"No,"
she managed to rasp.

Because
she needed to escape. She knew the power of youkai senses, knew what
the twitch of his nose and the sudden rigidness of his normally
relaxed ears meant. He could smell the changes in her mood before
she could even sort them out sometimes. And if she was…blood
suffused her cheeks…if she was aroused, he would know.

And
he did know. She watched the awareness bloom in his eyes like
a flower opening to the sun. Slowly, he set his own mug on the
counter. Slowly, he started to lean toward her, eyes heavy-lidded as
he pulled a deep breath in through his nose.

The
handle from the mug clattered noisily against fake wood laminate
as Kagome tossed it on the counter. She turned on her heel and
walked out of the kitchen, seeking the sanctuary of her bedroom. She
closed her eyes as she leaned against the door. She couldn't believe
herself. He was her roommate, for kami's sake! And here she
was, thinking about how sexy he looked leaning against the cabinets,
about how that small smirk, which never seemed to leave his lips,
made her want to drop to her knees in front of him.

And
his skin.

Kagome
ran her fingertips lightly over her shoulder, down her arm, almost
expecting something to be there, something that would outwardly
announce the touch of his skin against hers. What would it feel like
to have his bare skin flush against hers, her legs wrapped around
that narrow waist? What would it be like to have her breasts pushing
into that firm chest, to have him pressed against her?

Or
inside of her?

Kagome
let her head fall back against the door with a loud thump
once...twice, in the hope that if she did it hard enough it would
derail the loop her thoughts had suddenly become stuck in.

A
shower. A nice hot shower would wash everything away.

She
peeked out of her bedroom. Her roommate was nowhere in sight. She
managed to walk calmly across the hall to the bathroom, and let out a
sigh of relief as she closed the door behind her.

Now,
as she stood under the hot water, as puffs of thick steam surrounded
her, she tried to put all prurient thoughts out of her head.

But
the heat wasn't helping. It matched the heat in her body, almost
encouraged it, and she felt something thicker than water make the
insides of her thighs wet. Her fingers wandered down her stomach,
touching the tops of her thighs hesitantly. She squeezed her eyes
closed, bit her lower lip, and spread her legs.

And
who should pop into her mind as her fingers worked eagerly over
herself, but her roommate. She couldn't help imagining how those
lips would feel running over her skin, couldn't help wondering how
dangerously close he would come to injuring her every time he ran his
fingers over her body. And, despite the risk to her skin, she found
that it was the thrill of it all that aroused her.

With
a moan, Kagome's fingers moved faster. She propped one foot up on
the edge of the bathtub, flexing it so that most of her weight rested
on the ball. Her knee pressed hard into the ceramic tiled wall, but
her restless fingers slid over her clit again and she ignored the
pain.

Her
head fell back, her mouth opened, and she let out a loud moan of
pleasure. Her breathing started to become erratic, pushed from her
lungs only to be sucked back in loudly. Water poured over her skin,
the curtain stuck to her arm, and she thought she heard her name
being called. But she ignored everything, concentrating on the heat
that her fingers stoked to greater intensity.

A
hard gasp pushed out from behind her lips and she suddenly heard the
bathroom door banging forcefully against the wall as it was thrown
open.

"Kagome,
are you okay?"

His
voice pierced through the steam, carried over the water, the concern
in it clear. But it still contained that note, that underlying tenor
that promised to make every iniquitous desire come true.

He
hesitated just on the other side of the curtain, perhaps weighing his
options. She could just imagine the look on his handsome face as he
tried to figure out how much trouble he was already in just by
bursting into the bathroom. He must have figured he had made it this
far, and seemed to come to some sort of final decision when she
didn't answer him.

Because
she couldn't answer him. She bit her lip against the sounds
crawling out of her throat even as her hips jerked under her fingers.
Coppery sweetness burst in her mouth and she ran her tongue over the
cut her teeth had made on her lower lip.

"Kagome?"
The concern was gone, replaced by an uncertain alarm.

The
opaque deep purple curtain was ripped forcefully aside, its plastic
loops stretching and tearing. The rings bounced along the edge of
the bathtub, rolled across the floor.

Anxious
yellow suns pierced passionate clouds of grey. Kagome watched as his
lips parted, as dark amber started to swirl through the gold when his
eyes ran down her body, stopping at her hips.

That
was how Inuyasha found his roommate; back arched, hips jutted back,
breasts straining forward. Her legs were spread, her fingers pushing
into her in short, quick strokes.

Oh,
fuck.
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Three Months *Complete*

Three Months Complete