Pre-Note: And here's your lemon...all 14 pages of it. Enjoy!
Chapter Eighteen – The Taking
The memory of her kiss was haunting him. No matter what he did, the ghost of her plump mouth kept passing over his own, pressing against his lips with the same tentative fervor that she had responded to him with the night before. With a low growl, Sesshomaru sat back on his heels and closed his eyes. She had been so very alluring last night, with her hair tumbling down her back and contrasting beautifully with the pale blue kimono she'd been wearing. He remembered picking out that fabric for her, because he'd suspected that her eyes would shine when she wore it; he hadn't been disappointed. Eyes like polished sapphire had blinked up at him, had glittered with apprehension and went half-lidded with desire. Even now, he could smell her arousal, light and sweet with an underlying note of womanly musk—gods how he'd wanted her then. 'And she'd wanted this one as well,' he thought, recalling the timid stretch of her hand across the space between them. But he'd stopped her as soon as he felt the pressure of her tiny fingers on his kimono, because if she had gone farther, if he would've felt the warmth of her hand through his clothes, he would've taken her there, and he would've regretted it fiercely. After all, she was not a whore to be pounced upon wherever the need arose, and he would never treat her—or any of the others—as such. 'But tonight…' He let the thought trail off.
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It was everything she'd hoped it would be, and after seeing the awed light in Kagome's eyes, Kotono knew that it was one of the most beautiful things that the miko had ever seen. "You've outdone yourself, Cho," she praised, reaching out to take the beautiful length of the commissioned kimono. It flowed from one set of arms to the other, and afterward, the pale pink coat that had been fashioned as an extra piece fluttered to lie atop the shimmering silk. The coat, something that Kotono had not asked for, sported the same pattern as the kimono, except it was fashioned in the same near translucent silver as the kimono silk. "Thank you, my lady," the swan demurred, bowing. When she rose, her eyes traveled over to the still silent miko, and a smile pulled at her lips. "If Lady Kagome would allow me to assist in the dressing…?" Visibly shaking herself out of her stupor, Kagome nodded, and Kotono followed them into the room with a smile on her face. 'Lord Sesshomaru will be pleased.'
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Kagome could hardly believe her eyes, and as Cho finished tying her obi, she felt tears prick behind her eyelids. "Kotono, I—" "Don't you dare refuse this, Kagome," Kotono interrupted, her throaty voice slightly stern. "It is a gift from me to you." Having never heard the dragoness speak in such a tone, Kagome nodded instantly and swallowed her complaints, looking back to her reflection as Cho made a few final adjustments. The collar of the kimono was not in the traditional V-shape; instead, it draped languidly across her upper arms, putting the line of her throat and slope of her shoulder on proud display. She could see the round globes of her upper breasts and the shadow of the cleft between the twin mounds, and each time she breathed the flesh trembled and shivered with a subtle grace. If she weren't so awed by the design, she would have remembered to be embarrassed. The falling petals that floated from her neckline to the hem of the beautiful silver silk drew her eye to things she normally wouldn't have noticed, like the outside swell of her breast or the slim expanse of her waist—dear gods, her waist looked tiny!—or even the gentle swell of her hips. Her obi, too, enhanced these features, and the overall paleness of the silks made her eyes stand out even more against her skin. "This is amazing, Cho-san," she said at last, meeting the swan youkai's gaze in the mirror. "I'm glad you like it, my lady." She turned, and took the coat from Kotono before helping Kagome into it. On it, there was a clasp just beneath her breasts that kept the coat closed over the unique neckline of the kimono, giving the illusion that it was just as any other garment. She smiled, and knew then that Cho was nearly as mischievous as Kotono. With a chuckle, Kotono stepped up beside her and nodded her approval. "Cho, you are magnificent," she murmured, eyes shimmering with the compliment. Bowing again, Cho murmured her thanks, and then excused herself, and as she slid the shoji screen closed, Kagome smiled and turned to Kotono. "Thank you so much, Kotono. It's beautiful." "As I've said before, little one, it is the body inside of it that makes a kimono beautiful." Kagome flushed, and Kotono pressed a hand between her shoulder blades. "Now, my lord has requested dinner with you, and we must get your hair pinned up before it is time to eat. Come." Kagome nodded, and then carefully knelt in front of the vanity. She watched as Kotono pulled and pinned her hair, weaving strings of white and pink pearls into the locks. Shimmering sapphire pins with dangling, tinkling pieces of diamonds and thin metal disks went in strategic spots, and she soon found that no matter which way she tilted her head, there was always an answering chime of metal against diamond. The final touches included a small bit of kohl around her eyes and a dab of lightly scented oil—it smelled alluringly of wisteria blossoms—on the soft skin behind her ear. When Kotono finally finished and helped her to her feet, Kagome stared at herself in the mirror, anticipation and nervousness and awe warring for attention in her belly. She observed her reflection for as long as she could, and when Kotono touched her shoulder, she smiled and took a deep breath. They walked out of the building and toward the dining hall in silence, Kagome finding that no thought would stay in her head long enough to contemplate. She wondered if Lord Sesshomaru would approve of her appearance. 'I guess I'll be finding out soon enough,' she thought wryly, removing her geta at the front stoop of the dining hall. She got one foot in the doorway, hesitated, and then looked back to her companion, who smiled and shook her head. "I won't be going in with you this time, little one," she said, answering the question Kagome hadn't asked. The dragoness leaned forward and placed a light kiss against her temple. "Go on; I'll come to collect you in the morning." Kagome nodded, took a deep breath, and entered the hall.
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Her knock was timid, and when he bid her enter, she was shy and nervous, looking at everything but him. He allowed her anxiety for the moment, content to observe her as a light dish of fresh fruit was served. The paleness of her coat brought an answering pink tint to her skin and made her eyes stand out that much more amidst the creaminess of her face. He noticed the outline of black paint along her lids, and thought that the subtle emphasis of it only added to her allure. 'Kotono has done well.' "Do you like momo, Kagome?" She was startled by his use of her name, he could tell, but she recovered quickly and nodded, and he hummed quietly before snagging a piece of the fruit in question and reaching across the narrow table. A small crease marred her smooth brow, but she opened her mouth, a little hesitantly, and he slipped the pale peach flesh into the dark cavern. It was too large for her to take its entirety and still be polite when she chewed, so she bit it, and he felt a small tremor snake its way down his spine as her plump lips brushed against the pads of his fingers. He ate the remaining piece, and then, with a look that made her blush, offered her another. He smirked.
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She tried to look away, really she did, but each time she managed to tear her eyes from the beautiful inu across from her, her body rebelled and her gaze meandered back to his, her mouth opening to take whatever morsel of food he would offer next. Idly, she wondered what sort of game he was playing, and then immediately dismissed it as inconsequential as Lord Sesshomaru held up a braised bit of meat. She leaned forward, mesmerized by the deep gold of his gaze, to bite off a small piece, and watched as the remainder disappeared between his lips. She had forgone trying to feed herself after their first course—though the fact that she was not given a plate had a lot to do with that development—and found that there was something terribly…erotic about the inu's methods, as though they shared not only food across the table, but phantom kisses as well. Thoughts of kisses led to thoughts of warm lips and pressing palms, of heated breath and slow arousal—and then she gave herself a mental shake and banished the memory just as Sesshomaru offered her another piece of meat. This one was small, however, and instead of letting her bite it, he pushed it onto her tongue with gentle fingers, which withdrew just slowly enough for her lips to brush them as she closed her mouth. The brief contact, just like all the other moments when his fingers had brushed her lips, made her wonder what it would feel like to have his hands on her bare skin, what it would be like to feel the slightly callused pads of his fingers ghosting across her belly. She chewed, swallowed. Sesshomaru's youki flared warmly, and a servant appeared with a basin of water and a cloth. Kagome watched as he washed his hands, somewhat enraptured at the elegance of his long fingers and broad expanse of his palms. She guessed that he could probably cover her entire face with one hand if he wanted, which meant that he could likely cover…but the thought trailed off, tentative curiosity blooming in her belly. What else could he cover with that one hand? What else would fit neatly in his palm, would feel the tips of his claws along its boundaries and the warmth of his hand? They were questions that she asked herself out of complete curiosity, and yet her belly bunched in anticipation and she felt as though her throat was suddenly made of dust and dry air. She swallowed, and reached forward to take a sip of tea, nearly sighing in relief at the coolness that slithered down her throat. She set the cup down on the table, and when she looked up, Lord Sesshomaru had stood and held out one hand. She took it, and noticed that her own hand fit quite well in his, his fingers curving gently around her own and the tips of his claws resting on her skin. 'He could cut me so easily,' she realized as he pulled her from her seat and threaded her arm through his before leaving the room. 'He could tear me limb from limb, and I wouldn't be able to do anything to stop him.' But instead of fear, something dangerously close to excitement bubbled in her stomach. Like the time she and Daisuke had wandered into the forests and gotten lost, or the time she'd fought against the boys who'd taunted her despite the fact that they were bigger and stronger than she. She briefly wondered if it was normal to feel emotions like anticipation during times of danger. 'The soldiers always talked about the blood rush,' she reminded herself. 'They said that there was something about going into battle that was exciting to them, so maybe…maybe I'm like them…?' Her thoughts trailed off as she and Lord Sesshomaru exited the dining hall, and, after slipping their feet into their shoes, began to walk toward the main building. The steady click-clack of their geta along the wooden walkway was overly loud in her ears, and she felt her belly twist as she remembered what it was that she was going to do. She swallowed, pushed the nervousness away, and straightened her back. 'I will not be afraid; there's nothing for me to be frightened about.' Her resolve hardened.
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She was in his rooms. She, the one who had tempted him for weeks, was standing in the center of his massive quarters, blue eyes roving curiously around the space. He too looked around, and wondered what she thought. He had told his manservant to slide all of the partitions to the walls, leaving each room open to the others around it. The receiving room melded into another sitting room, which bled easily into his private study and his bedroom. He saw her eyes linger there, and then she licked her lips and looked away, a blush coloring her cheeks. "What do you think of, miko?" Her eyes flew to his, and she floundered. "N-nothing, my lord." The urge to tease her, to make her flush in embarrassment simply for the entertainment it would bring, rose up in his chest, but he quashed it and inclined his head instead, motioning for her to follow him as he entered the rooms. Anticipation began to curl in his hands, twitching with the urge to touch her, remove her coat and her kimono and smooth over her skin. He took a deep breath.
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She didn't remember sitting down, didn't remember when the inuyoukai settled beside her, and she didn't remember agreeing to let Lord Sesshomaru feed her more fruit; yet she found herself chewing the sweet flesh of peach and watching as he ate what she didn't, licking his lips between each morsel. Once more, the purely erotic nature of his actions made her stomach twinge and her fingers twitch, and lost in the honeyed softness of his eyes, she reached forward while he chewed, snagging a piece of the soft fruit between her fingers. She hesitated, wondered where the urge had come from, and then swept the reluctance away and lifted her hand to his lips. There was mild surprise in his eyes, but he parted his mouth nonetheless, and she nervously slid the pale fruit-flesh between his teeth. His lips brushed her fingers when he bit, and, breath hitching at the contact, she withdrew and transferred the remainder of the peach to her tongue. It was sweeter somehow, its flavor more potent along her teeth and the back of her throat. She swallowed, and reached for another piece. Minutes, or perhaps hours, passed, and the slow progression of fruit from fingers to mouths continued. Kagome felt lightheaded and heavy at the same time, her belly swirling with excitement and soft arousal and anticipation all at once. Her fingers were slick and sticky, and there was peach juice beginning to run down the inside of her wrist, but she found that outside of the brush of Sesshomaru's lips on her fingers and hers on his that she didn't care about anything else. At least not until he captured her arm in his clean hand and held her soiled one near his face, eyes warm and swirling at her above her fingers. The sleeve of her coat had fallen into the crook of her elbow, and the feel of his skin on hers sent warmth and tingles up to her shoulder and down her spine. It was almost enough to distract her from his actions, but still she watched, enraptured, as his tongue snaked between his lips and lapped wetly at the underside of her first finger. Her breath caught. The pink muscle slithered between her fingers, and with each swipe she felt an answering rush of warmth in her belly. She knew her eyes were wide, knew that her lips were parted with shock and arousal, but she didn't care, and when his lips skimmed along the meaty flesh beneath her thumb before slipping down the inside of her wrist, she gasped lightly, the tingle from the contact traveling all the way down to her toes. Heart thundering in her chest, Kagome thought that maybe she should say something, should ask something or comment on something, but a long finger fell against her lips just as she inhaled to do so, and then Sesshomaru took the piece of fruit still between her fingers and leaned forward, very slowly, until his face was mere inches from her own. 'He's going to—' And then he was, and his lips were soft and warm and sticky sweet with peach juice. Her fingers clenched automatically, the clean hand in her lap tight with the tension and the slicked one that was trapped between them uncertain of whether to clutch at the fabric of his kimono or twist into the wave of silver hair that brushed against her cheek. Her eyes slipped shut. She was faintly aware of the fruit still held in his mouth, but she felt the warm slickness of his tongue against her lips, and opened them almost absently at the muscles' persistent urging only to jerk in surprise as peach juice dribbled down her chin and soft fruit-flesh passed between her teeth. She nearly pulled away, but the hand still wrapped around her arm tightened just enough to warn her against it, and so she stayed where she was, excited and aroused and nervous. Their tongues brushed once, and then twice, and Kagome bit back a whimper, though she couldn't stop herself from leaning closer, shyly straining for more. Sesshomaru pulled away, and she gasped for breath, opening heavy lids and finding alluring golden orbs staring back at her through half-lidded indulgence. He released her arm, and it fell uselessly into her lap. Something cool and soft brushed her lips, and she opened her mouth, accepting yet another piece of peach and shivering as finger pad and claw teased over her bottom lip. "Give it to me, miko." His voice rumbled like thunder through the air, low and sensual and dangerous. She hesitated, breath heavy in her lungs, and then closed the distance between them and pressed their lips together. She opened her mouth when he did, and copied his earlier movement, the delicate peach flesh breaking apart as it shifted from one tongue to the next, pulp and juices seeping from the place where they were so intimately connected. Being the initiator, the one who gave the kiss instead of received it, sparked something deep and tentative in Kagome's belly, a sense that maybe she could do what he did, that she could touch him as he touched her. The hand in her lap unclenched, and she reached up, slowly, softly, laying her fingers against his warm cheek. He growled, and she jerked back. Their lips parted with a lewd smack, and she flushed hotly as she stared at him, peach juice slipping along the underside of her chin and down her throat. Remembering the kimono, she reached up with her dirty hand and wiped the juice away, only to have Sesshomaru capture her wrist and pull it once more to his mouth, his tongue lapping over the back of her hand. She swallowed, and then he pulled her forward and up until she was standing with him, her arm still stretched up to his mouth. His lips twitched against her skin, and then he turned her without releasing her, trapping her arm against her chest and locking the soiled hand over her opposite shoulder, his lips closed around one of her fingers. His free hand settled against her hip, and then he pushed and she walked obediently, the light arousal that had been flaring in her belly the entire time neither diminishing nor growing as they moved to a wall and a basin of water. He lowered her hand into the cool water, using the fingers that held hers to clear them of any peach. Once again, she marveled at the beauty of his hands, long fingers and tapered claws moving fluidly below the clear surface of the water. Her own hands paled in comparison, blunt-nailed and small as they were, but Lord Sesshomaru rinsed her fingers as though he didn't mind their glaringly human appearance, his skin slipping over her own in careful motions. When he was sure that their hands were clean, he withdrew them from the water and dried them with a cloth in his free hand, which returned to her hip as his head lowered and his nose prodded at the soft skin behind her ear. She inhaled deeply, eyelids fluttering shut at his nearness. 'I've never felt like this before,' she thought absently, feeling the hand at her hip pull her backward so that she wavered and leaned back into his warmth. She could feel his bangs against the side of her neck, and the occasional, feather light brush of his lips sent minute tremors down her spine. 'I want…' But she didn't have to finish the thought; Sesshomaru released her hand and captured her chin in his fingers, tilting her head up and sideways so that his mouth slanted over hers. She couldn't help the way her body arched into his touch, the way she strained toward the fingers at her chin and the mouth over her own. The hand at her hip slid up to the clasp beneath her breasts, releasing it with a twitch and slipping between the lapels of the coat to brush it away. She shivered as his fingers passed over her collarbone, and then he paused, pulled away, and turned her around. His eyes held a stark curiosity, and she blinked up at him as he brushed the coat away from her bare shoulders, watching the gilded eyes darken as the cool silk slipped down her arms and pooled on the floor. She shifted, swallowed, and boldly met his gaze. For what felt like an eternity, he simply looked at her. And then he reached forward and laid one finger against her bare shoulder. Warmth spread down her arm and pooled in her fingers, and she shivered as he slipped his claw gently up to her jaw and cupped her face in his palm. Her breath hitched, and he stepped closer, face pausing just inches from her own. "Are you ready, miko?" he asked quietly. His breath smelled of peach and ghosted warmly over her lips, and she swallowed thickly, somehow knowing that nothing short of verbal confirmation would provoke him to close the distance between them. 'Am I ready? I…I'm…' "Yes." He reached up with his free hand and possessively cupped the back of her neck, took one breath, and then pressed his lips to hers once more.
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Hers was the sweetest kiss he had ever partaken in, and the soft warmth of her lips fogged his thoughts until all he could think of was her—her lips, her scent, her skin, her power thrumming just beneath the surface of her delectable body. Her natural flavor overlapped the sweet tang of the peach, and he dipped his tongue into her mouth, wanting—needing—to taste more of her. The need soon overcame his control, and he trailed away from her lips to touch his mouth against the underside of her jaw and the line of her throat. He made a mental note to personally deliver a suitable sum to Kotono's seamstress for her exquisite handiwork, and then listened with immense satisfaction as the miko's breath caught in her throat. Her pulse fluttered wildly beneath his lips, her heart thundering in his ears as her hands clenched at her sides. He licked her collarbone, finding pleasure in the small, strangled whimper that came from her throat, and then kissed lightly across to its uneven counterpart. He ghosted his lips over the bone, knowing that it had been broken and slightly curious as to the reason why—he made a mental note to ask her at some other date, and then nibbled at the hollow of her throat and placed his hands on her hips. She was breathing hard now, the soft, womanly musk of her arousal filtering through the her kimono. He tugged lightly at her obi, careful not to let his claws catch at the fabric, and as it fluttered harmlessly to the floor, he heard her breath hitch in her throat, and her hands reflexively came up to hold the kimono closed despite the trembling of her palms. He found himself amused at her modesty, and pulled away to look at her face, taking in her flushed cheeks and hooded eyes. He kissed her lips again, unable to resist their plump allure, and then stepped away and beckoned for her to follow. Her throat moved as she swallowed, and then she wavered forward, taking two steps, and then three and four and five, until he stopped in the center of the sitting room, just a few feet from the futon in the next area. He inhaled deeply, gaining control, and then allowed his gaze to rove over her clothed form, his arousal building as he took in the creamy skin of her shoulders and the roundness of her upper breasts. He forced himself to look into her eyes. "Show yourself to me, onna. Let me see you." She hesitated, bit her lip, and then nodded slowly and dropped her hands.
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He stared, and she felt vulnerable, exceedingly delicate beneath the honeyed wandering of his eyes. It was a feat not to cover herself, not to hide behind the frail security of her hands and cower away from the intensity in his sharp gaze. She clenched her hands at her sides, digging her nails into her palms in an effort to prevent the instinctive urge. He said nothing, even when he stepped close enough for her to smell the pine-scent of his skin; even when he lowered his lips to hers and allowed her to taste the autumnal flavor that coated his tongue. He tasted like chill wind and colored leaves; like cool rain and upturned loam—heady and so distinctly male that her body responded on an instinctive level, lowering her defenses before she'd given the okay to do so. Her belly twisted and turned, warm and languid like the heat-thickened blood that passed through her veins, like the foggy progress of her thoughts through her mind. His fingers touched her hips, and she felt her stomach jerk inward as they trailed upward, over the slight protrusion of her belly and along the lines of her ribs. She shuddered, and the sigh that left her lips was shaky. Warm and only lightly callused, his fingertips skimmed her clenched fists, and then wrapped around her wrists and slid up her arms until they reached her face, his claws skimming harmlessly over her skin. His lips had left hers, but she found that his touch was a pleasurable distraction to the lack of that delicious pressure—his hands left her face to trail down her spine, tracing the bones as though he wished to memorize them. Kagome's skin shivered uncontrollably, and as his hands turned back up toward her hair and the pins that confined it, she opened her eyes and stared. Feather-like tendrils of her ebony locks began to ghost over her shoulders, and the muffled sounds of pins and combs hitting the floor only distracted her slightly from the relaxing sensation of his claws coming gently though her hair. She sighed again. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against her own as he finished, and the gentle nudge he bestowed to her lower back sent her into the sudden swoop of his arms as he lifted her feet from the floor—reflexively she looped her arms around his neck, and then blinked up at him as he lay her gently on what felt like his futon, the silk cover cool against her warm back. A hand slid down her leg, removing first one tabi sock, and then the other and even that simple action made heat curl into her belly. Looming over her, Lord Sesshomaru was nothing short of beautiful, and as he leaned down to capture her lips, she realized that he was still fully dressed, the collar of his kimono only slightly loosened by their actions. She reached up and laid her hands tentatively on his obi, asking a question that she couldn't find the words for, and when he pulled away, when his larger hand covered her own, she knew that she had her answer.
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He couldn't have denied her request even if he'd wanted to—the curiosity and arousal in her darkened eyes overrode his logic to a near dangerous degree. Her small hand fell away from his waist, and he sat up on his haunches and pulled at his obi until it loosened and his kimono slid down around his shoulders, pooling at his elbows and then draping from his waist as he tugged his arms free. She stared, and he could feel the strength of her gaze as it pressed into his skin, trailing over his chest and down his abdomen, lingering on the star-shaped scar marring the flesh of his right side before meandering back up to his face. He leaned forward again but kept his upper half away from her, settling more comfortably between her spread legs—he steadfastly ignored the junction of her slender thighs—and grasping one of her wrists in his hand. He asked his own silent question, and in response, she stretched her arm across the space between them and touched his skin. His manhood lurched. Her hand was soft, her skin warm although her reiki sizzled frigidly against his chest, sending sparks of pleasure-pain down his spine. He hissed involuntarily when her tiny appendage slid down his side, and she withdrew her hand as though he had hurt her, eyes wide and alarmed. He shook his head, grasped her hand from where she had pulled it against her chest, and placed it back against him. She relaxed.
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He was kissing her again, one hand locked in the hair at the nape of her neck and the other resting near her arm, supporting his weight as she strained toward his mouth, feeling wanton and shameless beneath him. The hand he had placed back on his chest was still there; though she had gathered her courage and slipped it down toward his hip again, the sensation of his kiss was far too distracting to maintain the movement, and so she kept her hand against his hot skin, marveling at the play of muscle beneath it every time he shifted. She whimpered as his fingers detangled from her hair, cupping her face before trailing down to ghost against her shoulder and then the outside curve of her breast, which tingled as though he had shocked her, her nipple hardening instantly in anticipation. He didn't disappoint. Claws careful of her skin, the pads of his fingers ghosted over the hardened nub before swirling around and around the peak, leaving her to break away from the kiss in order to voice her appreciation in the form of a strangled sound that was something between a whimper and a gasp. That sound, the rumbling purr that her mind interpreted as satisfaction, reached her ears again, and she wondered if he was truly so affected by the sounds she could make. The thought trailed off as his hand slipped from one breast to the other, treating that nipple much the same as the first. And then his tongue was laving across one peak and she was trying to decide whether to push him away or pull him closer, intense pleasure sending liquid fire into her belly. She faintly registered her fingers closing in his hair, but around the thought that she never wanted him to stop, she realized that he responded to her clenching hands by suckling gently, swirling his tongue in between periods of suction. When his mouth left her breast, she thought to whine in protest, but his fingers captured her nipples and rolled them, and a tremor, a miniscule muscle spasm that reminded her of release, trembled through her belly and down her legs. Her womanhood, already pulsing with desire, clenched around an invisible invader, and she groaned low in her throat, breaths coming short and fast through her parted lips. All touch left her, and her eyes flew open in shock—had she done something wrong?—only to see Lord Sesshomaru tossing his obi off of the futon, kimono following shortly thereafter. She caught a glimpse of his manhood standing proudly between his legs, and then she was screwing her eyes shut against the foreign sensations of another's hand between her legs, circling in slick rotations around the very nub of pleasure that she herself had explored over the past few weeks. But the touch was different, far more potent than it was when she did it. Her heart pounded, and she writhed, unsure of whether she wanted to get away or get closer. Distantly, she heard the sounds coming from her throat, knew that her fingers had clenched tightly against the arm that kept the inu's weight from crushing her, but neither the sounds nor the grip could shock her mind out of its heated spiral. And then her breath caught and she choked on the rush of her release, feeling as though she were dying and coming back to life all at once, flying to heaven but falling toward hell in the same chaotic leap. She felt lips along her eyelids, her cheekbones, her mouth. And then there was pain and she screamed.
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There had been no other way, and while some part of his psyche balked at harming her so badly, the larger part, the part that was forefront in his mind, was awed at her tightness. It wasn't that he hadn't expected it—he had anticipated it, in fact—but feeling her sheath clench and spasm around his manhood was somehow much more than what he'd prepared himself for. He held still, unwilling to hurt her any more than was necessary, and as the involuntary scream that had passed their connected mouths completed its echo through the rooms, he lifted his head and instinctively licked the tears from her temples. The hand that she had locked to his arm was tight, and her reiki snapped at him, pained and defensive but no more harming to him than the bite of an insect. He waited, trembling. And when the vice grip she had on his arm loosened what felt like a millennia later, he lifted his hips, listened to her gasp, and then shifted forward again. He knew then that he wouldn't last long.
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The pain had been harsher than anything she had ever known, worse than when she'd broken her collarbone, worse than when she'd fractured her ankle, worse than, well, anything. But when it lessened, and when Sesshomaru's hips shifted, a deep, sparking pleasure radiated all the way down to her toes and swirled up to her fingertips. It escaped her in a gasp, and staring, wide-eyed, at the ceiling above her head, she wondered if it would get better. Another slow shift of his hips, and then another and another, until a steady pace was set and waves of complete, rounded satisfaction crashed in her belly with each thrust. "Oh…oh." She knew that she'd said it, had softly voiced the sensations rioting beneath her flesh, but the sounds weren't enough. What was a sound to something that reminded her of sake on her tongue? What was a word—a simple word like "oh"—to something that sparkled like stars and tingled like the air before a lightning strike, that titillated behind her fluttering lids and made her stomach flit as though it were full of excited butterflies? She gasped at a harder, faster melding of their hips, and when one of his hands lifted her leg up over his hip, she raised the other without needing to be goaded, locking her ankles at the small of his back. The part of him that reached into her dug just a little deeper, and she gasped for breath, fighting to get air through her tight throat and into her starving lungs. Pleasure rocked and roiled inside her, and she could feel her reiki fighting to extend outside of her body, reaching with wanton fingers toward the large male laying over her trembling form—with an ease borne entirely of practice, she clamped down on the undulating waves of her power, and then bucked as her pleasure multiplied tenfold. She cried out and her heart felt as though it would burst out of her chest when Sesshomaru raised his head and pressed his lips to hers once more, tongue passing her lips with a frenzied movement that belied his smooth motions. His bangs stuck to his forehead, and she could feel the sweat on her belly sucking his skin to hers in a warm, moist vacuum of heat and passion. He angled his hips differently, levering his body weight onto one arm and using his free hand to cup one of her bouncing breasts, briefly palming the nipple before trailing down to her hip. He lifted upward and pushed forward, and the resulting depth of penetration made her breath struggle valiantly in her throat, made her fingertips and toes tingle with rapture. His leaned so close that their breaths mingled in the air between their mouths, so close that the wet bangs that flopped off of his forehead stuck to hers in the same way that their torsos stuck together, in the same way that her arms, looped over his shoulders, stuck to his hot skin. She could clearly see the passion in his gaze, could watch with nothing sort of complete awe as his desire for her—her!—turned his eyes to burnished bronze. He shifted again, lowering his upper body even further by dropping his weight onto his forearm. His member reached a new depth then, and with each pass brushed along a part of her that had been previously untouched. She gasped, he growled. And then the coil in her belly snapped loose with violent force. "Sesshomaru-sama!"
:..:..:..:..:
Hearing his name on her lips broke through the last vestiges of his tenuous control, and he drove into her velvety, undulating sheath with abandon, clenching his jaw to muffle the growls that rose up in his chest. He could feel himself bumping lightly against the opening of her womb, but as he watched her face he could see that the sensation—one he knew had the ability to bring great pain—did nothing but make her release that much more potent. Mouth hanging open and eyes screwed shut, she whispered and murmured things that he couldn't understand, things that the roaring in his ears wouldn't allow his mind to decipher. Surprisingly, pleasantly, she crested the peak again, and as she shouted his name once more, his own summit rushed up from him in a torrent of heat. He ground his teeth and forced himself to move until he was spent, forced himself to move until she ceased shuddering beneath him, until her cries of rapture died down and she relaxed bonelessly into the futon. Her lids fluttered upward, and her eyes were just two slits of indigo color amidst sooty lashes. A smile, tired and languidly satisfied, stretched across her swollen lips, and he leaned down to nibble at one corner of her mouth before rolling and bringing her with him. She settled in his arms with no protest, murmuring something that his still-roaring ears didn't catch. He buried his nose in her fragrant hair, the scent of their coupling and her sweat riling him nearly as much as the contented roll of her reiki soothed him. 'This Sesshomaru made the right choice,' he thought smugly, and it was the last musing he entertained before the exhaustion produced by exertion clouded his mind.
Author's Note: You may all tell me how marvelous I am now. Go ahead, you know you want to. *wink*
No seriously, I hope you all enjoyed, and thanks for reading! More to come!
~Aubrey
