New Beginnings

New Beginnings

Author’s Note: Ok, I erred in leaving Sesshomaru with only one arm in the earlier part of this story arc and juggled Tokijin and Bakusaiga--because I haven’t gotten that far in the manga so I didn’t know he got his arm back or that he got a new sword until recently!! Bad me! //hangs head// From now on, I’ll reference Bakusaiga not Tokijin and correct the arm issue -- and happy to do so. There’s nothing like being able to grab someone by the hips and ride...among other things. Here’s that lemon, y’all well, half a lemon anyway...

Chapter 3

If Rin had any doubts that Sesshomaru had come to enjoy the way she ogled his naked body, they were firmly dismissed as he stretched out beneath the massive oak. Leaning back on his elbows, he crossed his ankles and let his mokomoko drift across his lap. Rin tried to match even a shard of his elegance as she removed her kimono, but she knew she was hopelessly outshone before she began. Beside other humans, she felt she could perhaps hold her own, but not with Sesshomaru and that ungodly allure. Had he not been so entirely hers, she might have found herself pouting at moments like these, or jealous, wishing the night were moonless. Yet, if there were no light, she would not have been able to enjoy the pale glory of his flat-muscled chest, his long, slender legs, and that deceptively gentle-looking face. He might not let her stare long, but he did let her look, perhaps even welcomed it.

Rin shivered, both from the light chill in the air and Sesshomaru’s unblinking gaze. As difficult as it was to read his eyes, it was easier when accompanied by an outstretched hand. Sesshomaru beckoned her as the fur at his shoulder slid from his lap to grasp her waist. As the mokomoko shifted, it unveiled that perfect marble hardness she longed to caress as much as that plush pelt. The core of his yokai nature was in that fur as his manhood was in his cock. That she could be excited by and excite both provided her unutterable pleasure and pride.

Experiencing his arousal brought her as close to her distant yet passionate lord’s secrets as anyone could ever hope to reach. In fact, the throes of desire were the only times she had ever seen Sesshomaru release his control. So, she craved him inside her when he unleashed that desire fully and would do much to have it. But now was not the time for thinking of such things, or anything else that would bring tension between them.

At this moment, after days of absence, she wanted him, ached with the need of him. She wanted to touch him, for him to touch her; every part of him, every part of her. She sought to become touch itself: a being of sense and sensation, driven by need to reach a heart that was buried under layers of self-control and self-denial like thick-crusted snow on a mountain’s peak. Taking the hand he proffered, she began to climb.

As she came to crouch over his lap, she could barely resist the desire to slip that hard shaft inside her. She could smell Sesshomaru’s desire to be deep within her. She anticipated the small, sharp pain of his claws in her hips, taking control of her body and using his power to bring them both pleasure. Yet, she also longed to experience a bit of her own power, to take him on a journey, show him something new. Instead of enveloping him, she arched forward and ground herself along the length of him, parting her lips around him and holding him in her wet, pink grasp. As she moved forward, she brought her face to his. She could not read his eyes, but neither could she mistake the barely perceptible change in the delicate curve of his mouth. On any other man, it would be unnoticeable. On Sesshomaru, it was a wide grin.

Again opting for the unexpected, she did not attempt to kiss him, but instead turned her face down and began to ride him in earnest. Digging her nails into his chest and grinding her hips back and forth across him, she stimulated herself through his body. And as he pressed his hips up and held them for her, releasing her except for the fur that she knew stimulated him as well as her, she enjoyed a selfish pleasure she barely knew she desired. His desire made him blossom with his familiar musk. As she rode, she grew swollen and sensitive and flowed with liquid desire. Beneath her thick curtain of hair, her breath sang in her ears. She felt her heart race and her breathing grow hot and shallow. All she could smell was the magical alchemy of his aura and her body. All she could see was the chest she gripped with increasing ferocity. Apart from the tickle of that fur, he was so deliciously firm, so gorgeous in his passive hardness. She craved him inside her but would not yield to that temptation. Rubbing herself exquisitely raw against him, she reached the summit and hurtled over its edge as her nails carved tiny crescents in his alabaster flesh.

As her body pitched and tumbled through aftershocks that left her dizzy, Sesshomaru grabbed her beneath her arms and hoisted her forward onto his mouth. He fed from her as he drove her on, through fluttered contractions and exquisite hypersensitivity. Sooner than she thought possible, his agile tongue and carefully utilized fangs sent her skyward again. Rather than moving his head, he was guiding her body by underarm and waist, pushing and pulling her across his mouth as she had ridden his cock only moments before. As she gasped with pleasure and felt the heavens begin to open again, her body was suddenly flung forward and she found herself impaled, filled, and rocked to her core. Her eyes flew open and she saw her mate’s tawny orbs flash as he manipulated her body over him. Again and again he hilted himself within her, and she fought to keep focused on his face as he used her. It was hard, precise, and intense—yet soon she began to feel that something was wrong. She sensed he was somehow frustrated…with her? She sought his scent, where truth always lay with her mate, and found a hesitance, a tension she could not explain, and what she could only think of as a strangeness, a foreignness that confused her.

She attempted to regain some control over her body, thinking this would perhaps please him and he would again feel and smell as he should. He resisted, gripping her more tightly with the fur at her waist until the constriction made it difficult to breathe. He seemed unable to attain the rhythm he sought, and she felt he was fighting a battle within himself that he would neither allow her to enter nor could he forego it. His eyes grew clouded then closed, and she began to be afraid. He was not hurting her; in fact, his use of her body would otherwise have been bringing her pleasure. But with the tension inside him that reached her through their bond as well as her sensitivity to his moods, developed through their decade of life together, she became as tense as he.

Though it was difficult to catch her breath as he continued to drive her onto his shaft with increasing harshness, she gasped his name. He responded instantly. His eyes snapped open and she thought she saw them glow red before they returned to their usual molten gold. They searched hers fervently, and she could sense at once that he misunderstood her cry. He released her and let his mokomoko slip from around her torso. At the risk of initiating a conflict between them that she loathed even to think about, she threw herself into his arms and spoke: “Sesshomaru, tell me what is wrong.”

Almost simultaneously came an uncharacteristically soft query, as he sat up and held her at arm’s length: “Have I hurt you, Rin?”

“No, of course not,” Rin exclaimed, desperate to reassure him and increasingly distressed by the alienness of his scent. She forced herself to relax into his grip.

“Frightened you somehow, then?” he retorted, shaking her.

She shook her head vigorously. She could tell he did not mean to hold her so tightly, to shake her so aggressively, to let his claws begin to bite into her tender skin, but she did not know what this meant, what was happening here. She thought to speak again, and then decided against it. No, rather than offering more futile words, she reached within herself and projected the unconditional love and absolute surrender she thought might reach him.

Watching him breathe it in, she stilled her body and mind and hoped. It took effort not to react to whatever it was that felt wrong about his aura, but she succeeded in that self-control that enabled her to love and be mate to the dangerous inuyokai on whose lap she now sat.

After long moments with neither word nor motion, Sesshomaru gently but firmly moved her from his lap and rose. Turning and walking away from her, he called over his shoulder: “I will sleep elsewhere tonight, Rin.”