Come Undone

A/N: Thank you to Lissa, Sugar0o, babygirl20008,Lovelessjayson, Angel_Moonlight, and jestergirl06 for reviewing. Also, it has come to my attention that there are some details about the characters that are wrong, like eye color or body build. It would really help me out if you would tell me which chapter and put what it says so I can change it. Honestly, I was writing this story for something else, but I said, "WTH! I'll just make this into a SessKag fanfic!" Now, ON WITH THE STORY!!

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He’s still looking down at you, breathing heavily as you lean in again to give him one last suckle, your fingers applying gentle pressure as you squeeze out the remains of his body fluid. You lick him clean before letting him go completely, the erotic dart of your tongue across your lips causing his lust-addled gaze to darken even more.

He slumps his nearly spent form on top of you, his mouth descending to kiss you ferociously as he moves up to straddle his legs around your thighs. He laps at your tongue, knowing that he can taste himself in your mouth, and then he moves his hips to grind against your heat, now straining harder than before.

You moan into the kiss, your hips rolling helplessly in an effort to feel more friction, and the movement seems to nudge Sesshoumaru, alerting him to your own needs.

Pulling his mouth away from yours, he watches as desire flickers darkly in your eyes, watches as you swallow nervously in anticipation. And a wicked leer immediately sweeps across his face.

“Get up,” he commands out of the blue.

“Wh- What?” you ask, blinking at him in confusion as your brows knit into a frown.

You feel his legs shift next to your thighs, and before you know it, he’s pulling himself away completely, his hands grabbing a hold of yours as he stands up.

“Come on, Higurashi,” he says, tugging your hands as he urges you to get off your rear. “Time to get your cherry popped.”
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Your eyes widen at the lewdness of his statement, but he only laughs a laugh that could sounds so glorious it has to be gifted from a god. He pulls at your hands, and you stand up, nearly stumbling into him as your legs buckle helplessly from sitting down for so long. He coils his arms protectively around you, catching you before you can fall, steadying you against his larger frame.

He chuckles as you struggle briefly to right yourself, and you feel your cheeks flush a deep red in embarrassment. Yeah… some professional you’re turning out to be!

“Did I manage to astonish your person“?” he asks, smirking that lopsided smirk again.

Glaring at him as he continues to find your struggles amusing, you stubbornly force yourself to stand on your own.

“My astonishment is my business,” you reply coolly, only to have him chuckle even more.

“If you say so,” he teases, letting you go finally, albeit reluctantly, as he takes a couple of steps back. “Now, turn around,” he commands you again when you’re finally able to stand on your own without wobbling, and for a brief moment you think he’s lost his mind.

“What?” you ask again. “Why?”

Stepping ominously forward, he recovers the distance he had previously put between you and whirls you around without warning. His hands grip at your arms while he presses his hairless chest against your bare back, and you take a sharp intake of breath when you feel his erection hardening again, nudging against your denim clad ass, his mouth hovering just behind your right ear.

“Because, Higurashi…” he answers, prefacing his response by emphasizing your name again. “Tonight, you’re the bitch,” he says lowly, vulgarly, and you can’t help the tremors that tingle through your nervous system, making you shudder. “And I’m in the mood to play dirty.”

And with that, his hands slide up your arms slowly, deliberately, gently massaging your shoulders and your neck. You feel his right hand cup your jaw from behind, and you can’t help the small whimper that tears out of your throat when he tilts your head slightly to the left, forcing you to bare your neck.

You feel his lips brush teasingly up your column, his mouth open to engulf you in the heat of his breath. You close your eyes and try to deepen your increasingly shallow breaths, letting your head fall back in rapture against his left shoulder.

“You don’t have a clue as to…” he begins in that low, seductive tone again, “how fucking beautiful you are, do you?” he breathes, moving his mouth to caress the shell of your ear once more.

He plants a lithe kiss at the point where your ear and your jaw connect, and a trembling moan escapes your lips when you feel him turn your head towards his, dropping little kisses on your jaw line along the way until he has reached your chin.

He stops, then, and you open your eyes to meet his secretive gaze, and you think that if circumstances have been different, that if you aren’t the fucking professional and he isn’t just another thrill-seeking client, then you wouldn’t mind exploring the possibility of having a real relationship with this man – that you wouldn’t mind having him to call your own.

And, of course, you wouldn’t share yourself with anyone else either.

There are so many confusing, unknown emotions in those liquid oracles, and when he looks at you like that, like you’re the most gorgeous thing he’s ever laid eyes on, you’re almost tempted to believe… to pretend that he actually possesses feelings for you that go beyond this mere business transaction, beyond this one-night stand.

But as it is, this night has nothing to do with you but everything to do with satisfying him.

It has nothing to do with feelings or circumstances or craving of the heart that are best kept in secret.

And so, you force yourself to bury all the feelings this youkai’s unknowingly stirring up inside you, and you resolve to savor the moment, to savor him for as much as five fucking grand would allow.

Your lips separate a mere centimeter, nearly breathless with the prospect of feeling his talented mouth against yours again, and you watch as his eyes droop downward with want. With his thumb, he begins to caress your cheek with something akin to tenderness. It sends your insides into a quivering frenzy, reawakening those secret but empty desires you were stubbornly suppressing just moments ago.

You blink slowly and swallow hard. He hasn’t moved from where he’s holding you, and his eyes are still locked with your own, studying, gazing, calculating… It’s enough to drive you crazy. Make you jittery. And you wonder if perhaps he has heard your thoughts, can read what you’re thinking through your most expressive eyes.

You think you might just break away from this position he has you in if he doesn’t do something soon, but you’re held captive by his amorous gaze, fascinated by the clarity of emotions in his eyes. You can’t tear your eyes away even if you want to. And honestly, you know you really don’t want to.

His breath ghosts hotly across your lips, and slowly, finally, he closes the distance between you, fusing his full lips over yours. The softness of the contact makes you moan in ecstasy, and his name bleeds from your lips when he pauses to take a quick stock of your reaction, his nose brushing up against yours to give you sweet Eskimo kisses.

“Sesshoumaru…” you breathe, unable to utter anything else.

He covers your mouth with full lips once more, kissing you silent as he slides his tongue back in. You feel the deepness of his groan reverberate in the cavern of your mouth, and you lap hungrily at his tongue, matching the growing urgency of his engulfing embrace, as his fingers thread through your hair.

You want to turn around, to face him completely so that you can wrap your arms around his shoulders, lace your fingers through his long, flowing hair, taste him more fully with your tongue. But even then, you find yourself reluctant to move, unwilling to break the delicate intensity of this searing kiss, even as you strain your head and your neck for a better angle.

Moments later, you sense his kisses slowing down, and your insides begin to twist with need, already coveting the next time your lips might touch his. You try to intensify the kiss again, try to bring back the gentle urgency that makes you want to moan and sigh in breathless rapture, but he refuses to oblige, to gratify your cravings.

But then you feel his left hand begin to roam down from your collarbone, fingers smoothing sinuously across the fleshy mounds and the shallow valley of your chest, teasing your nipples into hardened pebbles through the fabric until you’re nearly whimpering into his mouth.

He breaks the kiss and your head lolls back onto his shoulder once again, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you pant for much needed air. You feel his lips begin a downward trek from your jaw to the stately column of your neck, his hands traveling further south to the smooth planes of your stomach, and a rumbling groan flees from your throat at the duality of the sensations.

Your breath hitches when he wraps an arm around your waist, the other hand undoing the button of your pants. He reaches inside, lightly running his clawed fingers over your folds. He applies gentle pressure to you clitoris, and you almost collapse helplessly, feeling the air empty from your lungs as your vision darkens to a haze.

“I want you,” he pants hotly into your ears. “I wanna be inside you. I want to make you come.”

Vaguely, you register the sensation of being moved, of being made to walk a few steps around the back of the single couch before stopping. Your hands instinctively reach out, bracing yourself against the back of the couch as you bow your head and take in deep breaths to try to clear the haze.

You can feel his hands moving, caressing, thumbs hooking over the strings of your thong to pull it down with your jeans. He undoes the clasp of your bra, and you let it fall over your shoulders. You step out of your remaining clothes without any prodding, and once again, you resist the urge to turn your head to see where Sesshoumaru has carelessly tossed them.

A slight thud to your left tells you that your thong, bra, and pants more than likely met their demise somewhere on the living room floor. But your thoughts are soon crowded out when you feel his oh, so talented hands wrap around your torso, his chest pressing against your back once more.

He brings his hands to your sides, liberally palming the length of your ribcage, before bringing them up to your breasts again. He twirls your nipples between his fingers and his hands slowly make their way to your shoulders. You feel him begin to knead the knots from your shoulders, fingers traveling up to the back of your neck to do the same, and you moan in gratitude when he finds a particularly sore spot.

Your breathing deepens as you relax into the massage, letting your shoulders slump slightly as you close your eyes and enjoy the feeling of having Sesshoumaru ‘take care’ of you. You know this isn’t real, that this small display of affection is superficial at best, just another part of the deal that you’re supposed to play out.

It’s make-believe…

And you know it.

But that doesn’t stop you from pretending, nevertheless.

And you hold onto that stubbornly, refuse to listen to that nagging voice inside your head that’s currently telling you that you’re crazy to keep entertaining these feelings, that you’re just deceiving yourself, and that sooner or later, you’re going to have to get over this, lest you want to risk making a fool of yourself and getting hurt in the end.

You’re just about to launch into another argument with the rational part of your head when you feel those warm hands begin to wander southward, silencing your thoughts once more. The movement causes you to shiver slightly, his fingers winding lazily, tracing the narrow channel running down the center of your back.

He seizes your hips firmly, dropping a featherlike kiss on the back of your neck, and his name spills from your lips like a gasping sob.

“Mmh… Sess…”

You defy the impulse to shiver, even as you feel his hot mouth journeying downward, soft, plump lips massaging every bump of your spine in a teasing but tender manner.

At last, he’s on one knee, tongue darting out to sweep up and down the narrow trench along the center of your lower back. The hands on your hips begin to move again, fingers closing in to caress and palm indulgently the globes of your professional ass.

You squirm helplessly in his grasp, trying to alleviate the teasing he’s lavishing upon you, but he has you firmly in place, refusing to let you go.

Finally, he withdraws his tongue. And in its place, you feel his mouth moving once more, traveling lightly from your left hip all the way to the right. Suddenly, he whirls you around so that your lower back is now leaning against the couch, and you brace your hands against the top as he continues his delicious ministrations, this time, along your abdomen, his fleshy lips adorning you with a belt of wet, slick kisses.

And when he has completed the circumference, planting the last kiss on your left hip, he looks up at you with something resembling adoration. Reverence, even. And you find your heart skipping a beat once more as your emotions try to vehemently blur the line between make-believe and reality.

You want so much to accept what he’s giving you as true, to believe that Sesshoumaru’s not merely playing a role, that there is, indeed, a connection – some genuine emotion swimming in the depths of those chocolate pools. You are tempted to indulge in the pretense of the moment, to surrender yourself completely to the bliss of this fantasy.

Rationale tells you that you’re being a fool and that you’re playing a dangerous game with your emotions, with your head, with your heart, even. You know full well the promise you made to protect yourself from this sort of thing when you first took on this profession: never get emotionally involved… especially with a client.

This is just sex.

Business.

Nothing more. Plain and simple.

It is an act that is purely physical in nature. A pretense of something deeper.

Something profoundly amazing…

Something indescribably intense…

Something like… love?

It is a mere simulation of what you yourself have been secretly longing to have... one day.

But that still doesn’t stop you from entertaining ridiculous thoughts of something meaningful, thoughts that will more than likely prove disastrous to your warring emotions once this night is over – once he has consumed to his heart’s content what five fucking grand can buy.

“What the hell are you thinking, Kags?” you ask yourself. “What the hell is fucking wrong with you?”

Hands still on your hips, he unknowingly silences your thoughts once more when he lightly kisses the outside of your folds, velvety lips paving a trail of gentle but hungry kisses along your heat. He covers every inch of your sensitive flesh, showering it with mouthfuls of sweet caresses.

A soft moan escapes your lips, and your head rolls back in ecstasy, your breath becoming all the more shallow as you try to hold yourself up on your feet.

And just when you think he’s about to eat you out, he stands up completely and kisses your neck instead, his hands moving up to stroke your back, journeying up to cradle the back of your head, fingers tangling themselves in your midnight hair, as those same velvety lips move to suckle at your jugular, up your throat, before coming to rest on your mouth.

Overwhelming is the next thought that enters your mind when your lips fuse together once more in a heated kiss, your tongues gliding provocatively against each other in a slow, sensual dance. Your own hands travel up to palm his chest before wrapping themselves around his neck.

The air teems with electricity as he kisses you softly yet impatiently, drawing you deeper into the sizzling exchange. Every touch of his hands, every brush of his lips, every swipe of his tongue is enough to add fuel to the fire that’s been raging underneath your skin, until you’re almost certain that any second now, your body’s going to burst into flames.

He deepens the kiss, and you feel his arms surround you at the waist. It takes no effort for him to lift you up; even your legs respond in kind, wrapping themselves willingly around Sesshoumaru’s handsome waist, contouring themselves to the shape of his form as naturally as if they’re merely revisiting familiar ground.

You feel the sensation of moving backwards, and you know exactly where he’s taking you next. Seconds later, you hear him kick the door shut, but he surprises you again by not taking you straight onto his bed, setting you down, instead, just at the foot of it.

Toe to toe, chest to chest, lips seeking lips, you lap at each other hungrily, greedy hands roaming all over each other’s bodies.

Vaguely, you register the pale glow emanating from a lamp on the right side of the bed, the light just enough to create a mood of intimacy and mystery, and it is then that you decide to take matters into your own professional hands again. Slowly, you move your hands to stroke the length of his back, letting your fingers tease the skin until you’ve reached the top of his ass.

Then without warning, you grasp a handful of each buttock and press your bodies together, creating some desperate friction as his groin rubs against you lower half. It tears a guttural groan of surprise and pleasure out of his mouth, and he stops kissing to look at you with eyes that can only be described as belonging to a famished hunter – a predator lusting after its prey.

The look sends quivers of thrill down your spine, and you find yourself sitting down on the bed as if on autopilot, eyes locking steadily with his hungry stare as you back away slowly, enticingly up the mattress, like a prey luring its predator into a trap.

Alluringly, you lie down, exposing all you have to offer to your would-be predator, a trace of a smirk teasing on your lips as your eyes darken to a devious green, wordlessly calling out to him in a “come hither” fashion.

He is motionless as he studies you for what seems like torturous eternity, his eyes bearing the intensity of a skilled hunter as he debates, calculates the best way to approach and capture his mark.

You can feel his eyes raking down your body. You’re oblivious to the chill of the air as you lie naked and alone in the center of his bed. And you swear that as vulnerable, as exposed as you’re feeling right now, you’ve never felt headier with excitement.

At last, he climbs on top of the bed, unhurriedly approaching you on all fours; the sight is enough to redden even more the heat that’s already swimming in your blood. Your breath quickens, and you feel your face crimson with the exhilaration of being stalked, of the inevitability of being captured.

You’re convinced that you’ve never seen a more sensual ‘walk,’ a more provocative prowl.

Slowly, he stretches out over you, his frame hovering menacingly until he’s straddling your hips. Then with visceral agility, his hands clamp down to capture your wrists, pressing them up into the mattress just above your head.

You don’t even entertain the pretense of putting up a fight.

It’s pointless, you reason, at this stage in the game.

Instead, you relish the feeling of being gloriously helpless, surrounded… trapped underneath his masculinity, enraptured by the liquidity in his eyes.

Mouth only a breath’s distance, he playfully teases his lips nearer to yours, his breath ghosting on your lips to taunt the tangible need out of you, and then pulling away before they can touch. He does this repeatedly, a smug gleam of satisfaction becoming more and more apparent in his gaze, that lopsided smirk beginning to tug on his lips again, as he watches the play of emotions shift with the color of your eyes.

Impatiently, you lean your head up, your mouth reaching to try to connect with his in open desperation, but it only drives him away, causing him to pull his head back further so that he’s well out of your reach. It frustrates you beyond belief, and you’re about to voice your protest when he swiftly hushes you with a most smoldering kiss that leaves you both heady and breathless at the same time.

He takes his next breath by delving deep into your neck, kissing your pulse point with unimaginable hunger as he begins to grind his still-hard member against your wetness, stimulating your arousal to the point where you begin to believe that it’s only a matter of time before he pushes you over the edge and breaks you down completely.

You have only a few stolen moments to think: it’s not supposed to be like this.

You’re not supposed to feel anything.

This man isn’t suppose to awaken feelings within you other than the usual lust for the physical and a burning need to experience the carnal.

So why, then, does this feel different?

Why, then, does this feel inexplicably real, more personal, even?

Why, then, is this becoming the clear exception?

The answer comes soon enough when he claims your mouth eagerly once more, kissing you with a fervor that only real lovers share. And it is at that moment that you realize this is different because this man… this striking youkai has the enigmatic ability to put every bit of his being into a kiss. So much so that you feel like he can drown you in the awesome heat of his own breath.

“So innocent…” he breathes, nudging the tip of his nose gently, almost affectionately against yours. “So fucking beautiful…”

He pulls back enough to grant you a most tender glance again, and you can’t help but look up at him with wide, expectant eyes as he studies your face.

Unconsciously, you remind yourself that this isn’t the first time you’ve been kissed by a client. Maybe thinking that will help put your frame of mind back into professional, instead of personal, mode again.

You examine his face in return. And it is only then, when you gaze deeply into his honeying depths, do you comprehend, confirm definitively your first-impression theory as to why it’s next to impossible to try to weather his charms and deny him anything he so obviously desires.

There’s an inexplicable intensity in his eyes, a glint of emotion so magnetically profound that it lures you in until you’re swimming past the safe zone, and you don’t realize until it’s too late that you’ve already swam too far, that you’ve crossed the threshold where you’re finally beyond saving.

And the next thing you recognize, it is you who is drowning, drowning, drowning gloriously in its marvelous depths, and you find yourself so blissfully lost to take notice, unable, and perhaps even unwilling, to give a damn.

This is it.

You’re already there.

You’re past the safe zone, past the point of no return.

You’re past the pretense of wanting salvation.

You’re drowning helplessly, and you know it.

You’re drowning, and you can hardly get your head above the sweeping water, above the formidable tidal wave that is Sesshoumaru Taisho.

You’re drowning, and you don’t really care.

You’re drowning, yes… and still, you’ll do anything he asks.

You’re drowning, and you won’t say no.

:]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]Reviews keep my cursed hands writing.
A/N: Another chapter finished. By the way, I only received one response to Sesshoumaru's fantasy from jestergirl06, and she wrong but on the right track. Can any of you guys take a gander at his fantasy?