Withholding
folder
InuYasha › Het - Male/Female › Sesshōmaru/Rin
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
6
Views:
5,064
Reviews:
19
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
InuYasha › Het - Male/Female › Sesshōmaru/Rin
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
6
Views:
5,064
Reviews:
19
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.
Chapter 1
© Salome Wilde, 2008
Withholding
Author's Note: No sex til Chapter 2 and then it's detailed, lush romance novel style. Would help to read the first 3 stories in this arc, but at least "At Your Command, Sesshomaru-sama," which sets up the action/tension.
Chapter 1
As far as she was able, Rin acted normally around Sesshomaru. When he ordered her to scout ahead for danger as he rested, she obeyed, with the same crisp “Yes, Sesshomaru-sama” she always gave. And when he asked her whether she needed to see a healer after she had slept on a nest of stinging ants and woke with a rear as red as a demon’s eyes, she was polite in her simultaneous refusal of help and expression of gratitude for his concern. Never mind that she knew her scouting was to make her feel appreciated and not because it was needed. And she could not complain if he overreacted to a few insect bites. That was simply life as usual since he’d become the “Great Guilt Yokai” after forcing himself on her more than a season ago. True, she was more comfortable around him since the nightmares had been coming less frequently. In fact, it had been a full cycle of the moon since she had awakened, sobbing, from dreams of her face pressed into cold earth as she was savaged by a horde of faceless demons with flowing white hair. No, she had been free of such night terrors since last new moon, when she had dreamt of Sesshomaru coming to her and healing her with his lips and his cool, wet tongue. She blushed at the thought, then steeled her mind against such fantasies. After all, it was not in dreams that Sesshomaru could truly harm or heal her.
There was nothing to complain of, she reminded herself as she wreathed Jaken’s bald scalp with a ring of beautiful pink anemones(1). Why he suffered her ridicule, she did not know, but it gave them both pleasure, she was sure. He was the indulgent elder brother she had never had. And he had taught her much about using her staff, even though he would not let her toy with the nintojo since the time she had set fire to his hat. If he was her brother, then Sesshomaru was her father. That is, until she came to feel something more, something different for him. Still her protector, always, their relationship had become so impossibly difficult since she had initiated more than a master-servant—or even a parent-child—relationship with him. She had kissed him, and that had started it all. He would never have wanted more than her obedience and companionship. She had pushed for more and he had acquiesced—heaven knew why—and now…well, everything was her fault.
“Rin, if you have finished decorating my head, go and find yourself a new whetstone to sharpen your knife with. You are too careless with the stones I find for you, and I am certain your weapon is dull and useless by now.”
“Yes, Jaken-sama,” she answered with a smile, dropping one left-over blossom into his lap. The scolding was comforting to her, and she sought comfort now like a sapling seeks the sunlight.
Sesshomaru was nowhere to be found, and that was probably for the best. He was cold around her, though she was perhaps the only being in the world who could distinguish between his moods. To Jaken, he was simply Lord Sesshomaru, proud and imperious. To most others, he was purely dangerous. Only Rin saw him as a creature of many moods, however subtle they sometimes were. She shivered, only in part because a breeze was shimmering through her thick black hair as she sorted through rocks at the side of a river. Sometimes his moods were not subtle at all. Would that he could express affection as deeply as he could express possession. But then, she reminded herself, he would not be Sesshomaru; and it was, above all, Sesshomaru whom she loved.
She began to toss stones into the river to divert herself. She tested her arm, seeing how far she could throw them. Could she make it across the river’s full width? It was not a very wide river, and she felt sure of success. She grasped a palm-sized rock, cocked back her arm, and threw. The attempt was a failure, but not far off. So, she gritted her teeth and put everything she had into the next one, raising her arm high and reaching as far behind her as she could for the wind-up.
Sesshomaru caught her wrist, just before the back of her hand would have struck him in the face. Rin cried out in surprise and turned to face her captor. Sesshomaru released her wrist immediately, as if it had burned him. Rin winced at his reaction. “Forgive me, Rin.” There was so much in those words, but there was even more in their disease with one another. “I did not mean to frighten you,” he continued.
“Oh! I didn’t hear you behind me,” Rin said, trying to make her voice as careless and airy as she could. “Your approach is always so silent, Sesshomaru-sama.”
Sesshomaru gave a small nod and a grunt of assent.
“I do my best to learn from you, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to be as stealthy.” Rin forced a laugh. “I always step on a twig or a dead leaf or—but you know I have surprised Jaken-sama a few times! Why only two days ago he was washing out his garments and I—” Something in Sesshomaru’s eyes silenced her. She tried to recover her thoughts, but could not. She stammered out an apology and fell to her knees. She buried her face in her hands and began to sob.
“Rin,” Sesshomaru commanded simply, his voice the epitome of power and control.
Rin obeyed, or tried her best to. She labored to catch her breath, she sat up, but she could not raise her eyes.
“Is it time for you to leave me, Rin?” he asked in evenly, emotionlessly.
Rin gasped. Her heart pounded. No, she screamed inside her mind, never! But she did not say this aloud. She forced herself to be still. She understood the question. Sesshomaru knew she was unhappy. He was saying he could not make her happy. He was going to send her away. She felt her blood rushing in her ears. She willed her heart not to break. She drew her hands into tight fists and squeezed her eyes shut. She held her breath. She said nothing.
“Rin?” Sesshomaru repeated, his tone rising, almost imperceptibly, to one of concern.
She would not answer. She would not look at him. If she held still enough, wished hard enough, this would not be happening. He would not have asked her to go. She would never have kissed him. She would never have visited Kikyo. He would never have had to take her the way he did.
“Rin,” Sesshomaru called, once more, and it was an order this time.
Instantly, she lifted her eyes to his. He stood there, beautiful and remote, proud and inaccessible: unreadable, unknowable, unattainable. And as she faced him, faced this about him, suddenly, something within Rin broke. She roared with all the might in her small body, tears streaming down her face: “Damn you, Sesshomaru! Damn you for saving my life! Damn you for protecting me! Damn you for being more desirable than anyone has a right to be! Damn you for wanting me to leave—and damn you for being able to let me leave when I never want to be without you!” She turned to run.
Before she had gotten even a step, Sesshomaru was blocking her path. He took her by the shoulders and held her, firmly but gently, when she tried to go around him. “Rin,” he said again. She loathed the sound of it. She was tired of being Rin, tired of him summoning her, tired of everything. “Breathe, Rin, just breathe.”
Despite herself, she obeyed. And something came to her: an aroma, almost an aura, one that filled and permeated her every fiber. It was a smell so familiar as to be unnoticeable, yet so rich and comforting that she could not believe she had ever lived, could ever live without it. It left her feeling warm and loved beyond reason. “Is that you, Sesshomaru?” she asked, omitting the honorific for the first time.
Sesshomaru nodded, and released her. “I have been fighting to withhold it from you. I have not wanted to overwhelm you with my need. If you cannot trust me, if you cannot bear my touch again, Rin, you must be free from me. There is too much desire, too much warmth in you to be bound against your will or out of duty. You are not yokai, you are not inu. You do not live as I do. And you must choose your own path.” Sesshomaru took a deep breath, no doubt breathing in her scent as she did his. “But before you did so, I wanted you to sense me, truly, just once, and to know that letting you leave will be the hardest thing I have ever done.”
Rin was astonished at the outpouring of words, so opposite to what she had expected to hear. She threw herself into Sesshomaru’s arms and buried her face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held her fast.
- - - - - - -
(1) anemones: Japanese fall-blooming flowers
Withholding
Author's Note: No sex til Chapter 2 and then it's detailed, lush romance novel style. Would help to read the first 3 stories in this arc, but at least "At Your Command, Sesshomaru-sama," which sets up the action/tension.
Chapter 1
As far as she was able, Rin acted normally around Sesshomaru. When he ordered her to scout ahead for danger as he rested, she obeyed, with the same crisp “Yes, Sesshomaru-sama” she always gave. And when he asked her whether she needed to see a healer after she had slept on a nest of stinging ants and woke with a rear as red as a demon’s eyes, she was polite in her simultaneous refusal of help and expression of gratitude for his concern. Never mind that she knew her scouting was to make her feel appreciated and not because it was needed. And she could not complain if he overreacted to a few insect bites. That was simply life as usual since he’d become the “Great Guilt Yokai” after forcing himself on her more than a season ago. True, she was more comfortable around him since the nightmares had been coming less frequently. In fact, it had been a full cycle of the moon since she had awakened, sobbing, from dreams of her face pressed into cold earth as she was savaged by a horde of faceless demons with flowing white hair. No, she had been free of such night terrors since last new moon, when she had dreamt of Sesshomaru coming to her and healing her with his lips and his cool, wet tongue. She blushed at the thought, then steeled her mind against such fantasies. After all, it was not in dreams that Sesshomaru could truly harm or heal her.
There was nothing to complain of, she reminded herself as she wreathed Jaken’s bald scalp with a ring of beautiful pink anemones(1). Why he suffered her ridicule, she did not know, but it gave them both pleasure, she was sure. He was the indulgent elder brother she had never had. And he had taught her much about using her staff, even though he would not let her toy with the nintojo since the time she had set fire to his hat. If he was her brother, then Sesshomaru was her father. That is, until she came to feel something more, something different for him. Still her protector, always, their relationship had become so impossibly difficult since she had initiated more than a master-servant—or even a parent-child—relationship with him. She had kissed him, and that had started it all. He would never have wanted more than her obedience and companionship. She had pushed for more and he had acquiesced—heaven knew why—and now…well, everything was her fault.
“Rin, if you have finished decorating my head, go and find yourself a new whetstone to sharpen your knife with. You are too careless with the stones I find for you, and I am certain your weapon is dull and useless by now.”
“Yes, Jaken-sama,” she answered with a smile, dropping one left-over blossom into his lap. The scolding was comforting to her, and she sought comfort now like a sapling seeks the sunlight.
Sesshomaru was nowhere to be found, and that was probably for the best. He was cold around her, though she was perhaps the only being in the world who could distinguish between his moods. To Jaken, he was simply Lord Sesshomaru, proud and imperious. To most others, he was purely dangerous. Only Rin saw him as a creature of many moods, however subtle they sometimes were. She shivered, only in part because a breeze was shimmering through her thick black hair as she sorted through rocks at the side of a river. Sometimes his moods were not subtle at all. Would that he could express affection as deeply as he could express possession. But then, she reminded herself, he would not be Sesshomaru; and it was, above all, Sesshomaru whom she loved.
She began to toss stones into the river to divert herself. She tested her arm, seeing how far she could throw them. Could she make it across the river’s full width? It was not a very wide river, and she felt sure of success. She grasped a palm-sized rock, cocked back her arm, and threw. The attempt was a failure, but not far off. So, she gritted her teeth and put everything she had into the next one, raising her arm high and reaching as far behind her as she could for the wind-up.
Sesshomaru caught her wrist, just before the back of her hand would have struck him in the face. Rin cried out in surprise and turned to face her captor. Sesshomaru released her wrist immediately, as if it had burned him. Rin winced at his reaction. “Forgive me, Rin.” There was so much in those words, but there was even more in their disease with one another. “I did not mean to frighten you,” he continued.
“Oh! I didn’t hear you behind me,” Rin said, trying to make her voice as careless and airy as she could. “Your approach is always so silent, Sesshomaru-sama.”
Sesshomaru gave a small nod and a grunt of assent.
“I do my best to learn from you, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to be as stealthy.” Rin forced a laugh. “I always step on a twig or a dead leaf or—but you know I have surprised Jaken-sama a few times! Why only two days ago he was washing out his garments and I—” Something in Sesshomaru’s eyes silenced her. She tried to recover her thoughts, but could not. She stammered out an apology and fell to her knees. She buried her face in her hands and began to sob.
“Rin,” Sesshomaru commanded simply, his voice the epitome of power and control.
Rin obeyed, or tried her best to. She labored to catch her breath, she sat up, but she could not raise her eyes.
“Is it time for you to leave me, Rin?” he asked in evenly, emotionlessly.
Rin gasped. Her heart pounded. No, she screamed inside her mind, never! But she did not say this aloud. She forced herself to be still. She understood the question. Sesshomaru knew she was unhappy. He was saying he could not make her happy. He was going to send her away. She felt her blood rushing in her ears. She willed her heart not to break. She drew her hands into tight fists and squeezed her eyes shut. She held her breath. She said nothing.
“Rin?” Sesshomaru repeated, his tone rising, almost imperceptibly, to one of concern.
She would not answer. She would not look at him. If she held still enough, wished hard enough, this would not be happening. He would not have asked her to go. She would never have kissed him. She would never have visited Kikyo. He would never have had to take her the way he did.
“Rin,” Sesshomaru called, once more, and it was an order this time.
Instantly, she lifted her eyes to his. He stood there, beautiful and remote, proud and inaccessible: unreadable, unknowable, unattainable. And as she faced him, faced this about him, suddenly, something within Rin broke. She roared with all the might in her small body, tears streaming down her face: “Damn you, Sesshomaru! Damn you for saving my life! Damn you for protecting me! Damn you for being more desirable than anyone has a right to be! Damn you for wanting me to leave—and damn you for being able to let me leave when I never want to be without you!” She turned to run.
Before she had gotten even a step, Sesshomaru was blocking her path. He took her by the shoulders and held her, firmly but gently, when she tried to go around him. “Rin,” he said again. She loathed the sound of it. She was tired of being Rin, tired of him summoning her, tired of everything. “Breathe, Rin, just breathe.”
Despite herself, she obeyed. And something came to her: an aroma, almost an aura, one that filled and permeated her every fiber. It was a smell so familiar as to be unnoticeable, yet so rich and comforting that she could not believe she had ever lived, could ever live without it. It left her feeling warm and loved beyond reason. “Is that you, Sesshomaru?” she asked, omitting the honorific for the first time.
Sesshomaru nodded, and released her. “I have been fighting to withhold it from you. I have not wanted to overwhelm you with my need. If you cannot trust me, if you cannot bear my touch again, Rin, you must be free from me. There is too much desire, too much warmth in you to be bound against your will or out of duty. You are not yokai, you are not inu. You do not live as I do. And you must choose your own path.” Sesshomaru took a deep breath, no doubt breathing in her scent as she did his. “But before you did so, I wanted you to sense me, truly, just once, and to know that letting you leave will be the hardest thing I have ever done.”
Rin was astonished at the outpouring of words, so opposite to what she had expected to hear. She threw herself into Sesshomaru’s arms and buried her face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held her fast.
- - - - - - -
(1) anemones: Japanese fall-blooming flowers