InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Breaking the Stalemate ❯ I want you to want me ( Chapter 1 )

A/N: Morituri te salutamus (We who are about to die, salute you)! My very first fan fic. Please, please comment. Hail to my wonderful beta, Fenikkusuken, for holding my hand while she fixed my prose. A note of caution: graphic sex ahead. If you like your lemonade with lots of sugar, this may not be the story for you.

 

The rest of you, enjoy! PQ

 

I. I Want You to Want Me

 

No one has ever accused Inuyasha of being overly analytical. He relies on varying proportions of instinct and gut, tempered every now and then by advice from the few people whose opinion he values (not that he'd ever admit it to them): Kaede-baba, Totosai, Miroku, Sango. Myoga-once in a while that irritating flea dredges up something useful from the Inu-daddy archives. Sesshomaru, when he takes the stick out of his ass.

 

And Kagome. She knows a lot of things besides where to find jewel shards. She's tough and resourceful, and learned how to fit in here a hell of a lot faster than he could have adapted to downtown Tokyo. Think about it: after two months in the Sengoku Jidai, she could build a fire, spear a river fish, and grill it on a stick in less than the time it took him to reconnoiter the area. Three years later, she can catch and skin anything smaller than a shard-crazed bear, recognize forty types of medicinal herbs, and is learning from Sango the antidotes to every kind of youkai poison. To say nothing of math, foreign languages, and whatever else she studies at the insanely demanding school she attends back home.

 

Kagome is a smart cookie, all right, and perceptive to boot. Which is why it finally dawns on him that she is doing it on purpose.

 

Everything points that way: the breathtakingly short skirts she continues to wear, in an era when women remain modestly covered from neck to ankle. The way her scent spikes when she grips his middle with her strong, smooth, bare thighs. The care she lavishes on bandaging his wounds, massaging in fragrant salves even though she has seen, repeatedly, that he heals magically fast without them. She lowers her lashes as she works, nervous but determined, and her scent spikes again: roses and sandalwood punctuated by spicy notes of something else, something so delicious that he longs to flip her on her back and taste it.

 

And so, analytically disinclined though he is, Inuyasha has reached an inescapable conclusion: She's trying to drive him crazy.

 

He's pretty thick, so it takes longer than it would with most teenage boys (give or take a couple of hundred years) for his mental train to reach this station. Plus, he's a hanyou, which isn't a recipe for sex appeal in any era that he knows of. That said, once the suspicion takes root in his mind, he can't shake it. He watches her even more closely than usual, and everything he sees bears it out. Her heartbeat quickens when she's near him, matching the drumbeat in his own chest. She even whispers his name in her sleep - not just on that ridiculous night at her house when she followed it with “Sit!”, but on a regular basis.

 

Most telling of all, no matter how carefully he observes her, she's watching him just as closely. Her wide, gray eyes follow him everywhere, gentle, loving, hopeful. A little mischievous, too. Innocent though she appears, he could swear he saw a smile quirking her lips when he snuck back from a solo session of jacking off by the banks of the merrily rushing stream near their camp-leading him to suspect that it hadn't been rushing quite merrily enough to hide the way he howled her name as he came. Twice. This morning.

 

Because it was getting worse. He'd wanted her from the first moment he saw her, running towards him with her breasts heaving and that little green skirt flipped up halfway over her hips, with Mistress Centipede and half the village of Edo in hot pursuit. Of course, he'd thought she was Kikyo, and he'd hated her with a burning passion, but that didn't mean he wouldn't have screwed her until her eyes changed color if he could have gotten loose from that tree.

 

When he stopped to think about it, which was increasingly often, he could catalog other Great Moments of Kagome Lust: the first time he saw her bathing, nipples jutting like dusky mountain peaks in the freezing river, with old Kaede keeping guard; lying with his head in her lap after the monk-turned-spider filled him with venom, the scent of her arousal so strong that he could smell it with his human nose; finding her marinating, stark naked, in a bath of sake in the lair of the Peach Man. More recently, he'd come upon her (okay, followed her) to a pool with a small waterfall at its far end, and enjoyed the riveting sight of her pleasuring herself under the fall. She sprawled on a flat rock, naked and with her legs spread open to catch the stream of water as it fell, and he had never been so close to losing control as when she writhed suddenly, arching her back as she moaned “Please, now, now-” raw and needy, with her voice rising to a scream on that last, drawn-out “now.”

 

That time, at least, he'd been certain she hadn't heard him gasp, “Ah…'gome!” as he pounded his straining cock in the bushes fifty feet away. She was damn near passed out on that boulder, and Naraku himself probably couldn't have gotten her attention as she slowly, slowly brought her legs together with a deep, shuddering sigh. Tears trickled down her cheeks, whether of relief or despair he had no idea, and he would have traded the jewel itself for the opportunity - or, let's face it, the balls - to kiss them away.

 

…continued…