InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Brief Moments ❯ Mindreading ( Chapter 8 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

I do not own InuYasha or any of the characters created by Rumiko Takahashi

Mindreading


InuYasha, dressed only in his kosode, slid the door to the sleep room closed, then silently walked across the room to where Kagome sat next to the fire pit,  examining a small pair of hakama, wondering how she was going to fix the latest rip in the fabric that her son had managed to make.

“Well that’s done,” he said.

She looked up at him, her blue-gray eyes touched with highlights from the fire that was the only light in the room as he knelt down next to her. “They’re asleep?” she asked.

“Yeah. Atae always knocks out fast after one of Sesshoumaru’s training sessions.  Boy’s gonna know how to use his sword better than me at this rate.” He smiled wryly. “Maybe I should be glad my brother wasn’t my swordmaster when I was growing up. He works the little guy hard. He fell asleep before I even told Yukika her story.”

He took the fabric out of Kagome’s hand. “We might as well enjoy tonight; tomorrow’s Yukika’s human night.  You know how much she cries still.”

Kagome surrendered the cloth and watched as her husband draped it over her sewing basket and pushed both of them out of the way.  “She’s no worse than Atae was at that age.”

“Keh,” he said.  “Doesn’t change anything though.”  He stretched out on the floor and played with the tie to her wrap skirt.

She looked at him as he looked up at her.  His eyes, honey warm in the firelight, caught hers once again with that intensity that had captured her the first time she saw them, but were playful now, and inviting.

“So,” she said, laying down next to him. “You have something in mind to enjoy tonight?”  She ran a finger along the cream white of his kosode neckline.

“Maybe,” he said, cupping the side of her face, his white claws and fingertips gently disappearing into the black length of her hair.

“Wonder if it’s the same thing I’m thinking of,” she replied, pulling gently at his silver forelocks to bring his face closer.

Suddenly his free hand released the tie of her wrap skirt, and his hand pushed the fabric away.  “Could be.”

She kissed him lightly. “Mindreader,” she said, and kissed him again.