InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Citrus Rain ❯ Til The End of Time ( Chapter 8 )

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

Warning: Oral

Lyrics are from George Michael's Father Figure.

 

=#= Till The End of Time =#=

 

That's all I wanted, something special,
Something sacred in your eyes,
For just one moment, to be bold and naked
At your side

From the very beginning, she does not heed the silent, subtle threat he exudes with every graceful, precise motion of his body. Any creature gifted with an instinct of survival would know not to touch, yet she seems to lack even a basic understanding of her place in the world as a weak, fragile thing.

 

He writes her ignorance off as being a fault of her humanity, of her youth and naiveté. He does not hold her accountable for the actions that would earn any other being a swift and sudden death. And so, in his own way, he forgives her for not knowing what her touch does to him. Whether through indulgence or passive apathy, he allows her familiarity with his person to continue unhindered until he has subconsciously granted her his trust.

 

Sometimes I think that you'll never understand me
Maybe this time is forever, say it can't be

 

From the moment she sees him in the forest, he fascinates her. With a childlike belief in her own invincibility, she approaches him unafraid. Her offerings of food are met with rejection, yet since he does not enlighten her as to what food he does eat, she is left only with the option of presenting him with everything edible she can get her hands on. No matter what, she does not give up because she understands that she must earn the favor of this dangerous, glorious being.

She is too young to recognize within herself the passionate, obsessive fervor of a lifelong love in the form of her feelings for him. She can only respond to the driving need deep within her to make him see her as more than just another human.

That's all you wanted, something special,
Someone sacred in your life
Just for one moment, to be warm and naked
At my side

Nightmares drive her closer and closer to the safety he represents; she migrates in her sleep towards him until she is practically in his lap. For days afterwards his fur carries the scent of her body, her tears. At first he religiously grooms away the offending smells, a momentary irritation that motivates him to protest for a time. Complacency eventually wears away his fussiness, and the day passes unnoticed when he does not take offense at her scent being present on his body.

Time slides by and there is a moment, when he has been away from her too long, that he notices the way her scent has faded from his clothes. A whimsical notion almost like homesickness overcomes him at the absence of her familiar smell.

Sometimes I think that you'll never understand me
But something tells me together, we'd be happy

She cares not for the seasons, for the press of summer heat on her skin or the biting cold of winter frost. She pays no attention to the rain that falls in grey monotony or the bright sunshine that bakes the ground dry. Only when he away from her does she feel the desperation of famine, and only when he is beside her does she feel the contentment of plenty.

Her body is a vessel for the burning flame of her adoration for him, the light touch of her fingertips on him a prayer of exaltation. Sweet and heady is her joy when he accepts the press of her small hands against his body, the stroke of them in his fur, the brush of them through his long mane.

I will be your father figure (Oh baby)
Put your tiny hand in mine (I'd love to)
I will be your preacher teacher (Be your daddy)
Anything you have in mind (It would make me)
I will be your father figure (Very happy)
I have had enough of crime (Please let me)
I will be the one who loves you
till the end of time

Her dark gaze always follows him, observing and memorizing his minutest of expressions, the way he holds his body, the light and shadows in his amber eyes. When he slips off to bathe, she follows. It is strangely intimate, to be unbothered by baring his body to the living world around him and yet feel reluctant to disrobe because he knows she is watching. Almost, almost he calls out her name with the intent of ordering her to leave.

But he doesn't.

When she steps up with fingers outstretched to help him with an awkward piece of armor he is silently struggling with, he accedes to her offer with a single, sharp nod. Even in the slight time he has known her she has grown so much, and when her shoulder high head of glossy dark hair is beneath his nose, he inclines his head to inhale deeply of her sweet scent. Mingled with the sensitive awareness of her fingers on his virgin skin, he finds himself curious to find out what it might be like to touch her in return.

That's all I wanted
But sometimes love can be mistaken for a crime
That's all I wanted just to see my baby's blue eyes shine
This time I think that my lover understands me
If we have faith in each other
Then we can be strong

She understands that she has been honored, not degraded, when he allows her to serve him. To be this close to him when he is devoid of his armor, to be able to reach out and stroke the fine silk of his undershirts while it is still warm from his flesh, this is an intimacy she knows he has granted to very few. For him to be without one arm is the singular imperfection that makes him attainable to her, and so although she can sympathize with his feelings of frustration and anger, she cannot regret his loss which is her gain.

With his arm, he would never come to be hers. She knows that the addition of her two able hands at the price of his one is a trade he wouldn't even consider, and she is secretly glad he cannot read her thoughts as she assists him in undressing. She can only savor the moment, caressing her fingers gently over his exposed skin as she makes the pretense of removing the next layer of his clothing.

I will be your father figure
Put your tiny hand in mine
I will be your preacher teacher
Anything you have in mind
I will be your father figure
I have had enough of crime
I will be the one who loves you
till the end of time

The idea of touching her tantalizes him, bringing forth a warm melting low in his middle that eases the edge of his self consciousness. Whether he has the right to touch her never occurs to him, with a selfish assurance that the world revolves around him, he naturally assumes she is his for the taking. Already immersed in the heady oblivion of her scent, he reaches out to explore her with another sense. The first tentative flick of his claws through her hair entangles his fingers in the silky strands, holding him captive as she stares up at him with wide eyed wonder.

Her eyes are at their softest, her smile at its gentlest, and still he is made to feel an awkward fool. Hot anger yawns ravenous and furious deep in his heart, but before he can express it, she places her two small hands over his one and cups his large palm against the velvety, petal soft skin of her cheek. He is not impervious to her sense of awe, allowing himself to marvel at the texture of her face until his temper cools, forgotten in his preoccupation.

If you are the desert, I'll be the sea
If you ever hunger - hunger for me
Whatever you ask for, that's what I'll be

His surprise is a mirror of hers as the fall of his pants reveals the rigid, erect state of his sex. His slow blink of confusion is at odds with the hot blush of recognition that darkens her face. He does not know to feel mortification or shame as the first gentle stroke of her fingertips over the flushed hardness elicits bright starbursts of pleasurable elation throughout his body. The husky, eager growl that trickles from his throat is a sound he has never heard himself make before and he is forgivably distracted as she kneels to place a chaste kiss against his flesh, the moist silkiness of her lips replaced by the wet velvet of her tongue. Shivers of electric excitement wrack his body, and it is all he can do to hold still with mute compliance as she grows ever more daring, ever more confident, ever more devastating with her caresses.

So when you remember the ones who have lied
Who said that they cared
But then laughed as you cried
Beautiful darling, don't think of me

She is the only one acutely aware of the shift between them, of the bliss and heady, humbling power that comes from being the one in control. For him to be willing to blindly follow where she leads is like nothing she has ever felt before, a truer expression of love and trust from him than she believed him capable of making. In this moment she recognizes that he is the fragile one, reliant on her for guidance. The awesome sense of responsibility that settles on her shoulders is a precise balance to the impulse to do wicked things to him that curls in deep in her belly.

Hot and bitter, silky and vibrant, the taste of him is a dark counterpoint to the soft feel of him. Giddy, restless urgency opens its petals within her, fluttering against her insides until she is hypersensitive. She is aware of the way each minute shift of her weight whispers the silk of her kimono over her nipples, her skin and throbbing sex.

When he cries out and his body arches as if in pain, when his hand descends to her head and his claws prick in her scalp, when his hot white seed spurts unexpectedly onto her face, she knows she has found what she has been seeking at last. From the first time she set eyes on him and yearned to be something of worth to him, she understands what it was she longed for—this intimate equality that melts away every last barrier between them.

Because all I ever wanted
It's in your eyes baby, baby

The carnal knowledge he sees in her dark eyes, in the edging around her affectionate, triumphant grin is a deeper, sharper sense of vulnerability than he is comfortable with. Yet, the hazy veil of her fanatical devotion is strangely gone, as if she sees him clearly for the first time. Part of him mourns the loss of perfection in her eyes, even as another guarded part of his self restraint relaxes under the freeing absolution of no longer being measured against her illogical faith.

His hand lifts from her head in hesitant surprise, his memory of having placed it there faulty. She chuckles, low and husky and choked, at the look of shock that crosses his usually stoic face and another slow curl of desire roils sluggishly in his gut. Any other creature he would instantly kill for that assumption of mirth at his expense, yet he finds he has no interest in striking her down. Foremost in his mind is the insistent, acute, intention to explore and master her body as completely as she has his.

And love can't lie, no...
(Greet me with the eyes of a child)
My love is always telling me so
(Heaven is a kiss and a smile)
Just hold on, hold on
I won't let you go, my baby

He follows her down, kneeling until he is eye level with her, his eyes roaming over the cum spattering her face. One callused thumb whisks away a dollop from the corner of her mouth as he tips her chin and kisses her with inexperienced demand. His fingers cup the nape of her neck then glide down to push the side of her kimono impatiently off her shoulder.

“You are over dressed,” he tells her, his husky voice not quite softening the undeniable command. “You will assist me in bathing.”

“Yes,” she replies; her throat tight and body burning with the heat of intent she sees in his eyes, “As you wish.”

She shivers as the silk falls away from her body, baring her to his gaze. Fangs glint and claws gleam as he delicately strokes the gentle slope of one shoulder. The sharp tips are nothing more than a light brush that prickles her skin with goose bumps. Urgently aroused and aching with the need to be touched, she cannot suppress the frustrated moan that vibrates in her throat. Something alien flashes in his eyes, and a thrill of fear shoots down her spine, spiking her desire for him when she realizes that there is nothing tame about him.

I will be your father figure
Put your tiny hand in mine
I will be your preacher teacher
Anything you have in mind

He exploits every sense as he studies her, the minutest gasp, twitch, or curl of her toes does not escape his notice as he touches and tastes. He defines the difference between tickle and tease, torturing her with his inquisitive exploration until she cries out blindly for relief. He allows her to cling to him, knowing that she will do nothing to hinder him from taking advantage of her any way he pleases.

 

Her skin is flavored with salt and satin, warmth and vitality, and it is all he can do to capture it between his fangs without breaking through. Carefully he rakes her with his claws, leaving shallow impressions that fade quickly and drive her wild. A hesitant nudge is all the encouragement she needs to open her legs for him, lifting her hips in wordless supplication. Tears trickle from her clenched eyes, her fingers grasp his shoulders, yet even in the grip of her passion she does not demand. Instead she whimpers and begs, beseeches and pleads until he bows his head and touches tongue to the wetness of her sex.

I will be your father figure
I have had enough of crime
So I am gonna love you
till the end of time

 

The muskiness of her arousal is at once sultry and sweetly clean, like an exotic spice dried in the sunshine. Her taste is that of nectar, unrefined and slightly tart, slick and flavorful like spring rain. Moisture coats his lips and tongue like honey, glistening on his fingers as he probes deeply into her virgin opening. Mindlessly she squirms and pleads in surrender, her fingers tangled in the silkiness of his pale hair. Touch to one small, swollen nub of flesh makes her whimper as if in pain, yet as soon as he ceases she is begging for more.

 

Softly and delicately he explores, afraid to damage her in the most intimate of places. Gradually her words degrade to incoherent mutters, tormented moans that increase in volume the moment he pauses. Not until he has two fingers buried to his knuckles within her and he suckles her flesh with long pulls from his mouth does he understand that the erratic jerks of her hips are a cry for harder. Her breathing catches in a sob as he drags the smooth edge of his teeth over the nub, her body seizing in one tense spasm as every muscle strains towards something intangible just out of reach. He lifts his head, intent on asking her a question, and as his exhale ghosts a phantom hand over the wet folds of her sex she goes limp with a harsh cry of relief.

 

I will be your father
I will be your preacher
I'll be your daddy…

 

Her world fractures and breaks and blindly she trusts him to be there to catch her. For a heartbeat, his scent is all she is aware of within the cradle of his warm embrace. Skin slides against skin as she twists to look up into his eyes, afraid that he will hate himself because of her bold seduction. Instead all she sees is a lazy sort of sated complacency that does not quite hide the ambitious, inquisitive, devious gleam of curiosity that promises further explorations into this new realm of pleasure. The smell of water and the forgotten soap encircle them like an errant reminder of their original task. He follows her gaze with his eyes, tightening his arm around her waist when it becomes apparent she might entertain some rebellious thought of moving. He puts his lips to her ear, smiling with wicked intent as she shivers at the light brush.

 

“Rest,” he bids her with mild authority. “I will put you to work indulging me again soon enough.”

 

This time she shivers at the unmistakable, carnal threat his words imply. Her fingers trace idle patterns on his chest as her thoughts fill the quiet, impossible trains of supposition that all end with one question.

 

“Sesshoumaru-sama, do you love me?” she asks, risking it all as he goes very still beneath her.

 

“I do not know,” he replies at last, after a long, tense silence. “I have never had any use for such sentiments as a taiyoukai. But I will give you as much of myself as I am able if you will love me in return.”

She digests his statement for a moment, before breaking into a brilliant smile. Her answer comes easily, as gently as dawn on a warm summer day.

 

“Yes, Sesshoumaru-sama.”

 

…I will be the one who loves you
till the end of time

 

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