InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Enemy of My Enemy ❯ The Bait ( Chapter 2 )

Enemy of My Enemy:

The Bait

It didn't take Sesshoumaru long to find the boundary of Naraku's staked territory. The wind-witch Kagura had made sure to leave him a ready trail of her peculiarly mixed scent. Of course, the inuyoukai was fully aware of the trap they had set for him. He just didn't care. Naraku was a hanyou after all, and of no danger to the full-blooded demon.

Standing before the invisible barrier, Sesshoumaru let his mind wander to the stupid girl again, his one hand still at his side though he had a sudden desire to slip it inside his kimono. As if fingering that small bit of cloth would remind him why he was there. It would not. It would only serve to arouse more of his anger.

It ends here, he thought with the same finality that he often spoke. Though for a moment he was unsure if he were referring to that meddling hanyou, or the weak human girl that had brought him to such a disgraceful place in his own mind.

Sesshoumaru stepped forward, and the barrier before him shimmered, pushing at him as if it could keep him out. With the same haughty expression that the lines of his face always fell into, he pushed back, felt the magic's weak resistance fall away. Only to close behind him.

A new world began to form for his senses, one of darkness and thick, putrid air. The castle before him was silent, little more than a kingdom to house the dead. He could already smell the decay of bodies left for too long in the open, the flat, faintly metallic taste of old blood, and long-perished terror.

The girl's own unique scent was nearly buried in these things, but it wafted out, a tickle of something cleaner, fresher. It carried a faint trace of his brother. A contact-scent, his mind reasoned, trying to calm the inherent anger that always came with the thought of Inuyasha. Now was not the time.

Sesshoumaru walked slowly through the castle-graveyard, his irritation swinging once again between Naraku and his brother's bitch, but mostly Naraku. For somehow becoming aware of the dreams and primitive desires that had been plaguing him recently. For baiting his trap with the promise of vengeance and sex. And for *thinking* that he could trap him, the great youkai lord Sesshoumaru, with such things.

This insult would not go unpunished.

The bitch would pay, too. For whatever spell she had cast on him. For disrupting his thoughts and stirring up conflict in his own mind. There were nights he slept and dreamed of nothing but her touch, her rising above him or falling beneath him---pleasure that had nothing to do with his brother's pain...

Naraku. He could smell the girl's scent, getting stronger, but the hanyou's was fading. Not wondering why this was, mainly because he didn't care, Sesshoumaru followed the trail of the miko's scent through the deserted castle. Logic told him to deal with her first, but he did not fully trust his logic where she was concerned. Too often his own mind ceased to be his sanctuary.

It was another reason to find her, to lay her hold on him to rest.

The nearer he got to her, the thinner the poison in the air. It was as if merely her presence was enough to purify the putrid smell that infected the gloomy castle. He understood that she was a miko, that purification was the gift she carried, but other than the odd arrow fired, he had never witnessed her powers at work. Was she even conscious of the effect she was having on her surroundings?

The screen was closed before him, but there was a silhouette cast on it like a distorted shadow. His gold eyes narrowed, there always being instant annoyance within him when something, even inanimate, stood in his way. The screen instantly slid open, accompanied by a hiss of air and a nearly inaudible, feminine gasp.

The girl hung from the ceiling by her bound wrists. Tiny rivulets of blood ran from a ring of wounds undoubtedly caused by her pulling at the cords. The blood was dark in the twighlight of the room, but its smell sparked images in his mind of deep, rich red. Her feet were bare, brushing the floor from time to time as she swayed slightly in her bindings. Her head was down, chin-to-chest, and her ebony hair obscured most of her pale face. But he could see some strip of cloth cut across her eyes to be knotted in the back.

She lifted her head as he moved deeper into the room, and her face turned full on him, though she couldn't possibly see him.

"Who's there?" she called, and he paused at how calm she sounded, how composed her voice was when it should have been hoarse from the screaming her kind seemed to enjoy so much in these situations.

"Who is there," she demanded when the room remained silent before her. She kicked one leg out, away from the wall, though the gesture was weak and showed the fatigue that had been eating away at her muscles. "If that's you, Naraku, why don't you come a little closer---SO I CAN KICK YOU IN THE..."

Sesshoumaru watched her pause, her head tilting to the side as if she were conversing with realms that he could not, himself, hear. Her head swung in his direction again, but the grudging determination was replaced with something very akin to relief.

"Inuyasha? Is that you?" came her voice, smaller and more girlish than before. She stretched against the binds, pulling at them and causing the wounds on her wrists to pull open again. She didn't seem to feel the pain.

The youkai lord wanted to be enraged by her obvious mistake, but couldn't. Something about the relief on her face had made him stop, made him think. Only to make him realize he hadn't been thinking since he entered the room. He had just being steadily moving towards her, drinking in her scent, and the stronger aroma of her blood.

The same conflict rose in him---the desire, and the disgust that came with it. But he wasn't one to nurture inner-turmoil, and he wasn't one to deny himself what he wanted. He wanted her, it was irrational at best, but he did. Being the powerful lord that he was, he had every right to take what he wanted. So she was human, that just meant she couldn't deny him.

"Inuyasha?"

He took a step forward, and another, his body suddenly thrumming with the tension of anticipation. The girl, being a true miko, caught the change in the air, the subtle scent of a demon on the prowl. Her head swung up, her breath quickening to tiny, sharp pants, though she did not have the training to tell her why. The perfume of alarm suddenly rode the air around her, but it only succeeded in making her more appealing to the beast inside him.

By the time he reached her she had worked herself into a panic, the cord around her wrists sliding in blood and her abrupt movements bringing more to trickle down her arms. The sleeves of her strange kimono were becoming soaked with it.

He paused a foot before her, and he knew she felt him because her struggles ceased, though anxiety made her already fatigued limbs tremble. The dark, empty room was filled with her labored breathing. It was the only sound.

He took in deep, filling breaths, sucking the mixed scent of her blood and fear deep into his body, then holding it there. His nose fell to her heaving breast, and he sniffed along her body, falling lower and lower until his chin brushed against pleated cloth. He pressed his face into her skirt, rubbing it back and forth against the coarse material as she yelped in surprise, her struggles returning though there was nowhere for her to go.

Sesshoumaru went to his knees with the strength of his arousal, feeling the more primitive side of his nature trying to take control. He let its growl spill out from his lips, a sort of statement of his intentions. This was why he had chosen to abstain from mating all-together, even with his own kind. Because there always came a point when the beast took over.

He pressed his face deeper into her and snarled, his fangs tearing at the annoying obstruction. He dug his claws into the skirt, shredding it into fine ribbons. His fingers fisted impatiently into the scraps and jerked, ripping it from her so harshly that her whole body jolted forward then fell back against the wall.

She was whimpering then, her fear pouring off her in waves, though threading through it was small stabs of arousal. His hand slipped roughly around her left knee, lifting it up to hook over his shoulder. Her heel dug into his back, but the position opened her legs to him and forced her to lean against the wall. He buried his mouth in the junction between her thighs, licking and nipping at the tender flesh. His tongue ran roughly across her moist skin, then found her opening. She cried as his tongue thrust into her, curling up against her inner walls and scraping across the ridged tissue there.

It was at that point that her arousal began to over-ride her fear. She started to rotate her hips against his face as his tongue licked in and out of her, her cries slowly melting into moans and whimpers and sounds less sophisticated.

Her back began to bow outward from the wall, her neck curving back. Her leg tightened around him, grounding the heel in harder as the movement of her hips grew more frantic. Sensing her impending climax, Sesshoumaru slowed his pace to draw it out for her, gentling the strokes of his tongue.

The miko huffed in annoyance as he calmed, her break-neck hurtle toward some crashing end slowing to a sensual crawl. With her hips alone she tried to force him back into his previous rhythm, but the dog-demon resisted, flattening his tongue against her and dragging it up, slow, until it reached that hardened bundle of nerves. Her body jerked with the new touch, her over-sensitive muscles twitching enough to make her voice shake when it spilled from her startled lips.

His hand slid between her legs, where the skin was wettest. He carefully pushed one knuckle inside her, curling his fingers up so his claws would not break skin. Spacing the thrusts of his knuckle to match the attentions of his tongue, Sesshoumaru felt his body pulsing in tune to hers, every wrench of her stomach seeming to draw a similar reaction from him, until he was panting with the force of her pleasure alone.

The breath screamed out of her body, her hands gripping and clawing at her bonds, but not in an effort to get free. She writhed against the wall and him, her pelvis arching forward to meet him more and more until it jerked to a tense line. Her small frame went relatively still with the orgasm, only her inner-walls clenching tightly around his finger and spilling sticky wetness to run down the inside of his wrist.

He slid up the front of her body, bringing his hand up to stroke along her face, leaving trails of moisture that glistened in the semi-dark. He pushed a claw between her parted lips, and she whimpered low in her throat, sucking and licking at the finger sensually, tasting her own arousal on him.

Leaning forward, he drew his finger from her mouth and let it fall in a wet line down her throat. His lips found hers, light touches that pressed harder and harder against her willing mouth. His tongue, still tasting of her juices, licked at hers. He explored the warm recesses of her mouth, taking in her quickening breath and giving back his own.

With her attention fully focused on the searing bite of his kiss, his free hand moved intently, setting about the tricky, but practice-simple task of removing his own clothes.

TBC...

OOC? Oh yeah. Lotsa fun writing? *nodnod* ^_^

Anybody wanna read more?