InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Once Upon an Inuyoukai ❯ Firelight ( Chapter 24 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

A/N: Oh, oh, oh! Guess what this chapter is! :smirk:

My lovely beta ALF had a fun time with this one. I hope you enjoy it too.



"Close your eyes."

Naruka and Izayoi sat facing each other on a cave lip high up the side of the lush valley. Below them, the army's men were industriously building barracks and the women were carrying out the various odd jobs that needed to be done, such a cooking for the men and mapping the extensive cave system. There was nobody who was not doing work of some sort. It was like a giant anthill.

Izayoi obediently shut her eyes.

"Do you remember how it felt when you lent me your power for freeing Sakenmaru-sama?"

The seer nodded slowly. Her power leapt within her breast, beating eagerly at her ribcage. It wanted to be used. It had been building up over the last long while, and was frustrated at the lack of use she'd put it to. There was now almost too much to contain, since she'd continued to generate it even though she wasn't using it. She now had power to spare. Hopefully, enough to pull of Naruka's risky new spell.

She felt the priestess' cool hands slip into hers, joining the circle. "You don't have to really do anything. Just leave it to me and keep feeding me power. Don't overdo it, though. We'll still need you afterwards, so don't burn yourself out."

"I understand. Go ahead."

Flames of pale lilac and celadon green flared to life around them, twining like ethereal serpents about each other. The magic was engaged. Now, to shape it.

Naruka began to chant slowly in a half-singsong. Her voice wavered for a moment, then dropped a half-tone, and suddenly the land began to resonate with her, multiplying the sound a thousandfold. The trees shivered in time, the cliff walls buzzed deeply and the air around them tremored excitedly.

Izayoi's very bones began to vibrate in synchronicity with the strange, deep sound. It's working!

The words Naruka slowly repeated made little sense when consciously thought about, but when Izayoi simply let the sound flow through her ears, they put her in mind of images and concepts. She wrinkled her brow in confusion. The images seemed to have nothing to do with shield-building at all. Why were these images important? What did they mean? They flashed through her mind almost too quickly to be caught and examined.

Eagle's wings.

Red shores.

Cold wind.

Trees breathing.

Dead things beneath the earth.

Clouds and rain.

Thunder and splitting rock.

A sword's edge.

Candle flame.

Strains of shamisen music.

The smell of old scrolls.

Warm, flowing water.

Izayoi became lost in the images and feelings the priestess was summoning. Why? she thought muzzily, but she lost the ability to think in coherent words the next moment.

Now! Naruka cried silently. Lend me your strength, aneue!

Incapable of speech, Izayoi obeyed wordlessly, releasing the strained barrier on her power. It burst out of her and into the vaguely shining form of her sister sitting opposite her.

Naruka gasped and inhaled it, weaving it around her own power and manipulating it into a complex, lace-like framework. The slowly forming structure began to look like a bowl, then eventually, a gleaming sphere. It was only about the size of Naruka's lap.

The resonance deepened another two and half tones until the very world seemed to quiver and thrum. Almost. The structure is complete. Now to...

Brace me, aneue!

Izayoi clenched her teeth and summoned all her power, then poured it ferociously into the priestess.

The shining net of power suddenly expanded at a ridiculous speed, shrieking through the air until it encompassed the entire valley in a glowing network of structured mana. Stabilize it... Izayoi wasn't sure what Naruka was doing, but she was fast running out of strength to lend. Sweat beaded her face and chest, and she could feel herself shaking with the onset of exhaustion. Hurry, aneue.

The enormous sphere of light trembled, and wavered dangerously. Panic flooded through the link between the two sisters. No! We cannot let go of it now!

Aneue!

Izayoi had little left to give, but she gave it anyways. Naruka drank of the small offering greedily, drawing deeply on the very last reservoirs of strength either of them had. The resonance dropped one more half tone.

Please!

Despair set in as they realized it was not enough, could never be enough. Powerful though they might be, they were only mortal girls. This was too much. It was going to fail, and in failing it would kill them both, and anyone standing near them.

Aneue...

Aneue...

See you on the other side.

I'm still afraid.

They prepared to give in, at the very end of their splintering strength. They had nothing left to give.

It was a good try. They'll have to find some other way. Naruka.

There is none. They will all die. Izayoi.

Come now, why the pessimism?

The third voice was new and shocking. They nearly dropped the link in sheer surprise.

Who...?

Then, seemingly from out of nowhere, a flood of golden energy swamped their faltering threads of violet and green. Use this.

Izayoi was the first to recognize the unexpected saviour. Sakenmaru-sama?

No need for formalities, my dear. I saw that you were having troubles and decided to do what I could. I don't know if I'm helping any, but...

Yes! both women cried emphatically.

Not wasting any time, Naruka grasped greedily at the bountiful new energy source, and with little difficulty finally stabilized the wildly careening shield net. It solidified into a glowing, delicate lacework of threads that formed strange kanji-like figures. The shield was complete. They'd done it.

Thank you, Sakenmaru-sama! Naruka cried gratefully.

My pleasure, ladies. Glad to be of service. Now go to sleep before you burn yourselves out, you little idiots.

They were only too glad to comply. The valley was safe now from outside detection. It was all right to rest for a little while. No one would need them for a few days at least-- there were plenty of willing hands below to get the work done. They relaxed in the knowledge that they were permitted to rest for as long as they needed.

VvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvV

"Wake up, you lazy dog." Totosai kicked Inutaisho none-too-gently in the side. "The sword is finished."

"Mmmrrpphh." Yawning mightily, the lord of the west sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

The old swordsmith stood before him, proudly holding what looked like nothing so much as a relic from the depths of an abandoned castle's armoury which had not been cleaned before its long rest. It was thin, puny in fact, rusty, and nicked and dented in more places than Inutaisho could count. The hilt-wrap appeared to be composed of catgut and filthy bits of rag.

It was, all in all, quite hideous.

"Totosai, please tell me that is not the sword you spent the last two weeks working on."

The swordsmith looked mightily miffed, and cracked Inutaisho smartly upside the head with the blunt edge of the blade. "Of course it is! Can't you see how lovely this is? Ungrateful mutt!"

Eyes watering from the unexpected pain, Inutaisho peered closely at the sword. Its appearance did not change. It was still a half-corroded chunk of scrap iron that would have difficulty slicing weeds, let alone bones and flesh. "I do not understand."

Totosai threw his hands in the air in mute frustration, unintentionally nicking Inutaisho's chin with the sword's sudden upward movement. "Idiot! Brainless son of a maggot! Stand up!"

Inutaisho was very, very confused and in quite a lot of pain.

"Here! Hold this!" Totosai thrust the sword into Inutaisho's hands.

Nothing.

"Totosai, I still do not understand. This is the Sword of Earth, meant to slay a hundred enemies in a single stroke, correct?"

"Yes, of course it is. Can't you feel its power?"

There was something... an undercurrent of power, almost beyond sensing. "Well, I feel something..."

Totosai suddenly smacked himself on the forehead. "Ach, I'm just as much a fool as you! Of course it won't work, not until you unlock it."

"How do I do that?" Inutaisho's patience was wearing thin. His head hurt.

"It's simple. Just think of that woman you told me about, the one the sword is for."

Think about Izayoi? Unbidden, her face leapt to the forefront of his mind, smiling and inviting. He smiled in response, unconscious of it.

"Good. Now think of someone trying to hurt her."

He automatically scowled and tightened his grip on the hilt of the sword, which suddenly pulsed.

Ba-bump.

"What?" Inutaisho exclaimed, taken aback. "What's happening?"

"Idiot! The sword is waking up! Keep picturing the woman in danger!"

Inutaisho obeyed. He remembered the third time he'd seen her, when she'd come to his castle to warn him of imminent danger and the guards had taken matters into their own hands. He remembered their furious faces as they raced toward her, swords raised, and his terror that he would not make it in time...

Ba-bump.

He imagined her on the battlefield, alone in a sea of faceless, bloodthirsty enemies. Helpless.

Ba-bump!

The sword flared to life in his hands and exploded outwards in a blaze of light. The shocked demon lord could only hang on as it reshaped itself into something sleek and massive, and infinitely dangerous-looking. When the light faded, there was a fang in his hand, with flowing fur for a handguard. It glowed luminescent white in the sunlight. Depending on how the light hit it, it looked to be made first of steel, then of jagged bone.

"There," Totosai murmured in satisfaction. "It worked perfectly."

This sword's purpose is to protect Izayoi. And its name...

"Tetsusaiga," Inutaisho breathed, stroking a hand over the broad expanse of the surprisingly light blade.

"You're going to call it that? What kind of pathetic name for a sword is 'Tetsusaiga?'" Totosai sneered. "That's far too pretentious. What about..."

"Totosai."

The smith's mouth snapped shut audibly at the tone of Inutaisho's voice. "Er, I mean... well, damn it. If that's what you want to call it, go ahead. But I still think it's a terrible name."

Inutaisho turned to the elderly smith and smiled deeply, giving no evidence of having heard any ot the smith's last words. "Thank you, Totosai. This will serve me well. Will you please teach me how to use it?"

"Are you listening to me, pup? Eh? ...Hey, wait a minute. What're you doing? Inutaisho? Oof! All right! All right, I'm coming! Put me down! Hey!"

VvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvV
Izayoi sat high on the valley walls, watching the work below her. This army, this beautiful shining army, would win the war and Ryuunomei would die. She was free to choose her course, now. Inutaisho's rescue had shown her that.

The fluttering leaves of the trees drew her eyes, and almost like a vision-trance, she saw with unfocused sight the possible paths the future could take for her.

One: they would win the war and go their separate ways.

This one she discounted immediately. They were bound to each other now, for better or for worse. There would be no simple parting when all was done.

Two: they would lose the war, Inutaisho would die, and she would return to a life of slavery.

That she refused to contemplate. Losing was not an option. Neither was Inutaisho dying. He would live because he had to, and she would never go back to a life of slavery because she could never live with herself if she did. She would die first.

Three: they would win the war but she would die.

There was no point in thinking about that, because if she died, then that was simply it. There would be no thorny relationship to work out if there was only one person left alive. 'Relationship' required two people.

Four: they would win the war and stay together, but only as companions.

This was plausible, but everything in her rebelled against it. She remembered the return flight, his hands around her thighs and their hair tangled together. Mere companionship would starve her soul. She needed more, much more, which led her to the last option.

Five: they would win the war and give in to the force that pulled them inexorably together, surrendering to a life together come storm or shine.

Now that it was laid out like that for her, she clearly saw that it was the only path she even wanted to look at, let alone follow.

I love him. I want him. Gods, I want him so much! If he turns away from me when he returns, my heart will break beyond all healing. Please, beloved goddess, don't let him refuse me!

She closed her eyes. The decision was made. She was committed to her course. She would either be with him, or suffer soul-death and live only as a shattered shell of her former self until her mortality caught up with her. Those were the only two paths she would allow.

She suddenly smiled and leaned back. It felt so wonderful to have finally decided one way or another. It felt so good to know how she really felt, beyond any shadow of a doubt. It felt good to be certain.

VvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvV

A week later, he returned to the valley with an immensely powerful new weapon and a clear, decided mind. He had never felt so strong. The trees cowered beneath his feet and the sun seemed to bow in respect. He had left weak and indecisive, torn by his inner conflict over Izayoi.

He returned whole and happy, right with the world. The way he should have been all along.

Looking back, the entire thing seemed inexpressibly silly. He loved the woman. He wanted the woman. The woman loved and wanted him. Where was the conflict in that? Many days in the future, she would die and he would suffer. That was in the future. He had been allowing his fear of that distant day to rule his enjoyment of the present one. He felt ashamed of himself as a youkai and as a man.

No more. Regardless of her answer upon his return, he felt confident in his own decision.

At the foot of the mountains Sesshoumaru came to meet him and wordlessly showed him the way to the new encampment. The valley came into their sight a short time after nightfall, and Sesshoumaru disappeared silently into the shadoows. Inutaisho wondered why his son was so quiet tonight, but resolved to look into it on the morrow. He had business elsewhere tonight.

He landed on the hillside near the brand new barracks, and followed his nose to the one she was in. He hoped she wasn't sleeping.

She wasn't.

She was waiting for him.

Inutaisho stepped into the rough-hewn room. It was lit by a couple of thick tallow candles, and the reflected glow off her skin.

He died a little all over again, and became just a little bit more alive than before at the sight of her. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, including every taiyoukai woman he'd ever met, including even Mai. She was bewitching. Intoxicating.

The pale nightgown she wore had nothing on her luminescent skin. It clung to her enticingly, concealing most of her but suggesting everything. Her hair was unbound and cascaded resplendently over her back, all the way down to her knees. The candlelight danced with her eyes as she looked up at him from where she stood in the center of the room.

"Izayoi," he said. 'The world' for him suddenly constricted to a tiny wooden shack, three candles and woman.

"So you left for a sword," she said quietly.

"Its name is Tetsusaiga," he explained. "It exists to protect you."

"Oh."

In another time, another place, he may have been irked by her monosyllabic dismissal of his gift, of three weeks of his friend's intense labour and his own sweat and blood spent in trying to master it.

Not tonight. Tonight, she could have called it a useless chunk of scrap metal and he wouldn't have cared a bit.

He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

And simple as that, the universe twisted around them and things that had once been ordinary and mere parts of life became mystical and timeless. The realm of the gods descended to the earth, squeezing into the tiny space of the room.

Silence swayed out of the shadows to dance with the candlelight. He felt himself condensing, distilling down to the essence of himself. All the superfluous thoughts and feelings were stripped away. He was the edge of a sword, the bright gleam of death, the border to nowhere. He was a stone, still and ageless.

And around him flowed Izayoi, the light of the universe. She was the beginning and middle of everything he ended, the giver of life where he was the destroyer. She filled all the empty spaces there were to be filled and still kept expanding, warm and flowing and enveloping. She was the ocean, the mothering earth itself.

He stood firm, deeply rooted in himself and the reality of his death.

She swayed, surrendering to the dance of life and light and love.

"Izayoi..." he began.

Unexpectedly, she cut him off. "I have a question that I need you to answer honestly." She sounded reserved, nervous, almost frightened.

The way he had been before his revelations on the snowy mountainside. "Anything."

She stepped closer and he had to anchor his feet not to be blown over by the intensity of her existence. Her essence filled the room until he thought the walls would burst. "Am I... a very selfish person?"

He stared at her. The question was so ridiculous he had to fight off the urge to laugh in her face. Images of her pushing herself nearly to death to come tell him of her vision on time, of her nursing him back to health from countless wounds, of her giving all her energy to the priestess she heartily disliked in order to save a lord she didn't know filled his mind. In all that time, never once had she asked him for anything for herself.

She pushed herself to the point of lethal exhaustion time and time again, simply to be of some assistance to other people.

The idea of her being selfish was laughable.

"Izayoi, you are possibly the least selfish person I have ever known," he answered with perfect sincerity while looking her straight in the eye.

Hope bloomed on her face, pale and aching. "Then... if I were to wish for something just for myself... it might be permissible?"

He stepped in and grasped her hands boldly. They disappeared into his own great warrior's hands. "Name it."

He wondered what it was she wanted. Nothing material was very important to her-- what could possibly have her strung up in such a knot? What could she wish to possess that she did not have already and apparently needed so desperately?

"I cannot name it," she whispered. "I can only show you."

He wrinkled his brow in puzzlement and looked deeper at her, searching for understanding.

Startlingly, her glimmering eyes suddenly deepened and stretched back into abyss. He fell forwards into their warm, inviting depths. He felt her fingers slide up his face, hardly even touching him, to bury themselves in his hair. Gravity became suddenly too great to resist, and his head sank gracefully.

She stood on tiptoe and slowly, gently pressed her lips to his.

He thought he would die of joy. His desire was not unrequited after all. Any lingering fear that she would refuse him vanished to the four winds and he existed only as desire.

His strong arms twitched, then slid around her back and pulled her firmly into him.

She felt tiny and defenseless. However, she also felt completely safe. She trusted him implicitly.

All there was left to do now was surrender. She leaned into the kiss, tilting her head to give better access. Lips closed, they simply savoured the contact. It was more touch than kiss, and ended quickly.

"Izayoi," he said quietly, powerfully.

"Dance with me," she whispered.

He shook his head slowly: once, twice. "Dance for me," he commanded gently. "I want to see you dance for me."

"As you wish," she answered, and smiled a smile full of promise and flame.

There was no music. She needed none. The flickering of the candle flames was her melody, the heartbeat of the earth her rhythm, and the wind outside sang harmony. She melted into movement and became first a rowan tree, all swaying rms and spreading roots; then water, liquid and flickering about the room like quicksilver; then a deer, fleet footed and startling. Next she was a great fire, rippling with heat and blindingly bright. Then she was the fire's shadow, silent and sinuous.

He stood fast and let her flow around him.

She was a quiet rainstorm now, slow and trailing damp life behind her. And then she was the sea, first calm and swelling, then fearsome and wrathful. She was the wind, sighing and slipping through the cracks in the universe. She was the curling smoke of a witch's fire.

At the very last, she was simply, astonishingly, a woman dancing for the man she loved. The gown loosened and slithered to the floor unnoticed, its role finished and its presence now rendered unnecessary. She wore nothing beneath it.

He felt suddenly unworthy, as though he was a mortal trespassing where gods and goddesses made their home. He watched as Izayoi's hair floated around her whirling form and felt afraid. This was a goddess. By what right did he dare to watch her dance? Men had died for much, much less.

She came to him on light feet and touched him once, twice, thrice. His armour was suddenly, inexplicably gone, as was the blade of bone. She returned and touched him again, fingers whispering over his still form, and piece by piece his clothing fell silently away until he was as bare as she.

They had passed beyond the realms where humans and demons existed now. He reached out and touched her face with his fingers, trailing them down her forehead, the delicate arch of her nose, the softness of her lips. Her eyes fluttered shut and she pressed her own cool fingers to the curving planes of his chest, then trailed them across as she moved around him. He felt her drop a kiss between his shoulder blades. Her hands curled up around him and she pressed herself against his back.

He reached up and loosed the lacquered pins from his hair. It cascaded down over her body in a silver rush. She shivered against him as it brushed against each exposed inch of skin.

"I'm torn," she murmured.

He remained silent, accepting.

"I am dying with passion, but I am afraid to let it loose. I know I am safe with you, yet still I cannot..."

He listened past the fearful words to the longing beneath and acted. The time for explanation was had passed.

He turned in her grasp and, wrapping his hands around her slim waist, lifted her and pressed her against the wall so that her head was slightly higher than his. She gasped in surprise as he slammed his chest between her legs, pinning her to the rough wooden boards. As she slid slightly downwards into position, splinters of the unpolished wood drove into her back, but the pain was a strange pain: almost pleasant.

He pinned her down and ruthlessly attacked her breasts, devouring the pale bounty she offered him with his hands. With his mouth he tasted her throat, which she helplessly bared in submission. Her pulse point flickered beneath his tongue and he grazed it with his fangs, eliciting a hiccupped moan from her. Her hands tangled in his hair and dug pleadingly at his scalp, but he would not be rushed.

She squirmed between him and the unforgiving wall as he lowered his mouth, many degrees warmer than her own flesh, to her darkened nipples. Her legs wound around his waist and tightened. "Please, please," she whispered.

No.

His hands removed hers from his hair and he splayed her open like a crucifix, unable to move a single inch as he plundered her. I am going to take you, his lips said as they roamed across her flushed skin. I am not going to be gentle about it, either. I am going to show you what real passion is, how it should have been for you the first time and all of the times. I am going to ravish you whether you admit you want me to or not.

Yes please, her quaking body answered when her mind could not find the words. Teach me all about what I've missed all these years. Heal me.

He looked up into her eyes and penetrated her soul with his gaze. Are you ready, my love?

Yes. Oh, yes.

He pulled slightly back and let her slide down the wall until her face was at his chest and their hips were pressed against each other. He felt his manhood pressed flat against her belly. Instead of closing off, she opened and relaxed into him, laving his collarbone with warm kisses that were more tongue than lips.

He was the hunter god, and she the corn goddess. Their union was legend in all cultures, no matter the names or forms they took in each. She welcomed him into her lush forests, and he stalked the edge of death within her.

Her small hand insinuated itself between them and guided him into her heated center. She stretched deliciously around him, dripping heated moisture down their legs. He stilled a moment, memorizing the moment. She whimpered.

Their eyes snapped together fiercely then, and they fell off the precipice and into the abyss, tangled together.

He lunged into her, and she invited him deeper with urging legs and blunt fingernails deep in the flesh of his back. The heartbeat of the world sped up, and so did he, matching its rhythm, competing with it.

Stroke.

Stroke.

Stroke.

Stroke.< br> Stroke.
Stroke.
Strokestrokestrokestrokestroke...!

She sobbed into his shoulder, fingers scrabbling desperately at his sweat-sheened back. The candlelight caressed them sensuously.

Gasping with passionate need, he tore them away from the wall and tumbled onto the futon. The air expelled from her lungs with a harsh grunt as his weight slammed her into the firm mattress. Their legs were half off the edge.

She drew her foot up the back of his thigh, caressing the muscle there. He shuddered and grasped the back of her head by her hair, pulling her face into the crook of his neck. She raked her tongue up the tendon at the side of his neck.

With every thrust, he tried to show her every facet of what he'd learned about himself, and about her. He tried to show her how much he loved every part of her, even the dark and unlovely parts like her own self-loathing and her terribly twisted personal judgement. She was his witch-goddess and he loved her more than he could express, even in this powerful language of touch and taste and feeling.

He smelled salt and knew she wept, from pleasure or from release he did not know. She let her head fall back rapturously, exposing her throat. Unable to help himself, he suckled at the pale flesh and the spiderweb of veins beneath it.

Stroke.

Stroke.

Oh, Izayoi!

Her fingernails were spearing into his back again, begging. She raised her head and buried her face in his shoulder. She was shaking with need.

This was the passion he had never found with Mai, the raging flame of lust and love she had never inspired him to. How he had lived without it, he did not know.

She kissed his ear, swirling her tongue across the hyper-sensitive ridges, causing him to buck helplessly. Her hot mouth enveloped his earlobe and suckled gently, then moved downwards to his pulse point. Then she bit him, not hard enough to break skin but hard enough for him to feel it deep within. He howled in astonishment and primal pleasure, careless of the neighbouring lodges' occupants.

Growing bolder, she insistently struggled until he allowed himself to be rolled over onto his back. They fell off the futon and onto the floor, and did not notice. Triumphantly she sat atop him, a contrast of dark shadowed hair and shining pale flesh. Then she began to move.

He died. The world did not exist, life did not exist, people did not exist. The goddess riding him with arching pleasure was the only being left the entire universe for him.

She threw her head back and dragged trembling hands across sweat-drenched breasts, smearing the shimmering liquid across her flesh. She moaned, and he echoed her, lost in astonishment at the transformation in her from the damaged mortal creature he knew to this. She snarled, much like a wildcat, and fell forwards, her hair cloaking them both as her hardened nipples pressed into his own. Her rhythm sped up and he could feel her clenching desperately around him.

He clenched his fists and forced himself not to touch her. This was her taking her own pleasure at last, and he had no intention of ruining it for her. Gods, this is difficult! She writhed atop him, twisting her hips and slamming them onto him. Her breath was coming in short, gasping bursts.

He gave up trying not to touch her-- he sensed the period of danger was over. His claws raked viciously up her back, stopping almost short of breaking skin. With his fingers and thumbs, he spanned her fragile waist and pulled her deeper onto him. The wildcat died and she became sensual and swaying yet again. She was finished her conquest, and wanted to be conquered again.

Leaning over to press her lips to his ear, she snarled wordlessly. Her message was clear: Take me! I surrender!

He was more than happy to comply, and rolled without breaking contact to rest atop her again. The light at the end of the stairway to heaven was brightening and growing steadily with each movement they made.

Stroke.
Stroke.
Stroke.
Stroke.
Strokestr okestrokestrokestrokestrokestrokestrokeSTROKE...!

She shrieked in perfectly abandoned ecstasy, spine arched hard against him and eyes tightly shut. Her inner walls spasmed around him and he lost every shred of control he had left.

"Izayoi!" he howled, and exploded into liquid flame within her. She sank her teeth into his shoulder and rode out every wave of pleasure that rocked her, which in turned milked him inside out.

She cried out, little broken cries that wrung him out like wet fabric. Their sweat dripped and mingled on the unpolished strakes of the floor, soaking into the grain. He seized her mouth and kissed her with fierce tenderness, thanking her with all his heart for the journey she'd just taken him on.

"I love you," he growled into her gasps.

"I love you... too," she mewled, completely played out. She had nothing left, and neither did he.

With his last strength, he tumbled them back across the floor and onto the softer futon. She reached down and pulled the thin sheet over them and curled into his chest trustingly. "Hold me."

He obliged, and pulled her down into restful sleep with him. The dawn was the furthest thing in the universe away from him. "Oh, my goddess," he whispered, and kissed her hair.

She smiled into the hollow of his throat and sighed. The thought of waking this way in the morning was the second most beautiful thing she'd ever known.

OooooO

The gods and goddesses who had been watching bowed and blessed their union with matching smiles on their own faces. Their work was nearly done, now.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

A/N: I'm a novice lemon-writer so I will actually ask for reviews on this one, please and thank you. Tell me what worked and what didn't (if anything) for future reference. This is not the last lemon I will ever write, so help me make the next one knock you off your chair. :smile: I appreciate all your input.

Love,
Empatheia

PS: Voting on IYFG starts fairly soon. Just so you know.

Again, I'm not really attached to winning but I think it'd be fun to see how many people actually like my story other than the three or four steady reviewers. :la-di-daaaa...: