InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 3: Forever ❯ Fate and Destiny ( Chapter 2 )

~*~*~*~*~*~Lemon warning~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Clean version of this chapter can be read here:

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2220709/2/

 

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~~Chapter 2~~

~Fate and Destiny~

 

`Spontaneous combustion.'

 

The instant his lips touched hers, she forgot that she wasn't wearing anything; she forgot that she used to worry that she'd be horribly bad at kissing; she forgot everything else but the feel of Ryomaru's lips pressed to hers. Gently sucking, the shocking feel of his tongue flicking against her mouth, the precarious tremors that shot off as her nerves erupted, one by one, as he straightened up, as he pulled her closer. Arms slipping around her to hold her flush against his chest, he smothered her gasp with his kiss, his tongue darting into her mouth, tasting her.

 

The line between friendship and something more seemed to blur, a gentle erasing of the symbols that were propriety dissipating in a wash of heated emotion, in a wave of something exhilarating and uncontrollable, unjustifiable and merciless. Daydreams of kissing Ryomaru had never been quite like this. She hadn't known what it would be like but nothing could have prepared her for it. Nothing could have possibly steeled her against the barrage of her senses, the nagging ache that spun out of her control into something both frightening and stunning.

 

His chest was solid, unyielding under her hands. Corded muscle under the rough cloth jumped under her fingers, undulated with his movements. He uttered a growl as she slowly, hesitantly touched him, and she jerked her hands back. He broke the kiss but didn't move away. “Touch me, Deirdre,” he demanded, his eyes glowing, driven by an inner demon that she was beginning to understand.

 

She swallowed hard as he brought his hands up to cup her face, gently feathering the pads of his thumbs over her lips. She closed her eyes, let her hands fall against him again. That strange growl rumbled out of him once more as his mouth crashed down on hers. The absolute jolt that shot through her body from her lips to her mind then down to another deeper ache that was building into a smoldering burn made her arch against him, like her body was moving on its own.

 

Tugging at his shirt since he wouldn't stop kissing her, Ryomaru finally got the hint and leaned away long enough to yank the tee shirt over his head before dropping it on the floor. When he pulled her into his arms again, though, he nudged her head to the side, letting his mouth explore the softness of her throat.

 

Waves of heat ripped over her only to gather in her belly as a gnawing pain grew. Dropping his hands to her knees, he dragged her forward almost roughly, and she gasped as the throbbing ache spiraled up to her brain, an incineration of heat and light as his body pressed against her. Ryomaru's skin scalded her, burned her. She wanted the comfort of his body back, and yet the words were stuck in her throat.

 

He leaned toward her, into her, forcing her back until she fell. He pinned her with his torso as he trailed kisses, nibbles along her collarbone, down the center of her chest, up the side of one breast as his hand closed over the other, kneading, pressing, gently tugging. Raking his teeth along her skin only to retrace his path with his tongue, Ryomaru pushed his hand under her, held her firmly against his mouth as he flicked his thumb over her nipple.

 

She tried to raise her hips in an instinctive invitation. Powerless to stop his slow perusal, she trembled and moaned softly. He chuckled at her impatient movements, the reverberation shooting straight to the central ache. She wanted to tell him that it hurt but words wouldn't come. The pain was intense—not really a pain, something that she didn't fully understand even though she knew he did. Gentle and soothing and yet wholly primitive, everything she knew that he was seemed to speak to her. One night or one lifetime, it didn't matter so long as he was here with her.

 

He pressed open-mouthed kisses down her belly, along her hip bones, across her stomach. When his tongue flicked into her belly button, she cried out. Hands dragging down her sides as her body rose to meet his touch, he sucked the soft skin around her navel, and just when she thought she was going to die, he slid a finger into her and time, itself, exploded.

 

Her harsh cry echoed in the quiet room as the tightly-wound ache released. His growl had become a quiet whine, an oddly soothing sound that somehow seemed right from him.

 

Still dazed and struggling to breathe, she tried to reach out, to touch him. He was kneeling between her legs, and when she forced her eyes open, he was looking at her. Golden gaze fierce, challenging, he met her stare, returned it, nudged his finger deeper into her, growling one word at her as she convulsed around him, “Mine.”

 

The spasms that took over her body didn't lessen. Something wet and hot pressed against her, sent her soaring higher, made her cry out as the sound seemed foreign to her own ears. Unable to think, unable to reason, unable to do more than writhe and moan under the assault, the pulse of consuming pleasure didn't stop, didn't lessen, didn't fade. Licking her, consuming her, flicking fast and pressing against her, it was demanding, enthralling, inebriating.

 

He withdrew his finger, and she whimpered in protest. The whimper turned into a gasp as the heat slipped lower, lapped at her. Opening her eyes once more, mesmerized by the sight of him kneeling between her thighs, the vision of him darting his tongue against her burned into her brain as she tried to keep her eyes open. The soft rustle as Ryomaru discarded his pants registered in her foggy mind. She tried to smile but couldn't. His tongue darted upward, touched the part of her that throbbed the most, and with a strangled gasp, she arched back, caught up in the waves of repletion once more.

 

The sudden fullness that pressed into her was unrelenting and beautiful, her body craved what he was offering. She felt his hands holding her hips, felt him pull her toward him as he filled her. A slight pressure built then gave. The moan that slipped from her lips as he pushed further stopped him. Undeniable sensation, a completeness that she'd never felt before cosseted her, hugged her as he leaned over her, rocking his hips against her as his lips sought hers out.

 

The relaxed coil wound tighter and tighter with every movement, with every breath. She strained against him, willed him to understand what she couldn't say. Keyed so tightly that the slightest movement would break its hold, he thrust into her one last time. His hoarse exclamation mingled with hers, inane words that touched her heart. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders as her body jerked under his, quivered around him as he gasped, as he shuddered, as he collapsed on her.

 

Harsh breathing was the first thing that registered in Nezumi's mind as her senses slowly returned. A wonderful sense of lethargy flowed through her. Still refusing to open her eyes, almost afraid of what she'd see in Ryomaru's expression, she savored the feeling of closeness as waves of exhaustion beckoned her to go to sleep.

 

“Ryo?” she whispered, half-afraid of ruining the quiet.

 

He rolled off her but pulled her close, nuzzling against her shoulder, her neck as his arms wrapped tightly around her. “Sleep, Nezu . . . mi,” he mumbled. “Talk . . . later . . .”

 

Only then did she smile as she closed her eyes.

 

 

-=-0-=-0-=-0-=-0-=-0-=-

 

 

`Can't . . . breathe . . .' Nezumi thought as she slowly emerged from layers of sleep. `What's that . . . sound . . . ?'

 

With a soft sigh, she opened her eyes. `Ryo . . .'

 

Memories of the night came back to her then, bringing a flush to her cheeks as she realized that she was still naked, he was still naked, his arms were still wrapped around her, his leg was pinning hers, and his head was still cradled against her neck. After another moment, she realized something else. The noise she'd heard . . . the rumbling sound . . . not snoring, exactly . . . but she wasn't sure what she'd call it . . . It was coming from him.

 

Turning her head as much as she dared, she stared at him in the filmy light. Silvery hair spilling over his shoulder onto her breasts like a silky blanket, face relaxed and boyish in sleep, she had to blink back tears as she smiled, lips trembling, emotion welling up inside her as she tried not to think about how this would affect their friendship.

 

It was too hard not to dwell on. Before she gave in to the curious hot tingling behind her eyes, she carefully extricated herself from his grasp. The rumbling sound stopped though he didn't wake up, and she spared a moment to stare at him before snatching up her robe and running to the bathroom as the first tears spilled over.

 

Turning on the shower with a terse jerk, Nezumi didn't wait for the water to warm up before she got in. The flow from the tap was loud enough, she thought miserably as she let her forehead fall against the cold tile. `No one will hear me . . . in here . . .'

 

The quiet sobs shook her body until she ached. `What have I done?' she asked herself over and over. `What if . . . ? He won't hate me . . . he's Ryomaru . . . Oh, who am I kidding? He's never even looked at me before, and . . . What have I done?'

 

The door of the shower stall slammed open, and Nezumi gasped as she whirled around. Grabbing the first thing she could lay hands on to cover herself, it wasn't until too late that she realized that it didn't really matter now, and that a washcloth wasn't going to offer much coverage, anyway. “What do you think you're . . . ?” she trailed off when she saw the black scowl on his face as he stepped into the shower, eyes raking over her in blatant perusal.

 

“Turn around,” he growled.

 

She backed up, smashing herself against the wall under the showerhead. “What?”

 

“Your blood, Nezumi. I woke up smelling your blood.”

 

She opened her mouth then snapped it closed again, fighting down a blush as it occurred to her what he might be talking about. “That happens, when one of us was a virgin,” she grumbled, half-hoping he wouldn't hear her.

 

His breath whistled past his lips as he inhaled sharply. “Fuck! Damn it . . . son of a—”

 

“Can I finish my shower before you continue on your odyssey of swearing?”

 

He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the opposite wall without any change in expression. “Go ahead.”

 

She narrowed her gaze as her face shot up in a hot blush. “Alone?”

 

He wrinkled his nose. “That's obviously not necessary, is it?”

 

“Get out or I'll cut off your—”

 

He was out of the shower before she could finish her threat. After she heard the bathroom door close, she sighed.

 

Hurrying through the rest of her shower, she tied a stout knot in her bathrobe before literally running back to her bedroom and locking the door behind herself. Ryomaru's clothes were gone. She winced. Had he already left?

 

Deliberately pushing the question aside as she got dressed for work, she didn't bother drying her hair before combing it back into her normal ponytail.

 

Cautiously opening her bedroom door, she listened for movement anywhere in the quiet apartment. `He must have left . . . and who can blame him? I shouldn't have yelled at him . . . he was just concerned . . .'

 

Casting one last glance back at the bed, Nezumi winced at the tiny scarlet stain on the cream colored coverlet. Then she pushed away from the doorframe and trudged down the hall to go to work.

 

She stopped abruptly as she entered the living room. Ryomaru stood by the window staring outside at the morning sky. “I . . . I thought you left.”

 

He didn't turn to face her. “I can't leave without you.”

 

She frowned at the slight hint of hostility in his tone. “I've got to go or I'll be late to work.”

 

“I called you in.”

 

Nezumi scowled at Ryomaru's back. “Why'd you do that?”

 

He shrugged. “There are a few things we need to take care of.”

 

For some reason, she wasn't so sure she wanted to hear this. Still she forced herself to ask, “Like what?”

 

He sighed as he finally turned to look at her. Framed against the window, the only thing she could make out in the bright morning light was the glowing gold of his eyes. “There are a few things I need to tell you.”

 

She shook her head. “Okay, fine. Come by after I get off work then.”

 

“You can't just leave! You gotta come with me!” Ryomaru yelled as he shot across the room and caught Nezumi's hand.

 

“What I `gotta' do is go to work, baka!” she shouted back, jerking on her hand, to no avail.

 

“Damn it! Will you listen? What happened . . . what we did . . . it shouldn't have happened, but since it did, then you've got to come with me!”

 

Fighting back the conflicting desire to break down in tears at his callous statement and the urge to beat the tar out of him, she settled for glowering murderously at him as she counted to twenty before demanding, “And just where do you think I'm going with you?”

 

He sighed, rubbing his forehead with his free hand as he squeezed his eyes closed. “I've got to introduce you to Mother and the old man.”

If she hadn't thought he'd already lost his mind, she was sure now. Staring at him with a mix of incredulity and absolute frustration, Nezumi jerked her hand free and stomped toward the door again.

 

He caught her again and dragged her back.

 

“I already know your mother and father, Ryo! You can't honestly tell me that your mother and father want to meet every woman you've ever been with!” Her eyebrows rose when he blushed and didn't answer. “That's . . . sick!” she gasped.

 

“No, it ain't like that!”

 

“Then what is it?”

 

He made a face. “We're mated!”

 

Her eyes widened then narrowed as she stared at him. “Mated? What the hell does that mean?”

 

“Just come on . . . I'll explain it all to you, all right? And don't look at me like that! Do you think I'm happy about this?”

 

She recoiled for a second before lifting her chin proudly as indignant color stained her skin. “No, I don't.”

 

He winced. “I didn't mean it like that. Come on.”

 

Since he was effectively barring the door with his body, she crossed her arms over her chest and shot him the most formidable glower she could muster. “Just go, Ryo. I don't want to see you right now.”

 

He shook his head. “We really don't have a choice. You're my mate, and I've got to tell my parents before they figure it out on their own.”

 

Her temper soared again, as much from his use of the word `mate' as from the rest of the situation in general. “Will you stop saying that?” she hollered. “You sound like we're dogs or something!”

 

Ryomaru's expression blanked for a moment before he grimaced and grabbed her hand again. “You can argue with me all you want after we talk to my parents, all right?” he grumbled.

 

Nezumi stifled a frustrated growl and leaned back. Ryomaru raised an eyebrow at her show of stubbornness. “It wouldn't really be that hard to pick you up and carry you.”

 

Her gaze narrowed. “I'd like to see you try it.”

 

He sighed. “Fine, wench! The next time my damn youkai makes a choice for me, I hope it fucking asks me first!”

 

She frowned. “Your what?”

 

He shifted his scowl to her again. “My youkai blood.”

 

She shook her head. “You don't have—”

 

“I'm hanyou.”

 

“You're what?”

 

“Hanyou!”

 

“You're so not funny, Ryomaru!” she shrieked, glancing around for something—anything—that she could throw at him, preferably something to inflict long and lasting pain . . . Having nothing that fit the description, she stomped away to the other side of the room, deciding that she wasn't saying another word to him as long as she lived.

 

“All right,” he muttered as he lifted a hand in front of his face. “Just remember, I tried to tell you.”

 

She stared at him as she tried to figure out what he was doing. He lowered his hand slowly, and as he did, her eyes widened. The first things she noticed were . . . `Dog ears? He has . . . dog ears? What the . . . Huh?' Fangs flashed at her as he grimaced, and then she saw the pointed claws on his hands. “H-how did you do that?” she whispered as the color drained from her skin.

 

“I told you, I'm hanyou. Inu-youkai and human. I, uh . . . I didn't want to tell you this way.”

 

She opened her mouth to answer. Her mind was full of a strange sort of buzzing as a vague fog filled the edges of her vision.

 

She was unconscious as she started to fall. He shot across the room to catch her seconds before she hit the floor.

 

 

-=-0-=-0-=-0-=-0-=-0-=-

 

 

Ryomaru winced as he stared at Nezumi's listless form. Positive from her scent alone that she was fine, he stopped a moment to recast his concealment.

 

In three words? He'd fucked up. He knew it this morning when he'd stirred only to have his nose assailed by numerous smells that shouldn't have been there. The first one to register had been Nezumi's blood. The second had been the overwhelming scent of her body, of her sex. The third? The third made him close his eyes tight for a moment. The third had been the scent of his orgasm. the main problem was that the smell had changed somehow, shifted into more of a mix of her and him, both, and when he realized that, he'd known. He'd mated Nezumi.

 

Damn, what had happened? He remembered walking around with Kichiro. He remembered arguing with his baka brother about Nezumi. He remembered coming over here last night, and he definitely remembered seeing her in that towel. The shock of seeing her body when she'd always kept herself hidden before had been almost overwhelming enough. Still . . .

 

He vaguely remembered her chastising him for drinking out of the sake bottle. He didn't remember much after that, not until he woke this morning sprawled on her bed with her scent lingering in the air, with a smear of her blood on the covers . . .

 

Shaking his head, he snorted in self-disgust. Sure, he'd been with numerous women before. There was something to be said for indulgence, but he was always so careful. He knew the rules. He could do what he wanted with whomever he wanted so long as he didn't have actual penetration sex. It had been his experience before that women didn't seem to care whether or not there was actual sex so long as they had their share of orgasms in the process of foreplay. Most of them never commented on it, anyway . . . There had been a handful of times when he'd almost gotten carried away, but never, ever when he'd been drunk, and why the hell couldn't he remember it?

 

`Well, that just fucking figures,' he fumed. `The first time I really have sex, and I can't remember a damn thing about it!' Glancing guilty at the woman in his arms, he winced. `Nezumi . . . did I at least please you?' He shook his head again. Even though he couldn't rightly remember the actual act, why did he have the feeling that he had pleased her? Would she tell him if he asked? He winced. `Scratch that idea . . . don't think she'd be very happy if I told her I can't remember it . . .' Then again, she wasn't very happy with him, anyway . . .

 

He sighed. `Mine.' Ryomaru's hidden hanyou ears flicked as though he were trying to locate the source of the voice.

 

With a defeated grimace, he strode toward the door, deciding he might as well get her over to his parents' house before she woke up since she hadn't seemed very pleased about going, in the first place.

 

`Maybe,' he thought with a bleak smile that looked more like a grimace, `Kich did something stupid last night, like rob a bank . . .'

 

He could always hope, couldn't he?

 

 

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A/N:

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Final Thought from Ryomaru:

…Shit …

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Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Forever): I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga. Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al. I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

 

~Sue~