InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 4: Justification ❯ Irrational ( Chapter 101 )

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

"What are you doing out here?"

Bellaniece stiffened at the sound of Kichiro's softly uttered words.  She spun around to face him, her gaze clouded, wary.  "What are you doing home?"

He grimaced, shuffling his feet on the stone patio.  "I deserved that, didn't I?"

She wrapped her arms over her stomach and stared at the ground.  "You didn't say goodbye," she said softly.

"Pardon?"

She shrugged.  "This morning.  You didn't say goodbye."

He sighed.  "I'm sorry, princess."

"Is it always going to be this way?" she asked, refusing to meet his gaze.  "I can handle it, if that's the case.  I just . . . I guess I just want to know."

"I wanted to surprise you," he said with another sigh.  "I thought . . . Oh hell, maybe I wasn't really thinking, at all."

Peering up at him through the thick fringe of her lashes, Bellaniece bit her lip and shook her head in silent question.

"Come here, Belle-chan . . . Please."

Lifting her chin a notch, she turned her face to the side and gazed at him out of the corner of her eyes.  "Don't you have to be at work?" she asked dubiously.

Kichiro shook his head.  "I was feeling a little . . . under the weather.  Thought I'd come home and see if I could convince you to . . . baby me today."

"Baby you?  How?"

He grinned shyly and held out his hand.  "If you come here, I'll tell you."

She hesitated for a moment then slowly reached out, slipping her hand into his.  "I don't know if I should trust you," she remarked.  "You've been known to get me in trouble, you know."

"I have?"

"Well, we were arrested," she reminded him.

He snorted.  "Keh!  That was your fault, if you'll recall."

"My fault?"

"Absolutely, princess.  You were the one who couldn't keep your hands off me."

She grinned.  "I couldn't, could I?"

"I'm not complaining."

"You shouldn't be," she said with an unrepentant grin.  "I don't get on my knees for just anyone."

Her words flowed over him like a caress, and he chuckled.  "Keep talking, Belle-chan, and you won't get your surprise."

"Surprise?"

"That's right, princess . . ." He trailed off with a sigh.  "I'm not sure if you'll like it.  I'm not even sure if you'll want it.  I just thought . . . I thought that it should be up to you."

"What is it?" she asked, her gaze clouding over as she stared at him solemnly.

He winced and shrugged then sighed, jerking his head toward the box on the coffee table.  "I promised you, didn't I?  I said I'd make you happy . . ."

"I'm happy," she assured him, blurting out the words in a rush.

"You're not, and I'm sorry . . . I, uh . . . I was trying to get things sorted out.  You had a good point when you said that cosmetic surgery didn't make me happy.  It doesn't . . . So, I want to change my specialty—reconstructive surgery—but to do that, I have to straighten things out.  I have to make sure my patients are taken care of, and I have to get my research together so I have a decent presentation for Sesshoumaru—for his generals.  If I can sell them on the research, they'll fund it, and they might even subsidize the charity work, as well."

"That'd be good for you," she said noncommittally.

"That'd be good for us," he corrected.

"How so?"

"More time off . . . More time with you . . ." He reached out and took her hand, pulling her close and kissing her cheek.  "Listen, Belle . . . If something's bothering you—anything at all—you tell me, okay?"

"It's not that easy," she said with a sigh, slipping her arms around his neck and resting her cheek on his shoulder.  "You used to think I was a spoiled little girl . . . I don't want to be a spoiled little girl.  I want to be your wife.  I want—"

His lips on her silenced her.  She uttered a low sound—not quite a whine, not quite a sigh—acquiescing to him without putting up a fight.  He'd nearly forgotten how good she felt in his arms; almost forgotten how perfectly her body molded to his.  The most beautiful thing he'd ever known . . . Somehow he'd hurt her, and yet she forgave him.  As rare as she was beautiful; as fresh as she was intoxicating, she touched him deep down inside with the brush of her lips, with the whisper of her breath . . .

Stroking her cheek with his fingertips, the softness of her skin burned him.  Her lips parted to invite his kiss as her fists closed around handfuls of his shirt.  Clinging to him as he took his time tasting her, she submitted to him as she possessed his soul.

The deft brush of fangs on flesh erupted in a wave of fire and light.  She shuddered, surrendered, rose and fell like the seas.  Dragging her mouth away, she nibbled his jaw, the roughened skin of his throat.  Her hands tugged at his shirt, buttons popping off, bouncing across the hardwood floor.  Burning hands, fervent need, she pushed the shirt off his shoulders, down his arms.  He'd wanted to take his time, to show her how much he cherished her.  Bellaniece, it seemed, had other ideas.  Driven by a fierce need, haunted by the memory of nights spent alone in the bed they were supposed to share, Bellaniece tugged at the button on his pants; the sound of the zipper was like thunder in Kichiro's ears.

Trailing wet kisses down the center of his chest, his stomach, her tongue swirling around the belly button she so adored, Bellaniece lowered herself to her knees.  She reached around his waist, squeezed his ass as she lowered her mouth over him, taking him in, drawing him deep.

He groaned, shivered, sank his fingers into her hair as she caressed his balls, sucking him deeper, lapping at him with her tongue.  "Belle . . . I . . ."

Her answer was a gentle squeeze as she released him with an obscenely loud pop.  Sparing a moment to run her teeth up and down the length of him, she shot him a saucy grin just before her mouth closed over his balls.  Body stiffening as the shock of her touch rifled through him, he choked out a harsh sound as she squeezed his ass again.

"Damn it, wench," he growled.  "Don't fucking play with it!"

"Play with what?" she asked, blinking innocently.

"My cock, Belle," he growled.

She raised her eyebrows and giggled softly.  "Your wish is my command, my mate."

Sucking in a shallow breath, he matched her rhythm, thrusting in her mouth, savoring the feel of her teeth, her tongue, and the love that inspired her.  She moaned softly, the reverberation shooting through his body.  He could feel the swell, the tightening in his balls that signaled the beginning of his orgasm.  He tried to pull away from her, tried to make her stop.  She sucked harder, her hand wrapping around his shaft as she jerked him off.  Pulling her forward as he thrust deep in her mouth, he couldn't stop the burn; he couldn't staunch the flow.

Bellaniece licked her lips and smiled at him, sitting back on her heels as he sank down before her.  "Will you cuddle with me now?" she teased.

Kichiro groaned and wrapped his arm around her neck, drawing her forward as he leaned in to kiss her.  "I'll cuddle with you," he promised.  "First I want to hear you scream my name."

"Do you?"

He nodded, nipping the tender flesh of her throat as he stroked her nipple through the thin fabric of her dress.  "Hells, yes," he muttered, darting out his tongue, savoring the aroma of her skin, the erratic beat of her heart.

"I want you," she whispered, eyes drifting closed as she ran her hands up and down his back.  "I need you . . ."

"Relax, princess.  There's no rush."

"I hurt, Kichiro," she pouted.

He leaned away, smoothed the frown marring her brow.  "I love the way you smell."

"Sex and wildflowers?" she murmured, her eyes glassy, dazed.  Darkened with passion, stained with desire, she peered up at him through heavily lidded eyes.  He held her, hands splayed on her sides, thumbs teasing her hardened nipples.

"It's occurred to me," he went on quietly, grinning at the way her nipples strained against her dress.  "It's been awhile since I properly worshipped you."

"H-Has it?"

"I'll make up for it," he promised, slipping his arms around her to unzip the back of her dress.  He pushed the dress down her shoulders, moaning as her breasts sprang free.  The blossom of her nipples beckoned him, and he leaned toward her, rolling his tongue around each one as she pressed closer, begging him for more as she gasped softly; as she murmured his name.

She pulled her arms out of the dress, and he gently laid her back, sliding his hands down her body, pushing the dress lower and lower.  The glossy strip of bronze hair was already damp from her escalating desire.  Leaning down, he darted his tongue out to taste her—just one taste; just one teasing touch—before he discarded the dress on the floor.  She sucked in a sharp breath, a whisper . . . the harshest sound . . . the sweetest song.  The rise of emotion, the surge of power was tempered by the unwavering burn of the flesh.

Knees bent, arms lying helplessly at her sides, her breaths rasping, echoing in the quiet house, she gazed at him, waiting, waiting . . . "Spread your legs, Belle-chan," he ordered, his voice shaking just the slightest bit.  Her skin flushed a little darker as she complied with his command.  The narrow waist; the flare of her hips . . . the unrelenting allure of her scent . . . She beguiled him, intrigued him, bewitched him, and sanctified him.  She could save him or damn him; lift him up or break him down, and in the end the only thing that really mattered was that she was with him: his mate, his world, his life . . .

Tucking his arms under her thighs, he lifted her, opened her, breathed deep and gritted his teeth together, willing away the fierce need to take her hard and fast.  Bellaniece quaked in his hands, her body trembling as he slowly, methodically stroked the stripes on each of her hips.

"Fuck me, lover," she demanded.

Kichiro chuckled.  "I will . . . eventually."

Her answer was a frustrated whine.  He leaned in, grasped her hair between his teeth, tugging just enough to make his point as she gasped and arched toward him.

Running his tongue up the delicate skin at the juncture of her thigh, Kichiro took his time savoring the taste of her on his lips.  Teasing her with deliberation, stopping now and then to suckle on her flesh, she writhed beneath him, whimpered in protest, bucked her hips in hopes that he would stop the assault on her senses only to be thwarted time and again.  Alternating from one thigh to the other, Kichiro chuckled when Bellaniece growled in frustration.  "Patience, princess," he chastised.  "I love this area, you know."

"L-Love it?"

"Mhmm," he murmured, flicking his tongue out: one light touch to goad her desire.

"Kichiro . . ."

"My mark," he mused, outlining the silvery scar that proclaimed her to be his mate.  The ritual was completed just after Gin's wedding.  Despite the risks, Kichiro had adamantly refused to allow anyone in the room while he marked her.  "It's fitting," he went on, pausing to run his tongue over the mark once more.  "Only you would have to be marked on your pussy."

"And you love it," she countered.

"And I love it," he agreed.

"How much do you love it?" she asked, her voice barely more than a dry whisper.

Pressing his open mouth over her, flicking his tongue against the slick flesh, he answered her question with his actions, plunging his tongue into her, deeper, deeper.  She lifted her pelvis off the floor, ground her hips against his mouth, inundating him in her very essence . . . drowning him in the tide of her passion.  The taste of her filled his senses, clung to him like a comforting thought.  He knew her better than he knew himself, and yet she alone could twist and turn him inside out with a look, a smile, even a tear.  He chuckled softly as she gasped, as she cried out his name . . .

Her body shook with the force of her release.  The waves of pleasure racked her body, taking hold of her, loathe to let go.  He rose above her, drove into her.  She uttered a sob, a moan as instinct took over.  Meeting his thrusts with a vicious abandon, she murmured half-words, broken words—words that didn't make sense at all.

Collapsing against her, kissing her, the stroke of his tongue on hers matching the cadence of his body in hers, Kichiro raked his fangs over her lips.  She shivered, shifted, her body straining under his.  Passion stained eyes flashing open, she stared at him, willed him to see into her soul.  Bracing himself on his elbows, stroking her hair as she arched back, smashing her breasts against his chest, he could feel the ache, the burn, the need that consumed her.  She licked her lips, moaned quietly, pinched his nipples.

"Fuck me back, Belle," he demanded, leaning down to nip her throat gently.

"But you're . . . doing such . . . a good job . . ."

Stopping mid-thrust, he started to pull out of her.  She whimpered, rising up to thwart him.  He chuckled again and slammed into her.  "Come on, princess . . . fuck me back."

Bellaniece shook her head, unable to speak, unable to do anything but wrap her legs around his waist in compliance.   She ground against him, rotating her hips, taking him deeper.  She squeezed his ass again, running her fingertips along the cleft between his cheeks.  He growled, grunted, thrust harder, faster.  His orgasm rose inside him, tight, hot, thick.  He felt the pressure building, balls tightening, the strand of his control wearing thinner and thinner, stretched tighter than a coiled spring.  Bellaniece slipped the tip of her finger into his ass as the coil broke.  Arching back, rasping out a terse cry, he slammed into her as he felt his body coming undone, as Bellaniece's orgasm forced a choked scream from her as her body tensed around him, as she squeezed and released, as she completely drained him, as she set him free . . .


"Thank you for watching Mikio for us," Kagome said.  Standing in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest, she smiled at Cain and bowed.  "He wasn't any trouble, was he?"

Cain shrugged and closed the folder he had been looking over.  "Wha—?  Oh, uh . . . no . . . he was fine."

"You look a little busy.  I'll leave you alone."

Sighing as he stood up, he smiled tentatively and shrugged.  "Oh, it's nothing.  Just paperwork."

"Gin was so happy about Mikio.  InuYasha can't believe we missed his first steps and his first words."

"Mean Cain isn't that that fantastic when it comes to first words," Cain remarked with a rueful grin.  "But yes, she enjoyed having him here."

Kagome laughed and tilted her head to the side before heaving a sigh.  "Cain-san . . . can I ask you something?"

Leaning back against the front of the desk, Cain shrugged and nodded.  "All right."

Taking her time, as though she were trying to find just the right way of stating what was on her mind, Kagome paced near the door.  "I wondered . . . Gin seems happy."

Cain tried not to flinch.  "Does she?"

"You don't think she is?"

He shrugged again and crossed his arms over his chest.  "Depends on your definition of happy."

Kagome stopped and stared at him for a long moment.  "What's your definition?"

Shaking his head, he turned his attention to the huge painting of the Maine shore gracing the wall over the fireplace.  "My definition . . ."

"You're not happy with her?"

"What?  Not . . . No!  That's not the problem . . . If you can call it a problem."

Kagome sighed.  "She wants a child."

Cain grimaced.  "Has she . . . told you that?"

"No, but then you forget: I raised my daughter.  I watched her grow up . . . I've heard her talk.  Gin's always wanted a family of her own."

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck as he remembered the looks she tried to hide from him.  "I got that."

"But you don't."

"It's not that I don't," he said slowly.  "It's just that I . . . She's so . . . tiny . . ."

Kagome giggled, her smile reassuring, gentle.  "And she's hanyou . . . You know, she might not look it, but I'll tell you, Gin's one of the toughest girls I've ever seen.  She's like her father that way."

"I know she's hanyou.  I know she's strong . . ." He raised his hand and sighed again, letting his arm drop to his side as he closed his eyes for a moment.  "Logically, I realized all that a long time ago, but you know . . ."

"You're . . . worried."

Cain finally opened his eyes, shifting his gaze to the side.  "Yeah.  No."

Kagome raised her eyebrows in question.

"When I think about it—about Gin being pregnant—it scares the hell out of me."

Kagome's smile was sympathetic.  Wandering over, she patted his arm and nodded.  "You wouldn't be normal if it didn't.  I could tell you that the odds are that it wouldn't happen again.  I could tell you that your fear is groundless because Gin isn't Isabelle.  It doesn't really matter what I say.  What matters is what you believe."

"I . . . I want to believe . . ."

Kagome's smile brightened.  "No one says you have to do this now.  Gin's still young, and I'm pretty sure that you're not ready to keel over, are you?"

Cain wrinkled his nose and snorted.

Kagome laughed.  "As much as I want my daughter to be happy, I know that she's happy just being with you."

"Thanks."

She nodded.  "Any time, Cain-san."

"Gin's glad you could come.  She's missed her family."

"We've missed her, too, but her place is here with you.  It's where she wants to be."

"Sure you can't stay longer?"

Kagome shook her head.  "We'd like to, but the school year just got underway, and InuYasha needs to be there."

"I see."

Kagome started to leave the study but stopped, whirling around on her heel as she dug into her skirt pocket.  "Oh yeah . . . I almost forgot.  I was going through some old boxes, and I found this . . . Gin wrote it years ago and never had the nerve to send it.  I thought maybe you'd be interested."

Slowly, Cain reached out and took the envelope in Kagome's hand.  Frowning as he stared at the address, he turned it over in his fingers and carefully slit it open without noticing as Kagome slipped out of the room.

The fine rice paper made him smile.  Gin had taken a lot of care in writing the letter, or so it would seem.  He unfolded it and took a moment to appreciate the carefully written piece.

Cain slowly refolded the letter; carefully stuck it back in the envelope.  Staring at the neat script—Gin's careful handwriting—he felt as though he were staring down into a deep void; a vast nothing.

'I will one day have the opportunity to see my husband and daughter sharing a moment . . .'

He strode around the desk and heaved a sigh as he slipped the letter into a drawer for safekeeping.

'What will you do, Cain?'

Cain shook his head and closed his eyes, wishing he couldn't see the smile that hadn't left her face since Mikio had been left in their care, wishing her laughter didn't echo through his mind . . .

'I . . . I don't know . . .'

Cain opened his eyes and rubbed his face.  'I . . . I just don't know . . .'

'But you know now.  You know for sure.'

Cain smiled sadly.  'As if there really were any doubt.'

'. . . So it's settled?'

He swallowed hard, unable to choke down the lump that threatened to block his windpipe.

Grabbing the telephone before he could delve into it much deeper, he heaved a heavy sigh and dialed the number he knew by heart.

It was picked up after two rings.  "Hello?"

Cain gulped again.  "Hey, Ben . . . I need to talk to you."

". . . Everything okay?"

He sighed, rubbing his throbbing temple with shaking fingers.  "Yeah," he lied.  "Everything's just fine.  I . . . I need to talk to you; that's all."

Ben didn't answer right away.  "Okay.  I can be there tomorrow."

Cain nodded.  "Yeah . . . thanks."


"So what is this?" Bellaniece asked, eyeing the box rather dubiously.

Kichiro stood up and stretched.  "I don't know . . . I suppose you'll just have to look and see."

"It's heavy," she noted with a frown.  "It's not more jewelry, is it?"

"Just open it, princess.  I promise it won't bite."

She slowly shook her head as she tightened the belt of her lavender silk robe.  "Why do I have the feeling that I don't really want to see what's inside?"

"You'll never know until you open it.  If you don't like it, you don't have to keep it, but . . . I just thought you should have that choice."

She eyed him for another minute then sighed.  "You don't have to buy me things," she pointed out.  "I'd rather just spend time with you."

"I know," he said, pulling her to him.  She hugged his arm and leaned back against his chest.  "To tell you the truth, this was a coincidence.  It was just delivered today, but I've known about it for awhile."

"Oh, well in that case . . ."

He chuckled when she smiled and pulled away from him.  Cracking her knuckles before she slit the packing tape on the nondescript box, she shot him a quick glance before carefully pulling the flaps open.

"Packing peanuts . . . How novel!" she quipped.

Kichiro rolled his eyes and flopped onto the sofa, tucking his hands behind his head and ignoring the fact that he was still very, very naked.

Taking a deep breath before she stuffed her hands into the box, her smile shifted into a frown as she touched the smooth, cold stone.  She gasped as she carefully lifted the white marble sculpture from the box, mouth falling open as she gaped at the finished piece.  "Daddy . . ."

"You didn't know he finished it?" Kichiro asked quizzically.

Bellaniece shook her head as she turned the sculpture in her hands.

He snorted.  "If you don't want it, you can sell it or give it away . . . Whatever you want.  I just thought—"

"No," she cut in, her voice husky, rasping.  "I didn't think he'd ever . . . and you . . . you bought it?  For me?"

He grimaced.  "It's your mother, isn't it?  If anyone should have it, it ought to be you."

"Oh, Kichiro . . ."

Heaving a sigh as he sat up in time to catch Bellaniece and the sculpture since she basically launched herself at him, Kichiro slowly shook his head, stroking her hair as she sobbed against his shoulder.  "I didn't mean to make you cry," he pointed out gently.

"No," she managed between wails.  "You're the sweetest man, ever!"

He laughed.  "Don't go spreading that around, okay?"

She choked out a laugh and sat up, wiping her eyes as she gazed at the statue.  "I didn't know he was going to sell it."

"Yeah, well, I told his manager that I thought it was pretty crappy, that he didn't offer it to you."

"Oh, you didn't . . ."

Kichiro shrugged.  "Oh, but I did.  Anyway, after I won the auction, Philips-san said that your father wanted to sell it so that he could donate the proceeds to the performing arts department at the University of Maine in your mother's name."

She blinked in surprise but finally smiled.  "He wanted to honor her."

"I think so."

"It's funny, you know?" she said slowly, staring at the sculpture once more.

"What's that?"

"I've seen this piece for years, but it was never complete . . . and not once did I ever think that I wanted it."

"So give it to a museum."

Bellaniece shook her head.  "No, it's not that . . . It's just . . . I think maybe I did want it all along.  How did you know?"

Kichiro pulled her close to kiss her forehead.  "She was your mother.  That's all I needed to know."

She set the statue on the table and cuddled against Kichiro's chest.  "I knew there was a reason I adore you."

He smiled.  "Belle?"

"Hmm?"

"How much do you adore me?"

She giggled and sat up, rubbing his shoulders as she leaned in to kiss him.  "How much?  Should I show you?"

He grinned.  "Oh, absolutely . . ."

"If you insist . . ."

"Damn straight . . ."