InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 4: Justification ❯ Christmas Eve ( Chapter 103 )

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

Gin crossed her arms as she stepped into the studio with a mock scowl on her face and cleared her throat loudly.

Cain shifted his gaze to the side to glance at his mate before turning his attention back to the gray marble block he was sculpting.  "Getting sick, baby girl?" he asked baldly.

She snorted and flounced over to him, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully.  "Nope."

He almost smiled.  She could see it twitching the corners of his lips.  "You sure?"

"Uh huh."

He nodded but remained silent as he chiseled away another hunk of stone.

Gin tapped her foot.

"Something on your mind?"

Gin rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand, dragging him over to the little sitting area off to the side of the studio.  "We need to talk, Zelig-sensei," she informed him as she pushed him down on the sofa.

"All right," he agreed, settling back and offering Gin his undivided attention.  "What is it we need to talk about?"

Gin sat down, knees brushing his as she leaned forward just enough to assume her version of the 'be quiet and listen' stance.  "Remember what you told me last year about Christmas?  About how it's the season of giving and all that?"

He nodded slowly.  "Yes . . . Have you been watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas on TV?"

She wrinkled her nose and waved her hands to shut him up.  "No, and I'll be doing the interrogating, if you please."

"I'm sorry," he apologized.  "Go on."

Satisfied that he would play along, Gin nodded slowly.  "Well, I spent the morning in Bevelle."

"With my credit cards; I know."

"With my credit cards—they say Gin Zelig; not Cain Zelig."

"Okay, I stand corrected."

"That's right.  Anyway, when I got home, I spent a couple hours wrapping the presents I'd bought—and very neatly, might I add—I even curled the ribbons."

"If you're telling me that I won't want to open my presents because of how nicely you wrapped them then I'd say you're dreaming," he shot back with a smirk.

"No, no . . ."

"Good."

"Anyway, after I finished painstakingly wrapping your presents, I took them downstairs to put them under the tree, and that's when I noticed something strange."

"Strange?"

"Yes."

"How so?"

"Well, it seems that there are many, many presents under the tree for a Cain Zelig, and there are presents under the tree for a Punkin Zelig . . ." She trailed off, ears flattening for effect, "But there isn't a single one under there for a Gin Zelig, and since tomorrow is Christmas, it struck me as odd."

He nodded slowly.  "That is strange," he agreed, his blue eyes sparkling with his repressed amusement.

"Isn't it?"

He snorted.  "Pfft!  I could have sworn I told you that the whole premise of Christmas is the idea of giving, not receiving."

She blinked.  "This is true, but you see, I would not want to undermine your joy of giving, right?"

He cleared his throat as the grin he'd been trying to hold back surfaced.  "That's my baby girl . . . always thinking of others."

"Absolutely."

"Gin?"

"Hmm?"

"D o you remember last year?"

"Of course I do."

"Then you remember the crystal water globe."

She bit her lip, ears flattening for a moment as the memory flashed through her head.  "I just shook it . . . it must have been broken already."

Cain rolled his eyes.  "It looked like you stuck it in one of those machines they use to mix cans of paint."

"It didn't say it was fragile."

"Most people don't mark stuff like that on the wrapping paper."

"Be that as it may . . . Are you really not getting me anything for Christmas?
"You'll get your gifts tomorrow morning," he promised.  "You just have to be patient."

She heaved a long-suffering sigh.  "But last year you let me have a present on Christmas Eve . . . and it's Christmas Eve . . ."

His lips twitched.  "It's not Christmas Eve.  It's still daylight out."

"I wouldn't make you wait till tomorrow for all your gifts."

"I can wait," he said mildly.

"But I'd give you something really, really special."

He scratched his chin as his expression turned thoughtful.  "Like what?"

Gin giggled.  "Well . . . what would you . . . want?"

She wasn't entirely sure she trusted the wolfish grin that surfaced on his face.  "I'd be perfectly happy with a sexy as hell little hanyou wrapped up in a nice ribbon."

"Any particular hanyou or would  . . . I . . . suffice?" she asked as her cheeks pinked.

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On the bow."

"Would I . . . get a present . . . tonight, too?"

He chuckled and leaned forward, lifting her chin with his crooked finger and feathering a gentle kiss over her lips.  "I'll give you anything you want, baby girl, with or without the bow."

She couldn't help the blush that rose in her cheeks as she stood up and twisted her fingers together.  "I have to go check dinner . . . I don't want it to burn . . ."

"Okay," he agreed.  "I was going to work a little longer . . . unless you had something else in mind?"

Her blush deepened as his gaze raked over, a lazy grin on his face, the brightness in his eyes leaving no doubt in her mind as to what, exactly, he was thinking about.

"Stop that," she chided, her voice a husky whisper.

"Stop what?"

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

She made a face.  "Like you're going to hunt me down and . . . and eat me . . ."

"I was thinking about it."

"I—I —You . . . Cain!"

He laughed at the slight bemusement on her face.  "You'd better check on the food, Gin."

"Food?"

"You said you were cooking dinner," he reminded her.

"Dinner?  Oh . . . right . . . dinner."

His entirely gloating laughter followed her from the studio, and Gin gulped hard as she hurried toward the stairs.  'It really isn't fair, is it?  He shouldn't be able to do that to me with just a single look.'

'You make it sound like that's a bad thing,' her youkai chided gently.

'It is,' she reasoned.  'I don't do that to him, now do I?'

'Maybe you should try.'

'Try?  How?'

She really didn't like the almost sinister sound in her youkai's chuckle.  'Got any ribbon?'

Gin stopped mid-step as her cheeks exploded in hot color.  'Ribbon?' she squeaked, remembering what Cain had said.

'Yes, Gin: ribbon . . .'


Dinner was burnt.  Beyond salvation, really.  Gin might have said that she was going to go check on it, but if she had, it had obviously been awhile ago.  He'd taken it out of the oven—he thought it might have been a roast, and in the end, he'd set the charred pan outside because the smell was rather overwhelming.  He wasn't sure where she was at the moment, but he could tell from the way her scent stopped midway down the staircase that she hadn't made it to the kitchen before she'd backtracked.

Cain stepped back to survey his efforts and heaved a sigh as he tried not to think about just what it all would mean.  Gin really had outdone herself, decorating the tree with the most natural looking decorations she'd been able to find.  Birds' nests fashioned from grapevines with twigs of real holly and mistletoe woven in adored branches with soft little humming birds that looked real . . . Crystal ornaments that looked like icicles . . . Sterling silver bells . . .

She'd selected each ornament carefully, spending hours and hours browsing the internet, dragging him to stores all over New England to find the ones that she thought would suit them the best.  Seeing her so excited about something, even something as simple as shopping for Christmas ornaments had kept him silent when he might have complained about the lengths she was going to in her preparation for the holiday.  He'd even agreed to her desire to host a Christmas party for his generals and their families.  Now, thankfully, all was quiet.  The mansion had lost the quiet air, the abandoned feel that had grown over the years.

That was her true gift, wasn't it?  Her ability to heal things; people . . . She'd done that for him.  In her unassuming way, she'd stepped into his life when he'd desperately needed her, and she'd done nothing but give, time and again.  He knew that now.  He knew what she offered had always been given freely and deeply and without remorse.  What she wanted . . .

He closed his eyes and sighed, needing a moment to gather his thoughts before he sought out his mate.

Dropping another log onto the low burning fire, he pushed the wood back with a poker and set the grate back in place.  Punkin lifted his head off his paws, thumped his tail on the floor once, twice.  Cain scratched the animal's head and smiled.  "What do you think, Punkin?  Is she worth it?"

Punkin wagged his tail much more enthusiastically.  

"Yeah," Cain agreed with a sigh.  "She really, really is."

Standing up, surveying the room—smiling just a little as he stared at the array of gifts he'd set out for Gin, Cain nodded, swallowed, and he let out his breath in a strong gust.  Everything was set, ready . . . 'God help me,' he thought as he slowly turned toward the doorway.

Taking his time as he wandered through the mansion, he stopped to touch the portrait of Bellaniece on the landing.  Solemnly staring at him through the fringe of her lashes, her three year old face still chubby and round . . . She seemed to be trying to tell him something.  Cain kissed his fingertips and touched her cheek before moving on again.

She was in their bedroom—at least, in the one that they didn't often use.  Lying in the middle of the huge bed with nothing but scarlet ribbons with gold trim covering her, Cain stopped short, smiled as he leaned against the doorframe and stared at his mate.  "Merry Christmas to me," he mumbled.

Gin bit her lip as she met his gaze, her eyes bright, shining as she smiled shyly and twisted a lock of her silvery hair around her finger.  "You said you wanted a hanyou wrapped in ribbons and bows," she murmured.

"So I did."

She cleared her throat and grinned.  "Will I do?"

"God, yes," he rasped, shuffling over to the bed and falling to his knees beside it.

"If you open all these, does that mean I get to open three presents, too?"

"You let me open all three of those," he countered, running his claws along the rise of her hip, "and I'll let you have anything you want."

Her breath caught as he grazed her skin, as he leaned toward her to kiss her hip just above the velvet ribbon.  Reaching around, drawn in by the invisible lure of the silvery mark—his mark, Cain rubbed the spot, pulling her closer, using his teeth to slowly tug at the ribbon that covered her.

Moaning softly, she shivered as she ran her fingers over the contours of his face.  As if she were trying to etch every curve into her memory, she stared at him with rapt attention, her gaze both knowing and somehow full of innocence, full of trust, and she smiled.  Lower lip trembling just a little as she nodded almost imperceptibly, Cain growled low in his throat; an instinctual sound that made her eyes close as she arched into his touch.

The first ribbon fell away, and he rubbed his cheek against the downy silver hair nestled between her thighs.  She moaned again—ragged, broken—and he turned his head, kissed her gently, trailing those kisses up her belly, up her abdomen.  She gasped as he captured her nipple through the velvet ribbon.  Carefully rolling it between his teeth, Cain growled again as Gin fell back.  Her body quaked under his inquisition, her flushed skin radiating with a resounding pulse that drew him in, surrounded him.

Pulling the end of the ribbon that bound her, Cain tossed it aside and stared at her.  One ribbon remained.  Tied around her throat like a little gift puppy, he couldn't help the tender smile that touched his lips.  She stared back him, curled on her side as she peered out of the corner or her eye.  She managed to look both timid and seductive at the same time.  The combination was almost more than he could stand.

"Merry Christmas, Zelig-sensei," she whispered.

Swallowing hard, thankful that she had closed her eyes, Cain had to clear his throat before answering.  "Merry Christmas, baby girl."

She leaned up on her elbow, reaching for him and drawing him toward her as she pressed her lips to his, her kiss full of all the things that Cain had come to rely on.  Her fist wrapped around his finger as he stroked her jaw, as he pressed her back against the mattress.  She sighed, the sound muffled by his mouth.  He leaned over her, tried to sooth her with the softest kisses, with gentle reassurances that he didn't think she heard.

Pushing against his shoulders, Gin sat up and smiled.  Hands shaking, chest heaving, she tugged his shirt up, dragging it over his head before reaching for his trousers.  He stood up to help her.  She shifted onto her knees, scowling slightly as she unhooked the button and released the zipper.

Rubbing her ears idly, Cain sucked in a sharp breath when she started to push his pants down.  Leaning forward to slip them off, her bangs brushed against him, and he jerked back with a hiss.

Golden eyes flashing up to meet his, she shook her head in slight confusion.  He grasped her shoulders, forced her back, gazed at her solemnly.  Gathering his will, trying to convince himself that everything was exactly as it should be, he closed his eyes for a moment as Gin spread her legs, offered him her body, her soul.

"I love you, Gin: everything about you.  You know that, right?"

She nodded, her eyes clouding for a moment as she struggled to understand the deeper meaning of his words.  "I love you, too . . ." she murmured.

"I know," he said, managing a sad little smile.  Positioning himself above her, pressing into her so slowly that Gin lifted her hips, trying to move him faster.  He kissed her long and deeply, feeling the edges of his sanity as they started to fray.  He couldn't think, couldn't reason, couldn't remember anything but the sensation of her heat, of her moisture, of her body opening and surging.  She held him tight, her hands balled into fists smashed against his shoulders.  The softest whimpers escaped her.  He gathered her close—closer than his heart—tried not to think about it would mean in the end.

Gin gasped and shivered, her body rising around him like the tide.  She broke him time and again, her will, her desire, her need became his.  He trembled in her arms, his body racked by the fierce passion that raged through him yet tempered by the knowledge that this time was different.  Setting a slow pace, the languor of motion became a burning ache.  He kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, her nose.  She rose against him time and again, her body willing his to assuage the fire that he fed and fanned but refused to let rage out of control.  Whimpering, sighing, she tugged on his shoulders.

Reaching back to cradle her knee against his side, Cain closed his eyes, let himself get lost in the sensations surrounding him, memorizing the nuances, the visceral burn.  Her flesh scorched him, her broken words haunted him.

Squirming under him as she tried to convey her need, Gin arched against him.  The lure of her body was too much.  Unable to ignore the absolute heat, the pervasive need that goaded him, he increased the rhythm, pushed harder, faster, deeper.  Gin gasped, whined, rose up, clinging to him, head falling back as her body tensed around him.

He could feel his orgasm rising.  The tightening in his body matched the bitter gnawing regret that enveloped his mind.  Ragged breathing, quiet pleading, promises were made and broken . . . Too much feeling, too much recrimination . . . Every single moment seemed to center on this one, and he couldn't help but think that maybe this—this one moment . . . Maybe it was the most selfish wish of them all.

His heart thundered in his ears.  Gin's body gasped and shivered.  Her release triggered his own.  The sweetness of the sound of his name spilling off her lips echoed with the rasping entreaty that slipped from his.  She held onto him as he rolled them over, cradling her against his heart, holding her so tightly that she gasped but didn't try to move away.

Gradually the harsh sound of their breathing subsided, leaving behind the gentle tick of the clock on the nightstand.  Gin snuggled closer, hand splayed against his chest.

"Cain?"

He had to swallow hard to force down the painful lump that nearly choked him.  "Hmm?"

"Do I get a present now?"

He barked out a terse chuckle despite the rising melancholy.  "You've got a one track mind."

"Well, you did promise."

"I suppose I did."

She wiggled around, leaning on her elbows to look at him.  "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he lied, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

She frowned.  "You don't look like there's nothing wrong."

"I'll be fine."

She didn't look like she believed him, but she also seemed to realize that she wasn't going to get a straight answer out of him, either.  "It's after midnight," she said instead.  "That means it's Christmas, and since you didn't give me anything for Christmas Eve, I think you should let me open all of my presents now."

"Who says I didn't give you your present already?"

"You didn't," she maintained, sitting up and clasping her hands in her lap.

"Oh, really?" he countered, hefting an eyebrow in silent challenge.

"You unwrapped your presents," she shot back with an impish grin.  "All I got was—"

"It is so important that you not finish that statement, baby girl," he growled, sitting up and groping around for his pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

Gin wrinkled her nose.  "No, no . . . Put that out!"

"Humor me."

"But they stink!"

"Gin," he began, pinning her with a serious look as he breathed out a stream of smoke.  "I need this."

"What makes you think that you need it?"

He managed a half-hearted smile but didn't smash out the cigarette.  "Well, you know . . . You always need a cigarette after really good sex."

She blushed but grinned.  "I thought . . . That wasn't . . . You made love to me, Cain."

"In that case, I might need two."

Gin rolled her eyes and scampered off the bed, skittering over to the closet to retrieve her teal silk robe.  "Come on.  I want to give you the rest of your presents now," she coaxed.

Cain stared at the cigarette and winced inwardly.  "Why don't you go on down?  I'll be there in a minute."

She eyed him for a moment before climbing back onto the bed.  "I don't want to go downstairs without you."

"Thought you were anxious for your presents."

She shrugged.  "I can wait."

He stared at her for a long moment then finally nodded, smashing out his cigarette before grabbing his pants off the floor and tugging them on.  "You win."

She giggled and hopped up to hug him.  "I hope you like your presents, Cain," she said as she hurried toward the doorway, pulling him along behind her.

She didn't see Cain's smile falter, and she didn't see the emotion that brightened his gaze.  "Me too, Gin," he said, his smile sad, strained.  "Me, too."