InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 5: Phantasm ❯ Silver Spoon ( Chapter 27 )

~*~*~*~*~*~Lime warning~*~*~*~*~*~

 

There is no clean version of this chapter. You've been warned.

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

~~Chapter 27~~

~Silver Spoon~

 

“Wake up, kitty . . .”

 

Sydnie moaned, burrowing her face deeper against the warm chest where she'd fallen asleep.

 

Bas chuckled softly. “Come on, baby. Wake up . . .”

 

“Uh-uh,” she whimpered.

 

“I know . . . we got in late last night, but knowing Gunnar, he'll want to get moving again.”

 

Sydnie uttered a low growl. “Sometimes,” she insisted, voice muffled by Bas' chest, “I really don't like him very much.”

 

“Me, either,” he agreed. “Anyway, better to get up now than to let him come in here to wake us up.”

 

With a defeated sigh, Sydnie stretched in her customary fashion, arching her back and sticking her bottom up in the air as she reared back, fists digging into the pillow on either side of his head—a gesture that both amused Bas as well as irritated him since he was almost certain that the only reason she did it was to drive him absolutely insane. “I don't want to go yet,” she argued, curling up against his chest once more. “He can forget it.”

 

Bas chuckled again and kissed Sydnie's forehead. “Sydnie . . .”

 

“Let me see your wrist.”

 

He opened his mouth to protest but decided against it when she grabbed his hand and dragged his arm over for her inspection. “See? It's fine. I told you I would be.”

 

“Good,” she agreed, letting go of his hand so that she could nuzzle closer into the crook of his neck. “Night.”

 

“Oh, no . . . you can't go back to sleep, kitty.”

 

“That's what you think, puppy.”

 

“You want some milk?”

 

“You're not very subtle, Sebastian.”

 

“Do you?”

 

“Not if it means I have to move.”

 

He sighed but grinned despite himself. “You're a bad little cat, did you know?”

 

“The worst,” she agreed with a yawn.

 

“Are you hungry?”

 

“Of course not.”

 

He sighed since her answer really didn't surprise him at all. “Humor me, then. I'm starving.”

 

She leaned up, bracing her weight on her crossed arms. Her hair was mussed, spilling over her shoulder in soft waves, and her gaze was steady despite the sleepy slant of her eyes. Lips curving up in a drowsy grin, she stared at him for a few breathless moments before she nipped at his chin and uttered a playful growl.

 

“A really bad kitty,” he mumbled, eyes closing of their own accord as she dragged her fangs along the line of his jaw, stopping now and again to kiss him before moving further on. A violent shiver raced up his spine. Sydnie giggled, nipping at his earlobe and eliciting another round of shudders that he couldn't hide. Her body writhed, undulated, her hands opening and closing against his chest like a contented cat.

 

“We could stay in bed,” she purred, her lips poised above his.

 

“Sydnie . . .”

 

“What's the matter, Bas the Hunter? You're shaking . . .”

 

His answer was a low groan as she sat up, straddling his hips, grinding her body against his. The sensation was dulled by the thick fabric of his jeans, but that didn't matter. He could smell her deepening scent, and as much as he wanted to revel in the knowledge that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her, he couldn't quite forget that Gunnar could easily walk through the door at any given time. “You . . . you have to . . . stop,” he gritted out, gasping as the dissipating strands of reason that were fraying too rapidly to grab.

 

Sydnie fell forward, her lips brushing over his as her hair fanned over his shoulders. The lingering touch only served to stoke the rising flames. He reached out, sinking his hands into her hair as he held her to him, deepening the kiss she'd started. He parted her lips with his tongue, tasted the sweetness of her mouth. She wrapped her hands around his wrists, tugging at him and trying to push him away by turns. Her tongue stroked his, the roughened texture enflaming his nerves. Her scent wrapped around his mind, obliterating every thought but one. The need to touch her, to taste her, to merge with her . . . it was overwhelming.

 

She let go of his wrists, trailing her hands down his arms, over his shoulders. Traversing his flesh in a surge of fire and heat, her claws set off a chain reaction of rippling muscles. He let his hands snake around to rub her back, holding her close as the thunder of his uneven pulse echoed in his ears.

 

Her hands delved lower along the shallow vale in the center of his abdomen. She leaned on her elbow, her fingers dancing over his skin. Her touch was light, lingering, brushing over his body with an urgency that slammed straight through him. Sydnie was a paradox in motion: bold and brazen yet wholly sweet in the surrender of her kisses.

 

She brushed over him, and he tore his mouth away, unleashing a harsh growl as his body jerked wildly: the shock of her touch, the pressure of her returning caress, shot to his brain; a riot of sensation. It registered that he ought to stop her. He just couldn't remember why. She grasped him gently yet firmly, pumping him unmercifully through the fabric of his jeans. He grabbed her wrist but couldn't push her away. Her touch was too welcome; too necessary . . . His arms fell to his sides as he shuddered. Sydnie kissed him again, licking his lips, sucking on his tongue while her hand stroked him.

 

“S-S-Syd . . . nie . . .”

 

Her answer was increased pressure squeezing him then releasing over and over again. The pleasure bordered on pain, escalating higher and higher into an undeniable need and the unrelenting ache that grew worse and worse. The tension built deep inside, his control slipping away as the first pulsations of absolute pleasure surged through him, and he lifted his hips to meet her hand. His body taut, rigid, he rasped out a hoarse groan as he came completely undone. The hot stickiness of his orgasm seeped through his jeans. Sydnie leaned away and blinked in surprise just before a sweet little smile lit her eyes, turned her lips. Leaning down, she whispered in his ear, soothing him as his body convulsed, as he moaned quietly, the sound of his breathing heavy in the air. Her words were lost to him. He jerked once, twice, then relaxed, chest heaving, a sinful sense of lethargy seeping into his very bones.

 

She cuddled against his chest, stroking his cheek with her fingertips. It took a minute before Bas could even manage to open his eyes, and when he did, he couldn't help the crimson blush that shot into his skin as the full implications of what had happened washed over him. Turning his face to the side and refusing to look at her, Bas started to push her off. She wrapped her arms more snuggly around him. “Just a few more minutes?” she whispered.

 

He grimaced. “I . . . you . . . get off me.”

 

She heaved a sigh but let him sit up. He made a face and strode out of the room, praying that she hadn't seen exactly how embarrassed he was.

 

`Stupid . . . stupid! What was I thinking?' he berated himself as he closed the bathroom door and stripped off his clothes, making a face rife with self-disgust as he dropped the boxer shorts and jeans into the plastic bag lined trashcan. He hadn't been thinking, had he? Too caught up in Sydnie, he hadn't been thinking at all . . . If she had wanted more, he would have let her do whatever she wished, wouldn't he? `Damn it . . .' he grumbled, face flaming so hot that he felt feverish. The last thing he'd wanted or needed was for that idiot cousin of his to know what was going on between him and Sydnie, and now . . . He winced. Gunnar would smell it, he just knew it, and . . .

 

And then the teasing would start all over again.

 

Yanking the bag out of the trashcan, Bas tied it closed then repeated the process about four more times. He slipped into the shower and jerked the curtain into place, giving the water taps a vicious twist and heaving a sigh as the cold fluid rained down on him as he grabbed the bar of Ivory soap.

 

He'd always been sensitive about his size, he supposed. It couldn't be helped. He'd taken after his father, which might have been a good thing since his mother was barely over five feet tall, but the years that had seemed so long ago were still vivid in Bas' mind. If it hadn't been bad enough that he'd always been bigger than the other boys, he'd never forget the day he'd first discovered that he was getting his crests. Thing was, he hadn't realized what it was. All he'd noticed was that there were strange dark greenish blotches all over his penis. Barely more than odd shadows in the beginning, Bas had done what any normal twelve-year-old boy would have done: he'd hopped into the shower and scrubbed as hard as he dared, hoping that the color would wash off. It didn't.

 

He ignored it for the next week, trying not to worry about it too much, but every time he used the bathroom, he saw it, and every time he saw it, it seemed as though the green color was . . . spreading. Near panicked that there really was something wrong with him, Bas had gone to his father . . .

 

Peering around the door into the airy studio that Gin and Cain shared, Bas lingered in the shadows and wondered if his father even knew he was there. Whenever he was working, Cain had a habit of blocking out everyone and everything, holing himself up in this studio for days or weeks on end. He always maintained that Bas could interrupt him, should he need something. Still, Bas hated to do it, and that he was considering it really did speak volumes.

 

“Dad?” he mumbled, hoping that he wouldn't have to raise his voice—and possibly the notice of his mother, who was sitting at a drafting table nearby, working on an illustrated children's book.

 

Cain didn't seem to have heard him. Bas made a face but cleared his throat. “Dad?” he repeated.

 

Cain glanced up, blinking a few times as his eyes slowly focused on his son. Bas waved his hand to beckon Cain over, shooting his mother a worried glance. Cain seemed to understand that whatever it was, Bas didn't want Gin to know, and he wiped his hands on a clean towel and chucked it onto the table before striding over to his son. “Bas? What's wrong?”

 

Bas shook his head and backed out of the studio. Cain scowled but followed.

 

“What's this all about?” Cain demanded when Bas closed and locked the bathroom door behind them.

 

Bas bit his cheek and tried not to blush as he crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at the floor.

 

“Bas?”

 

“There's something wrong with . . . it!” he blurted as a hot flush shot into his cheeks.

 

Cain blinked in confusion. “`It'?” he echoed with a shake of his head. “`It', what?”

 

Bas sucked in his cheek and shook his head. “`It', Dad . . . you know . . . `it'!”

 

Cain's eyes flared as slow understanding seemed to dawn. “Your `it', you mean? Your . . . penis?”

 

Bas nodded miserably.

 

Cain cleared his throat. “What seems to be wrong with . . . `it', Bas?”

 

He sniffled. “I think it's gonna . . . fall off . . .”

 

Cain choked back a chuckle. “Why don't you . . . show me?”

 

Bas shot his father a consternated scowl but slowly unfastened his jeans, shoving them down around his ankles and glancing quickly at Cain before slowly pulling the elastic band of his boxer shorts away from his waist. Grimacing as he stared down into his underpants, Bas' was horrified when his eyes filled with tears. He was positive now that something was really wrong. It was turning green, for God's sake! The next step, undoubtedly, was for his penis to shrivel up and fall off . . .

 

Cain paused but leaned over Bas' shoulder and peered down into his son's shorts. He stared for what seemed like forever though in hindsight, it was likely only a minute or so. “Wh-what's wrong with it, Dad?” he wailed, tears streaming down his face despite his efforts to stave them back.

 

Cain cleared his throat again and stepped back, a curious look on his face as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I don't think there's anything wrong with it, Bas. I think . . . I think you're just getting your crests.”

 

“My . . .? On . . .? But I look like a freak!”

 

“I don't think you do,” Cain said gently, patting Bas' shoulder in much the same way that Gin always pushed his hair out of his eyes and kissed his forehead. “It's different, but it's not bad.”

 

Bas sniffled, taking the wad of tissues that Cain snatched from the box on the back of the toilet. “Will the concealment hide them?”

 

Cain shrugged and leaned against the counter around the sink. “Well . . . it should, but it's harder to control that when you're . . . if you're . . . during sex.”

 

Bas grimaced and pulled his pants back up . . .

 

And he's vowed that he'd never, ever have sex if it meant that the girl would have to see his crests . . .

 

Unfortunately, that wasn't the worst of it, either. Since Morio, Gunnar, and he had basically been trained together, there were always the daunting threats of pantsing. His cousins were terrible about it, especially Morio, who had always been the undisputed prank-meister. Uncle Mikio hadn't been trained with them, exactly, but he had been a part of their group. His balance problems had precluded his training, so while the others were learning how to fight, Mikio was learning how to shoot a bow and arrow with his mother and later, he was taught how to shoot a gun. Mikio had always been quieter, more reserved than the rest of them, and if he'd been around more often, Bas doubted that the pantsing problem would have been as severe since the hanyou had an uncanny way of calming the more boisterous of his cousins.

 

Still, those cousins—Gunnar and Morio—and later Evan, as well—had taken to teasing him unmercifully. He'd heard it all at one time or another.

 

“Kami, Bas! You're a fucking monster!” Morio had exclaimed.

 

“Holy dogs, Bas! How do you keep that in your pants?” Gunnar had said.

 

“When I grow up, I want to be just like you,” Evan had added . . .

 

Bas grimaced as he shut off the taps and shook off the water that weighed down his hair. He didn't think that Sydnie would laugh at him, but she wasn't the main problem. Gunnar was. He'd said far too often over the years that Bas' size would kill any woman who he tried to sleep with, and whether he was joking or not, the end result was the same. Already overly-sensitive about that particular facet of his anatomy, the teasing didn't help at all, and the last thing he needed—the very last thing—was for Gunnar to find out about what had just happened, because Bas knew Gunnar well enough to know that Gunnar would have no qualms about teasing the hell out of Bas all over again . . .

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

Sydnie stepped out of the convenience store and stifled a sigh as she sauntered toward the SUV where Bas and Gunnar were waiting for her. At least they weren't going far today; just changing hotels to one across town. Bas had been oddly distant since he'd pushed her away, and Sydnie stifled a dejected sigh.

 

She had thought he'd liked it. He seemed to have enjoyed it at the time . . .

 

`What were you thinking, Sydnie? You know better than anyone that Bas tends to be a little shy about stuff like that. Never had a real girlfriend, or didn't you hear what he told you before?'

 

She wrinkled her nose and carefully dug a cigarette out of her pack. `I wasn't trying to embarrass him,' she insisted. `I just wanted to make him feel as good as he makes me feel, even if it is in an entirely different way . . .'

 

`You know what your problem is, Sydnie? You come on too strong with him. You're going to chase him away, and then where will you be? He'll end up being scared of you because you can't keep yourself off of him . . . Just think about that, will you, the next time you're wanting to `show' him how you feel . . .'

 

Sydnie stifled a sigh and stopped long enough to light her cigarette. Bas glanced up and shook his head. “Come on, cat. We've got to get moving.”

 

“In a minute, puppy,” she insisted as she sauntered toward the cousins. “We're just going to a different hotel, right?”

 

Bas shrugged. “I don't like having you out in the open, Sydnie, now come on.”

 

Sydnie wrinkled her nose but took one last drag off her cigarette before dropping it on the ground and crushing it under the toe of her shoe. Bas held the door open, and she climbed in. He got into the passenger side and fastened the safety belt while Gunnar started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot.

 

Leaning on the console between the two seats, Sydnie peered up at Bas and frowned. “Why are we changing hotels but not going farther?” she demanded.

 

“Because I have a flight out of here tomorrow,” Gunnar told her, “so it made little sense to go anywhere else.”

 

“You're leaving?”

 

“Yes. Want to come with me, kitten?”

 

She grinned. “I think I'll stay with my puppy.”

 

Gunnar chuckled. “Can't blame a guy for trying, can you?”

 

Bas snorted. “Pfft! Knock it off, already. She doesn't want to hang around with a bastard like you.”

 

“Better a bastard than a grouch.”

 

“That's what you think,” Bas grumbled, “and I'm not grouchy . . . I'm easily annoyed.”

 

“About as easily annoyed as your grandfather,” Gunnar shot back.

 

“Leave the old man out of this.”

 

“You're exactly like him, you know—just taller and . . . bulkier.”

 

“Are you dogging my grandfather?”

 

Gunnar laughed. “Kami, no. He'd kick my ass . . . like I'd be that stupid.”

 

“Your grandfather?” Sydnie piped up, resting her elbows on the console and glancing back and forth.

 

Bas grimaced. “The old man isn't exactly a `people person'.”

 

“He's one of the toughest there is. He doesn't have to be a people person,” Gunnar argued.

 

“I'd rather have my grandfather than your grandfather,” Bas pointed out.

 

“Mine?” Gunnar blurted. “What's wrong with my grandfather?”

 

“Nothing's wrong with him,” Bas allowed. “You just never know what he's thinking.”

 

“Ah, yes . . . he is rather stoic, isn't he?”

 

“That's a good word for it. I'd have said something entirely different.”

 

“I'm sure you would have,” Gunnar stated dryly.

 

Bas grinned as Gunnar pulled into the parking lot at the hotel. “Can't say I'll miss you,” he commented.

 

Gunnar chuckled. “Yeah, I didn't think so. After check-in, we should go exchange the rental for you. I'll get one, too, so you won't have to worry about that in the morning.”

 

“Why not grab a taxi?”

 

Gunnar shrugged. “Taxis offend me.”

 

Sydnie hopped out of the SUV and waited while Bas retrieved the suitcase and laptop computer. Gunnar grabbed his bag and locked the vehicle via the keychain remote. She fell in step beside Bas. He didn't even spare her a glance as they strode toward the front doors.

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

“So where's the kitty?”

 

Bas dropped into a chair at the small table and scratched his head. “Taking a bath.” Leaning back, he drummed his index fingers on the table and narrowed his eyes on his cousin. “Since when do taxis offend you?”

 

Gunnar glanced around the side of the newspaper he'd been reading and grinned. “They've always offended me,” he quipped. “They stink.”

 

Bas didn't argue that since he happened to agree. Too many lingering smells from the people who had ridden in them before had always been an overwhelming thing, and he nodded slowly. “Why the hasty departure?”

 

Gunnar shrugged and carefully folded the paper, laying it on the table before he sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “It's not hasty . . . I wasn't planning on staying that long. You're fine, right? No need for me to stick around.”

 

“I'm surprised you think so. Figured you'd stay just to irritate me.”

 

Gunnar chuckled. “As much as I'd like to do that, Bas, I have to say that you're being a little paranoid.”

 

“Am I?”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

Bas pushed himself out of his chair and strode over to the fifth-story window. The lights that illuminated Jackson, Mississippi seemed to shimmer in the darkness, casting a yellow glow to the skyline. High overhead, only the brightest stars could be discerned, and just for a moment, Bas couldn't ignore the sharp stab of homesickness that washed through him. He missed the open skies of Maine; the lulling comfort of the ever-moving ocean. He missed the forest and the cliffs and crags he knew. He'd explored them all in his youth.

 

`Idiot . . . you make it sound like you're never going home again.'

 

`That's stupid. Of course I'm going home . . . and I'm taking Sydnie with me.'

 

`You're more like your father than you like to believe.'

 

`Why's that?'

 

`Maybe that's why Cain doesn't leave home often, either.'

 

Bas sighed. `I'm not really like him. I'm not really like Dad, at all . . .'

 

True enough, he supposed. He wasn't really like either of his parents. Both Cain and Gin Zelig were artists at heart. Sure, his mother chose to create illustrated children's books while his father dedicated himself to more serious endeavors, but Bas had far too many memories of spending time with his mother and father in the studio where they'd closet themselves away for long periods of time. It seemed to Bas that they'd stopped doing so as often after Evan was born and Jillian adopted, or maybe, as he'd gotten older, he'd simply broadened his horizons, preferring to spend time out-of-doors, hiking through the forest or climbing the white stone cliffs . . .

 

“Earth to Bas . . . are you listening to me?”

 

Bas shook his head, blinking as the city came into focus once more. “Huh?”

 

Gunnar sighed and stood up, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he ambled over to Bas' side. “I said that you should head out of here first thing in the morning.”

 

“I know,” Bas agreed, pulling the small plastic case containing a Mississippi state spoon out of his pocket and turning it over in his nimble fingers. He'd picked it up at the gas station while Sydnie was buying a pack of cigarettes. He'd forgotten to give it to her at the time . . . “The Onyx will just send more hunters.”

 

“If you can get ahead of them, you might be able to take a break somewhere . . . if you hide yourselves well enough.”

 

“Take a break? What for?”

 

Gunnar chuckled. “I'm not stupid, Bas. Tell me you don't want to spend some time with Sydnie . . . alone.”

 

Bas made a face and grunted despite the tell-tale blush that filtered into his cheeks. “You're such a damn dog, Gunnar . . .”

 

“I'm not being a dog . . . Christmas is coming up, and if she's really been alone that long, don't you think that it'd be nice to have a real holiday?”

 

Bas' eyebrows shot up, disappearing under the thick fringe of his bronze bangs. “You're being sensitive?”

 

“I can be,” he grumbled. “She's your mate, right?”

 

“She is,” he agreed.

 

“You sound like you're worried about something.”

 

Bas shrugged. “I have to tell her who I am.”

 

“Yeah,” Gunnar sighed, sending the bangs fringing his temple straight into the air. “She's not going to like that, is she?”

 

Bas shook his head. “No, she isn't.”

 

Gunnar winced. “Well, if she dumps you, maybe she'll give me a chance.”

 

“Hardly, fool. You're going to be a tai-youkai, too—a worse tai-youkai: the Japanese tai-youkai.”

 

Gunnar's grin was tinged with regret. “Never thought I'd be sorry for that.”

 

Bas grimaced. “Me, either.”

 

“Have you told her? That you want her to be your mate?”

 

“Not . . . exactly.”

 

Gunnar snorted. “Keh!” Shaking his head, he sighed again, casting Bas a troubled stare. “Why does she hate the tai-youkai so much? No one hates Cain . . . well, except for your grandfather . . .”

 

“The old man doesn't hate him, either. He just hates that Dad brought Mom to America.” He made a face, turning his attention back out the window once more. “I have no idea,” he grumbled. “She just says that Dad did nothing—I'm just not sure what that means.”

 

Gunnar shrugged and clapped Bas on the shoulder. “Look, I'm going to bed, and I'll probably be gone when you get up. A word of advice?”

 

“Do I want to hear it?”

 

“Probably not.”

 

Bas made a face, dropping his arms to his sides as he rounded on his cousin. “Then no.”

 

“But I'll give it to you, anyway.”

 

“I figured as much.”

 

Gunnar grinned wolfishly. “If I were you, I'd just march in there, grab her by the shoulders, give her a good shake, and say, `Listen, wench: I'm the next tai-youkai, and you're going to be my mate. There's not a damn thing you can do about it, so just get used to it!'”

 

Bas rolled his eyes but chuckled. “I knew I didn't want to hear it.”

 

Gunnar chuckled, too. “It'd be effective, though, don't you think?”

 

“No, I don't think. Anyway, be careful, will you? It'd be a damn shame if you didn't make it back to Japan in one piece.”

 

Gunnar's chuckle escalated at Bas' tongue-in-cheek tone. “You, too. Take care of her, will you?”

 

Bas' smile faded as his eyes took on a determined glow. “I will,” he vowed. “Or I'll die trying.”

 

Gunnar grimaced. “That's what I'm afraid of, Bas.”

 

Bas didn't reply as he watched Gunnar disappear into his bedroom and quietly close the door.

 

`She'll be safe,' he told himself again. `I'll keep her safe . . . and I'll make her understand that she's . . . my mate . . .'

 

 

~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~ *~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~

A/N:

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concreteangel:

1. Are Kichiro's and Belle's kids gonna come in this fic? Are the couple gonna show up? 2. What about InuYasha and Kagome's youngest son (according to Purity 4), Is he gonna show up? 3. And is the person Gin sending in Ryomaru?

 

1) Maybe. Probably at least mentioned . . . Belle and Kich, you mean? Probably … 2) Mikio … might … show up … probably, yes. 3) Ryomaru? Who's Ryomaru …? Heh heh heh …

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Reviewers

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MMorg

OROsan0677 ------ Inuyoukaimama ------ inuyashaloverr ------ Sweetprincess 17 ------ Simonkal of Inuy ------ Rawben ------ Kurisu no Ryuujin ------ angelfire777

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Final Thought fromSydnie:

…So get used to it…?

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Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Phantasm): 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~