InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Metempsychosis ❯ Contemplation ( Chapter 29 )

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

It was late as Jessa lay awake, nestled comfortably against Ashur, her head on his shoulder, hand resting lightly on his chest while he idly stroked her hair, his other hand, rubbing her arm.  They hadn't said much of anything since he'd led her into his room after their shower.  His bed was bigger, he'd said, more comfortable, which she supposed it was.

As companionable as the silence was, though, she frowned.  She still wanted to explain to him.  She wanted him to understand.  It wasn't that she felt like she owed him any explanations, no.  It was more of an understanding that she wanted him to know . . . Given how angry he was about it, though, she wasn't entirely sure that bringing it up again was a good idea . . . and she was really savoring the closeness that she felt at the moment.  Listening to the sound of his heartbeat, reveling in the warmth of his body against hers . . . She hadn't realized that this sort of feeling even existed . . . or maybe she'd just felt so alone for so very long that she felt it more acutely than she ever had before . . .

He sighed.  "What are you thinking about?" he asked, his voice a low rumble, as though he were afraid to break the silence.

She swallowed hard, almost afraid of giving voice to her thoughts, yet still needing to say it—compelled to say it.  "I want you to know," she said.  "I . . . It's not that I don’t trust you.  I just don't . . . I don't trust anyone, not really."  Closing her eyes for a moment, she unconsciously huddled a little closer to him.  "I don't even know if I trust myself . . ."

"I . . . I get that," he told her, pulling her more solidly against him.  "I have trouble with that, too," he admitted.  "I shouldn't have gotten so angry."

"I just didn't know how to answer you then," she went on.  "I . . . I still don't."

"You don't have to," he told her.  "It was unfair of me to ask you to trust me."  Uttering a terse little laugh that didn't have much real amusement in it, he shrugged.  "The only person who has never let me down in my life is Ben," he went on.  "Well, Kells, but how could he?  He's a child, and . . . and I don't think he could ever really disappoint me . . ." He shook his head and waved a hand in dismissal.  "It's neither here nor there.  It's just . . . When I think about everyone in my life that I've relied upon, that I've spent years, trying to justify their actions on some level when there really is no good excuse for anything they've done . . . And then, I look at you, Jessa, and I . . ." He cleared his throat, and she could sense it, couldn't she?  The vulnerability that he was trying so hard to hide . . . He . . . He was . . .

'He's frightened, isn't he?  But . . . frightened of what . . .?'

Without thinking about it, she propped herself up on her elbows, kissed him on the cheek.  "You're lonely, too, aren't you?"

He looked surprised at her perceptiveness.  Even in the weak and fickle light that filtered through the French doors that led to the balcony beyond, she didn't miss the heightened brightness in his gaze, the fleeting glimpse of a fear that he squelched with admirable ruthlessness.  "Am I?"

She leaned down, kissed him softly, digging her fingers deep into his hair as she shifted her body, as he wrapped his arms around her, running his claws lightly, teasingly up and down her spine.  Gentle kisses, as soft as the flutter of a butterfly's wings, and she moaned as his lips trailed down to her neck, concentrating on the stuttering pulse, fangs grazing over silken skin.  Running her hands over the smooth, unyielding flesh of his chest, reveling in the way his muscles jerked under her perusal, breaking off the kiss as she sat up, as she stared down at him in complete and utter fascination, she scooted down his body, forcing a ragged groan out of him as her fingertips trailed over the rises and hollows of his abdomen . . . She giggled as his muscles twitched, unable to hide her complete fascination with his body.

She glanced at him, only to see that he'd closed his eyes, a frown furrowing his brow as he swallowed hard—she could see his Adam's apple bob with the motion—and before she could stop to think about it, she reached down, grasped him in both of her hands, and squeezed.  He gasped again, half-exhalation, half-her-name, as he jerked in her grip, as she stared at that part of him in absolute thrall.  She wanted to know him—all of him—the part of him that had given her such pleasure before . . .

Before she could think about it, she leaned down, opened her lips as she drew him deep, tasting the bitter, almost metallic pre-cum that had oozed out of him, her own saliva dripping down over her fingers as she rather clumsily drew back before sucking him in deep again.  He rasped out a harsh cry, a ragged entreaty to kami, sinking his hands into her hair, helping her to create a rhythm as he shuddered and shook.

Stroking him with her tongue, with the heat of her mouth, she couldn't help the giggle that swelled in her throat as he moaned and groaned, jerking wildly as she worked him up and down, marveling at his reactions, at the idea that she was able to reduce him to this.

The muscles in his arms strained, bulged, veins popping out in stark relief, buffed by the gloss of the moonlight . . . Uttering a terse, choked groan, his body quivering as she slowly gained confidence, as she lengthened, cultivated the visceral kiss, cheeks collapsing as she drew him in as deeply as she could, as she slipped her lips over her teeth, only to squeeze him just a little tighter in her jaws . . .

A roughened, almost primitive growl, issued from him as his fists wrapped around handfuls of the duvet under him.  She heard the slight tearing of fabric, felt the tremors erupting throughout his body as a heady pleasure shot through her—the innate understanding that she ultimately held that much sway over him, at least, in those moments . . .

"J . . . Jes . . . sa . . ." he gasped out, grasping her shoulders as he thickened between her lips.  "You . . ."

He started to push her back.  She tightened her grasp on him, his hips pistoning up off of the mattress, and she sucked him in harder, unwilling to let him draw away from her.  He growled out a hoarse, gruff, almost strangled, sound as a hot, bitter gush filled her mouth, almost gagged her, as she stubbornly held on, swallowing fast as his orgasm exploded twice, three times . . .

He collapsed against the bed, breathing harsh in the quiet as she slowly, carefully, sucked him clean then released him with a loud 'pop' as the suction broke.  Smiling slightly as she sat back on her heels, she wiped her lips with the back of her hand, watching him as he struggled to breathe, eyes closed, looking more vulnerable than she could credit . . .

It took a couple minutes for him to manage to force his eyes open.  She couldn't help the tender little smile that formed on her lips, in her eyes, as she watched him.  But he reached out to her, pulled her down when she slid back up his body, kissed her deep as he sank a finger into her.  She gasped into his mouth, her body feeling as though it was liquefying, and he chuckled, slowly pumping her with his finger as he echoed the strokes with his tongue.

She writhed against him, bracing her knees against the bed, rocking herself against him as that incessant ache coiled and multiplied.  Whimpering softly, frustrated at the building need, the spreading flames inside her, she uttered a plaintive little whine when he wrapped his free arm over her waist, slowing her down, driving her mad . . .

"Ashur," she complained, almost pouting, as she leaned away, eyes burning with the passion he'd ignited and had yet to quell.

He chuckled softly, his finger slipping out of her as she closed her eyes and shuddered at the loss of him, at the desolate emptiness that he'd left her with.  He reached over and snagged one of the condoms he'd confiscated from her nightstand and held it out to her.  "Go ahead," he prompted when she finally opened her eyes again, as he smiled at the pouting expression on her face.  "You're curious, right?  So, you do it."

She spared a moment to frown at him before snatching the condom and ripping it open.  He helped her just a little as she tried to roll the condom onto him.  After he got it started for her, he laid back, tucking his hands together behind his neck, content to watch her as she rolled it down, as she bit her lip and stared at him.

"Go ahead," he told her once more, nodding at himself, daring her to continue.

She started to shake her head, unsure exactly what he was telling her to do.

He sighed and reached out, slipping his hands under her buttocks, pulling her up and forward, before letting go with one hand, only to grasp himself, gently nudging her open, slipping just the head of his cock into her before letting go, leaving her poised, her thighs, already slick with her own fluids, as he tucked his hands behind his neck once more.

She gasped, moaned as she slowly let herself sink down on him, sitting impossibly still as she savored the feeling of him, so deep inside her.  The fullness was incredible, and she couldn't help the contraction of her muscles as he twitched and jerked in her.

He groaned, long and low, grasped her hips in his hands as he pulled her up until just the tip of him was in her before slowly lowering her on him once more.  She gasped again, pitching forward against his chest, kissing him with an urgency that she couldn't suppress, and all the while, he lifted her, lowered her, his body creating a pulse, a rhythm.  The feeling was maddening, both wonderful and frustrating, all at once, as her need grew, the slow lethargy wasn't nearly enough . . .

"Ashur," she murmured, silently begging him for what she knew he could give her, struggling against his hold as he pushed into her so slowly that she felt like she might lose her mind.  "Please . . ."

"Not fast enough?" he asked her, his whisper, echoing in her head.

She shook her head, tried to push against him.  He chuckled.   "All right," he relented, letting his hands fall to her knees.  "Do what you want."

It took her a moment to understand just what he was saying.  Bracing her hands on his chest, she shifted her hips, heard his low groan as her need wound tighter.  Rising on her knees, she whimpered as he slid out of her, only to gasp as she let her body fall on his, as the throb that surrounded the core of her reverberated with the harshness of the action.  The faster that she moved, the more painful the ache, deep in her grew.  Concentrating on the absolute sensation that coursed through her with every thrust, she felt his hands, grasping her breasts, squeezing, kneading, tugging, and she whimpered, whined as the crazy-wild ache deepened.  Grinding her hips against his, she gasped, cried out as the ache inside her broke free, as she reared back, her hands catching on his thighs, as she ground down on him harder, her body convulsing around his as her mind blanked, oblivious to everything except the gush of pleasure that coursed through her.  Somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt his hands as he grasped her hips again, as he lifted his pelvis off the bed as he yanked her hard against him.  He thrust into her with a wanton, borderline vicious, abandon, then drove up into her as he jerked her down one last time, as his cry mingled with her, shattering the silence in a livid rush . . .


Ashur awoke slowly, a half-smile on his lips as he opened his eyes, blinking at the bright sunlight that filtered through the windows of the French doors.  Glancing down at Jessa, still sprawled on his chest where she'd fallen asleep just after they'd finished making love, his smile widened, even as he grimaced, realizing too late that he'd fallen asleep just after her—and soon enough that he hadn't removed the condom—and that he was still very much inside her—and still very, very hard.

'So . . . pick up where you left off, Kyouhei . . . I really don't think she'd mind at all . . .'

'Hmm . . . I think I will . . .'

Moving his hips, just enough to test the waters, he groaned softly when he realized that she was still very, very receptive.  Even in sleep, her body undulated around him, allowing him free movement to attest to the fact that she really was just as ready for a morning go-round as he was . . .

She sighed as he slowly thrust in her, taking his time, savoring the feel of her as he pushed into her.  Her legs were still tucked around his hips, her feet against his thighs, it was simple to just gently lift her hips, to slowly lower her onto him.  Content to slowly savor her, at least, until she woke up, he closed his eyes, concentrated on the feel of her, of her body as she reacted to him . . .

She awoke with a moan, her gaze, bleary as she opened her eyes, as she peered at him, even as a flush broke over her skin, as she tightened around him.  He shivered in reaction.  "Morning," he said, pulling her down on him once more.

She gasped and kissed him, her body constricting around him again.  Suddenly, though, she sat up, grinding her hips against his, apparently unsatisfied with the slowness that he was indulging.

He started to chuckle, but groaned instead, taking in the absolutely gorgeous sight of those breasts, so perfectly round, thrust upward, nipples hardened into dusty rose peaks that begged for his touch, at her flat stomach, the muscles that were visible beneath the softness of her skin . . . Torn between the need to touch her breasts and the desire to grasp that tiny waist of hers, to help her as she rode him, he leaned up on his elbows, captured the peak of one breast between his lips, between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to make her gasp again as a tremor shot through her, the vibrations, nearly shattering what was left of his control as she rocked against him, harder, faster . . .

"Ashur . . . Oh, God," she moaned, slamming against him, over and over, the dark and wet sounds of their movements driving him to the very brink.

He grabbed her around the waist, flipped them over as he plunged into her, as she screamed.  Grasping her legs, flipping her feet up over his shoulders, he pounded into her as hard as he could.  She writhed and panted, body convulsing as her pleasure took over, he smiled vaguely at the wash of wholly male pride—a primitive pride of a man who was pleasing his woman—as he licked his thumb, slipped it between the folds to find that little nub, sending her careening into pleasure so intense that she tightened around him, almost painfully.

He could feel the tingling deep in him, the rising burn as his orgasm approached.  Gritting his teeth, willing it back, he kept going, driving her to pleasure again and again.  She was nearly whining softly, punctuated by her stunted breathing, her body well beyond her own control.  She reached up, grasping her own breasts, tugging on her nipples, her skin, flushed and glowing, her body demanding, opening and closing around him like delicate blossom.  He could feel the tell-tale tremors racing through her yet again, and this time, he let go, slamming into her as hard as he could, feeling the rush in his balls as his orgasm took over.  Another thrust—two of them—ended with an explosion, as both of them cried out, their voices mingling, echoing, reverberating around them, and he pumped her another time or two as the last of his orgasm surged.

He collapsed onto her, unable to do much more than to shift slightly to the side to keep from crushing her.  She half-cried, half-laughed, her hands pushing at his hair, babbling nonsense as she kissed his face gently, tenderly, while he struggled to come back down to earth.

It took a long time for his breathing to slow, for his body to move when he willed it to.  Leaning on his elbow, he smiled down at her.  She still looked somewhat sleepy, but her cheeks were still flushed, and before he could say anything, she lifted her hips against his, reminding him that he was still inside her, and not really wanting to pull himself out, either . . .

"Jessa . . ."

She pressed a finger to his lips.  "You're not going to say something pragmatic, are you?  Like, we have to get up, blah blah blah?"

He chuckled and caught her hand, bringing the back of her fingers to his lips.  "Well, it is—" he glanced at the clock and snorted, "—nearly noon."

"But I'm really comfortable," she complained, undulating her hips to tell him exactly what she meant.

He groaned.  "You're going to kill me, aren't you?" he complained.  Drawing a deep breath as she giggled, he slowly pulled out of her, ignoring her whines of protest.

Then he made a face and heaved a sigh since the condom was ridiculously full and therefore messy as hell as he carefully pulled it off.  "Ugh . . . I guess using one of these twice is a bad idea," he muttered as he got up to throw it away.  "I need a shower."

She uttered a tiny but frustrated growl as she scooted off the bed to follow him.  He raised an eyebrow at her when she stepped into the bathroom after him.  "You want to shower with me?" he asked.

"Well, you did help me last night," she intoned, slipping into the space beside him and reaching for his body wash.  "I think I should return the favor . . ."

"Oh, do you?"

She smiled up at him—a smile that made his breath catch somewhere between his lips and lungs—and if that smile did that to him every time, he'd be okay with that, too.  "Yes," she said, leaning up to kiss him softly, tenderly.  "I really, really do."


Ashur leaned back in his chair, dropping the report he had been trying to read for the last two hours.  It wasn't anything overly important, just an update on the Alberta province, but he still needed to read over it.

Too bad he had other things on his mind—things like a naked Jessa O'Shea, for one . . . She was out riding, which was good since he'd be sorely tempted to get her naked again if she was anywhere within reach.  She'd said that Devlin was going to go with her, and he figured that was safe enough.  Given that the man said that kissing her was like kissing a sister, Ashur wasn't overly concerned about him.

He really never should have slept with her because now that he had, the images that flashed through his mind were all-too-real—and all too inviting . . .

He sighed as the memory of her, astride him, her body encompassing him completely, flickered to glaring life before his eyes: her beautifully rounded breasts, rosy nipples that were the same shade as her lips, so proud, so gorgeous . . . head tilted to the side, eyes half-closed as her gaze burned into his, her lips slightly parted, cheeks dusted with a flush of pure passion . . .

'You're really not going to get a damn thing done if you keep thinking about her,' his youkai-voice remarked dryly.

'I know it.  She's ruined me . . .'

'Stop being melodramatic, will you?  Now, as I see it, you've got two options: you can go find her and fuck her again—I'd be okay with this—or you can put her out of your mind for a few hours in hopes that you can actually get some work done.  Your call, big man.  Guess which of those I want to do . . .'

He snorted since his youkai was being particularly unhelpful at the moment.

'I can't believe she gave you head,' the annoying voice went on.  'Hana hated doing that . . . And she stopped doing it often after you were able to actually fuck her, that is, and you know that she really didn't like doing it much when you could get her to do it, even though you went down on her plenty . . .'

And that thought was like a dousing of ice-cold water, as far as Ashur was concerned.  Reaching for the report once more, he figured he'd at least be able to concentrate for the moment, so maybe he should be thankful for that on some level, even if the statement was a little more than he could tolerate.

'I know; I know.  You hate to even think about Hana, but, like it or not, she was a huge part of our past, and you know that a small part of you really does miss her, too.'

That didn't deserve a response, either, as far as he was concerned.  Despite the fact that, yes, a part of him did miss Hana, every time he thought about her, it always ended up in the same place: of him, remembering how he'd held Kells for the first time, as their mother had died, that Hana had nearly cost him Kells' life, and all because of that . . .

The trill of his cell phone broke through his musings, and Ashur connected the call without bothering to check the caller ID, figuring any distraction was a good distraction at this point.

"Hello?"

"Ah, Ashur!  It's Thurston Margreave!  Just thought I'd check in, see how the lady likes Stardust?"

"Mr. Margreave, hi . . ."

The man laughed jovially.  "Thurston's fine, Ashur!"

"Uh, yes, okay," he replied.  "She loves him . . . I'll be happy to buy him from you, if the offer still stands."

"Absolutely!  We'll talk price when I get home, but since it's you, I'll cut you a deal."

"You don't have to," Ashur said.  "He's a very fine horse; even I can tell that, and I don't know much about them, so I’m more than happy to pay what he's worth."

"No worries!  We can discuss it when I get back . . . How's Laith working out for you?"

"Laith?  I like him.  He's done a lot of work around here—stuff that I haven't asked of him.  Says he likes to keep busy."

"He does; he does," Thurston replied.  "You know, if you're needing a master-of-stables, I'd be happy to recommend him.  Mine's been working for me for a long, long time, but Laith's quite capable.  Besides, he deserves the job, and he'd do well for you."

"You . . . You wouldn't mind?  I confess, I considered it, but I wasn't going to ask him since he's your employee."

Thurston laughed.  "I tell you honestly, he's probably the best man for the job.  He's worked for me for a few years now, and I've never had any problems with him.  He's a good, hard worker, and he knows his horses, so, if he's interested, then I've got no complaints about letting him go.  Now, if it were for someone else, maybe . . ."

Ashur chuckled.  "Thanks . . . I'll talk to him."

"All right!  Well, the little woman's wanting to drag me off to play bridge.  Let me know if Laith's interested!"

"I will," Ashur assured him.

The phone connection ended, and Ashur set it aside, his expression, taking on a more serious look as he considered the idea of offering Laith the job.  It wasn't that he was against it, of course.  He just wondered if it was really all right to offer it to him when he already worked for Margreave.  Then again, Thurston did sound genuine when he said he wouldn't mind . . .

Maybe he'd ask Jessa.  After all, she knew more about the workings of the stable than he did, and, as far as he was concerned, the stables were her area, not his, anyway . . .