InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Vivication ❯ Heartbeat ( Chapter 51 )

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

“Sao-o-o-ori-i-i . . .”

Blinking as her head snapped up from the book she was reading, alone in the pretty bed in her solitary room, Saori narrowed her eyes.

“Sao-o-o-o-o-ori-i-i-i-i . . .”

It was coming from Fai’s room.  She hadn’t gone in there for a couple of reasons.  Firstly, even though her father hadn’t escorted her to her room, that didn’t mean he hadn’t sneaked in after the fact—he could easily be leaning against her door, waiting for her to try to slip into Fai’s room, if she had a mind to.  The other reason?  She wrinkled her nose.  The man was drunk—completely drunk . . . Sleeping with a drunk Fai?  She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to do that, either, given that the first time he’d gotten that plastered with Konstantin, he’d ended up, puking, too . . .

“Sao-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ori-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i . . .!”

‘Well, at least, go find out what he wants before he yells down the entire castle . . .’

Face shifting into a marked scowl, she snorted.  ‘Keh!  Like I care!  Every last one of those men is stink-faced!  Even ojii-chan!’

“I am not drunk,” Sesshoumaru had said, managing to keep most of the slur out of his voice as he’d leaned heavily upon Kagura, while trying to negotiate the staircase.  “This Sesshoumaru does not b-be-become drunk.”

That was what he’d said, anyway.  Her father?

“Fuck . . . I’m so damn . . . drunk . . . I might hurl . . . Aiko-cha-a-a-an . . .”  And Aiko had sighed, but smiled as she and Vasili dropped Seiji across their bed . . .

Rinji and Yerik and Konstantin were just as bad.  Saori had to have Vasili help her haul Fai off of the grass where he lay, spread eagle on the ground, staring up at the stars and hollering at Saori a few—hundred—times . . .

‘Look at the positive side, then . . . Tou-chan was entirely too drunk to be lying in wait on the other side of your door.  If he had tried, you’d definitely know it since there’s no way he’d have managed to get into the antechamber without making a bunch of noise . . .’

“Sa-a-a-a-ao-o-o-o-or-r-r-r-ri-i-i-i-i-i-i . . .!”

Erupting in a menacing growl that was entirely lost in the silence of her room, she tossed the duvet aside and stumbled to her feet, slamming open the bedroom door, closing the distance between her room and his, only to slam that one open, too.  Fai didn’t even flinch.  It just figured.

Stopping abruptly, she crossed her arms over her chest, arching an eyebrow at the man who had somehow managed to yank off the mawashi and was sprawled out in the center of his bed quite naked—on top of her Mokomoko-sama . . . “Where did you get that?” she demanded, refusing to look past his face as she stomped over to the bed.

He rolled his head to the side, but it took him a moment to focus his eyes on her.  “Oh, Saori . . .” he mumbled.  “Can you open the window for me?”

Opening her mouth, only to snap it closed once more, she narrowed her eyes even more as she frowned at him.  “Did you call me in here just to open the window?” she finally asked.

He grunted.  “Ha!  No!”

She wasn’t sure she was buying.  “Then, why did you?”

“That mawashi is damned uncomfortable,” he told her, waving an arm, slurring his words.  “Went right up my ass a little deeper than it needed to be, if you ask me . . .”

Rolling her eyes, letting out a deep breath, she stomped over to the window and threw it open as far as it would go, but when she turned around again, her eyes flared wide.  Standing at what amounted to be the foot of the bed, she was staring directly at parts of Fai’s body that she’d been trying to avoid.  That he had an erection was enough to make her swallow hard, made her mouth go dry as a brigade of nerves kicked in, as she leaned against the window frame to support her shaking legs.  He was also circumcised, which, as much as she was loathe to admit it, was absolutely . . .

‘Fascinating . . .’

She snorted inwardly, her cheeks blossoming in embarrassed color.  ‘You’re not helping.’

‘Yeah, but . . . we’ve never seen that before—not in person, right?  Shouldn’t we . . .?  I mean, don’t we owe it to ourselves to get a better look?  In the interest of . . . of science . . . biology . . .’

‘No!  What—? No!’

He groaned softly, reaching over, dragging the edge of her Mokomoko-sama over himself—and then, he slowly started to rub it against his crotch.  “Damn,” he rasped out, making no bones about what, exactly, he was doing.  “Smells like . . . you . . .”

“S-Stop that!” she hissed, forcing herself to look away, her cheeks blossoming like roses in June.

“Hmm . . . I don’t want to,” he mumbled just before he shivered, groaned again.

“You—But that’s my—Stop it!” she repeated, stubbornly refusing to glance back at him again.  It was like a train wreck: she knew she shouldn’t be looking, and yet, she just couldn’t quite help herself, either . . .

All kinds of scents were spinning around her, evolving, thickening, changing so quickly that it left her mind reeling.  “C’mere, S’ri,” he whispered, his voice too husky, too much of a low rumble, to credit.

The sound of it was enough to bring on gooseflesh, erupting all over her body, and she quickly rubbed her arms to dispel it.  It didn’t really work, and it didn’t do a thing to quell the unmitigated churning in her belly—a slow, throbbing churn that was wholly provocative, entirely delicious.  “You’d better . . . better not,” she forced herself to say.

His reply was another loud moan—this one, much longer, lower, more drawn out than before.

Common sense told her that she really needed to get out of there.  Common sense told her that if she went over to him now, there was a good chance that waiting a week for a wedding would be kind of a moot point.  Too bad common sense held very little sway in her mind at the moment . . . Fai . . . Fai held her, spellbound . . .

Biting her lip, she didn’t move, but she did shift her gaze to the side, watching him out of the corner of her eyes.

He was still rubbing himself—rubbing her Mokomoko-sama over his body, stroking himself through the plush and soft fur that exactly matched her hair.  Something about it was way more erotic than she might have thought otherwise.  Somehow, the idea of him, very obviously enjoying something as simple as her fur . . . She shivered.

Body taut, almost straining, every muscle, so artfully delineated in the soft, but dim light of the one lamp on the bedside table, the shadows were fascinating to her—alive and breathing and compelling . . . The careful stretch of skin, softly glowing a tawny hue . . . The rises and falls, the ridges and hollows . . . The way those cordoned muscles tapered around his waist, converged below his belly button, disappeared under the thickness of the chestnut hair that mingled with the fur of her Mokomoko-sama and disappeared below it . . .

She didn’t hear the catching roughness of her own breathing, the stunted cadence as she drew in the side of her bottom lip, gnawing on it slowly as she watch him, spellbound.  Hand closed around a fistful of her Mokomoko-sama, he pumped himself leisurely, over and over again, his gasps, his groans, echoing so loudly in her ears . . .

There was something beautiful in the efficacy of his movements, in the strained and surging muscles of his arms, his bent leg.  Arching his head back, eyes slipping closed, he rasped out those stunted breaths, a string of low and savage growls.

His need pulsed around her, the pulse of his youki a near-palpable thing.  It drew on her, begged her closer, even as she stubbornly held her ground.  Almost as though she feared what would happen if she ventured closer, she heard her own shallow breathing, felt her quickening heartbeat.  Her knees felt weak, and the ache deep inside her hurt in a way that she’d never felt before . . .

With a loud growl, he rolled to the side, somehow managing to stumble off of the bed and to his feet with more dexterity than he really should have had.  But his eyes were glowing dangerously, backlit with a strange sense of fire as he turned toward her, stalked over to her, the fierceness of his near-glare holding her in his thrall.

He said nothing when he reached her, dragging her roughly against his body.  There was no finesse in his touch, no gentle sense of wonder.  The contact of his body, the surge of his mouth as he kissed her hard, sent an electric kind of jolt straight through her, straight to the depths of her, as that slow ache exploded—a spontaneous combustion.

“I smell you, Saori,” he growled between kisses.  His rumble of his words, the almost accusatory tone in his voice, undid her as she whimpered, as she melted against him, as she gave up everything that was her in that instant—in that moment—in the fire and the burn and the painful need.  “God, I . . . I want you . . .”

She gasped softly, the sound of it swallowed by his consuming mouth on hers as he scooped her up into his arms, as he strode back over to the bed.  He let her feet fall back to the floor, back to the warmth and softness of the pile under her toes.  Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard the rip, the tear, of fabric.  She felt a slight coolness—welcome against her burning flesh.  It made no sense to her, not with his mouth doing things to hers that she couldn’t process.  The hungry draw as he sucked her tongue, as he flicked it, as he explored every last recess of her in a kiss meant to plunder her senses, to decimate her resistance.  Powerless to do anything but cling to him, she shivered, her hands digging deep into his hair, holding his head, as though she were scared to let him go.

His hands on her skin drew a sharp little cry from her as her head fell back, as she arched toward him, toward the hand that closed over her breast.  The drag of his claws against the demanding pressure . . . Nipples hardening in response as he pushed her back, lowered her onto the bed, crawled over her, the head of his penis, trailing a burning path up her leg, her thigh . . . Everywhere he touched transferred to a million thunderous explosions, and every last one of them shot straight to the central burn between her legs.  With every passing second, every inundation to her senses, she gasped, moaned, felt herself fall a little deeper, a little harder, into that vale between want and need, between pleasure and pain . . .

The stunning heat of his mouth as it closed over her nipple brought her up, only to be pushed back down again.  He drew her deep, impossibly deep, as she squeaked out a little whine, a whimper, a demand for what she knew he held just out of her grasp.  His answer was a hard bark—a curt sound—that she understood, even as she rolled her hips, her body seeking out his in a purely instinctive way.

She gasped loudly as the head of his cock pressed against her, but was held back by the barrier of her panties.  Still, she rocked her hips against him, and he groaned—a ragged, almost broken sound—his hips meeting hers with a shiver, a shudder, a twitching jerk.

Her breast sprang free when he released the suction, only to kiss his way down the vale between, down her belly, his tongue swirling into her belly button.  She dug her hands deep into the softness of her Mokomoko-sama as she felt a strange tug on the crotch of her panties.  Before she could question it, though, the back of his knuckles rubbed against her, slipping easily into the hidden part of her, brushing so sinfully against the tiniest bit of her.  Hips arching off the bed, meeting that touch with a barely contained ferocity, Saori cried out as that thin line between sanity and oblivion was eradicated, as the brilliant and blinding flash of pleasure broke free in wave after wave of liquid heat, of secrets and truths that were all laid bare . . .

That pleasure lingered, spiraling higher and longer.  Somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt the tug of her waistband, digging in for a split second before it released.  Even as the throbbing deep within her started to wane, she choked, gasped, uttered a sound caught somewhere between a cry and a scream.  Burying his tongue so deep inside her, lifting her hips with his arms under her thighs, he groan-growled, the reverberations ricocheting through her as that lust, that consuming sense of emptiness grew once more at a shocking and enthralling speed.

Tongue darting into her, only to lap at her, the heat of his breath shifting into a thickening caress, he was relentless, maddeningly thorough, as though he had to seek out every last place where she could hide.  The shocking invasion raged right through her, sending reason scattering before she could try to grasp anything at all.

He pulled a hand free, dragging his tongue up to that tiny bud of flesh, drawing it deep between his lips as she panted, whined, tried to beg him with words she could not form.  Rolling it between his lips, he slid a finger deep into her, reaching so much deeper than he had before as another earthquake of shocking proportions shot through her once again.

And he didn’t stop.  As though he refused to allow her even a moment of respite, he flicked the tip of his tongue over that swollen bud, his finger pistoning in and out of her as her body reacted on its own, meeting his thrusts with a goading need, a primal desire.  She felt the bed shift slightly as he repositioned himself, as he stretched out beside her, his feet near her head.  Pushing her leg up, out of the way, hand braced against the back of her knee that he held forward, he let his finger slip out of her, only to be replaced by his tongue once more in a steady yet demanding stroke, a lick, a flick deep within her.

His penis brushed against her hand, still holding onto her Mokomoko-sama.  She let go, her hand seeking him out, wrapping around the twitching thickness of him, unleashing a loud and harsh growl deep in her.  She rolled toward him, almost by instinct, wrapping both her hands around him, slowly stroking him up and down.  He caught her leg, held up her knee, groaning softly yet again as something hot and viscous seeped over her fingers.

She felt her body stiffen as he goaded her toward that elusive abyss once more, her hands, tightening around him, and his body took over, thrusting against her grip.  She could feel the tremors in his body—tremors that matched the ones spiraling through her.

Delving his fingers into her once more, he rasped out a growl as licked her in hard, long strokes.  She opened her eyes, blinked as she stared at him, watching in a strange sort of fascination as she pumped him with her hands.  As though every inhibition she’d ever had had been summarily stripped away, she didn’t think about it, didn’t wonder, didn’t hesitate as she leaned in, as she opened her mouth, as she drew him between her lips, tongue wrapping around him as he gasped, grunted, stiffened against her for only a moment.

“Damn it . . .” he growled, unable to stop himself as he thrust into her, as a hot gush of something bitter, almost creamy, filled every corner of her mouth.  She swallowed fast, swallowed hard, as wave after wave of his pleasure shot out of him, hitting the roof of her mouth, dripping down her throat . . .

He collapsed beside her, his breathing harsh and ragged, as though he needed a moment just to gather his wits once more.  Saori laughed rather unsteadily, scooting around so that she could lay down beside him, reaching out to brush his hair out of his face.

He was still struggling to breathe, his cheeks flushed, his eyes closed.  Without opening them, he pulled her in, kissed her deep—a soft and gentle kiss that hung in the air, that lingered against her skin more closely than a caress.

“I love you,” he murmured, pulling her close against his chest, wrapping his arms around her, his voice touched with a slight slur, but whether it was caused by the homemade vodka or by the sleepiness that was fast catching up with her, too, she didn’t know.

She sighed happily, closing her eyes as she tucked her head under his chin, right over his heart that was still beating in a crazy-erratic cadence.  “My mate,” she whispered.

She heard him chuckle as she drifted off to sleep, and just as the comforting lethargy claimed her completely, she thought that she heard him snore, too . . .


Fai closed his eyes as he stood under the shower tap, head bent back as he let the steaming water trail down his body, soothing the ragged edges of the slight ache that hammered in his head.  It wasn’t as bad as some of the other hangovers he’d had.  Either he was getting used to the devil’s drink that Konstantin called vodka . . . or . . .

Breaking into a small smile—an almost predatory sort of smile—as memories of last night flickered to life in his head, Fai chuckled—and then sighed.  She was still in bed, sleeping like a baby, and he hadn’t had the heart to wake her, despite the ridiculous lust that assailed him about the minute he opened his eyes, probably because the entire room smelled like sex . . .

It didn’t really help, either, that he’d stood beside the bed, staring at her until he had every last inch of her committed to memory.  Standing there, grasping the tall bedpost in one hand, his penis in the other one, idly stroking himself as he’d let his gaze roam up and down her gorgeous body?

‘Well, that was dumb,’ his youkai-voice pointed out rather dryly as Fai let his head fall forward, opening his eyes, frowning at the brand-new erection that had come right back at the simple thought of Saori . . . of her body . . . of the way she tasted on his tongue . . .

On the one hand, he really should have tried a little harder to hold off until their wedding night.  On the other?  Nope, he really wasn’t nearly as sorry as he probably should have been, either.

What he’d really like to do would be to march back in there, claim his mate, and spend the rest of the day, claiming her over and over again.  Too bad that certain houseguests might not be too keen on that idea, and even if they were all right with it, he couldn’t help but to think that, really, it was less than a week to wait, and didn’t they say that practicing patience built character?

‘Sure . . . If it doesn’t kill you . . .’

He made a face.  Yeah, there was that, too, he supposed . . .

“Morning,” Saori mumbled as she shuffled into the bathroom.  He glanced over at her, only to do a double-take.  She hadn’t bothered to grab a robe—he wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing—and she still seemed to be a little groggy.  She smiled a little absently, though, dragging a hand through her sex-hair—and if that wasn’t hot as hell, the Fai didn’t know what would be.  Ignoring the water flowing from the open shower, she stumbled right into his arms, cuddling against his chest.

If she realized yet or not that she was still entirely naked, Fai didn’t know—didn’t care, either.  Suddenly, however, she giggled.  “You’re poking me, Fai.”

He snorted.  “That is not my fault,” he told her.  “If you want it to go away, you need to stop rubbing against it.”

Her response was another soft giggle, and a very provocative and unmistakable press of her hips against him.  He shivered and groaned.  “Did I do that?” she asked quietly, a level of wonder in her tone that made him lean back to look down at her.

“Do what?”

She bit her lip, her cheeks pinking slightly as she shook her head and peered up at him through the thick, sooty fringe of her lashes.  “Well, you . . . You shuddered,” she said quietly.

He let out a deep breath.  “Entirely your fault . . . Did you think it wasn’t?” he countered just as softly.

She giggled again, burying her face against his chest.  “I hope so,” she replied.

Shaking his head despite the smile on his face, Fai chuckled.  “Yes, Saori . . . You did—You do—more often than you know.”

She leaned back and to the side to snag a washcloth off the small, hanging rack affixed to the marble tile wall as he stifled a low groan since she’d also managed to thrust her breast right up there for his delectation in the process.

“Here.  Let me wash your back,” she offered, slithering out of his grasp and ducking around him.

As much as he didn’t really want to, he stood still, allowed her to lather up the cloth and scrub his back in a wholly invigorating kind of way.  No sooner did she finish than she handed him the cloth.  “Will you wash me?” she asked quite happily.

And he had no choice but to do that, too—not that he minded too much.  Running his hands over her body, even with the barrier of the wash cloth separating her skin from his fingers, was still infinitely more pleasurable than many other things he could be doing instead . . .

“I was thinking,” she began in a strangely absent kind of way, holding onto her hair over her shoulder as he took his time, lathering her back, from top to bottom.

“Hmm?”

“Well, umm . . . What . . . What we did last night . . .”

“You’re ready for another go at that?”

She rolled her eyes, cheeks pinking a little more as she craned her neck to pin him with an amused yet chagrined sort of look.  “Be serious!” she chided.

He laughed.  “I was being serious.”

She shook her head as he dropped the washcloth into her free hand and pulled her hair out of her grasp and reached for the bottle of shampoo.  “Baka . . . Anyway, you know, when oji-chan and oba-chan were trying to have Gunnar-san, but they only had daughters to begin with . . .”

“Uh huh?” he intoned, only listening with about half his brain as he slowly, methodically, worked the shampoo in a lather, massaging her scalp.

“Well, it . . . It occurred me . . . What if they would have had him sooner, but they were . . . doing what we did . . . and . . . well . . . I mean . . .”

“Spit it out, Saori,” he prompted.

She sighed.  “What if she . . . What if she swallowed the future tai-youkai?” she blurted.

Fai stopped dead still.  It took a moment for him to process just what she’d said, and when he finally did, he half-snorted, half-guffawed.  And he kept laughing.  He laughed so hard that he stumbled back, crashing against the wall beneath the shower head.

Snorting loudly—she didn’t think it was nearly as funny as he seemed to—she narrowed her eyes on him.  He didn’t get the message since he didn’t see it.  Too busy, laughing helplessly, he had his eyes squeezed closed, tears forced out of him, running down his cheeks, but blending with the water cascading from the soaker showerhead.

“All right,” she growled, slapping her hands against his arm and shoulder and giving him a good shove out from under the shower and into the main floor of the bathroom.  “You’re clean, Your Grace.  Now, go away!”

“I’m never . . . going to be able . . . to look . . . at him . . . ever!” Fai gasped out, wiping his eyes as he grabbed a towel—and kept laughing.  “Ever, ever!”  Then he choked.  “Glad your mother didn’t swallow you this time, huh, Gunnar?”

“You’re such a baka!” she hollered, throwing the washcloth, hitting him in the face.  It fell on the floor with a squelchy plop.

His reply was more obnoxious laughter.  “Damn!  I have to sit in my office, looking at your uncle, and you go and say something like that to me?  If I can’t look at him without laughing, I’m going to blame it on you!”

“I don’t think I like you anymore, Fai-sama,” she grumbled.

Fai didn’t stop chuckling, but he held up his hands.  “I’m sorry,” he replied, clearing his throat and at least putting forth an effort to control his amusement.  “You’re right.  Absolutely real question.  Got it.”  He coughed—a few times.  “But, in the interest of trying to give you a serious answer, I’d have to say that when . . . your mate . . . is . . . doing that, the last thing on your mind, really, is, uh, making a baby, so . . .”

She paused in the rinsing of her hair long enough to shoot him a ‘We-Are-Not-Amused’ glance before resuming her efforts once more.  “Go away, Fai-sama,” she grumbled.  “And . . . And you get to wash my Mokomoko-sama!”

Fai draped the towel around his hips and crossed his arms over his chest.  “Oh, hmm, I’m not washing that,” he told her with a shake of his head.  “I worked hard last night to make it smell . . . like us.”

She heaved a sigh to let him know just how irritated she still was with him, but she apparently decided that he’d earned the silent treatment, and Fai chuckled as he headed out of the bathroom.

Sometimes, he had no idea, just where she got some of her stranger notions, but this one?

‘Swallowing the future tai-youkai? Can that even happen?’ his youkai-voice mused.

Fai shook his head.  Okay, so he didn’t really know the logistics of that, but the idea that she’d thought of that?

‘At least our life together is never, ever going to be boring . . .’

He broke into another round of chuckles as he tugged a pair of pants out of his closet and yanked them on.

No, he supposed that, ‘boring’ was not something he’d ever have to worry about, not with a woman like her . . .