InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Sesshoumaru's Mate: A Valentine's Story - ON HOLD ❯ Part 9 - Shibui (Hidden Beauty) ( Chapter 9 )

Disclaimer: The ownership and general brilliance that is the original Feudal Fairy Tale remains the property of its honored and rightfully revered creator Rumiko Takahashi without whose brilliance, we would not have fodder.

 

Title: Sesshoumaru's Mate - A Valentine's Story
Author:ElegantPaws

Genre: AU

Mature Content: Sensual situations. You have been warned.

 

Editedby: Mearathe Celt

Dedicated to Violetcarson who always makes me howl with laughter! Thanks girl (wink).

Part 9- Shibui - (Hidden Beauty)

 

-I-

 

Yoshiro's brows furrowed as he bit his lower lip concentrating on his task at hand, determined as he was to gift his father with his time and efforts in the newly constructed tea garden. It was also an excellent excuse to get away from the din of preparation for his Aunt Sango's birthday party.

 

The evening promised to be eventful as youkai of distinction from near and far arrived by differing means for the event. It was odd, the young hanyou thought as he worked diligently that they should be here to celebrate a former Slayer's anniversary of sorts. However, it was not his place to question his parents as to why so much was being done for so simple an affair that had gone unnoticed, but for the immediate family, for the past hundred years.

 

Even Satori seemed to be high strung today. She skulked about in the background, looking diffident and wholly unimpressed by the rampant anarchy that was the caterers and household staff. She sporadically relieved her boredom by checking on his progress and offering unwanted critiques of his current work in the tranquil space.

 

Apparently the crooked footpath that wended its way through the lush greenery of artfully stunted pines and shrubs gave offense. She also deemed the forced irises below the weathered bridge garish and inappropriate for the season - entirely too modern in sensibilities.

 

Her last impromptu visit had elicited an uncharacteristic snarl from her baby brother as pebbles were flung at her retreating back. The perverse joy she appeared to glean with the constant reminder of her seniority was getting on his last nerve. It was bad enough that father clearly favored her.

 

It was Yoshiro's considered opinion that his sister took those four hundred or so years she had on him too seriously for the young Lord's liking. Regardless of the time the Western Lord spent with him in the confines of the dojo or pouring over ancient manuscripts and scrolls `for his betterment', he was clearly an afterthought. In many ways his Uncle had proved more of a mentor than the male who sired him and though he was loathe to admit beings saddled with the frailty of human emotions, it hurt.

 

He eyed the dewy path speculatively for flaws. Perhaps the forced irises along the ponds edge might have been too much and he had yet to set the Deer Chaser properly.

 

“I think you have done a splendid job, Yoshiro-sama.”

 

Yoshiro spun on his heels assuming a defensive stance. He hadn't heard the entrance of Padraig who stood on the Drum Bridge beneath the blood red maples like a pale apparition cloaked in black. His austere, yet handsome, features cast in shadow by the diffused sunlight.

 

“A fine mix of modernity without forsaking the simple gentility, meaning and beauty inherent in a garden such as this. You should be proud, my Lord.”

 

Awaiting permission to enter the sacred grounds, Padraig's shrewd, grey-blue eyes observed with mild amusement the hanyou's posture and countenance.

 

“May I join you, Lord Yoshiro?”

 

The hanyou's shoulders slumped, though his eyes remained diffidently curious as he self consciously nibbled his lower lip. This was not the first time today Padraig had made his presence felt. He appeared to be following him. First his early morning patrol of the grounds, and now this supposed co-incidence of a meeting on his afternoon stroll.

 

`What does he want?' Yoshiro's gut tightened.

 

“If you must,” the young Lord answered with an imperious tone of schooled indifference, though his expressive, golden eyes remained suspicious.

 

Bowing deeply Padraig suppressed the smile that came to his lips as he descended the bridge silently.

 

It would never do to humor the young Lord, nor would it do to acknowledge the rustle of the pine trees behind him where a set of large, amber eyes were busy boring holes in the back of his head awaiting an opportunity to pounce should the need arise. Inuyasha had been dogging his steps most of the afternoon.

 

“Perhaps your Uncle would like to join us? He must be tired hanging from the tree all this time. I know his ears are good, but it would be so much more conducive to amicable conversation, don't you think?”

 

Yoshiro smiled broadly just as a red blur came into view swatting a twig from long, white bangs with a scowl.

 

“You might have `Gome fooled, but I'm onto you! Keep away from the kid!”

 

-I-

 

His expression, as always, remained unreadable and the feel of his strong taut body atop hers, welcoming.

 

The whisper of hot, moist breath against her throat mirroring the sensual feel of the slick heat they shared with each searing thrust of his thick shaft within her tightly coiled depths. She shivered in want and writhed beneath him, panting softly.

 

They had to be quiet, the house was full.

 

A soft purr of satisfaction escape Kagome's lungs as long fingers gently caressed the face she had come to know and love while their lips met in a heated kiss and their tongues battled for supremacy once more. Supply limbs moving in time as she coiled her legs about his waist further deepening their union.

 

Kagome tittered and bit the Taiyoukai's lower lip, to the Western Lord's annoyance as he snapped his hips forward in rebuke. She gasped at the unexpected tactic and rather sudden shift that full invaded her loins establishing his dominance.

 

“Are we trying to come through my throat, my Lord?”

 

“Hmmm, perhaps…be quiet. We have guests,” he murmured lazily against her throat with a surprisingly gentle nip. He resumed the desired rhythm as strong fingers grasping either side of her hips, covering her succulent mouth with his own once more in a kiss designed to quash any further protests or chatter.

 

In the midst of coitus the damn woman would make comment about the most ridiculous things. At first he had found this propensity of hers mildly disconcerting and at others most edifying. He had learned much about her likes in matters carnal this way and in time he had come to accept that this was merely a peccadillo of hers. In the end, the pleasure they took from one another far outweighed the anomalous behavior, particularly now as he felt her climax imminent and her pleasing scent spiked.

 

He was undone as lust dazed slits closed in focused concentration and he nuzzled her damp, heaving bosom. Clutching her warm body tightly within his arms, she writhed beneath him, her moans becoming more pronounced and guttural, setting fire to his already inflamed senses.

 

This was the moment he most cherished in their union as the muscles of his abdomen tightened painfully in anticipation and the searing heat of her core pulsed about his turgid length in preparation to milk him of his seed.

 

As wave upon wave overtook him, Sesshoumaru's body shuddered while sharp nails clawed at his lower back as he thrust mindlessly in ecstatic release filling her womb to overflowing.

 

In the aftermath, as always, they held one another. A gentle smile crossed her well kissed lips as she looked into the face she had come to love with a chuckle. His expression as always, remained seemingly unreadable, but centuries had taught her differently. As did his touch that remained gentle as he curled around her ready for a nap.

 

She joined him. There would be time enough to prepare for the evening's festivities and see what Sango was up to.

 

-I-

 

Yoshiro expectant eyes glowed with hope momentarily as he stared back at Padraig.

 

He had worked most of the morning in an effort to appease his sire's wrath at his unfortunate outburst.

 

His father's words still rang in his ears.

 

`Never presume.'

 

The hanyou's white, downy ears flattening to his skull in disappointment. He stooped and played dolefully with the newly set pebbles on the path, listening to the careful approach of his sister's affianced. Though a Westerner he appeared to know much about gardening in the traditional sense. Uncle Yasha was always a step behind and sometimes underfoot.

 

“Beautiful, but if I might suggest the path is perhaps too regular. Think of your own footfalls, they are never truly symmetrical.”

 

Silence followed but for the rhythmic thudding of the bamboo Deer Scare as it repeatedly filled with water and emptied in the tsukabai. The simple granite bowl designed for cleansing before tea. Yoshiro had personally worked on for months in secret.

 

“Does it really matter? Father rarely approves of anything I do.”

 

“How could he not, Yoshiro-sama?” Padraig asked with a kindly questioning lilt as he unfurled his cloak elegantly before sitting on the limestone bench.

 

Inuyasha huffed and joined his nephew by the pond with a sidelong glare at the interloper with the big mouth who was obviously trying to score points. He looked at his nephew's young face furtively. The kid was falling for it hook, line and sinker, though he tried not to show it.

 

“Have you really looked at what you have created? It's stunning. I could never have done such a thing in a thousand years.” the Celt mused aloud. “In my culture one fills every available space with flora of every kind and we abandon our gardens come winter.”

 

Yoshiro turned grateful eyes upon Padraig before cloaking his expression once more and pointing to the circular bridge, a slight flush coming to his high cheek bones as he kept his voice even and implacable.

 

“In this tranquil oasis my mind can rest,” he added with an approving smile.

 

“I have adhered to the precepts of the first Tea Master.”

 

“Sen no Rikyu?”

 

The young male nodded shyly and returned his gaze to the koi, looking nervously at his Uncle's befuddled expression. `What could it hurt to answer?'

 

“Yes.”

 

Yoshiro, bolstered by the calming lilt of Padraig's voice and the truth he found there, pointed to the circular bridge with pride before biting his lower lip nervously, hiding his face beneath the wealth of gossamer silk that was his hair.

 

“It is the best thing I have ever done. No matter what father might think.”

 

Inuyasha ducked his head and scratched an ear uncomfortably.

 

“Get some balls, little guy. This maudlin shit doesn't wash for Taishou's. If you want your father's approval, earn it. When I was your age, I fended for myself and it wasn't easy. I was hungry most of the time but I never let the stuck up bastard, that's your Dad by the way, see me sweat.”

 

Padraig snickered at the description to Inuyasha's total annoyance. He hadn't meant to amuse.

 

The kid obviously needed praise and he had to agree, it was kinda nice as far as bridges went. Maybe he should say somethin'. No way was the outsider gonna have the floor to himself. The pup was impressionable.

 

“Good job, kid,” the elder Hanyou acknowledged gruffly, thumping Yoshiro's back with a fangy grin. Rising to his full, formidable height, Inuyasha gave a warning glare at the smug shit who was smiling knowingly at him as he casually walked the stone path for something to do other than endure the uncomfortable silence the three shared.

 

He was right. They were too regular for the normal breadth of natural footfalls.

 

`The real question was how to fix them without hurting Yoshiro feelings?'

 

The thought had barely left Inuyasha's mind before the much despised lilt interrupted.

 

“Though somewhat shorter than your father and yourself,” Padraig began with a wicked, impish gleam in his eyes, “and considerably lacking in finesse, we could use Lord Inuyasha as a model for the correct placement of the stones.”

 

“Why you, trumped up, piece of…!” Inuyasha growled retracing his steps rapidly bent on murdering the Celt. “I'm not short you skinny twit!”

 

Yoshiro forestalled the fight, refusing to look in his Uncle Yasha's infuriated, red face as he peered meditatively at the path before them with cool resolve.

 

“He didn't say you were short, Uncle Yasha and he is right. The stones are not correctly angled for the average span between steps. Satori mentioned the same thing earlier, but I chose to ignore her advice out of sheer bullheadedness.”

 

Standing between the two males bent on a fight Yoshiro sighed looking at each as though they were tiresome children.

 

“Will you help me please, Uncle Inuyasha? You really are the ideal model because you have a relaxed pace of walking.”

 

Padraig smiled as Inuyasha processed the very diplomatic description of his gait.

 

“Kay…only cause you asked and I'm not short!”

 

As all three worked, they listened to the subtle shift of wind across weathered bows within the tranquil enclosure and found solace in the trill and burble of water cascading gently over the rocky fall beyond the Taiko Bashi. The bridge's reflection within the water formed a perfect circle. A private dedication to his Sire that would never be spoken aloud and could only truly be appreciated from the vantage of the tea house.

 

“Why a circle, Yoshiro; the Taiko Bashi, I mean?” Padraig queried airily, his bright incandescent eyes sparkling with mirth as Yoshiro blushed, further giving credence to his suspicions. “If memory serves, my Lord, Maru can be interpreted as circle - very clever. The placement of the poisonous Japanese Laurel bushes beneath is also an excellent touch.

 

The young hanyou averted his gaze.

 

“Brennan-sama, no offense but this is a private matter. I do not wish to speak of.”

 

Padraig shrugged with a benevolent grin, handing the last stepping stone to the paths creator.

 

“Understood, Yoshiro-sama. We all hold our secrets close. It is simply that its position within the garden intrigues. I am sure, Lord Sesshoumaru will appreciate it.”

 

Inuyasha harrumphed indignantly. “This is nice and everything but I'm bored and hungry. If you two want to stand around all day lookin' at overfed koi, suit yourselves. I'm going back to the house.”

 

The Celt bowed perfunctorily with a mischievous smirk. It appeared the elder hanyou understood the symbolism of the Drum Bridge too and wanted no part of the discussion.

 

He didn't believe Lord Inuyasha for a minute but still this respite did finally afford an opportunity to speak freely without being disturbed by the chaotic aura of the elder hanyou in over-protective mode.

 

Astute grey-blue eyes focused on the younger hanyou as he exchanged pleasantries with his much adored Uncle.

 

The young male was a perfect blend of both his parents in physique and demeanor. Though currently plagued by undisciplined emotions, his true strength lay buried deep, like his mother. He too carried more than one soul within; an ancient soul that stood as guardian over this clan. For a moment, just a moment, Padraig wondered if the Western Lord knew of this fact. Yoshiro was the tether opposite of Satori who wore her stature as warrior for all the world to see with cool calculation and a rapier sharp mind, very much like her father. Yoshiro's strength had yet to be tested for what it truly was. It would explain the affinity between himself and his Aunt Sango's son, Kioshi who remained an unknown quantity and somewhat guarded in Padraig's presence.

 

Yoshiro was the Keeper, the quiet Sentinel that kept the being who haunted the grounds of the property at bay as it awaited an opportune moment to strike - would that Yoshiro only knew.

 

“So how long did the bridge take to complete?” Padraig inquired conversationally as they walked through the verdant greenery in relative peace. The sudden whisper of silken garments from behind quickened the Celt's heart.

 

“Five months, three days and with a minimal of tools,” was the whispered, predatory response that echoed within the enclosure.

 

Padraig stiffened defensively as his eyes searched for the owner of the near sibilant echo. It could not have been the Western Lord whose jyaki always preceded him. The Celt's heart hammered within his breast. His first thought, the defense of the inexperienced pup who had clearly not heard the hiss as he continued to chatter amiably.

 

Before giving it proper thought, the tall wiry male gripped the younger male's right arm and swung him behind him. Yoshiro landed painfully on his rear, stifling a shocked cry.

 

`He is stronger than he looks.' Yoshiro thought with new found respect as he groped beneath his silver mane for the dampness that was blood. He had landed against the Kotoji lantern.

 

Cold citrine eyes narrowed speculatively at the unexpected move, giving a cursory glance at the confused pup who gaped at his father with apologetic eyes. Sesshoumaru's clawed hand coiled about Toukijin's hilt reflexively.

 

The Padraig Pestilence had injured his pup, albeit unintentionally.

 

`Most unacceptable.'

 

“See to your injury, Yoshiro, then return to the dojo. Masaru awaits you there. You should have sensed my approach. I have been here for some time.”

 

Padraig turned away from the piercing glare of the Western Lord who appeared lost in thought and offered his gloved hand to the young hanyou.

 

Yoshiro's frightened eyes met his briefly. Giving a barely perceptible shake of his head, the young male hurried as best as he could to get up and limped away in shame.

 

The wooden gate closed and the slumped back of the retreating figure caused the Celt's lower jaw to stiffen in anger as he turned icy blue eyes upon the Western Lord in reproach.

 

A silver brow quirked as Sesshoumaru held Padraig's angry glare with his own implacable gaze.

 

“If you have something to say, I grant you permission to do so with no fear of reprisal… this once.”

 

“Trust me, my Lord. You don't want to hear what I have to say.”

 

With a sudden flash of anger evident in cool citrine, Sesshoumaru's lips curved upward maliciously.

 

“Spineless.” Sesshoumaru murmured absently. He too taking a step back, mirroring Padraig's previous movement before turning his back and gazing at the Drum Bridge as if seeing it for the first time.

 

“Yeeeesss, this Sesshoumaru can unequivocally add spineless and intrusive to your numerous failings in character.”

 

Padraig mirthlessly chuckled, folding his arms across his chest as he glared at the Western Lord's back.

 

“Is this what you use to do to Inuyasha when he was a young, defenseless hanyou?”

 

The Western Lord jyaki became uncharacteristically muddled at the Celt's choice of words, though he did not deign to respond.

 

“You will find I am not so easily riled, my Lord. You'll have to do better; much better. I am not a hanyou besotted with you and in need of your approval. Nor do I give a rat's ass what you actually think of me personally.”

 

Padraig's body prepared for the strike just barely managing to read the shift in Sesshoumaru's stance and avoiding the swipe of dripping claws. Four raggedly torn slashes of burning cloth hung limply at his chest, just below his heart.

 

“You missed, my Lord.” Padraig coughed into his sleeve, his breath caught by the acrid stench of oozing moss and the other plants as he surveyed the damage with forlorn eyes.

Sesshoumaru's countenance remained indifference to the outcome of his snit, more involved, Padraig noted, in watching his reactions with clinical fascination.

 

“You're a piece of work, my Lord.”

 

“Hold your tongue, Barbarian!” Sesshoumaru hissed.

 

With a rueful expression the warlock bent and touched the one remaining iris with reverence, ignoring the tall white clad figure hovering over him with menace.

 

Padraig thanked the gods for his good fortune. Whether by sheer luck or providence, its velvety mauve surface remained untarnished by the barrage, he had something to work with.

 

All Yoshiro's work would not be spoilt because he could not keep his temper in check, something he had always chided Satori for.

 

Providence had smiled upon him this day he mused, backing off his cloak carefully, avoiding the poisonous surface. The gloves came next as he peered impassively up at the glowering Dog Demon, who looked a might confused and irritated at being ignored so pointedly.

 

“Right, if you will excuse me, Sesshoumaru-sama, I must make amends. The young gentleman took great pains to force these blooms in the dead of winter in honor of Lord Inuyasha's wife and their upcoming anniversary. Such a kind heart should not always be disappointed by those it holds in moderate esteem.”

 

“Mate...” Sesshoumaru corrected matter-of-factly, continuing to glower, though his stance relaxed noticeably to Padraig's ever watchful eyes.

 

“I stand corrected, my Lord.”

 

The Warlock sighed. Sesshoumaru had not moved a scintilla, but his jyaki remained muddled and for the first time, Padraig realized this shift in essence was in fact confusion in an otherwise self possessed being.

 

“Just out of curiosity, what is it you propose to do, Witch?”

 

“Warlock is preferable.”

 

Fascinated by the graceful movements of Padraig's hands and the melodic murmurings coming from his lips, the Taiyoukai stooped with an impatient huff.

 

“Be that as it may, Warlock. Answer this Sesshoumaru, immediately.”

 

Piercing blue eyes, cold as the winter skies, regarded the Western Lord with mild irritation.

 

“I am granting your deepest wish, my Lord. To see what Satori sees and perhaps the dragon within you will finally rest and we can get on with the task foretold.”

 

Sesshoumaru's spine lit from within. The burn of ages past upon his chest throbbed where the talisman had always rested.

 

“Would you care to repeat that statement, Brennan Padraig?”

 

The Celt smiled, accepting the challenge with a simple shrug and a show of his palms; each embossed with an undulating serpent, shedding an eerie purple light with each subtle undulation of their scales as they reached for one another across the great divide that was the space between Padraig's palms.

 

“Some cultures revere the serpent and still others revile them out of fear. In feudal times, for both our cultures, they were often called dragons. I find it humorous that this mark I wear with pride is now known as the Caduceus or Staff of Asclepius, the totem of my chosen profession as a medical practitioner.”

 

Sesshoumaru blinked rapidly.

 

A thinly veiled smirk graced narrowed lips as Padraig saw, if only for a moment, genuine shock upon the Taiyoukai's handsome face before he returned his gaze to Padraig's long fingers and the familiar mist he saw rising from his palms.

 

“If you will, my Lord?”

 

“Be quick about it. The Ladies Kagome and Satori are approaching rapidly with a less than congenial demeanor.”

 

“Understood. I will let you lead in this instance.” Padraig murmured though his attention remained with the heavily misted garden, checking for missed details, oblivious to the askance manner in which Sesshoumaru glared at the back of his dark head.

 

`Let this Sesshoumaru lead? You overstep, Barbarian. Do not make this a habit.”

 

Within moments the tea garden was right again, including the formerly rent cloak which Padraig hurriedly put on, before remembering the lantern and the telltale bloodstain. With a careless wave of his wrist it tottered forward, hiding the blood stain and splashed into the stream.

 

“Be aware, Barbarian, I am honor bound to penalize you for harming my pup.”

 

“Also understood.”

 

Padraig managed not to flinch as a trickle of blood left the open wound that was his split lower lip. He licked the burning flesh with relish and grinned maniacally at the Western Lord in understanding. The fire that was the Pict within was roused as it had not been for a millennia now and with a snarl ancient and feral in its depth Padraig charged the Mighty Taiyoukai both bodies toppling in the stream and the tussle began.

 

Inuyasha had not left, though he said otherwise. Currently he was bathed in confusion. This current situation proved more intriguing than the night before with Padraig and Kagome in the arboretum. He could smell blood in the air and with glee he acknowledged it was the lippy upstart from away with the weird hands and penetrating gaze.

 

`I'm not short! Sesshoumaru and the kid are abnormally tall as are you fucktard!'

 

The Goshinboku proved an excellent spot for the viewing of the games while keeping an eye out for the interfering women of their clan. They always spoilt a bit of fun. Thankfully Ayame was herself busy tending the preparations or she would undoubtedly be part of the soon to be fray.

 

He smirked with satisfaction as Padraig managed to land a blow and trip the Western Lord into the pond once more. Something he had never quite managed to do in all these years. He promised himself that he would stop it if things got out of hand, but for now it was a beautiful thing seeing Sesshoumaru looking like a drowned rat - Padraig would, of course, pay for that, he knew, but that sat well with him too. He was not short!

 

-I-

 

“Padraig!? Father!?” Satori ran toward the tea house, Kagome not far behind, her fists balled at her sides as she ground her teeth.

 

`This shit has to stop! Those two must never be left alone together again.' the Western Lady thought with aggrieved little dark brows.

 

`I well agree, Mother.'

 

`Satori! What have I and your father repeatedly told you about invading others private thoughts unannounced?'

 

`My apologies, Mother. You were broadcasting loud and clear. I couldn't help it.'

 

`Be mindful of it in future.'

 

`Padraig is hurt and father has soiled himself in a manner of speaking by falling in the pond!'

 

`I know about your Patrick and your father had best not be the cause of it or he will actually soil himself when I get done with him. He will regret the day the Inu-no-Taishou sired him and that other shit disturber, your Uncle who, as we speak, is doing nothing to break up the fight!'

 

`Mother, really, such violent images, and towards your chosen Mate, this cannot be countenanced in youkai society! Father was quite right. You have spent too much of your formative years in Uncle Yasha's company. It is telling in your thoughts.'

 

`Satori! Shut it now!'

 

`Yes Mother. I will keep my own counsel in future. You are part human, after all. These foibles cannot be helped. Father and I understand.'

 

`Smart girl, I still haven't forgiven you for the day you kicked the crap out of me while in the womb and forced me into battle!'

 

`My apologies, Mother. It really was for your own good.'

-I-

 

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Inuyasha spat irritably, “an'just when it was gettin' good too.”

 

At this rate they would be here in minutes, long before any appreciable amount of blood was shed to his satisfaction. If he had to admit it, Padraig was doing well for himself in hand-to-hand.

 

It was then that it struck Inuyasha.

 

Sesshoumaru wasn't actually trying. In fact, at any point he could have ended the scuffle with his poisonous claws, but he chose not to.

 

“Lay him out already, Sesshoumaru! What the fuck are you playin' at?” the Hanyou bellowed as he jumped down from his perch and approached the fracas.

 

-I-

 

“I've had more than enough time to think about it and you know what?”

 

Pleasurable groans escaped Masaru's lips as Sango worked her magic.

 

“About the children, I mean pups?” she continued, tackling a particularly hard knot of muscle at the base of his spine.

 

Masaru genuinely purred like the proud Neko youkai he was.

 

Sango snickered. “I mean as near as I can figure. You all live considerably longer than we do, so it makes sense that your maturation mirrors ours but over longer periods of time. Don't you think?

 

“Mmmmmmmm….what of it?”

 

“Well, watching the progress of our own Koishi and Kagome's two, even Inuyasha for that matter, I've come to the conclusion that you not only chronologically age more slowly but emotionally too.”

 

“You wish… Ouch! Sango?!”

 

“Don't push it! I can do a lot of damage from this vantage. Just listen. I've given this a lot of thought. I am not actually saying youkai are stupid.” Sango continued with a smirk as he stiffened beneath her. “For example, take Yoshiro, he is over two hundred but with respect to maturity, I would say he is in his middle teen years as compared with Koishi who is more so in his late twenties by contrast.”

 

“And?”

 

“Nothing really, just saying that perhaps for every hundred years of your life span, your species matures roughly seven in human terms.''

 

Sango's hands had stopped moving abruptly, her attention caught by the sudden flurry of movement beyond their bedroom window.

 

Reluctantly, Masaru raised his tousled head from the pillow. Sango's warm, silky thighs no longer straddled his, nor were her strong hands kneading the tired muscles of his lower back with soothing, mentholated oils.

 

He watched her rear with lewd appreciation as it moved beneath the demur, salmon colored robe she wore, her movements graceful and quiet as she glided across the tatami toward the window to investigate the sudden kerfuffle.

 

Sango always overreacted to any sudden unexplained movements. He smiled softly. She would never change nor did he wish her to - once a warrior, always a warrior.

 

“Come back here and attend me, woman.”

 

His feigned commanding tone did not elicit the reaction he imagined as she lowered the curtain slowly with a wicked smile. The bed shifted beneath him and her welcoming warmth returned across his back. Sango continued to chuckle, warming her hands with the scented essential oils.

 

Peering over his shoulder curiously, he saw the secretive smile playing about her kissable lips.

 

“Well, are you going to share? What are Lady Kagome and Satori-sama up to? It was them, wasn't it?”

 

Sango nodded, continuing to chuckle mischievously, her callused hands massaged the soothing mixture into his abused muscles.

 

“If I read the current set of Kagome's shoulders correctly, the Killing Perfection is in for it. I would wager he is currently attempting to make short work of Patrick in the covered tea garden.”

 

Masaru's eyes narrowed and his muscles tightened beneath her.

 

Sango sighed in resignation adjusting her position to tend his strong well muscled legs.

 

“So that is where you were after practice today.”

 

“What of it? It is my duty as head of arms to keep the pups under a watchful eye, at all times. We are not having this conversation, Sango. Drop it.”

 

The urge to smack the pert male ass beneath her palms was strong as she admired the tanned skin and her mouth began to water.

 

Miroku would have been proud, she thought sadly, lifting a callused foot instead and examining the clawed little toe with affection.

 

“You need a pedicure.”

 

“Over my dead body, Slayer.”

 

“This could be arranged, Kitty.”

 

Sango squealed in surprise finding herself beneath powerful coiled muscles, while a decidedly masculine purr filled her ears, sending shivers down her spine. She blushed at the intensity she saw in his eyes; eyes that held unguarded affection and lust for her alone.

 

She sighed dramatically, scented fingers, delicately placing wayward dark strands behind his ears.

 

“Happy Birthday, my Mate.”

 

Her soft lips parted with a genuine grin.

 

“Pervert, you just want to get some before the party.”

 

“The thought never crossed my mind,” he whispered in her ear, while a callused palm meandering sensuously up her quivering inner thighs, parting her legs effortless as his own lips covered hers in a heated kiss.

 

Author's Note:

 

One more to go! I must admit thoroughly enjoying the process of writing this one. I hope it translated in the writing ;).

 

Namaste

 

EP