InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Harsh Light of Day ❯ Chapter 1

The Harsh Light of Day

A oneshot

By Smittin Kittin

 

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I sooo don't own Inuyasha... haven't u noticed the lack of hentai?

 

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This fic is dedicated 2 my friend youkai, one of our late night chats inspired this so i hope u enjoy it! (huggles) thanks 4 the idea hun!

 

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As always, special thanks 2 my friend & beta! Thanks 4 continuing 2 find the time 2 help me share my wacky ideas with others.

 

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He groaned, rolling onto his side in a vain attempt to escape the glaring light of the early morning sun, tugging the covers over his head and hoping to steal a few more minutes of sleep. The thin fabric of the chenille coverlet did little to block out the glimmer of daylight filtering through the windows. He jerked the covers from his body and rolled out of bed, cursing himself for allowing a mere human girl to convince him to purchase plantation shutters for his bedroom. Heaving a long-suffering sigh, he shuffled towards the bathroom, any hope of returning to bed lost to the melodic sound of his housemate's singsong voice. Shaking his head, he wondered if the girl's insistence that he buy window coverings, that blocked little light, had less to do with maintaining period decor and more to do with her being an early riser and desiring his company upon her waking.

 

He quickly stripped out of his nightclothes, shrugging the soft fabric from his body. The hot water rained down on him, steamy droplets pelted his chest and trickled along his spine. `Why do I still maintain the company of that human girl?' He stepped forward, letting the scalding water beat down on the back of his neck and cascade over his tense shoulders. Her sweet voice wafted into his sensitive ears and his eyes brightened at the sound. The perils of childhood had long passed and still he kept her around; guarded her, shielded her from the outside world.`Why?' he asked himself, turning his face up so the hot spray could rinse the remnants of sleep from his marigold eyes. A soft knock upon the bathroom door drew his attention, moments before she entered. He turned to watch as she shuffled across the stone floor, her slipper clad feet lightly skimming the smooth surface of the hand laid tiles. He shook his head, silently amused by their morning routine, watching as she stopped in front of the antique dresser-turned-bathroom-vanity and settled onto the linen-covered bench before opening the top drawer. A few moments of clatter and she withdrew her hand with a satisfied huff.

 

This is how she started her day, every morning, without fail. He stared at her, hungry eyes taking in her delicate curves. His hand stroked his collarbone, caressing the lean lines of his chest as he observed her softly brushing her long dark hair. She sighed, closing her eyes as the course bristles smoothed her hair and massaged her scalp. He clenched his fists, claws digging into the fleshy palms as he fought the urge to tangle his hands in her flowing locks. How long had he been watching her do this? Eight, nine years? And yet, the obvious pleasure she derived from such a simple task intrigued him.

 

The girl found joy in the most mundane things, or perhaps he had just become to jaded to see life's everyday beauty. She arched her back, running the brush through the underside of her hair, well formed breasts pressed against the thin fabric of her ivory negligee, revealing hardened, rosy tips. A familiar tightening in his stomach reminded him that he was not immune to all of life's beauty. She closed her eyes, humming a familiar melody that he suspected was more for his benefit than her amusement. A few, last strokes of the brush insured the lustrous shine and meticulous placement of her satiny tresses. His right hand stroked along his abdomen, fingers teasing the thin line of pale hair below his navel. He suppressed a groan when she shifted returning the silver plated brush to the top drawer and retrieving a small bottle of lilac lotion. He tried to turn away but was mesmerized by the vision she presented perched upon the small upholstered bench a dainty foot planted firmly in front of her. The lean line of her creamy thigh was exposed to his hungry gaze when she flexed her leg, raising it high in the air, toes pointed towards the bronze inlay ceiling. He sucked in a breath, his hand slipping lower to sooth the ache caused by the scantily clad form of this slip of a girl. She pulled her leg closer to her body, delicate fingers rubbed along the backside. He watched as the creamy moisturizer was absorbed into the supple flesh of her pale thigh. He grasped himself tighter as he began attending to his erection in earnest.

 

All those years of ballet lessons had been worth it, countless hours in attendance of class recitals, watching graceless young girls prance on stage, were rewarded with this arousing morning ritual. He leaned forward, bracing his weight on his left arm his right hand glided along his shaft at a brisk pace. The little temptress finished with her right leg then rose to her feet, slender fingers parted the slit in the front of her dressing gown to reveal the smooth plane of her flat belly. He panted lightly, beads of sweat rolled down his chest mingling with droplets of rapidly cooling water as his fingers flexed against his throbbing shaft. She breathed a quiet sigh when her fingers grazed the underside of her sensitive breasts and he pumped harder, anxious for his release. Knowing she was nearly done with her daily primping added a sense of urgency to his desperate act of self gratification. His body trembled as the tightening in his loins became unbearable. “Rin,” he groaned, unable to keep her name from his lips at his moment of climax. With a sigh, he slumped forward to rest his forehead against the cool slate of the shower wall. Guilt nearly choked him and he reached for a nearby bar of soap. Lathering vigorously, he hoped to wash away the shame he felt for defiling the innocent girl who'd turned towards him at the sound of her name.

 

She stared at the frosted glass of the shower stall, a curious expression on her face. “Yes master Jaken?” she inquired, rubbing the last of the lightly fragrance lotion into her hands.

 

“Must you do that in here?” he snapped, irritated more with himself than the naive object of his salacious desires.

 

She hung her head saddened at his terse tone. “I'm sorry master Jaken, I didn't mean to disturb you. But, you know I'm not allowed to do it with Lord Sesshoumaru anymore,” she replied in a small voice that reminded him of the child she once was.

 

“Just get out of here you insufferable brat! I don't have time to deal with your excuses this morning.” She scurried out of the room with a mumbled apology. He shrugged off the sense of dread that came along with the knowledge that it was only a matter of time before his lord and master figured out why he didn't object to sharing a bathroom with his young ward.