InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ This Sesshoumaru Needs Not A Mate - ON HOLD ❯ PART TWENTY SIX ( Chapter 26 )

 

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.

 

Mature: Sexual content, you have been warned.

 

Edited by: Meara the Celt

 

Quotations by Antoine de Sainte Exupery from “The Little Prince”

 

Reviews are fuel.

 

EP

 

Japanese Terms/Phrases Used In Part Twenty-Six

 

 

'Aoba no fue' - an ancient flute, belonging to the eldest son of the Genji family. According to the folklore in Izumi, Fukui-ken(Japan), 800 years ago, Yoshihira, eldest son of Genji Family, and a musician of merit, was defeated Heiji-war. He was killed, and his descendants inherited his flute.

 

 

Part Twenty-Six This Sesshoumaru Needs Not A Mate

 

 

"You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed."

 

 

Quiet, but for the sounds of a day begun by all who were in the service to the Western Shiro, the odd, uncertain bow returned from above by a female whose long midnight tresses shone in the gentle rays of the rising sun, her comely, delicate features enhanced by the morning light and her genuine warmth.

 

The flutter of pale, toned, silk burnished by the dawn's glow, accentuated the Miko's pallor as she stood on the balcony overlooking the courtyard contemplatively, pulling her yukata tightly about her. There was a chill in the air, equally in her soul. The morning's peace and the distinctive smell of the sea wafted to her nostrils. Its breeze caressed her skin causing goose flesh on her neck. Below, a woman and several small boys, possibly her sons, close in ages, shared a quiet joke. The female in question stopped to wipe the nose of the youngest called Norio, before hurrying off nervously on seeing the Western Lady observing them. Kagome's brows furrowed briefly in question, before her thoughts turned to her own human family beyond the well.

 

What were they doing? Did Souta get off to school on time or had he overslept? Her father was a hanyou like Inuyasha? Okaa-san must have known this, of course, hence the omamori Sesshoumaru wore. Her father, a descendant of the House of Fire, an ancient youkai race, surely Sesshoumaru's vast library would afford her information about a part of her she had never known, but for stories, she thought fairy tales, told at her father's knee? This would explain the far off look Otousan would get sometimes, and the sudden silences between ChiChi-ue and Jii-Jii, all made sense now. Ayumi would be married within the week? Would Sesshoumaru allow her to go?

 

`What of the visions last night, and Naraku's strength? Why did I react so violently to Totosai's presence? Was that why Sesshoumaru had sent him away?' Kagome was confused, and felt the sudden need to be home. `He is awake and has been for some time, simply watching me, while lying there. Waiting…but for what?

 

Cool, sleepy amber watched through thick, silver lashes the myriad emotions traversing the Miko's face. `Her aura is meditative and melancholy. She feels alone, isolated in a strange land. To be expected,' reasoned the Western Lord. Kagome never rose early. She enjoyed her sleep, and short of dragging her out of the futon bodily in the mornings, he indulged her. Yet, this morning, of all mornings, she arose, of her own volition before first light, denying him her warmth, lost in thought, observing the workings and staff of the shiro in quiet contemplation. `She is aware I have awakened, but has not acknowledged this.'

 

sks

 

`Was it co-incidence that my chamber and that of the Priest are adjoined by a fusuma?' thought the Taijiya, shaking her head. The change in arrangement had occurred sometime last night. She smiled to herself, knowing Kagome had something to do with this.

 

The quarters were much more to her liking, far more austere than her previous. A futon, a bowl and jug for cleansing and a small Tansu, and a low table, while various ancient weapons lined the walls. `Thank you, my sister,' she thought smiling, as she stepped to her window overlooking the majestic Tea Garden and its waterfall.

 

`That's for Miroku. Kagome misses nothing.'

 

“Breathtaking view isn't it?” said the Houshi from behind. Sango spun around in fright, nearly losing her footing in the process, caught by strong hands briefly to steady her. When had he come in?

 

“Not that I mind, but you really should knock when entering a woman's quarters or anyone's for that matter, Monk,” intoned the Taijiya calmly. She returned her gaze to the beauty before her, ignoring the electric current that passed between them in their brief embrace. “Yes, it is.”

 

Her hair was still down, flowing just a little past her shoulders, dark, rich with a few chestnut highlights, from all her time in the sun. “It most certainly is,” agreed the Monk in a tone that caused the Slayer to turn to him, unaware he had moved closer during their exchange.

 

Sango blushed. “Can I safely assume we are talking about the view?” she answered, keeping her eyes glued to the meandering waterfall, unable to look back into his translucent, violet eyes. She knew what she would find there. The heat of their bodies close proximity unnerved her, as she tried to maintain her even breathing.

 

“Sango,” whispered the Monk, almost meditatively. His warm breath tickled the exposed skin at the nap of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. Firm arms came about her waist. “You smell wonderful,” said the Priest, his lips touching her neck briefly, having moved her hair to one side, the feel of her hair soft and silky against his face.

 

“I - I'm not ready, Miroku, I'm sorry,” she said in a whisper.

 

The Houshi chuckled softly, but did not release his prize, tightening his hold. She did not resist.

 

“I merely request a morning kiss my beautiful coral goddess, nothing more.”

 

Sango turned in his arms, her face relieved and shy, her own hopeful eyes looking into his for deception. There was none.

 

“I'm no goddess. My hands are rough. I have no patience and I, as Kagome would say, have lots and lots of intimacy issues, due to my…what were the word she used...'psychological trauma' of watching my mother love a man, that loved everyone including her indiscriminately.”

 

Miroku pressed a finger to her lips. “I know…”

 

“You do?” said Sango, her large brown eyes opening in surprise.

 

“Do you think the Priestess and I have not discussed my tendencies and how it affects you? I love women, Sango. I love everything about you, from your curves, to your laughter, even your maddening inability to keep a train of thought at times. I actually like you. In some ways, you are far superior to the male of the species. You are kinder, more adept with the human spirit and intuition. You are, as a group, more connected with the Kami than the average male, who has to work at it. I enjoy your company as a sex. Like most men, I do a lot of talking. It doesn't mean I do most of what I say.”

 

Sango stood back in his arms, her fingers intertwined with his loosely. “Are you saying that you have never slept with anyone yourself? Because if you are, I don't believe you.” She said ruefully with a hint of deprecating laughter in her eyes.

 

A shy smile came across his face, as he held up two fingers.

 

“You have had two lovers only?” said Sango in disbelief stepping back from the Houshi, relinquishing his grasp. This was far too much to take in so early in the morning without her tea. Her Miroku was, perhaps, not a male whore after all.

 

With a sad sheepish smile, he moved to leave, recognizing he had perhaps told her too much, feeling somehow naked in a revelation, he had not meant to share so soon. He side-stepped her, as she stood facing him, heading back towards the open fusuma.

 

“Miroku? Please tell me the truth. I am not judging you,” intoned the Taijiya. “I simply need to understand why you…you led me to believe…well that you …I mean.”

 

Turning to face her once more, “We should conduct our morning practice before the Taiyoukai and the Western Lady arrive at the dojo. I will meet you there. We need never speak of this again. I understand how you feel. My apologies, Sango,” said the Houshi with sudden reserve and formality, while maintaining his usual easy casual smile that never met his pained eyes. Though her mistrust was well founded, it hurt, and he did not wish to discuss something so private any further. There was no point.

 

Sango stepped towards him with a purposeful gate, sensing an unwanted shift in his demeanor. `He is attempting to close me out, after we have come so far.'

 

“Please don't leave. Talk to me Miroku,” with a slight edge of pleading to her voice, standing behind him, one hand resting on his afflicted arm. His muscles jerked beneath her grasp. Miroku's voice hitched in his throat, “Sango, I will meet you in the dojo, if you wish to practice. Please, don't touch me right now.”

 

“No! Face me, talk to me, please. I am standing here begging you. Please don't hide from me, Miroku. I-I care, I just need to understand,” said Sango, growing frightened, by his sudden refusal to talk, and the wall that was climbing higher between them.

 

“Let me go Sango, now please,” rasped the Houshi between clenched teeth. “I want you, and it is not fair to either you or me at this moment. I wanted you the first time I saw you. I have nothing to offer any woman long term. You are right on that score. Let's forget all of this.” He said with a sad smile, looking down at his covered palm. “This” he pointed at his palm, “is my fate, perhaps before the final battle. Since being here, it has grown, exponentially. Something about the shiro is quickening the process and I don't know how to stop it, or if I could, that I should,” he explained matter-of-factly, no passion or trickery evident in his speech.

 

Sango noted his eyes were sad when they looked into hers. `Is this Plan B?' wondered the Taijiya.

 

“Will I see you there? In the dojo, I mean?” queried the Priest coolly, smile set firmly in place.

 

Unsure what to say, Sango nodded. “I'll meet you there shortly. Give me a few minutes to gather some things,” she said avoiding his eyes, looking to the curled neko, still asleep on the futon amidst crumpled dark linen.

 

With a curt bow, he re-entered his chambers, sliding the door closed, his devil may care smile vanished upon its closure. The veins pulsing in the arm she had recently touched. He was afraid.

 

The fusuma shifted beneath his back, as he eased himself off it, curious as to why the Taijiya was opening it. He had taken his staff with him. What did he forget?

 

“Slayer, did I forget something?” inquired the Monk in a pleasant tone he did not feel.

 

Sango smiled shyly up at the houshi. “You forgot your morning kiss, Monk,” answered the Slayer stepping into his chamber. Closing it behind her firmly, she pulled his face to hers in a tender kiss.

 

sks

 

Her pulse quickened with each step he took towards her on the balcony.

 

“May I join you, Miko?”

 

She inclined her head in affirmation, selecting not to turn into his arms just yet. Tatsuo was below observing the sunrise with hands loosely clasped as though in supplication, a gentle, amber light emanating from his palms.

 

“Tatsuo is observing his morning ritual, just as this Sesshoumaru does with the moon.”

 

The feel of hands resting against her stomach, made the Miko smile. Leaning into his hard welcoming warmth, the usual butterflies fluttered within in greeting.

 

“I love you, my Lord.”

 

“This is, of course, understandable,” said the Taiyoukai with feigned indifference, though his heart rate increased markedly.

 

Kagome smiled secretively, feeling his jyaki caress her own aura. Closing her eyes, she focused within, eliciting a soft purr of satisfaction from her Mate, who nuzzled her neck in response.

 

She chose to turn to him then, smiling up into surprised and twinkling citrine, holding his face between her hands gently. “Rest assured, I will get it right one day and not merely tickle you, my Lord. You will feel what I feel when you touch me, and more. I am a very lucky woman, despite your tendency to be an egotistical, dogmatic…” soft, moist lips shut her own, pleasurably, pulling her into a hard embrace.

 

“You taste of banana, Miko,” said the Taiyoukai informatively, coming up for much needed air, wisps of silken silver dancing in the caressing wind.

 

The Priestess gave her Mate, a lecherous grin. “Your fault entirely that this Kagome is sublimating, my Lord.”

 

Sesshoumaru's brow quirked, looking into deep chocolate eyes with mild amusement, “We must speak of my heat and its affect on my primary Bitch.”

 

Kagome's lewd smile vanished.

 

The Western Lord could have kicked himself, or at the very least Jaken, had he been about, he had done the unthinkable, again.

 

“This Sesshoumaru meant…”

 

Never mind, my Lord. I get it. Your almighty pheromones are making me this way. Nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that I love you, or anything stupid and emotional like that, and that I might simply want to make love with you, because you are you. Let's be practical. My reaction to you can only be due to your heat. Do you find a flaw in this Kagome's logic, my Lord?” said the Miko coldly, forcefully extricating herself from his hold, lowering her eyes, for fear he would see the hurt within them.

 

“Pheromones?” queried the Taiyoukai, as though she had said nothing else, giving her a impassive stare.

 

“That is what we call them in my time; sexual hormones. I guess that has something to do with my wanting you. Me being your `primary bitch' and all,” asserted the Miko in a clipped icy tone.

 

“Excuse me,” she said politely, walking past him abruptly, picking up her geta, prepared to leave.

 

“I'm going to take a walk in the courtyard, if that's okay, my Lord? Just need to clear my head from all the testosterone and estrogen in the room. Kami knows…” she stopped. What she was about to say would come off sounding sullen. Recognizing, she needed to control her vituperative urge when irritated with her Mate. Kagome gave the Taiyoukai a perfunctory bow before walking out, closing the sliding door softly behind her.

 

He did not follow.

 

sks

 

“Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always explaining things to them.”

 

Kagome's walk had taken her to the Lily Garden, following the ethereal sound of a flute to its source. She found Rin resting against Ah-Un's side, her eyes closed, as deft chubby fingers played each note true. A gentle, sleepy roar accompanied the sound of a bamboo flute, expertly played. Each note settling the dissonance within the Miko's soul, her anger of a few moments before evaporating. The Taiyoukai's ward perpetually amazed Kagome. Usually a bundle of activity, she sat quietly, almost serene, totally focused.

 

Rin opened her eyes, and shyly smiled with her other favourite adult.

 

“Good morning, Kagome-chan. Rin plays for Ah-Un. They like Aoba no fue, a gift from Lord Sesshoumaru.”

 

“Good morning Rin, you play beautifully. Who taught you?” asked Kagome, coming to rest beside the small girl, folding her yukata under her calves, as she kneeled. Un opened one sleepy eye, then closed it again, recognizing the being that sat next to his charge. Ah merely snorted in greeting.

 

Kagome chuckled, “Good morning Ah,” he snorted in response, closing his own eyes returning to restful repose.

 

“Lord Sesshoumaru,” replied Rin, placing the bamboo flute to her side, reaching across to gently, touch Kagome's stomach.

 

“Rin loves Satori and will take care of her,” said the little girl with a gap toothed grin.

 

“I am sure she will love you too, Rin, and we all will take care of each other.”

 

Rin gave Kagome a sidelong look, then folded her small chubby hands, thinking of the right words to say.

 

“Please, my Lady, don't be angry with Lord Sesshoumaru.”

 

Kagome quirked her brow and gave Rin a half smile, “That obvious huh?”

 

Rin's head bobbed in agreement, her warm dark eyes sad. Kagome pulled the little girl to her, resting her head in her lap, gently stroking her hair. “Don't worry, I am already way less angry with him. Are you saying he taught you how to play, Rin?” said Kagome, wishing to change the subject. The little soft head moved in her lap, confirming her assertion.

 

“Interesting. Sometimes, I don't know what to make of your guardian, Rin. He is so many beings at once.”

 

“No he is not. He is Lord Sesshoumaru, always the same.”

 

Kagome looked at the little face looking up at her, with a curious expression, “Meaning?”

 

“Just that, he is the Western Lord,” said the little girl, matter-of-factly, beginning to fidget.

 

“Hn,” intoned the Miko, “Perhaps you are right. Thank you, Rin.”

 

“Rin is going with Ah-Un to find sweet grass. Bye, Kagome-chan,” said the little girl brightly, retrieving her flute, and climbing onto the back of Ah-Un. Her conversation over, her mind turned to greater things, as the dragon flew off beyond the castle moat with one small being on his back, hair fluttering in the wind.

 

`Just like Sesshoumaru,' thought Kagome, as she rose. She still needed some time to herself, before returning to their chambers.

 

sks

 

Tatsuo's gaze returned to the sun, well pleased, as he toyed with the ring he had not worn for six centuries.

 

The radiant ball of light he held within his hands pulsed with life, changing shade from pale amber to a far deeper hue verging on red with the approach of the Miko, who watched in quiet fascination, as the light changed and deepened the closer she got to the stately, quiet, youkai.

 

“Onegai -shimasu,” said Tatsuo in his usual deep, yet musical register, before greeting the Miko with a deferential bow.

 

Kagome felt as though she was interrupting, “Gomen nasai,” she said quietly, turning to go in the opposite direction. Thus far, she had managed to interrupt two very private moments.

 

“My Lady, if it pleases you, I wish you to share the moment of rebirth with your humble servant Tatsuo?” he said in the form of a question, but in reality, was a statement. Bending reverently, his palms extended towards her, the ball seemingly resting mid air on the flat of his palms, pulsing at her in greeting.

 

Bowing, equally graciously, Kagome smiled shyly, then extended her own palms in a similar fashion, while the ball rolled, for want of better words, onto her own, tickling the skin. Large brown pools looked into Tatsuo's smiling green with guileless glee. `She is his likeness.'

 

Kagome stared into the light with pleasure as it bobbed up and down in an undisciplined fashion, unlike the restful state it held previously.

 

“Focus, close your eyes and see it still,” said a familiar, deep register.

 

Kagome tensed instantly, her lips pursed, her formerly happy aura growing cool. The ball sputtered and dimmed briefly, the light uncoiling from its spherical shape into that of an open flame surrounding her hands in a maelstrom of angry movement with hues of red and purple at war, like oil and water, each resisting the other, seeking equilibrium, but finding no rest.

 

Tatsuo looked at the Taiyoukai with veiled displeasure, his formerly soft green eyes growing cold at the unwanted intrusion.

 

“If my Lord wishes, Tatsuo can engage the…”

 

The Western Lord snarled, his fangs evident to the Healer, who wisely selected to maintain his silence, offering no further assistance or resistance, as he lowered his gaze in contrition. He had overstepped.

 

“Help me Tatsuo-sama, I don't know how to control this,” intoned the Miko. She had felt the angry spike in her Mate, and though not wishing Tatsuo to bear the brunt of the Taiyoukai's wrath, she did need his help. Something had gone wrong with the light and it was Sesshoumaru's fault. Somehow, when Sesshoumaru had commanded her to focus, it had the opposite effect. The joy of discovery lost.

 

Sesshoumaru inclined his head diffidently, stepping away from his Mate, turning on his heels and heading for the dojo.

 

“Miko, your presence will not be required in the dojo, should you be able to control the flame,” said the Taiyoukai brusquely, his voice sounded distant, defeated and hollow in his ears. He had wanted a moment with her, to explain, and instead, he had come upon her, happily engaged with another of her kind. Her aura danced in Tatsuo's presence, so much so, she had not been aware of his approach.

 

Tatsuo smiled softly with Kagome, who stood rigidly staring at the flame that now danced out of control, and continued to swirl around her fingers. “He is right, the flame, my Lady is a reflection of the state of your mind. You must control it. Anger, does not harness this power we share. It is a gift to our kind. Go to him. Clear your mind. I will be here when you return and then we can speak of the old world, from which your father's mother came.”

 

Kagome lifted her eyes to the soft green that looked at her in an avuncular manner. Something felt familiar about the gaze, she furrowed her brows, looking over her shoulder, as a tall figure in white turned the corner, slowing noticeably not quite as rigid, not quite as sure in his steps. Closing her eyes, Kagome focused on his face, and most particularly his eyes, selecting to remember the gentle expression he wore, often times when looking at her in the darkness. “He had meant nothing by his statement.”

 

“Yes, my Lady. From a pup, he has always been logical, taciturn, and somewhat cool. Do not mistake that for anything else. It is a requirement of the heir to maintain his distance. Much depends on his decisions. The Taiyoukai does nothing without purpose. You are his Mate, closer than kin, in some ways. You are required to go within and decipher his true meaning, when in doubt. Look at your hands, my Lady,” said Tatsuo with an amused tone.

 

Kagome was initially unable to see Tatsuo's aquiline features as she opened her eyes. The pulsing amber light enveloped both herself and the healer. They were `in' the ball of amber light.

 

The Priestess laughed, as their fingertips touching briefly, setting off an electric spark, causing her to jump and giggle self-consciously. “Thank you Tatsuo. It's so beautiful. How did you do this? It feels so warm and… and loving.”

 

Tatsuo shook his head, “Priestess, you thank the wrong youkai. Attend to your Master, your Mate, the one who gave you this ability to express this power. A power, that even after millennia of practice, I am still unable to produce alone. He is the Western Lord. Honor his gift.”

 

Kagome bowed, this was the second time this morning someone had told her this, by other words.

 

“Did you know my grandmother?” said the Miko, suddenly registering something the healer had said in passing, watching the play of light gently begin to fade. Tatsuo withdrew his fingers from hers slowly, pulling the light source towards himself once more. Kagome felt the tug. “It was you, last night, not Totosai, that I felt.” said the Miko in surprise.

 

“Please my Lady, attend to your Mate. I will be here. We have all waited long for your presence, and his completion,” said Tatsuo firmly while bowing. “I must attend the Ookami who complains of a headache. He waits in the stone garden.”

 

It was then Kagome noticed the ring, similar to the one she wore, just broader and its etching different to that of her own. She felt another pull, this time from the direction of the hot spring. Sesshoumaru was calling her.

 

Turning swiftly she headed for her Mate, then stopped mid flight, turning once more to face Tatsuo, “Ah-Un, I have often seen you with him, I mean them. Is he Lord Sesshoumaru's pet or his guardian?” Tatsuo's deep smiling eyes continued to disconcert her with their familiarity. `He looks at me as though he has known me before.'

 

“If it pleases both you and my Lord, we can meet again once you have completed your tasks for the day. Ah-Un was a gift to the Dog General, at the birth of his first-born son. Ah-Un is his pet and yes, his guardian.”

 

Kagome bowed. “Gurache.”

 

“Dou itashimashite,” said the healer in turn, taking his leave.

 

She felt the pull again, more forceful this time and headed towards the hot spring at a run, nearly knocking over Inuyasha, who shook his head and yelled at her retreating figure.

 

“Oi, Kagome, lover boy will wait. No need to break your scrawny neck getting to him and don't take too long either. We have shit to find today,” he yelled at the now distant form barreling at great speed down the hall. A slow smile crossed his face.

 

“If I'm lucky someone will be hot and heavy about me one day.”

 

“Luck has nothing to do with it Inuyasha. Love does.” said a rich female voice, chuckling.

 

Inuyasha blushed, folding his arms within his sleeves, suddenly uncomfortable, having been overheard. How had he missed her scent?

 

As though understanding his unasked question, Ayame stood and approached him. “We wolves mask our scent as a matter of course, when stalking prey.”

 

“Yeah? Then how come I can always smell old shitface when he's around?” he said gruffly, looking her over as she approached him rather slowly. Kouga was an idiot. She had the best legs he had ever seen. And the way her hips moved when she walked…it was kinda…and her eyes…damn!

 

Ayame stopped a few feet away from Inuyasha and held his gaze intently. Arousal was coming off him in waves. She could scent it, and if truth be told, she could see it. She blushed.

 

“He enjoys annoying you, Inuyasha. As a point of interest, you cannot scent him now, even though he sits over there,” she began raising her hand to point, but was stopped, as a firm hand gripped hers “observing us.”

 

A wickedly handsome smile graced Inuyasha's face, as strong, white fangs protruded. A shiver went down Ayame's spine, her knees felt weak. `This is strange. Perhaps, I'm ill?' she thought, still captivated by the handsome Hanyou in front of her, who had not let go of her hand.

 

“Then let's give him something to look at,” said Inuyasha with an attempt at bravado. He pulled the willing female to him and hugged her tightly, his nose in her hair. He had wanted to kiss her, but well…the way she looked at him, made him change his mind.

 

“You blush beautifully, my Lord,” said the demoness, her own cheeks crimson. Ayame closed her eyes, and pressed her lips to his in a chaste kiss, meant to illicit Kouga's wrath.

 

This was not Inuyasha's first kiss. That had been with Kikyou. Ayame lips felt different. They were warm, sweet, and kind; her kiss was kind. He pressed his own more firmly to hers, closing his shocked amber eyes, savoring the sweetness of her mouth, and her living breath, wanting to drown in her warmth. She kissed him unreservedly, reveling in her first kiss. There was innocence in his touch that made her feel brave, loving, and safe. His own lips felt like velvet, and were softer than she anticipated. It suddenly no longer mattered that Kouga would bear witness and its possible repercussions. This was, for her, an affirmation as Inuyasha deepened the kiss. She ran her fingers through the Hanyou's silver white, silky hair whispering his name as though a benediction.

 

“Inuyasha.”

 

Like so many others before her and since, Ayame had made a simple discovery. Letting go and acceptance are the only requirement for the heart to heal. Pain, given time and space, eventually ceases its hold, when we give it permission to leave.

 

“Inuyasha,” she intoned, as he cradled her in his arms, refusing to relinquish her lips.

 

“Ayame,” whispered the Ookami in disbelief, just as Tatsuo approached from behind.

 

“Prince Kouga?” inquired Tatsuo, concerned as he watched the Ookami's jyaki spike.

 

“I'm gonna kill that damn mutt!” roared, Kouga indignantly, taking off towards the couple, unmindful he had left his crutches behind, in his haste.

 

Tatsuo bent and picked up both canes, looking after the livid prince dispassionately. `They will require my services shortly,' sighed the Healer in resignation, who went on his way in search of Jaken. `The Taiyoukai should be informed.'

 

 

sks

 

"Language is the source of misunderstandings."

 

Kagome stopped in front of the closed fusuma, which still bore the tell tale scaring of the Taiyoukai's nails, and smiled to herself, holding her middle. “Satori your daddy is something else, but I love him, and so will you,” she said. Apparently, Satori agreed, as the delicate fluttering of butterflies within, followed. Kagome gasped. “You little devil, you have been talking all along. All those times, it was you, not indigestion. Tatsuo is right. I need to listen, really listen. Okay since we are in chatty mode, thanks for saving Uncle Kouga, and your Mom.” Another ticklish flutter. So engaged was the Miko in chatting with her `smalls', she neglected to note, well groomed, clawed feet standing before her. Kagome slowly looked up into cool, impatient citrine.

 

Pushing him back through the sliding door, she slid it closed. Her gaze never leaving his, as she stripped rather hurriedly, and embraced the still partially dressed Taiyoukai, who was down to his kosode. Ruru was quite happy with the proceedings.

 

“Listen well, my Lord, this Kagome does not enjoy repeating herself. I took offense, where none was meant. I get jealous easily when it comes to you. The very thought of sharing you with another, or me being one of many displeases me. It lessens our bond in my eyes, and makes me no more than friction, a receptacle for your lust. I am more than that Sesshoumaru. I am woman who is in love with you, and only you. I desire no one else, and I don't care, if it is pheromones because you are in heat, I WANT YOU. Have I made myself perfectly clear, my Lord?” said the Miko, disrobing the Taiyoukai methodically, before she kneeled before him, head bowed, as protocol dictated.

 

It wasn't lost on the Miko, that there was evident interest on his part. The Western Lord never failed to surprise her, as he selected to kneel in front of her.

 

“Kagome, you are never to kneel when with this Sesshoumaru alone.”

 

Looking up into glowing, pinked eyes, Kagome's own twinkled with amusement, “Are you quite sure about that, my Lord? This new edict of yours could prove most inconvenient, should I choose to hold you to it,” she said meaningfully.

 

A silver brow raised in shock, as a ticklish sensation traveled up and down the Taiyoukai's spine, ending in his groin. `She was learning, by dint of perseverance.'

 

“You still require unflinching focus, Miko, in order to have the desired effect. Practice later. We are to meet the others shortly,” he said in a resolute tone, lifted her into his arms, heading for the spring.

 

Kagome nodded, her head resting on his chest, one finger toying with one pale nipple, hardening under the pad of her finger. `She is intentionally making this difficult.'

 

“Yes, my Lord.”

 

“This Sesshoumaru will come to dislike that seemingly innocuous honorific coming from your lips. It lacks something in the way of reverence, Miko. You will call me Sesshoumaru, when we are alone henceforth.”

 

“Yes, my…yes, Ruru,” answered the Miko, with an impishly grin.

 

“Hnnnn… Do not toy with this Sesshoumaru.”

 

“Tit for tat, my Lord. Then you will call me Kagome in private. It is my given name, and I enjoy how it sounds coming from those,” she touched his lips with one finger. “It works both ways, Sesshoumaru.”

 

“Agreed…Kagome, tell this Sesshoumaru of your practice with Tatsuo, was it productive?” inquired the Lord indifferently, reaching for the shampoo, positioning himself between her thighs.

 

“You tell me, Sesshoumaru? Did I succeed?” she said, pouring a generous amount into her palm, before lathering his hair.

 

“Hn.”

 

 

sks

 

"It is the time you have spent for your rose that makes your rose so important."

 

“I find the thrill of victory a very intoxicating thing, Monk,” bantered the Taijiya playfully, while she sat astride the Houshi shoulders, brandishing his staff above her head. Miroku, lay prone below her, eyes closed, breathing heavily.

 

“You do realize, Monk, if I wanted to, I would simply snap your neck in this position or make demands of you to continue where we left off?” said the Slayer chuckling, unaware of the double entendre in her statement.

 

Miroku opened his eyes, her groin inches from his lecherous lips. “And I would die a very happy man, dear Slayer, depending on the demand,” intoned the Houshi with a lewd grin. Sango blushed, suddenly conscious in new ways of her current position. Hurriedly, she tried to climb off his prone form on the tatami, but too late, as the priest, rolled on top of her, eyeing her lips with hooded eyes.

 

“You were saying?” challenged the Monk, with amused violet eyes, pressing his lips to hers, further clarifying his point.

 

“Ahem…” said a small frantic, little kit breathlessly, standing in the outer hall.

 

“Shippou, my boy, Sango and I have just finished practicing. Can we do something for you?” answered the Houshi good-naturedly, as though there was not a Demon slayer, below him with cheeks the color of cherries. Looking in his small face, the Houshi's own expression changed immediately, as in one smooth movement, he stood, with his staff at his side.

 

“What's wrong, Shippou,” said Miroku, already at the door, closely followed by the taijiya who had retrieved her Hiraikotsu.

 

Shippou averted his gaze, his own face aflame. `There must be something in the air. First Dog Boy and Ayame, now the Sango and the lech. I don't even want to think of Mama and Sesshoumaru-sama. Adults are just weird. All this kissy kissy.'

 

“Kouga and Inuyasha are fighting, please come,” said Shippou in a high-pitched squeak, running on ahead.

 

sks

 

Warm, petulant lips surrendered to the kiss. A rough agile tongue demanding entry, while the Miko moaned in ecstasy clinging to his soap slicked body. Rough hands held her firmly against taut abs, which rippled like a stallion within the embrace of her firm thighs. The heat of his rock hard member surged between her slick folds, as he rolled his hips in answer to the pressure of her warmth.

 

“More,” she moaned, capturing his lips in a searing kiss, as her nails dug into the back of his skull.

 

Pulling his face to hers, Kagome bent and licked each deep, jagged mark, from cheek to ear, nibbling his lob, groaning softly. “I want you …..inside me, Sesshoumaru,” purred the Miko, as she bit into his mark, eliciting a growl so deep it coursed through his entire form, causing his member to twitch painfully. `Control.'

 

Callused hands with deadly talons, kneaded her rear, leaning her against the wet wall of the hot spring, pressing into her inviting wetness, but not penetrating. The aching need was maddening, her walls convulsed painfully, as she wrapped her legs around him, her heels pressing him closer, intimating her need.

 

Her own hands, explored taut back muscles that shuddered, as one delicate hand buried itself between them, grasping his sack gently at first, the velvety heat of her fingers, causing him to stiffen, as she fondled him, her lips seeking his once more.

 

“Take me, my Lord,” she moaned against his lips, as she slid her heated need against his.

 

Looking into her eyes and the want expressed there, the Taiyoukai could not keep her lust filled gaze, as brown orbs reflected a reddening hue, previously not there.

 

“But first I will feast …” intoned the Taiyoukai. He needed the delicious diversion.

 

Lifting her bodily from the spring, he lay the Priestess on the stone ledge, her legs still coiled about his hips, her tongue licking his freshly bruised mark. Sesshoumaru shivered, as her teeth pierced his skin, and she sucked. Strong hands parting her thighs from about his hips with difficulty, his hands would not obey him, nor would his eyes. A feminine hand, with long tapered digits, opening nether lips, to receive the benediction of his tongue, teeth and lips, her reddened, slick flesh presented to him in want. The tantalizing sight of her engorged nub of nerves caused his mouth to water with a sudden need to taste his Mate, to quench his preternatural thirst for her.

 

Kagome groaned in anticipation as his head descended, blood red eyes engaged hers, as he bent and licked her. Warm lips taking in her moist, viscous folds, an agile tongue toyed within her.

 

“I want you, all of you,” hissed the Miko, in frustration.

 

The sight of his head moving rhythmically caused her to arch into his tongues welcomed invasion. Her hands grasped her breasts, fingertips pinching her nipples, each time his rough tongue advanced causing her to groan with each retreat.

 

“ Ooooooooooooooooooohhhhhhh Sesssshooouuuu … …” she whimpered, completely lost in the sensation of his touch.

 

She was ambrosia to his tongue, as her essence flowed and filled his senses. Her scent was more alluring than fine sake; delicate, piquant, savory, leaving him wanting more. He knew intrinsically he could not give in to his want, she could not survive it. Kagome was not a demoness, regardless of her lineage and temperament. Complicating matters she was with pup. He would have to maintain control, Satori's development being at a critical stage. Should he give in, he might harm his Mate and his unborn pup. He would have to make do, savouring her taste with his tongue, and carefully sating her rightful sensual thirst for her Mate. He would see her to fruition, but not his own.

 

Sesshoumaru had not anticipated Kagome's lust or need for him, fueled in part by his pheromones, which increased her libido whether she wished to acknowledge it or not. This was typical of his kind, the Inu, and other youkai, but her responses were that of a full demoness. This perplexed him. Perhaps this was why concubines had always been allowed for the Taiyoukai when in rut. The right protected his Mate and their offspring from the more bestial side of their animalistic needs. With concubines there would be others to sate his thirst while the bitch in question recovered.

 

The key complication, he wanted no other bitch in his palette. None would do, just this fragile being lying before him, open to his will and need, having the same need. Her body told him as much, as her delicate fingers gripped the hair on his head so tightly it was painful, her nails cutting into his scalp. `Take her, Master.'

 

“NO!” hissed the Western Lord, lifted his head, eyes the color of blood, gripping his shaft with a tortured look on his face, in an attempt to quell his own need, forcing his attentions elsewhere.

 

Kagome opened her eyes, looking somewhat dazedly at her Mate. Who appeared angered, as he continued to stroke her inner thigh with one hand, one finger poised at her entrance, as he is own eyes were tightly closed. It came to her in a jumbled flash. Was this why, he had refused her advances the night before?

 

“Sesshou?” queried the Miko in a hushed tone. She leaned up on both elbows, looking at her Mate. She felt the dissonance from him. His need was evident in spirit and body, and yet, he held himself, literally, in a vice like grip. Closing her eyes once more, she decided to utilize the mark, entering him. Her eyes flew open, and a soft sleepy smile graced her lips. He was afraid of hurting them.

 

“Sesshoumaru, you would never, could never, hurt me,” said the Miko softly, as she pulled him too her with her heels. “Come, my love, take what is given freely to you and only you,” intoned the Miko in a quiet, sultry tone.

 

The Taiyoukai opened his eyes, not only were his pupils blood red, but equally the whites of his eyes, a new experience for the Miko. “This Sesshoumaru cannot risk it, Kagome.”

 

“I can. I love you, Sesshoumaru. I want you…as you are now. Trust me…” intoned Kagome, raising herself and reaching for him, pulling him tightly to her, nipping his mark.

 

“Take your Mate, as is your right, and her wish, my Taiyoukai …” said the Miko in a voice she did not recognize, as she pulled his head to her breast. A rough tongue lathed one nipple, causing her to hiss, as a hard, smooth body, pressed into her pliant, soft one.

 

“Yes,” moaned the Priestess repeatedly, as their bodies writhed in an incandescent ball of dancing, amber light, that flooded the spring, and the honmaru beyond, reaching those gathered within the sacred sand and stone garden witnessing a battle.

 

sks

 

"What makes the desert beautiful," says the little prince, "is that somewhere it hides a well."

 

 

“Get your filth paws of her. She's mine mutt-face,” screamed Kouga, charging Inuyasha, who hurriedly placed a frightened Ayame behind him. A firm hand pulled at her shoulder, it was Kaede.

 

“Come away, child. Ye need not bear witness to the stupidity of male youth.”

 

“She's yours, really? Since when you piece of shit?” growled Inuyasha between clenched teeth, “Was that before, or after you skulked away under cover of darkness, running from `your woman' for the third time? Naraku should have killed your sorry ass when he had the chance!?” said the Hanyou, charging forward, claws extended, as their bodies connected mid air. The unthinkable happened, when their bodies collided, Tessaiga became unsheathed, spiraling out of its saya, its trajectory taking it towards the fountain's basin, as both males tussled on the ground. Inuyasha raised one hand, his claws glinting in the strange amber light that filled the garden, eyes red, his arm coming down with force, as Kouga struggled beneath him, frightened by the look in Inuyasha's eyes. `His beast has taken over.'

 

“INUYASHA, Nooooooooooo!” screamed Miroku, running into the fray, staff at the ready. As though caught by an unseen force, it joined the spiraling katana in flight.

 

Jaken pulled the crying kitsune to him turning away from the sight of what he knew was coming, his own staff trembling in his grip. He heard the sound of ripping cloth and a dull thud.

 

Blood seeping through dark, purple robes, while Sango screamed running towards Miroku, just as Tessaiga arched once more, and made its descent. Red droplets of blood pebbled across its rusty blade, pulled as though by a magnetic field from the staff. As it struck the basin, shattering it into many pieces, the staff plummeted, landing upright, in the spot previously held by the shattered basin, glowing eerily in the peculiar amber light that had overtaken the garden; Tensaiga sinking just below the sand's surface, its hilt exposed, it too glowing amber, just beyond Inuyasha's reach.

 

Inuyasha stood over Miroku, his eyes remaining the color of blood, yelping softly in question, making little snuffling sounds, as he sniffed his bloody hand curiously before bending to touch the Houshi's chest.

 

Sango, who now held the barely conscious Priest's head in her lap, grabbed the Hanyou's wrist. “Don't you dare touch him! You bastard! You filthy, stinking bastard! How could you? He is your friend, forever defending you and this is what you do to him? Get away from us!” screamed the Taijiya, as gently, familiar hands, pried her fingers from Inuyasha's tanned wrist.

 

“What the fuck?” said Kouga in disbelief, pulling himself to his feet, staring at the staff, just as the sun struck the gilded surface of the circles within the head of the staff, causing the surface beneath their feet to shift. By instinct, the partially transformed Hanyou, reached for Tessaiga returning it to its saya.

 

Inuyasha brushed Sango aside, and lifted the Houshi effortlessly, resting him at Kaede's and Tatsuo's feet, before retreating with head bowed, as the others moved aside, avoiding him. It was then, that the Slayer realized the hand holding hers was Kagome's.

 

It felt like an earthquake, as the ground gave beneath the sand and stone. A series of fissures appeared in concentric circles around the imbedded staff, as it slowly sank below the surface, followed by boulders, shrubs, moss and sand. A dark cavern appearing in its place, the ancient steppingstones leading below, covered by the detritus that once was the most regal garden of all within the Western Shiro. The trickle of an ancient spring flowed beneath.

 

Miroku coughed, looking into concerned amber eyes, finding himself resting against a soft surface, Sango's chest. His chest burned and it was hard to breathe, but he knew he would recover. “Inuyasha, next time, a simple, get out of the way, would suffice,” said the Monk, with a failed attempt at humor.

 

The stooping Hanyou snorted, glad his friend was able to speak. “Shut up, and heal, you idiot. That wasn't meant for you, and you know it,” said Inuyasha. A pair of long shapely legs stood behind the red clad, rather dirty and disheveled half-demon. Miroku smiled lasciviously at the legs in front of him. Sango noted the direction of the monk's hooded gaze.

 

“Monk,” she said in warning, tightening her hold across his chest. The Priest grimaced.

 

Inuyasha stood, “Yeah Perv… you'll be fine. Where is Lord Hot Pants? I know he'll want to go down there first,” said the Hanyou under his breath. Sango glared at him, brushing the sweat from Miroku's brow, her lips caressing the top of his head.

 

“Don't scare me like that again, or I will kill you,” she murmured against his head while Tatsuo and Kaede worked to staunch the blood flow with medicinal herbs.

 

“Yes, my love,” said the Priest with feigned contrition, his eyes still glued to Ayame's fine set of pins. The female of the species were just such a delight, especially the firm curvy one currently hugging him to her with a rather painful, death grip.

 

sks

 

The thunder of many running feet drew the collective's attention, Sesshoumaru in the lead followed by twenty or so youkai guards, dispersing into the myriad hallways as they approached the little tachi, weapons drawn.

 

Masaru, the new Commander of Guards, was close at the Western Lord's heels, onyx hair neatly pulled away from his intelligent, handsome face, in a long, thick braid. The only thing marring his own perfection a thin diagonal scar across one cheek, Sango noted. Cobalt blue eyes looked at the Houshi impassively, then at the Taijiya, who lowered her gaze, discomforted by his presence and being caught admiring him.

 

Kagome missed nothing, looking to her Mate, who observed the little incident dispassionately. Cool citrine took in the Monk's condition. A flick of a wrist, and Tatsuo moved quickly out of the Taiyoukai's line of vision, but not Inuyasha, who begrudgingly stood, folding his arms within his sleeves, and glared at his brother with contempt.

 

Sesshoumaru ignored him, focusing his attention on the Priest.

 

“Are you able to stand, Priest?”

 

Miroku, with the aid of Masaru and Inuyasha got to his feet, stumbling forward. Inuyasha grunted, and hoisted him onto his back. “Where do you want him?” grumbled the Hanyou looking at his brother, guilt written on his face. Miroku winced, as he tried to find a comfortable position, one arm around Inuyasha's neck.

“Not so tight, Monk,” chided the Hanyou, avoiding Sango's accusing eyes, as she stood next to him.

 

“Sorry, my Lord,” said the Houshi deprecatingly, “I'll keep the pain to a dull roar.”

 

“You do that,” said Inuyasha with a half smile, being careful this time, as he hoisted him higher on his hips.

 

Extended a clawed hand to his Mate, the Taiyoukai stepped into the decimated garden, his Miko at his side, both taking the first step into the unknown, followed by the hanyou and his charge, Masaru, and Sango.

 

Four guards stood with expressionless faces in the path of Kouga, who made one attempt to get through.

 

A deep, bored baritone echoed to those above.

 

“Should the Ookami prove tiresome in my absence, kill him.”

 

Inuyasha chuckled, “I second that.”

 

A displeased growl was heard from above as they descended into darkness of the ancient cavern, hewn from solid rock.

 

sks

 

Peace, hope you enjoyed.

 

EP