InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Yoake Made: Until Dawn ❯ Yoake Made: Until Dawn Part 1 ( Chapter 1 )

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

WARNING: NC17 for sexual content

=#= Yoake Made: Until Dawn =#=

Sesshoumaru and Rin stood on the crest of a hill overlooking the sleepy village. In the deepening twilight the soft glow of lanterns and cooking fires could be seen through the windows and doors of the cluster of homes. Distant sounds of the evening meal being consumed and families together drowned out the quieter symphony of the nightly creatures of the forest.

Rin supposed that, after a time, she would learn to tolerate the noisy clamor of her fellow beings. Sesshoumaru-sama’s half brother, the hanyou Inuyasha, and his odd assortment of friends were expecting her to arrive sometime soon to make her permanent home among them.

Her lord had decided, all of a sudden, that it was time for her to settle in one place and ‘lead the life of a normal human being.’ Despite all of her protests, tears, and actions to try to convince him otherwise, he would not be swayed and she found herself at the end of her precious time together with him.

The silence between them stretched out and grew heavy with everything left unsaid as she stood rooted to the spot, unable to make her feet carry her forward. After a long pause, he turned away, his purpose of bringing her to the village fulfilled.

Caught between her understanding that she could not change his mind and her inability to let him go, she reached out and latched onto the material of his empty sleeve to forestall his departure.

“Don’t…” she whispered pleadingly; her throat thick with unshed tears. “Don’t leave me.”

His spine stiffened as his posture became rigid and unyielding.

“I have decided that this is for best,” the casual and cold tone of his voice indicated that he considered the matter closed.

Her grip on his sleeve tightened and she persisted until he looked back to meet her eyes.

The darkness of old hurt that lingered in her gaze was joined by the fresh ache of their impending separation. She looked up at him imploringly, her once clear eyes cloudy with anguish, acceptance, and despair. She dipped her chin in a slow nod, acknowledging the finality of his decree.

“Just for tonight,” she pleaded, “let me trouble you one more time. Please…I want my last memory of you to be warm…and to make sure that you will always remember me.”

“My memory is not so faulty as to forget you, Rin,” he told her with a subtle bite of impatience to his words.

“I can’t be satisfied by just your assurances! I’ve been with you most of my life and now you’re leaving me behind. I cannot help but think you want to forget about me! My family’s gone…you’re all I have left. To give that up and make the effort to build another life for myself because you asked it of me; I’m not that strong! I would do anything for you, but by doing what you demand of me, I’m giving up what I treasure most. Don’t you understand that you mean everything to me? Is it too much to ask for one last memory? Even if it’s just the knowledge that you’ll miss me, just a little bit, even that would comfort me. But to leave without any goodbye; do I really mean so little to you?!” she cried out, her composure breaking at last.

With angry gestures she dashed away the tears trickling down her cheeks, frustrated and infuriated by her weak emotions. Her first sob came out as a small hiccup and she pressed the heel of her hand into her mouth, sinking her teeth into the callused skin to stifle the urge to wail. Without meaning to she bit down too hard, slicing her palm bloody, but such was her preoccupation with her grief that she didn’t even notice. A soft, unformed keen vibrated through her throat as she wrapped her other arm around herself, letting go of his clothing. She sat abruptly, her legs giving out, blind to everything else but her sorrow.

The brush of his knuckles against her cheek was a delicate gesture, phantom light and brief. She looked up, shock, pain, and fragile hope starkly written across her face.

With bolder familiarity, he brushed the tear trails away from under her eyes with his thumb.

“I do not understand your tears, Rin. I am a tai youkai; someone you should fear. Why do you cry when this is where you belong? There is companionship and acceptance waiting for you there. Do you not wish to procure a mate? To bear children and raise a family? You cannot have these things as long as you remain with me. I always expected you to return to your own kind of your own accord. I did not think I would have to force you.”
Her lips parted to speak but the quick warning glance he gave her quieted her words.
“You say that I am important to you; that you would rather stay by my side no matter what than be separated from me; but you have not seen, as I have, the disastrous way a relationship between a youkai and a human ends. I value your life Rin and I would not see you meet the same fate as Izayoi did. You need not fear the villagers here; my brother’s woman harbors a soft spot for you and Inuyasha knows that if he lets anything happen to you, he will answer to me for it.

“Human emotions are fickle, Rin. You are young enough that with time, you will be the one to forget me. Your sorrow is only temporary,” he paused.
“Nevertheless, when I see your tears, I can only think of how I should have returned you here long ago; such a trivial thing that, had I bothered to do so, would have spared you these regrets. If granting your wish will enable you to set aside the grief I have caused, then I will do as you ask. Understand, though, that come morning, our time together is at an end and you must let me go without a fuss. Can you do that, Rin?” he asked, his voice calm, almost gentle.

“Yes, anything!” she vowed, secretly knowing that once would never be enough. For the love of the hanyou and the miko, there would be wedding toasts and baby gifts, lazy afternoons and lovers’ fights…and for her and her love for her youkai lord there would only be one night.

“Anything…” she whispered in surrender, with quiet supplication. Two more tears trickle down her cheeks unchecked, sparkling in the moonlight.

He lifted her chin with his knuckles and brought his face close to hers so that his breath tickled her cheek. With hesitancy in his actions unlike his usual decisiveness, he pressed his lips against her skin and then there was the wet flick of his tongue as he tasted her tears. He drew back, his reserved expression softening ever so slightly. As he looked at her, the icy amber of his eyes thawed a tiny bit, shining with a quicksilver vulnerability that was as ephemeral and exquisite as frost on glass.

Her breath caught and clogged in her throat as he smoothed his fingertips along the gentle arches of her eyebrows. As he traced the line of her nose, the hard set of his mouth relaxed. He touched her lips with the pad of his index finger and she was shocked to realize that his normally cool touch was warm against her skin.

With conscious control over her actions to the minutest detail, she firmed her lips against his finger and pressed a gentle kiss against his touch. No more, no less; she perfectly and precisely toed the line between encouraging him without scaring him off. A sad and bitter swell of pain blossomed in her chest when she thought of how intimately she knew him and how soon she would let him go. Another tear trickled down her cheek, and he responded by kissing away the evidence of her sadness.

His lips lifted from her skin and hovered there, his exhale moist and hot against her cheek. Then with almost feminine delicacy, he touched his lips to the corner of her mouth. She resisted the urge to turn into his kiss, letting him come to her. Unhurriedly, leisurely, he nibbled along her lips, making them go lax in surprise.

A quick wetness darted against her lower lip, teasing the tip of her upper one. His hand came up and cupped the nape of her neck, his fingers burrowing deep into the dark strands of her hair. She thought she felt the slightest nip of teeth, and then, at last, his lips closed over hers and he kissed her.

With patience and finesse his lips shaped hers; the embrace of their mouths a poignant and timeless moment that she wished would never end. Willingly, she let him change the angle of the kiss by cradling her head and leaning in close. Two more tears trailed down her face as her eyes closed and she gave herself over to him. She relaxed with pliant consent as her body subtly shifted towards his.

Her hand, forgotten, curled into the grass as the joy and awe of feeling him touch her voluntarily overwhelmed her. How long had she waited for this? Since the moment she first set eyes on him in the forest as a child, forever enchanted by the glimmer of unchecked concern she’d seen in his eyes on her behalf.

His claws kneaded lightly along her scalp as his mouth caressed hers, slowly awakening a warm feeling of giddiness and expanding excitement in her abdomen. With a sweep of his tongue, he parted her lips and explored the edges of her blunt, human teeth. The bitter tang of her blood and the salty sweetness of her tears flavored the kiss and as she dared to touch the strong column of his neck, she realized that his throat was vibrating even though she heard no sound. She opened her mouth for him fully, letting him explore and taste her with his tongue, and eased her fingers up his jaw line, stealthily reaching towards the fascinating point of his youkai ear.

Tentatively she allowed herself to respond, brushing her tongue over his. Between the pad of her middle finger behind the lobe of his ear and with the nail of her index resting lightly on top, she traced the outer curve of his ear upward. His mouth against hers paused, as her touch finally distracted him from the kiss. She ghosted the tip of her finger over the point, delighted when he shivered ever so slightly. Between index and thumb she played with the thin, tapered edge of his ear, eliciting another shudder from him.
He drew back, breaking the kiss, and she realized he was panting quietly. She looked into his eyes and blinked in surprise, watching with distracted interest as the faulty moonlight played across the surface of his irises like light over rippling water. Mesmerized, she watched the phantom dance of light and shadow.

“Your eyes–” she started to whisper, but as his eyes widened slightly and he hastily looked away, she let her words die, sensing his discomfort.

After a long pause he spoke.

“Do they scare you?” he asked; his voice deceptively casual.

“No. Why would they?” she responded easily, “I think they’re beautiful!”

“Because they are different than a human’s. Because I am different than a human–does it not scare you to think of being intimate with me? Even a little?” his voice was devoid of emotion, his tone completely blank.

She wished she could see his eyes; they always told her more than his stoic expression, but she didn’t dare reach out and turn his face towards her, even after their shared kiss.

“No,” she said quietly, confidence infusing her words.

He glanced back at her, saw the firm resolution in her eyes unmarred by any doubt, and let the subject drop.

There was an awkward moment before he reached for her bleeding hand. Flipping it palm up, he cupped her hand in his and brought it to his lips. His tongue against her skin was a hot, wet, velvety sensation as he fastidiously licked the wound clean. He pressed a kiss on her injury when he was done and then stood and pulled her to her feet.

“Come,” he stated, using his hold on her to bring her in close, “I wish to take you to a place more appropriate for the activities you have in mind.”

Willingly, completely blind to all else but him, she leaned her body into his, ignoring the sharp prod of his armor. His arm encircled her waist and his youkino encircled both of them and then they were off, floating with easy grace above the ground.

Traveling like this always made her dizzy, so she pressed her cheek against his armor and closed her eyes, inhaling deeply of his subtle scent. He smelled like something spicy and exotic hot from the oven, with an untraceable hint of something that reminded her of the crisp burn of freezing cold against her skin; of the austere stillness of untouched, ancient pinewood forests; of the desolate calm that follows a terrible storm.

She shivered, understanding a little bit why others found him so terrifying.

Her feet came to rest on solid ground and she opened her eyes to see that he had brought them to a small residence tucked high up in the protected valley where two mountains converged. From the lack of fortifications, she guessed that this was an occasional retreat rather than a permanent home. Curiously, but with respectful restraint, she lightly traced the scrollwork that decorated the door frame.

“This is?” she queried distractedly, taking in the view that stretched out from where she stood at the front door.

His eyes focused on her, and then his gaze swept critically over the scenery.
“One of my mother’s summer retreats; that was originally a gift from my father. I spent a good deal of my childhood here.”

“Won’t your mother mind us being here?” she asked.

He looked back at her with guarded amber eyes.

“She no longer comes here. There are…too many memories here for her,” he answered, and she knew by his tone and his stiff posture that it would be best for her to say no more. Instead, she reached out and slid open the front door, gaping at the luxurious finery that met her eyes.

“One of her summer retreats?” Rin gasped, despite herself.

“One of the smallest ones…but this used to be her favorite. There is a small hot spring too, in back. Come; I will show you.”

She trailed along behind him, her face an open expression of awe as he lead her through and pointed out rooms and items of interest. He opened one door and stepped into a bedroom. She looked about in fascination, taking in the collection of daggers on one wall, the empty armor stand, the mostly empty sword rack that held what looked like a simple, basic sword, the skull of some kind of fantastical, fanged beast, and the collection of polished stones, various sized teeth, and other aged bits of nature. Her eyes immediately fell to a small, worn looking stuffed animal that on closer inspection she realized was meant to be a puppy. With a rush of mixed emotion, she gravitated towards it, cradling it against her with reverence. Under her hands, she could tell it was made from some kind of soft leather, and she pressed it too her cheek, imagining the secrets it would tell her if it could speak.

“Is this yours?” she asked, too caught up in her own preoccupation to remember to censor her question.

His eyes met hers, and she read the slight hint of consternation in his eyes as he frowned at her.

“I did not know that was still here,” he supplied at last, his eyes fixated on it. As if unable to help himself, he continued, his mouth twisting into a small, wry grimace.

“My mother’s first–and last–attempt at sewing.”

Rin tried not to gape at him, the puppy slipping from her lax grip to settle between her arms and breasts as she struggled to smooth away the shock she felt at him making such a revealing statement. With a fussiness that spoke of how much the puppy still meant to him, he plucked it from her chest and returned it to its place on the shelf. Taking a moment longer to reposition the puppy until he was happy with the way it sat, he moved over to the sword rack and dropped Tensaiga and Toukijin into two empty cradles.

He turned back to her, gesturing towards the armor stand.

“Unfortunately, the youkai responsible for taking care of this place is always a little–elusive–when I make my presence known here. I am going to require your assistance to remove my armor.”

Rin stared at the stand, imagining putting her human hands on Sesshoumaru, and removing all of that forbidding, imposing armor. She tried to picture what his body would look like, wondered if his lean, muscular body would be any softer than the layer of shielding she removed.

She looked back at him belatedly realizing that he still expected an answer.

“You were going to show me the hot spring,” she hid her question in a statement, looking at him with a hint of confusion and nervousness.

He quirked an eyebrow and graced her with a look of faint amusement.

“I do not wish to enter the hot spring fully clothed,” he supplied in explanation.

“Oh,” she replied blushing. She reached out with trembling fingers to play with the bow of his purple and yellow obi. “Is this really okay?” she asked softly.

He eyed her for a moment with frank appraisal.

“If you wish for me to make love to you tonight and not just take you like a rutting stallion, then yes, this is necessary. Unless you had something else in mind?”

Taken aback by candor of his words, she could do nothing more than nod with mute assent. She undid the bow, slipping the ends free, and set the neatly folded sash on a side table. Reaching for the red tasseled ties of his armor, she paused, caressing her fingers over fuzziness of his youkino.

“What is this, exactly?” she dared to wonder aloud, voicing what had been a burning question for her since she was young. Reflexively his hand came up to rest on it, his fingers seeking out and tangling with hers.

“My heritage; it is a symbol of my status and power as an inu taiyoukai. In this area, I am referred to as the Lord of the Western lands because no one here surpasses me in strength or skill. You have seen my true form. Think of this as a manifestation of that power and my will.”

“So that’s why it obeys you,” she commented with awe. “Is it really a symbol of your power? I always thought it looked a little silly–”

Immediately her hand flew up to cover her mouth as she realized that she had gone too far. She looked up into his eyes, only now realizing how much they had softened by how hard they had become. She sensed, as a small wild animal does, the dangerousness shift of his mood.

“I didn’t mean that,” she clarified quietly and firmly. “With all of your armor, and the deadliness of your swords, it just seemed out of place. It’s warm and fuzzy, whereas you’re usually so cold. Please–I’m just a lowly human! I didn’t understand its meaning–” she breathed a quick sigh of relief as the killing intent radiating from him eased. She let herself fall silent, afraid that any further words on her part would only deepen the hole she’d dug herself into.

“I’m sorry,” she added simply, with sincere feeling.

He turned away from the sight of her and paced the length of the room, the tension in him slowly unwinding. He met her eyes, at last, and there was quiet consideration in his gaze.

“You are forgiven,” he told her, coming within reach again. “Please continue where you left off.”

Her smile banished the last of the sour feeling between them, and with quick and steady movements, she loosened the red ties that held on the spiked breast band and shoulder guard. She required his help managing the heavy equipment, and even then, the metal armament landed with a loud thud on the stand.

“I’m sorry–” she started instinctively, but he waived her apology with a quick motion of his hand.

“It has endured worse over the years,” he assured her with a touch of impatience.

Taking the hint, she continued, reaching around to unlace the bindings of his breast, side, and back plates. Looping those over the stand, she set her hands at his waist, untying and unwinding the crisscrossed band that held up his lower body armor. Those followed the fate of the other armor, joining the rest on the stand. With exaggerated care and concern, making sure that the end did not drag the ground, she lifted his youkino off of his shoulder and placed it on the futon.

She returned to him, her eyes fastening on his chest as she refused to meet his steady gaze. She imagined pressing her hands against the hard planes there and exploring the shape of him through the fabric. A soft welling of moisture pooled between her legs at the thought. She licked her lips in nervous agitation, wondering if he needed help with his clothes as well.

“May I remove your shoes?” she took the initiative, thinking to spare him the embarrassment of having to ask for help.

He sat down on a chair, lifting one foot for her attention. “Yes,” he answered without preamble.

Kneeling, she rested her hands on his ankle, untying the bottom of his sashinuki hakama before she pulled of the boot. She reached for the top of the silk stocking, letting her touch linger on the skin of his calf. With deft fingers and a subtle caress, she stripped it off. Turning to his other foot, she repeated the process, taking guilty delight in being able to smooth her fingers over the stripes that marked the sensitive skin of his arch and inner ankle.

She rocked back, looking up at him with friendly eyes.

“May I remove your hakama as well?” she asked, trying not to sound too eager.

He stood, bringing his groin to face level. She ignored the giddy flutter of her heart and the quick leap of her stomach; blocking out her mental wonderings of what lie beneath.
Her hands shook with a fine tremor as she untied the waist and eased the material over his hips. She felt her cheek brush against a hard something through the layers of his juban and kimono and fought to draw breath into her lungs as her excitement spiked.

He stepped out of the material and she laid it aside. Reaching for the small, ornately patterned obi that bound his kimono, she eased the knot loose and pulled it free from his waist. This too she folded and set beside the purple and yellow obi, along with the collection of cords from his armor. Going around behind him and raising on her tip toes, she pulled the kimono off of him and hung it on the nearby rack made especially for that purpose. With growing excitement that she tried very hard to tamp down, she undid the bindings of his collared, naga-juban. He remained silent and still as she removed this too, leaving him clad in only the thin, almost transparent silk of his haga-juban.

In unhurried fascination, she studied him, sweeping her eyes up his form in a slow perusal. She noted, with interest, that his fingers were not the only digits with claws. His toes too, where her toenails would have been, had tapered, wicked looking nails. His feet and ankles were slender, graceful like a dancer’s. His calves and thighs were thick with corded, starkly defined muscle; and she admired the long, lean length of them from floor to where his haga-juban hung at mid thigh. With a growing blush, but unable to help herself, her gaze drifted up and settled on his groin. In the deceptive folds of the material, she could only make out a faint distinction of light and shadow on the flesh underneath. The teasing hint of what looked like another set of markings curved up over his hips; and in the shadowy recess of his groin she couldn’t make out anything; a fact that ignited her imagination and fanned her apprehension until she felt like a nervous wreck.

She made a small noise in her throat that sounded perilously close to being frustration. She reached for the simple tie in the belt of his haga-juban.

His fingers and thumb lightly encircling her wrist prevented it from reaching its destination.

“I can manage the rest,” he clarified, stepping over to snag a yukata before making his way to the door. “I will wait outside while you undress.”

She gaped at him, unable to find any words to respond until the door was already closed behind him.

Was Sesshoumaru-sama being…shy?

She made quick work of her own clothing as she pondered the thought. Naked, and comfortable in her own skin, she walked over to select a yukata for herself. Instantly, her hand was drawn to one patterned with red maple leaves. She fingered the silk, debating whether to wear the print since it was out of season, then donned it anyways, loving the feel of the silk whispering against her skin. Red was a good color for her, since it brought out all the dark fiery highlights in her hair. She paused in front of her reflection, eyeing herself critically for a moment. Pinching her cheeks and pulling out the ponytail, she let it go with a shrug. Of the two of them, Sesshoumaru had always been the fussier one when it came to appearance. He was the one who chose her clothing; and she wore it proudly as a sign of his affection.

She opened the door, coming to stand beside the waiting Sesshoumaru.

“I’m ready,” she confirmed softly as he shot her a glance. She took note of the fact that he was wearing the yukata and his haga-juban was no where in sight, but let it go without a fuss.

He took the lead and she fell in behind him, her eyes downcast. She studied the pattern on the silk of his yukata, liking the soft sheen of the black silk in contrast to the metallic silver threat that made up the embroidered cranes. She watched the way the light shone off of it change as he walked and the fabric moved. She noticed the firm roundness of his buttocks through the silk, wondered what it would feel like to put her hand there and squeeze–

She caught herself mid reach, shocked and mortified by the way her thoughts had degraded to something more befitting a lecherous old man. A hot blush stained her cheeks even as fresh moisture swelled from her core and she knew enough to recognize the signs of her own arousal, virgin though she was.

She eyed the retreating back of Sesshoumaru; relieved and grateful that he showed no realization in the state of her body.

He opened the door at the end of the hall and turned to look at her, his amber eyes unreadable.

“Coming?” he prompted her.

“Yes!” she replied a little too eagerly. She bowed her head and shuffled past him, completely missing the spark that lit in his eyes as he inhaled deeply of her scent in passing.

She stepped into the foyer, looking over the carved stonework in wonder. To one side, there was a bathing area, and down a small set of steps, she could see the balmy rise of steam from the hot spring. She stepped inside so he could follow after, and immediately went to retrieve the soap and bucket needed to bathe oneself. When she turned towards him, his back was to her and he was standing behind the small bathing stool. Her inhale hitched in her throat as she admired the way his silvery white hair fell against the silver and midnight pattern of the yukata, like fresh fallen snow under moonlight. Then, with a gesture, he shrugged off the robe and the silk fell to his feet with a hushed whisper. The air in her lungs abruptly exited in a trembling sigh as her body gave a small shudder. There, curling down from the top of his hips onto sculpted planes of his buttocks, was another body marking of two magenta stripes.

She had the sudden compulsive urge to trace them with her tongue. Wetness dewed inside of her, and she felt with acute, shivering awareness a tiny drop trickle down the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. She felt a sharp pang of want throb through her being.
She approached him warily, longing to touch him, but wondering if she could keep any semblance of control if she did. She set the bucket and soap down next to him, retrieving his yukata from the floor. He glanced over his shoulder at her from where he had seated himself, belatedly realizing that there were no servants.

“Rin–” he paused as if searching for a word outside his usual vocabulary.

She noticed his dilemma, her heart warming as she came to understand what was troubling him.

“I don’t mind,” she started, then corrected herself. “I would be honored if–you’d let me wash your back and hair?”

A brief flash of relief quickened in his eyes before it was gone and the conflict smoothed from his expression. He gave a graceful nod, all courtly manners.

She turned quickly and hid her amused smile behind her sleeve, the absurdness of the situation striking her as funny. She set aside his yukata, and after a brief moment of embarrassed shyness, set hers aside also. Nabbing a washing cloth, she walked back towards him, her stomach giving a little flip flop of disappointed relief when he remained turned away from her.

She knelt next to him, placing the bucket under the spout and turning the latch to open so that the hot water rushed down. She was distracted by the way her shoulder and the side of her thigh brushed against him; but he sat still and unmoving, and positioned as she was, she could not see if his face showed any reaction. She snuck a covert glance at his groin, curiosity eating away at her insides with giddy excitement and nervous trepidation. The magenta of those two stripes snaked downward towards the v between his legs, the thin points flirting with the hairline of a thatch of downy, frost colored fur. Curving gently up to rest against the flat plane of his abdomen was the beginnings of his arousal, thick, swollen, but still slightly soft looking. She could tell, even in her innocence, that he wasn’t fully erect.

That was going inside of her–as per her request. She shivered, openly staring with apprehensive fascination as hints of doubts blossomed in her mind. Heat suffused her face and cheeks as her hands holding the bucket began to waver.

Suddenly his hand snaked out and he pulled her head to his face. Burying his nose in her hair, he inhaled deeply of her scent. His fingers moved; tucking wayward dark strands back from her face.

“Rin,” he said, and his voice was rough, almost like he had a constriction in his throat.

“Even your ear is red,” he continued, the last of his words dropping an octave into a soft growl. He leaned his forehead against her hair, exhaling a ragged breath onto the curve of her ear. He nibbled the rounded top of it, as if unable to help himself. Catching the thin cartilage between his fangs, he gave the edge a small tug where it curled inward.

“All will be well Rin,” his voice rumbled deep and thick into her ear. “There will be a pinching pain at first; but then I will give you time to grow accustomed to me.” He lipped along the outside of her ear, trailing his mouth downward to suck on the lobe.

“These things have worked for centuries and generations. Neither you nor I would be here if they didn’t. Do not fear either myself or your body’s natural reactions. Trust me to make sure all is well.”

She shivered deliciously under his administrations, his words going a long way to reassert the devotion, love, and trust she already felt for him over her doubts. She moved restlessly, her body strangely languid yet also agitated. Her forearm brushed against the tip of her nipple and she gasped as she realized how hard and hypersensitive it had become. She let her head fall aside, into the supporting palm of his hand, shivering as his lips wandered from the sensitive spot under her ear down the rapidly beating pulse of her neck to the gentle swell of her shoulder.

“Sesshoumaru-sama,” she sighed in heady bliss, too distracted to think coherently.

“You may wash my hair now,” he commented nonchalantly, abruptly releasing her.
She blinked dumbly for a moment, turning to look at him. She barely caught the spark of wicked amusement in his eyes before it was gone.

“You did that on purpose?” she blurted, her statement ending in a questioning note.

“You did that on purpose!” she confirmed, her lips curled up into a slow, challenging smile. “You’re teasing me!” she accused, her eyes flashing.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” he shot back, his voice and his face completely deadpanned. It was the unmistakable, completely out of place, teasing light in his amber eyes that finally clued her in.

Her smile widened. “Two can play at that game.”

“Show me then, ‘virgin,’ how well you can play this game that you imagine we’re playing,” he replied, his voice and his face unchanged; but his eyes told a different story. They were alive with emotion. The dark, honeyed undertones of his hunger, the bright golden twinkle of mischief, and the soft amber glow of what might be affection or happiness or both.

She rocked forward and lifted the brimming bucket, turning off the spout. Standing, she used both hands to move the bucket around to the side of him, unintentionally displaying her breasts at eye level. She missed the way they caught and held his attention, missed the way the honey tone of his irises deepened. She busied herself wetting the cloth and wringing it out before moving over to his back, sweeping his hair over his shoulder with one hand.

He eyed her over his shoulder.

“Have you nothing to show? Surely I thought that you would at least put forth some kind of effort,” he taunted, the tones of his voice gradually warming so that the sound of him speaking seemed like the feather brush of velvet against the curling knot of lust in her abdomen.

She dropped the hand holding the cloth to her side and reached out and touched the smooth skin of his back with the first three tips of her fingers. She traced a line down the curve of his spine to his tailbone.

“Rin?” he prompted.

She looked up, his voice finally breaking the hold that watching her fingers touch him had had on her attention.

“I like touching you,” she whispered softly in confession, with heartfelt sincerity. Her eyes fastened again on her hand as she eased it back up his spine. “Thinking about you makes me wonder what its like between a man and a woman. They say it brings satisfaction, to be that close to someone you love. Would you let me that close to you? Will you share that satisfaction with me?”

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[A/N] I KNOW it’s not done *cries* I tried really hard, for V day, but darn it, it took forever to write just this and the pace of this story is very slow O_o Rushing it would ruin it I think.

Terms
hada-juban – since Sesshoumaru is a noble, I’m assuming that he wears the three layers of shirts and this is the undermost one, the one hidden under the naga-juban
kimono – the outermost shirt that Sesshoumaru wears; the one with the red honeycomb-flower design on it
naga-juban – the white collared under shirt that can be seen under Sesshoumaru’s kimono
sashinuki hakama – the kind of pants Sesshoumaru wears, which are different than normal hakama because they tie at the waist and ankles.
youkino – Sesshoumaru’s fluffy. Kind of like the heavenly robe of a tennyo or the skin of a selkie, it’s a tangible symbol of his power as an inu taiyoukai.

Sources
Terms of clothing from Tennyo night elf, in Moonlight Flower’s forum.
Website referenced by JadeT that shows Sesshoumaru’s layers of clothing (http://www.geocities.jp/skuretake/francesca/gallery/costume_sess/costume_s ess.htm)
Other information I found helpful is located at Forthrightly’s LJ Sesshoumaru Syllabus and (http://sesshoumaruscastle.krescentmoon.net/)