Title: Her Scent
Rating: PG-13 due to one double entendre
Author: SkiJG
Summary: Inuyasha thinks about Kagome's scent
Author's Notes: I wrote this during one very boring Comp Sci class. It's not my best work, but it is the only one I've finished, so I figured I'd put it up and see what people think. Constructive criticism would be awesome; feel free to tell me anything you think could be improved (especially as regards the title. God knows it's unoriginal, but I couldn't think of anything better at the time). Flames, on the other hand, will be laughed at.
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He loved a lot of thing about her, but most of all he loved her scent.
He hated it when she crossed back through the well. Not just because she was gone, but because even when she came back she wasn't truly there. She wasn't Kagome then; she was sweat, and stress, and oil, and tar, and the press of bodies all around, and a million other things, but she wasn't Kagome. He wondered if she ever noticed how he always picked a camping spot by a hot spring the first night she returned. He was pretty sure Miroku had, but the damn bouzo wasn't about to say anything. Not and risk losing his nightly peepshow.
He loved how, after running around chasing jewel shards all day, he could still smell Kagome on his back at night. He wondered whether his scent ever clung to her as strongly, but for some reason he could never get up the nerve to go and check. Especially not after she had already bedded down for the night. He wasn't a pervert, dammit!
He hated how Kikyo's scent, under the dirt and decay and overpowering smell of death, still kinda, sorta, almost smelled like Kagome did. He wished that it didn't; maybe then, if all he could smell on her was the grave, he would be able to look at her without being reminded of the woman she used to be. As it was, every time he got close to her he'd catch a whiff of her true scent, so faint that he was never really sure whether it was there or if it was just a figment of wishful thinking. Either way it didn't matter: he'd still find himself back in that field, hopelessly devoted to her and willing to pledge his life to her happiness.
He loved the fact that her every emotion was reflected in her scent. When she was happy, when she was angry, when she was sad- all of them left their mark on her, and he loved the fact that only he could sense them in this way. (Well, except for Kirara. And Shippou. And Sesshoumaru. And that stupid wimpy- ok, he wasn't going to think about them anymore.) Not that it did him much good; she was still the most confusing female he'd ever met, even with the help his demon senses gave him. He was getting better, though. He'd gone five days this time without getting sat, something that he was pretty sure was a personal best. Not that he was counting or anything. Keh.
He hated her scent when she cried, and he hated the fact that most of the time he was the one making her miserable. He wondered if she would cry for him when he was gone. He hoped that she wouldn't.
He hated the way her scent affected him, and he loved it at the same time. When she was happy, he found himself smiling. When she was angry, her anger fueled his own until he wound up exploding for no good reason. When she was...excited, he found himself exploding too, just in a far more satisfying manner. When she was scared, his throat grew tight and his stomach roiled until she was out of danger. It was infuriating, the way the slightest change tugged on his emotions like a person pulling on a leash. He wondered if she knew how much power she had over him; how he would follow any command she gave, save one. Even without the prayer beads, even if she slipped them over his head this very second, he still wouldn't be free of her. He loved and hated how much power she had over him, and he hated the fact that he wouldn't have it any other way.
Rating: PG-13 due to one double entendre
Author: SkiJG
Summary: Inuyasha thinks about Kagome's scent
Author's Notes: I wrote this during one very boring Comp Sci class. It's not my best work, but it is the only one I've finished, so I figured I'd put it up and see what people think. Constructive criticism would be awesome; feel free to tell me anything you think could be improved (especially as regards the title. God knows it's unoriginal, but I couldn't think of anything better at the time). Flames, on the other hand, will be laughed at.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He loved a lot of thing about her, but most of all he loved her scent.
He hated it when she crossed back through the well. Not just because she was gone, but because even when she came back she wasn't truly there. She wasn't Kagome then; she was sweat, and stress, and oil, and tar, and the press of bodies all around, and a million other things, but she wasn't Kagome. He wondered if she ever noticed how he always picked a camping spot by a hot spring the first night she returned. He was pretty sure Miroku had, but the damn bouzo wasn't about to say anything. Not and risk losing his nightly peepshow.
He loved how, after running around chasing jewel shards all day, he could still smell Kagome on his back at night. He wondered whether his scent ever clung to her as strongly, but for some reason he could never get up the nerve to go and check. Especially not after she had already bedded down for the night. He wasn't a pervert, dammit!
He hated how Kikyo's scent, under the dirt and decay and overpowering smell of death, still kinda, sorta, almost smelled like Kagome did. He wished that it didn't; maybe then, if all he could smell on her was the grave, he would be able to look at her without being reminded of the woman she used to be. As it was, every time he got close to her he'd catch a whiff of her true scent, so faint that he was never really sure whether it was there or if it was just a figment of wishful thinking. Either way it didn't matter: he'd still find himself back in that field, hopelessly devoted to her and willing to pledge his life to her happiness.
He loved the fact that her every emotion was reflected in her scent. When she was happy, when she was angry, when she was sad- all of them left their mark on her, and he loved the fact that only he could sense them in this way. (Well, except for Kirara. And Shippou. And Sesshoumaru. And that stupid wimpy- ok, he wasn't going to think about them anymore.) Not that it did him much good; she was still the most confusing female he'd ever met, even with the help his demon senses gave him. He was getting better, though. He'd gone five days this time without getting sat, something that he was pretty sure was a personal best. Not that he was counting or anything. Keh.
He hated her scent when she cried, and he hated the fact that most of the time he was the one making her miserable. He wondered if she would cry for him when he was gone. He hoped that she wouldn't.
He hated the way her scent affected him, and he loved it at the same time. When she was happy, he found himself smiling. When she was angry, her anger fueled his own until he wound up exploding for no good reason. When she was...excited, he found himself exploding too, just in a far more satisfying manner. When she was scared, his throat grew tight and his stomach roiled until she was out of danger. It was infuriating, the way the slightest change tugged on his emotions like a person pulling on a leash. He wondered if she knew how much power she had over him; how he would follow any command she gave, save one. Even without the prayer beads, even if she slipped them over his head this very second, he still wouldn't be free of her. He loved and hated how much power she had over him, and he hated the fact that he wouldn't have it any other way.