Licking Wounds

"Stupid talismans. Stupid Miroku! Those things weren't even supposed to work!" Despite Inuyasha's grousing, the night was a calm one, crickets whispering songs in the long grass, the half moon bright among the millions of stars, glowing on the babbling creek that Inuyasha thrust his right hand into, disturbing the little fish that drifted near the banks.

Not too far away, Kagome and the others laughed around their circle of light, the glow of the fire at Inuyasha's back. He paused for just a moment to sniff the air, stinging fingers held in the creek. He had only picked up the talisman to inspect it, fully intending to remark on the uselessness of the paper the monk worked so hard to sell.

He hadn't expected the thing to be holy enough to burn his fingers. It had never happened before.

Thinking about Miroku's amused expression even as he tried to apologize just pissed him off. The fingers of his right hand were blackened from where the talismans had touched him, bubbling and sizzling, the skin popping. The flesh was tender and stung to the touch. He splashed in the creek as though it would rid him of his irritation. No such luck. "Stupid monk. Stupid perverted two timing monk."

The water was cool, soothing, and for a long moment, Inuyasha was content to just dapple in the water, bare toes squishing in the small pebbles and slimy mud. He breathed deeply. Smelled a fox in a stand of trees watching him, the sweet sun dried grass, the water, the mud. The breeze rustled in the leaves and over his ears, making them twitch.

"Just because you stand down wind of me doesn't mean I can't sense you." He called out suddenly, standing and bending his knees. He wasn't in the mood to fight. His fingers were burning terribly.

The moonlight, however minimal, glowed off Sesshoumaru's hair, his pale skin, his ethereal kimono. The breeze played in the silvery strands, blowing them before luminous gold eyes, twisting his long trail of fur around his body. When Inuyasha was small, he once thought of Sesshoumaru as an angel. Now, he was under no such delusion.

But he was still, undoubtedly, beautiful.

Rather than remark on Inuyasha's statement, Sesshoumaru glided closer, the grass barely disturbed by his movement, the crickets falling silent, the entire world seeming to go still. Inuyasha bristled, teeth bared, muscles tense to leap away or attack, all his instincts and alarms blaring at him. "You're injured." In a flash, he was before him and grasped Inuyasha's wrist, bringing it close to his face for inspection, nose wrinkling and eyes narrowing in obvious distaste. "It is a holy wound."

Inuyasha struggled pathetically, unable to relax with the full blooded demon so close, touching him, helpless against his scrutiny. The pain in his hand rushed up his arm, down through his stomach, and made his knees weak. "Wh-what of it?" he asked bravely, brows lowered. They burned. His fingers burned so awfully it made him light headed.

"Did the priestess do this?"

The question, though devoid of emotion, of a hint to what Sesshoumaru was thinking, appeared dangerous, and though unsure why, Inuyasha stiffened, while those gold eyes bore into him, searching for the answer, threatening to drag it out of him. He felt on the defensive, and he didn't like it.

"No, this was my fault. I was being stupid." Inuyasha grumbled, ears flattening guiltily against his head, unable to look Sesshoumaru in the face. The demon gave a noncommittal grunt, examining the burns once more. His breath brushed across the burnt skin, both disturbing and soothing at once.

"A wound like this will not go away simply. You are supposed to use your youki to diffuse it but…." Sesshoumaru shifted his molten gold eyes to Inuyasha's face, studying him silently. "Your youki is probably not enough."

If given the chance, Inuyasha might have bristled at the comment. Might have jerked his hand angrily away and grumbled that it wasn't his fault he was a half breed. Might even have cursed vehemently and stormed away. Back to his circle of light where Sesshoumaru often hovered but never bothered to intrude, where he could escape this situation.

He wasn't given the chance.

Quick as lightening, Sesshoumaru changed his grip on Inuyasha's hand and brought it to his mouth, hot tongue sliding over the blistered palm, soothing it. Inuyasha's ears twitched in response, but he didn't have the energy to pull away. The tongue just kept going, smoothing over each injured fingertip, then back to his palm, traveling slick paths over the raw and sensitive skin.

Inuyasha made a noise half way between a whine and a whimper as Sesshoumaru carried on, and hated himself for it. When Sesshoumaru let his hand fall, Inuyasha bounded away defensively, hands curled into fists. He decidedly ignored that his fingers no longer burned, that he could curling his hand without fear of fainting, and growled at his brother instead, lips raised over his fangs. "What the fuck was that?" he hissed, just quiet enough that the others wouldn't hear him.

Sesshoumaru turned away, casting Inuyasha an unaffected glance. "Be grateful, wretch. I was diffusing the wound for you." Then he was gone. The crickets started to sing again. The fox in the trees that had been frozen ran to its den, the fish drifted on, and the creek burbled over its rocks. Inuyasha remained where he was an bristled and grumbled, looking at his hand as though Sesshoumaru had done something insane. Still feeling his tongue distinctly.

"You didn't have to lick me, asshole."

owari