Pulling back the curtain, Kagome was pleased to find the water still piping hot upon entry. She even turned it up a hair, loving the contrast on her cold, clammy skin. Gooseflesh smoothed under her own caress, relaxing the muscle beneath it with each placating pass as her tension evaporated with the hot water.
Even the light pressure from the showerhead seemed to tenderize her weary form in the most wonderful way. Combined with the heat, she experienced a physical relief she knew she'd been needing, though not to what extent.
The silence, the solitude was a blessing and a curse. Something else she needed, though feared just as much. In the comfort of Sesshoumaru's home – his private shower – there was nowhere left to run and nothing to run from, aside from her own thoughts. But they were unpleasant, and painful, and very consequential... or they would be. So instead, she focused on the scent of lavender and honey as she lathered it over every square inch of her body.
He was right – she did enjoy that. It was frightening at times how well her brother-in-law had come to know her; her preferences, her needs... Though by now, it was in no way surprising.
She took her time, scrubbing in the recommended product until every trace of this night was gone. But for as clean and new as she felt as she rinsed out the last of his expensive conditioner, she knew all the important evidence would be there for a very long time.
Those scars were ugly and deep, and hadn't even begun to heal. She'd only just managed to stop the hemorrhaging the second she stepped through his front door.
Recalling the way he had looked at her then, a pleasant shudder rolled through her body.
His attention was keen and purposeful, and having it scour her so intently was so much more than thrilling – though, it absolutely was that.
His concern was not manufactured, but his calm certainly was. Perhaps to be the eye of the hurricane, one has to play the part. But for a moment, when he seemed to be testing her scent like a champion bloodhound, his rage was palpable and dangerous.
Though she was not in danger. In fact, she'd never felt more protected when his proprietary fury settled over her like a cloak of armor. Like a secretion of pheromones warning all others against even thinking to do her harm.
Sesshoumaru made her feel safe in that instant, but also valued. Loved. The contrast to her own home at the moment was as stark as the nearly scalding water on her skin.
He knew she'd sustained damage, but he was on a fierce mission for any that he could document. Looking down to her heat-reddened skin, she trembled again, wondering what he would have done if he'd found any.
The showerhead spraying in her face helped keep the tears out of her eyes, but she felt them coming hard. Knowing she would feel better after some catharsis, she finally let them. They would come eventually - and soon - with or without her authorization; she'd rather get it out of the way here in private.
She didn't indulge too long – just enough to bleed away some stress; and though the door was effectively sound-proof, she made sure to keep her keening below the shower's echo.
It was a therapeutic burst of raw emotion, but only opened the floodgates to her agony. It was a physical admission to the gravity of her situation, and next would have to be the intellectual one.
But she wasn't ready – not yet. She just wanted to know peace – be comfortable – for one night before having to deal with all this yet again, and much more effectively this time. But the break in composure (as it was) splintered just enough to allow a few tightly restrained thoughts to slip through.
She grabbed them by the tail, and yanked them back inside as fiercely as she ripped the showerhead from its cradle.
As her physical stress steadily began to dissipate, it made all the more room available for her emotional tension to fleurish. Locked away in survival mode, now that she was out of immediate danger, her anxieties were back with a vengeance; perhaps rightfully so, to claim center stage and demand attention.
The tension coiled tight in her neck and shoulders had melted away, only to manifest itself somewhere much deeper inside, and relief could not be found at the behest of hot water...
Not on its own, at least. The aggressive pressure of his showerhead had been a glorious demonstration of faculty upon her stiff muscles, but she knew the state-of-the-art appliance had more settings than that.
She felt no guilt or shame when she adjusted to a single spitting stream, ratcheting up the force to suit her purposes.
Leaning back against the cool tile caused her nipples to harden, even despite the water's liquifying heat, and elicited a soft groan. The chain reaction continued down between her legs, where a dull yet persistent throbbing progressed deep within. Now, she was aching to be filled, impotently clenching in anticipation of stimulation. The urgent need demanded her attention now - all of it - and she was more than happy to comply.
She only needed one hand to aim the marvellous celebration of man's ingenuity just right. Her other was free to roam, to pinch and pluck and stroke along, making it a joint effort. Eyes closed, head rolling back, she released a breathy sigh as she and the showerhead sought her pleasure together.
The steady, powerful stream spitting against her cliterous had it swollen several times its original size. Almost too much, the continuous sensation against her tender nerve endings helped bring her to the brink rather quickly, and she anticipated a prompt release.
Minutes passed, however, teetering on the razor's edge of completion, and the tension seemed to have plateaued. Though maddening, many enjoyable images and scenarios commanded the crowded space in her mind that she still much preferred to her current and pending woes.
But as the session rolled on, fruitlessly bucking and writhing with only her hand and water for friction; errant, less stimulating notions managed to break through unbidden and distract her - mostly pertaining to his water bill, and how long before he'd start to grow concerned, and 'wow, the water is still piping hot! My water heater sucks...'
She wasn't trying to draw it out – she really needed the release, actually – but as her desire strained on, the finish line remained elusive. Not only was it frustrating, but her skin was starting to prune, too. She wondered if she was subconsciously just trying to avoid reality for as long as she could manage it; and if, in cruel retaliation, her neglected conscious threw up a roadblock to force her back on task.
If so, it was a stupid strategy; because now she was so aroused, she doubted she could think critically about how to work a lightswitch, let alone sort out this mess.
She groaned – only half from pleasure – as she removed the two fingers from her core and returned their attention to her breasts. The stream continued its assault while she twisted and pinched and squeezed, hell-bent on massaging her stress away. She'd damn near sell her soul in that moment for the few seconds of euphoria cruelly dangled in front of her. She could deal with everything to come after.
Another futile series of fondling and hip rolling resulted in another near-miss, and a growl bubbled up in her throat. Before it escaped, however, the unmistakable click of the bathroom door softly muffled by the shower curtain stilled her efforts.
Startled, she froze momentarily before peeling herself off the wall, and a telltale whoosh of cold air fell upon her wet skin, supporting her suspicions. It had her straining her hearing for any additional movements.
"Sesshoumaru?" she ventured timidly, then waited.
Silence. Other than the unmistakable sound of his fancy showerhead on setting number 5.
She shut the water off, returning the device to its holder. "Is someone there?" she tried again.
Certain she hadn't imagined it, Kagome pulled the curtain aside. She peered out into the room, careful to keep her naked, dripping body somewhat concealed.
But it was empty. Even through the steam, a quick scan told her as much. Also that her soggy outfit was gone, and few neatly folded articles of clothing were waiting for her, as promised.
She sighed, fighting the very intense urge to turn the water back on and give it another go. She hoped at least her sexual frustration would distract her from her more substantial problems. Pressing her thighs together only slightly, she decided it was a good bet.
She helped herself to a large, dark blue towel, and then one of his stronger brushes that happened to be laid out right beside the new clothing. It easily pulled through all of her tangles, and then she sorted through her outfit, smiling when she saw what he had chosen for her.
He never wore his alma mater's colors anymore, but she'd always liked this shirt on him. Most would be proud to sport such a prestigious institution, but in any non-athletic capacity, he only considered it slovenly – worse yet, a conversation starter.
He knew she liked it though, and the size made it an ideal sleeping shirt, with the hem reaching her knees. She decided that was good when spotting a pair of his boxer shorts next. A deep magenta color, they looked so crisp and clean that she wondered if they'd ever been worn.
The last item was a pair of black sweatpants. After unfurling them out in front of her, she realized they would be very baggy; but the drawstring would ensure they at least stayed on her hips. She could roll up the cuffs, if need be.
A/A: Thanks so much for all your comments everyone! We have a lot in front of us =)