Amaranth
By Aycelcus
Rating: R (for violence and sexual situations in later chapters)
Disclaimer: I do not own Inu Yasha, its characters or likenesses. I am borrowing them for just a little while. Also, I do not own the Landers and any related characters. They belong to my best friend. I do own Cillara, her likeness and all things that pertain to her character. AKA: Don't own; don't sue.
Author's Note: Thank you, Lemon Crush, for playing the game. Yes, I suppose it would be the second definition I was after. Actually I lied without meaning to. It was not biology that gave me the term; it was eco sciences. In my book it defines entropy as "the tendency of all natural systems to go from a state of order to chaos." Just like this fic. Also, in response to your question, I looked up exhibitionism in the dictionary just for fun, and it said that was it acting as to attract attention. Now I think, and this is only a theory considering what I know of you consists of electronic data and pixels on a screen, that you might just be referring to the other definition. The one not given in my American Heritage dictionary with the dog-ears and the cola stain where I wasn't paying attention as I did my homework. Am I right?
By the way, you do get your ten points. How would you like to spend them?
Everyone else: Just a quick reminder. This is the citrus chapter. Those of you too young to be reading this better make sure no adults are walking past your room right now. I'm certainly not going to try and dissuade you. We all know what a waste of typing energy that would be. It's been rated R from the start. You knew that. I knew that. On with the chapter (drink your kool-aid and follow me.)
Chapter Seven: Passion Cry
Sittin' in a park in the middle of the night
Trying to reason what is wrong from what is right
I am only as you see me
I am lonely till you free me
I am a passion cry.
From Strangers in Paradise by Terry Moore
Sesshoumaru was drowning in purple. So unexpected was the feel of her against his mouth. Her hands moved along his neck and waist in restless and roaming patterns. Just before his eyes fell shut he swore he could see the amaranth still glittering somewhere beneath her skin. It blinded him.
He wanted this more than anything. He needed Cillara. He needed to possess her, to know her. The very thought that she had drawn herself to him was almost beyond comprehension. She had control over him, a thin thread of dominion that blossomed in the moment when she had reached across to close the smallest distance between them, her eyes shadowed and blurred by tears. He could smell her sharply as her skin came close to his nose. It enveloped him; he inhaled deeply and was overwhelmed by spice and soft musk, feathers and salt, desire and despair.
It was not in his nature to be submissive to anyone's will. So perhaps when it started, as Cillara leaned in to take him by surprise, perhaps then she held the reins. But not for long.
A deep growl rumbled in his throat as his arm that pinned her close tried to pull her even closer, to bridge the very gap in their molecules, even. He felt her hiss against his lips and pull away.
Her eyes bored into him for a long moment, and he allowed her scrutiny. Then she scrunched up her little nose. One of her hands snaked down from the back of his neck to rub at a spot near her collarbone. He understood then, in a flash of sudden insight that the spikes in his armor had been impeding his progress. She frowned then, and with her nose all wrinkled she was very endearing in her annoyance.
"This armor has got to go." And somehow her other hand managed to find the clasp at his side. He felt it click, and then loosen. He did not stop her as she pulled the cool metal away. It clattered on the floor at their feet.
Then she looked at him again. Her quicksilver face had gone silent and serious, the tear streaks dried and forgotten. She spoke softly into the quiet surrounding them.
"I do not have the right to this," she said. "Only if you want this. Only if you want me—"
He descended then, with no armor to hinder him and the smell of feathers in his nostrils.
Thought was replaced by sensation as he brought his heated breath to her skin. His tail moved from its perch on his shoulder to wrap around her body and wings as his hand followed his mouth down her neck to the juncture of her shoulder. His body and tail held her still as he deliberately dragged his tongue over the soft skin there. This time he was totally aware of what he was doing, and this time she did not voice sarcastic comments, only a low, sexy little moan. Help me forget, she had said. Help me forget. She would remember nothing but him. His teeth sank deep and her blood, heavy with iron and something he could not identify, filled his mouth. She shuddered, sharp fingernails grazing the delicate skin at his nape as she groaned.
He kissed her mouth again so she could taste her own blood on his lips and know that he had taken her into him. Then he brushed against her temple as his hand started to push aside the folds of her kimono, his fingers tugging at the ribbons at the juncture of her wings and her shoulder blades.
His own breath halted as her lips found one of the scratches on his neck and her tiny little teeth gently broke the skin there. He felt her tongue touch his wound with care. She kissed him there, and pulled back with a little grin playing about her reddened lips.
"You bite me, I bite you. It's only fair."
He said nothing to her comment, only reached down towards her mouth again with his own as his fingers finally managed to release the fragile ribbons. He didn't have to say anything; she had accepted. Whether or not she knew what ritual was taking place here in the twilight of the solarium did not matter. She was his now, and he was hers. It was the only conclusion that could have come about. It had been building since the very moment he first sensed her sleeping presence at the borders of his land. It was writ in amaranth and the blood of demons. Sense and reason were secondary. Welcome to the jungle.
Sesshoumaru deftly tugged at her kimono so that it exposed her shoulders, and then fell past her breasts. He let his hands roam over her, let his mouth follow in their wake until Cillara was moaning again. He did not pause as she pulled at his own clothing, determined to pay back the favor. Soon, clever hands had managed to leave him in his haori pants alone, while she stood in a puddle of silk, her naked skin gleaming pale in the moonlight. He could see the silvered lines of old scars as they ran across her belly and crossed her arms and thighs. He reached down to kiss them, as if to make them disappear.
She giggled then, a light breathless sound that spilled from her mouth as he touched a sensitive spot along her side. Then she hooked a finger in the tie that closed the waist of his haori pants. "It is really not fair for me to be the only nudist here." She said with a wicked little smile, and tugged gently. The silk whispered once across his skin as it fell down his legs to mirror the soft bundle at her feet. "Much better," she said appreciatively as she took her time admiring his form. Then she took his hand in hers, and pulled him slowly down with her onto the duvet.
Her fingers were bold, and he managed to clasp them in his tail. If she kept on, he would certainly not be able to continue the way he intended to continue. It was his intention that she be swept away, that any trace of sadness left in her eyes be burned in their wake, that she be possessed fully by him. To emphasis this, he traced a path of fire down her body, hovering in the hollow between her breasts, dipping from her navel, delving into the shadowed region between her thighs. He continued as she writhed beneath him, her fingers twisting and entwining in the silken fur of his tail, more words in that unknown language falling from her lips. He kissed her mouth then, to capture them.
She wriggled out of his grasp like an eel, and started her own retribution, beginning at the corners of his eyes just slightly above his demon markings and continuing down, making stops along the way to kiss the spot where his left arm ended, and to touch softly the lines of every scar. It was her way of showing her quiet acceptance of him, his flaws and his beauty. She managed to keep his hand and tail away long enough, pinning him with her strong wings, to make him sweat and shiver above her until he growled and his eyes tinged red and he brushed aside her questing fingers. He pressed against her and she welcomed him in with a soft little sigh as the moon rose high above them, making sweat-covered skin gleam silver and purple.
It was late in the evening when Kagome and Inu Yasha made it to the room down the hall from the children's nursery. The night had been quiet, and they had taken care of the little ones and put them to bed. Sesshoumaru and Cillara never showed up for dinner, and although Kagome and Inu Yasha were both worried, they did not go searching for them.
As they lay there entwined in the dark, Inu Yasha's fingers brushing through Kagome's hair in a familiar manner, Kagome spoke.
"You know your brother is in love with Cillara."
Inu Yasha grunted a little. "I don't think he knows that. But I am surprised. They hardly know each other."
"I know. But time doesn't really matter when you get down to the core of things. But I'm worried. Something is very wrong with her, something bad. I think that she's in danger, or feels she is in danger."
Inu Yasha was silent for a moment. "When we were traveling to the Council, it seemed that when he didn't brood, he spoke of her. If she is in danger, he will not let her come to harm. Despite what he'd like to believe, he's too much like father not to."
"…"
Inu Yasha could hear the hesitation in the pattern of her breathing. "What?" he asked.
"Do you think we should pretend to be surprised tomorrow when they come down with neck markings?"
Kagome felt Inu Yasha's chuckle bubble up through his chest.
The two lay sleeping, entwined on the duvet as the moon descended. There in the darkness was a glitter of amaranth. Suddenly the pair began to glow a faint purple. It winked once, and then released its hold on the slumbering pair and sank back into the wings of the woman, to sleep until desperation called out its magic again. Its purpose, for now, was complete.
A.N.: So now the first citrus chapter is complete! Yay! And I managed not to use the phrase "throbbing member" or any other of the thousand kazillion romance novel clichés out there. Not that I probably didn't use any clichés, after all the romance area has been ruthlessly plundered over the years, inundated with saucy, bawdy tales of soft-core juiciness. Hell, I'm aware that mine was practically tame, in comparison. But it works for my story. Next chapter, Steps in Flight, is where hell starts to break loose.
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PS. Dragon Con kicked mucheth asseth. Thank you all for being so patient with me as I partied hearty. Arigato Gozaimasu!