Leather and Lace
(Disclaimer: Fushigi Yûgi is owned by Watase Yû, Shogakukan Comics, Pierrot Studios, TV Tokyo and Pioneer! However, we do claim the rights to the original elements of this story, and the present lives of any original characters that may appear in this story. Anyone attempting to fold, spindle or otherwise subvert the results of our fanfic creativity will meet with a smiting by Hotohori and his holy sword.
Warning: Sensual and strong language.
Chapter Seven
When Miaka left the room, Dante set about clearing the last of the dirty dishes from the table. If he had eaten alone, he would have rinsed and left them sitting in the sink until the next morning, but if he did that now Miaka would certainly insist upon doing them when she returned. There was no way he'd allow that after she had cooked for him.
The food she'd prepared had been excellent. It was hard to believe that her cooking faults might have been as bad as she'd described, but if they were, she'd totally overcome them. She clearly loved what she did, and as fun as it was watching her prepare his meal, the gusto with which she consumed her supper really made him grin. It was pretty amazing to see that someone that petite could tuck away that much food, but he appreciated her healthy appetite after numerous occasions of dining with females that made a big show about ordering salads, while expecting to pilfer food off his plate.
Swatting away memories of past dates gone bad, Dante opened the door of the dishwasher and dropped in a detergent tab, then turned on the faucet before beginning the mindless chore of scraping, rinsing and loading. He didn't mind it for once, because it allowed him to think about what has transpired since Miaka's unannounced appearance on his doorstep.
He had always made a point of discouraging women he was seeing on a social basis from dropping in. This was his private refuge, and he refused to share it with those he damn well knew were prowlers, only interested in him for his body or what favors he could do for them as a cop. It was surprising (and somewhat depressing) to find how many females fell into that category. Sandra had been the only one worht having- but even then he hadn't exactly rolled out the red carpet.
Dante's hands stilled under the running water. He could acknowledge his not trying to fix the problem despite knowing that Sandy hadn't felt as comfortable staying with him as she had hosting him in her own home. Knowing that he had that quirk is what made it damn significant that he had welcomed Miaka's unannounced visit to his hideaway with enthusiasm, and likewise be this happy that she felt comfortable enough to raid his refrigerator, cook a meal, share it and his booze, and then have a food fight while unabashedly giving him crap in his own home.
He'd always preferred women with a sense of humor. Sandy had had one in that she liked watching comedies and going to comedy clubs. But when it came to laughing about personal stuff, not so much. She laughed at the comedians' jokes about others, but she had made it clear she didn't want to be teased or pranked herself. She took herself seriously and expected to be treated that way.
Having fun with Sandy was having a narrative in the third person- she always had him on the outside, looking in. Fun with Miaka was up close and personal. She didn't have a problem poking fun at herself or getting downright silly when the opportunity was presented. She could tease him as good as she got teased, even when he'd deliberately tried to fluster her. And damn if she didn't fluster him too! That was having fun in the first person!
As long as he was making comparisons, there were other noteable differences in his behavior in regards to his past and his present companion. When Sandy had emphatically told him that she'd gone through enough drama in her failed marriage that grand romantic gestures and emotional declarations left her cold, he'd toned down his exuberant personality to a more sedate level to keep things on an emotionally even keel for her. His reward for trying to please was to lose to the exact opposite of what she had told him she'd wanted from him. He could have shown her just how much he'd been holding in reserve, but he had chosen not to push for it. The practicality of their relationship left him feeling unengaged, which meant his heart hadn't been as wounded as his pride when she had left him.
With Miaka, there wasn't going to be a calm and rational approach- he was hooked on her, and had been the moment he'd set eyes on her! He wanted to get to know her, and for her to get to know him! He would do everything he could to bring joy to her life, starting with making his home accessible to her. Doing less than his best to impress and give her his all in the romance department was not an option.
What was more, when the time was right, he would sweep her off her feet in a way that would have her giving her bandit fantasy a paltry PG rating. He wasn't about to let another guy show him up in that department, imaginary or real! And he sure as hell wouldn't let her be taken away without a fight!
All that for a woman he'd known less than a day. Yeah, it was crazy. But so what? It was the quality of time spent that counted.
In a few short hours, he could say he knew Miaka and her personality far better than he'd known Sandy's. Demonstrative and yet respectful; accomodating, but not a pushover. A ready acceptance of his quirks that gave assurance that he could be himself and still please her. Attentiveness and response to his changing moods made it clear his feelings truly mattered to her. Impulsiveness and a little stubborn streak that ensured there'd never be a dull moment. There was the girlish enthusiasm and inherently caring nature that gave her beauty far beyond the physical. She also had a generosity of spirit that had made a lasting impact on a certain cynical coffeehouse owner.
"Tager, ya got yerself an honest-to-god sweetheart here! Fuck this up and I'll be kickin' yer ass an' stealin' yer girl!"
Dante smirked, remembering his friend's astonishment and muttered comment after Miaka had paid for their lunches and left a huge gratuity in the tip jar. Having that resounding stamp of approval from his best friend carried a lot of weight, and underscored his own instincts about the situation.
His mother was the other litmus test. If she were here, she would probably sayt that how long you knew a person didn't matter if they turned out to be your soulmate. If they were, everything would fall into place, be the way it was supposed to be...
A soulmate. She was his soulmate.
That would certainly explain his instant and uncontrollable attraction to Miaka Yuuki.
It was just cursed bad luck that someone else had got to her first.
With a scowl, Dante finished loading the last of the plates and silverware as his thoughts focused on his competition.
He supposed he should be feeling guilty for sniffing around another man's woman, even when the guy wasn't appreciative of the living treasure he had right under his nose. It was pretty obvious the dumbass had no clue as to what his kind of neglect was doing to the relationship! Or maybe he didn't care! Maybe he had someone else on the side!
Slamming the door to the dishwasher, he jabbed at its control panel settings with unwarranted force. If that's the deal, if he's been cheating on her all this time, I'll find him an' kick his sorry ass!
The notion put a ferocious smile on his face until somehing occurred to him.
How can I kick the guy's ass for cheatin' when I'm goin' after Miaka behind his back?
A muscle tightened the back of his neck, and Dante lifted a hand to rub the cramp away, knowing it was a manifestation of strong and conflicting emotions. He'd always thought of himself as an upstanding guy, playing by a code of honor in regards to other guys' girls. Until now, it had been pretty damn easy to follow that code until he'd met the woman who made him question all he thought he knew about himself.
He was taking advantage of a troubled relationship to advance his cause with Miaka. He hated the thought of it, but because she was so clearly unhappy, he was willing to do it. He harbored a resentment that she and her boyfriend shared a history that he could only dream of, hated that the guy had been her first love. He wasn't above using his experience in fueling those kinds of feelings for motivation to outdo the guy in the romance department, even though he knew Miaka's sense of duty and her loyalty to the man were really what made him a formidable rival.
Miaka was a woman struggling with feelings for a past love with her desire for someone new that could bring her happiness. He'd been down this road. It had ended badly- for him. No matter how cute, sexy and loveable she was, Miaka could be the biggest source of heartbreak in his life. It was better to get out! Right now, without delay, before he got so deeply involved he wouldn't have the choice!
Yeah, it's already too late! His heart sneered. You'd be down on one knee in a minute if ya thought there was any chance she'd say yes!
Fine. It's too late. Then what do I have to lose by sticking with it? Dante clenched his jaw. He could live day by day, enjoying just being with her and the powerful feelings she instilled whenever she was in his arms. The instant connection he felt with her was one of those that happened once in a lifetime. Something extraordinary. Something that was not to be missed, and for which the cost of simply walking away would be too great.
They were meant to meet. Meant to be together. This certainty he had would imply previous knowledge of her existence. But in his twenty eight years of life he had never traveled abroad, and Miaka had been in the States for just about six months, so there was no way they could have met before that.
And yet, he wasn't able to get over the feeling that he had known her well and way before today. Even knowing that it wasn't possible didn't do a damn thing to discourage the feeling that in meeting her, he had rediscovered a part of his life that he hadn't been aware was missing.
His dream woman. Was it possible to be in love with someone before you knew they really existed? He had always joked about his mother's staunch belief in reincarnation, but he was starting to wonder if that belief had some serious merit. What else could explain the instant rapport he shared with Miaka, and the familiarity of the feelings he had experienced the moment they had laid eyes on each other? In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he liked the notion that his and Miaka's souls had been destined to meet and merge. Over and over, all around the world, without end.
He had always possessed a healthy sex drive, and he'd always been been in absolute control of it. But not now. Not when the mere thought of her changing clothes under his roof had him panting like a wolf on the prowl, a wolf that would be hers for life once she allowed him to mount her. God, how he wanted that.
A soft groan rose to his lips as he tried to suppress the fantasy that rose in his mind. But trying not to think about this woman like that was like trying to keep the sun from rising in the east. With a small sigh, he closed his eyes and let a bevy of erotic visions of Miaka fill his mind.
He was in the midst of imagining her nude and lying on his kitchen table, moaning in pleasure as he licked along the trail of honey he'd just drizzled over her abdome,n when the sound of his name broke his concentration. He jerked in surprise, then swung around to face the star of his fantasy, who was standing in the doorway to the kitchen wearing a sheepish smile and looking lost his robe. The oversized garment made her look like a girlish waif in big brother's clothing instead of the highly desirable woman she was. That was a good thing, given his body's present state of response to his fantasy.
Thinking it safe, he let his gaze drift to the crossed lapels of the robe, and promptly tossed out the waif theory. The neckline was cut for a man, and even when pulled tight, the opening showcased the sweet inner curves of her breasts. His arousal was going into hyperdrive at the sight.
Pressing himself into the counter, he cast a wild glance around him for the extra large dishtowel and grabbed it up. "Hey there. You're back."
"Yes." She watched him with an unreadable expression. "Did I startle you?"
"A little." He said, avoiding looking directly at her as he began to dry his hands.
"Oh, I'm sorry."
Her tone held genuine regret, and he forced himself to give her an unconcerned smile even as his hidden arousal continued to surge upwards. "Not a problem. It's my fault. I was thinkin' and not payin' attention." Yes, that was it- abstract thinking got him into this, and linear thinking would get him out! His brain rose to the challenge, silently shouting out questions that would hopefully distract him from carnality.
What's the capital of Uzbekistan? What's the name of the largest lake in Africa? Who invented the toilet? Why is root beer called that when there's no beer in it? What does the 'J' in Homer J. Simpson stand for? Why do people drive in a parkway, and park in a driveway?
"They must have been very interesting thoughts." Miaka said. Her expression was the kind girls reserved for boys that had gotten caught with a hand in the cookie jar and were trying to fib their way out of trouble.
He did his best to look nonchalant. Innocent until proven guilty. Just gotta keep her distracted long enough that she won't notice. "Why do ya say that?"
Her smile widened. "You were just standing there, staring off into space and grinning like a fox in a house filled with chickens."
His laugh sounded as uneasy as he felt. Shit. Damage control. I'm going to have to own up to some of it. Folding the dish towel, he began wiping down the countertop with unnecessary thoroughness, buying more time for his erection to subside. The best defense is a good offense! Think about Great Grandpa with a big old plug of chaw, hawkin' loogies an' yelling for tea an' stewed prunes!
It was working.
"Dante?"
"Okay, Miaka, I admit it, ya caught me daydreamin'!"
He could sense her surprise at his abrupt confession. It made him feel better and more in control.
"Dante Tager just admitted to me that he was daydreaming." She repeated, sounding incredulous.
Thoughts of his great grandpa had done it. He finally felt able to toss aside the towel as he turned to face his inquisitor.
"Yeah. Hard to believe, isn't it?"
Ripples of excitement were set off within Miaka as Dante leaned his backside against the edge of the counter and crossed his arms. The pose emphasized his chest and biceps and caused the cropped t-shirt he wore to ride up, exposing the hard, flat surface of the abdomen that had flexed beneath the caresses of her hand.
As she was changing out of her clothes in his bathroom, she had spent a lot of time thinking about how it felt to touch him...and then silently yelling at herself to quit acting like a loose woman with no self control.
It was more than a little shocking that a mere glimpse of his flesh could instantly get her hot and bothered.
The way he was eyeing her made her very aware that she was half naked under his robe. Her hands slid to the sash, making sure that the knot she had tied was still intact and secure. Dante's gaze followed the gesture, then met hers once more.
"So was it a good daydream, I hope?" She asked, trying to sound conversational.
"The best." He drawled.
She was curious. "What made it so good?" She asked on impulse, then backtracked. "That is, if you don't mind-"
"You were in it."
She stared at him, speechless. The silence stretched as Dante pushed himself away from the sink and walked towards her. His gait was slow and deliberate-almost predatory, she thought a bit wildly.
He stopped right in front of her, standing so close that she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. It occurred to her that even at this close proximity, even if she stood on tip toe, she wouldn't be able to kiss him unless he lowered his head to accommodate her.
Her body tingled with anticipation as he reached out to tug the t-shirt away from her unresisting fingers.
"You don't have to do that." She protested in a weak voice, as he turned the garment inside out and then tossed it over one broad shoulder.
His smile was a danger to her equilibrium. "Are ya talkin' about the t-shirt or telling you my daydream?"
She gave an unsteady giggle. "Both, I guess!"
"No guessin' about it. I don't do anythin' I don't feel like doin', Miaka."
His expression had changed to one of intent. Desire unfurled within her as he stroked back the curtain of hair covering her cheek, tucking it gently behind her ear.
"And I'm damn sure that I wanna do this, a little demonstration of what I was just imagining…"
She inhaled sharply as he bent his head to the sensitive hollow below her ear lobe and began to nuzzle it with his mouth. His breath was hot against her skin. Her eyelashes lowered. As his mouth trailed down and then up along the curve of her neck, her lips parted and her breathing grew harsh.
When he reached her ear and traced the outer rim with his tongue tip, her fingers curled into her palms. At the gentle nip of a fang upon her ear lobe, heat exploded in her belly. With a frantic moan, she turned her head, seeking a kiss that never came.
"I think that's enough for ya to get the idea," Dante said hoarsely.
Her eyelids flew open and she stared at him.
"I told ya not to look at me like that!" He growled.
She looked away. "I can't seem to help it."
He reached out to brush his knuckles across her cheek in a rough caress. "You are so goddamned beautiful."
The curse sounded reverent rather than profane.
"Th-thank you." She stammered, still avoiding his eyes. It was good he had been able to put a stop to things right then, because she couldn't have done it to save her life. The man standing before her was a craving that she couldn't control. When he touched her, all that mattered was having his hands and his mouth on her body.
Alarmed by the thought, she took a step back from temptation, only to have her backside bump into the doorframe. Embarrassed, she risked a glance at Dante, wondering why he had remained silent. To her surprise, he was staring at her pink polished toenails, apparently too transfixed by the sight of them to tease her for her clumsiness.
"I-I hope you don't mind that I'm barefoot," she explained awkwardly, "my socks had some gravy on them."
Dante looked up, and the masculine appreciation shining in his eyes made her glad she had taken the extra time to put on the polish before leaving the apartment.
"I have no problem whatsoever with havin' your sexy, bare little feet pitty-pattin' around my house."
"Thank you," she murmured, "thanks for cleaning up my mess, too."
"It's the least I could do, seein' that it was mostly my doing!" A small smile tugged at his lips. "Why don't ya go on into the livin' room and make yourself comfortable? I'll only be a couple of minutes to throw this in the wash."
As soon as Dante had left her, Miaka slumped back against the doorframe and tried to compose herself. She felt deliciously wobbly and weak, the lingering effect of his touch and the intoxicating realization that he had been daydreaming about her in that way.
A roguish smile tipped up the corners of her mouth. If the fantasy had anything to do with them being in a kitchen, it was probably along the lines of what she'd been imagining while she was making him dinner!
But her smile faded as she felt the ache of unfulfilled desire. It was both exhilarating and scary to acknowledge her sexual feelings for Dante, and disturbing as well that she'd already been unfaithful to Taka in her thoughts and now had been so in deed.
Know yourself and then overcome yourself. Words from the past that applied to the present. There was nothing bad in being honest about wanting Dante. But it would be wrong to begin an actual relationship before she had resolved things with Taka.
Untying the robe's sash, Miaka pulled the lapels across her chest and then retied the knot, yanking it tight in a defensive gesture against the arousal that lingered and pulsed. It was time to move to safer ground; hopefully a change of venue would keep her from giving in the demands of her flesh.
She headed out of the kitchen and into the spacious living area that she had passed earlier with barely a glance. There were two steps down into the room, which she carefully negotiated before pausing to survey it. She admired everything; the vaulted ceiling, the southwestern style paintings on the wall, the masculine, comfortable looking leather furniture, the polished hardwood floor, and numerous framed drawings done in crayon, obviously rendered by a child's hands. A happy smile came to her lips as she realized by leaving her alone to look, Dante was giving her free access to knowledge of his personal life.
Gliding to one side of the room, she eyed the built in, floor-to-ceiling oak bookshelves that ran almost the entire length of the wall. A section in the middle was customized for a big screen television and complete stereo set-up, and another small section contained a couple of formal group photographs of uniformed cops. The vast majority of shelf space, however, was devoted to all kinds of books. Her hand rose to trail along the spines as she read them, amazed at the diversity of subject matter they displayed, ranging from poetry to criminal justice and history to mythology, as well as best selling fiction of all kinds.
A collection of compact disks also resided on half of one long shelf, and Miaka noticed immediately that Dante's taste in music was as eclectic as his taste in books. The discovery pleased her; she had always strongly suspected that beneath Tasuki's brash exterior lurked a sharp intellect and poetic soul that would have appeared sooner or later if given the right encouragement. The huge selections of music and literature Dante had housed on his shelves good as confirmed her theory.
Moving along, she stopped in the corner for a close up view of the huge gas fireplace framed by rough hewn stones, and continued on to the huge picture window. A cool breeze told her the side panels were open, and she could tell the temperature outside was dropping, so she didn't linger, only pausing long enough to stare admiringly out at the shadow darkened Rocky Mountains before going to find a place to sit down.
She was immediately drawn to the sofa and sat, finding it even more comfortable than the one she'd sat on at the coffee house. Her lazy gaze took in the coffee table. The confusing assortment of remote controls lined up on the coffee table in front of her made her chuckle, and she made a mental note to purchase a universal remote for Dante at the first excuse she had for giving him a gift.
Having made this decision, she snuggled deeply into the cushions and closed her eyes in contentment. If only the night would last forever...
Dante paused before descending the steps to the living room, taking a moment to let his gaze travel over the woman who in one short day had managed to turn his life upside down. His position allowed him to observe her without being seen, and he intended to take full advantage of it.
Pleasure filled him as he saw that she was curled up on one end of his old couch, feet tucked underneath her, looking as comfortable as could be. He took in the delicate line of her profile- lingering on the full curves of her lips- then tensed when his eyes lowered to her décolletage. Shit, they're just about to fall out of that thing! Not like I'd mind, but it'd be embarrassin' for her!
With an effort he tore his eyes away from the sight and thumped back into the kitchen for the wine glasses that he had forgotten on the kitchen table. Hopefully if he made enough noise, she'd awaken and change position when he was gone.
In spite of the thudding elephant steps he took to the kitchen and back, she hadn't moved when he returned. With a sigh of resignation, he walked to the couch and gently nudged her leg with his to get her attention. As turned on as he was by her state of undress, he still couldn't help but laugh when her eyes flew open in alarm.
"Don't get up!" He commanded. "You're givin' a compliment to my decoratin' when you look relaxed!"
Miaka smiled and took the wine glass he held out, then moved to make room for him. Dante sat down and heaved a mental sigh of relief as he saw her adjusting the robe so that it fully covered her chest. "So I take it you're likin' my sofa?"
"Very much!" She grabbed an errant throw pillow and tucked it under her elbow. "It's even more comfortable than the one Craig has at Brew You!"
Dante grinned. "Thank you kindly ma'am! It's good to know ya feel that way, considering Craig thinks his is the best ever. "
She laughed, then looked a bit worried. "Maybe we shouldn't tell him. I don't want to hurt his feelings."
"Good point." Dante said, thinking Miaka being on his sofa was the real secret, and there was no way he'd hand his buddy that kind of ammunition until he was ready to show proof of a solid relationship. "Yeah, I won't say anythin'. It's enough for me to know."
"You're a good friend." Miaka said, smiling.
He basked in her approval until he saw her shiver. "Hey! Are you cold?"
"No!" She denied quickly.
He grabbed her free hand. "It's like ice." He accused. "You're cold."
"Maybe a little." She admitted, looking sheepish as Dante set his glass down and stood up. "You would think I would have adjusted to the temperature drops by now."
"Hang on. I'll close the windows and get a fire goin'."
He suited his actions to his words as he spoke, moving over to the side windows to slide them shut, and then walking over to twist the knob next to the fireplace to turn on the gas fire. The realistic looking birch logs behind the glass doors flickered to life, suffusing the room with a subtle but pleasant glow. Miaka took another sip of her wine and heaved a blissful sigh as warmth began to encompass her. "Thank you, Dante. That's a lovely fireplace."
"I wish it was a real one, but gas is cleaner and more convenient," he replied, picking up his wine glass and re-joining her on the couch.
"Any kind of fireplace is fine with me." She responded with enthusiasm. "And I'm definitely in love with your living room! It's beautiful and comfortable- much more so than mine!" Her smile held a hint of wistfulness as she confided, "my apartment came fully furnished, but I don't think the decorator put much thought into the tenant's feeling at home when they were choosing some of the furniture."
"That's too bad." Dante murmured politely, but didn't expect an answer as he watched Miaka look around the room once more. When she turned her attention back to him, he could see the questions in her eyes. And he was surprisingly willing to answer as soon as she asked them.
That feeling was definitely a first for him.
"It's funny," she mused, "that just when I think I have you figured out, I discover new and interesting things!"
"Really?" He challenged her with his smile. "What would those be?"
Miaka ticked off the points on her fingers. "The variety and amount of books you have shows me that you're an insatiable reader with an inquisitive mind and well developed intellect. The framed photos show you like outdoor recreations, and the children's drawings reveal a sentimental streak a mile wide. The CD's tell me you love all kinds of music, and the stunning view outside your window along with your incredibly comfortable couch, and the stocked entertainment center tells me that you like to spend a lot of time relaxing at home." She laughed softly at his dumbfounded expression. "How am I doing so far?"
"Dead right on all counts," he admitted. "But please keep it quiet, okay? If the guys find out that I'm a sentimental, egg-headed homebody instead of the outrageous, fun-lovin' party animal they think I am now, I'll never hear the end of it!"
"I can keep a secret. They won't be hearing it from me!"
He smiled as she made criss-crossing motions over her heart. "Thanks. It's sorta hard to explain, but in my line of work it's real important to be able to keep your private life…well, private."
For a moment, Dante's face reflected some of the stress involved in his chosen occupation. Though they had different duties and careers, Miaka thought, she knew that kind of feeling all too well.
"Serving the public on a daily basis means that there's always going to be someone letting you know when you mess up, and having to accept that most of the time you won't hear a word of praise or thanks when you've done your job well. " She told him earnestly. "Getting away from everything related to the stress is important, and it's vital to have someplace you can call a sanctuary. It's easy to get burned out on life if you don't have a place all your own to relax and be happy."
"Well I'll be damned," Dante said, looking awestruck.
She blinked. "What?"
"You get it! No one else I've talked to that wasn't a cop has understood that about me!"
The frank admiration in his eyes made her blush.
"You sound like you've had some experience with it too." He said, watching her closely.
"Yes, but I think I should add that the clientele at the Phoenix Grill in no way compares to the tough customers you deal with!" She replied, experiencing another thrill of pleasure as he laughed aloud.
"Yeah, sad to say we do get more than our share."
"Law enforcement isn't just about getting the bad guys though, is it?" Miaka stated. "You're role models and support for the community."
"We try." He slanted her an appreciative grin, then took another sip of wine. "It's nice knowing you're makin' a difference, but you do it knowing it is a damn thankless task. You learn real quick to expect abuse from the taxpayers because they're payin' your wages, and he politicians, because they make the laws, and the powers at city hall, because losin' your temper even once means your career could be down the toilet. And let me tell ya, Miaka, it makes it even harder tryin' to do my job when I know the perpetrator's lawyer will find some loophole to circumvent the law we're trying to enforce."
"It must get very discouraging." She sympathized.
"It could, if I let it," Dante agreed. "My dad used t'tell me that part of bein' a good cop is findin' a way not to get burned out on the job. I try to follow the example he set by keepin' my personal life separate from work-which means no after hours socializin' with fellow officers." He gave her an embarrassed little half smile. "If the guys knew I'm at home most of the time they'd start droppin' by regularly for a game of poker an' a few beers, and I'd be too damn nice t'throw them out. This way, at least the ones that are married or have steady girlfriends stay far away from the singles places they think I frequent."
She shifted position, stretching her legs out in front of her. "So what about the women?"
He didn't answer right away, as he was busy watching her adjusting his robe to cover herself. "What women?"
"I assume your precinct has unmarried female officers?"
"Yeah, there's a few." He said. "And they pretty much make it a point not to date coworkers for the exact same reasons I won't."
"It would be like never leaving work?"
"Exactly!" He grimaced. "Going out with another cop, it's inevitable we'd end up talking shop. Even if we didn't, there's the problem that things could go bad with the relationship and you would still have to work together and get along. You never know when someone will have to be watchin' your back when you're out on a call." He paused to take a swallow of wine. "Personal conflict in the workplace can be pretty dangerous at a time like that."
"I can imagine," Miaka replied solemnly. "I admire that you don't let the demands of your job consume you to the exclusion of everything else. I wish that-"
She awkwardly broke off the thought, not wanting to put a damper on their camaraderie by complaining about Taka's obsessive work habits.
But it appeared that she wasn't about to be let off the hook.
"You just wish that-what?" Dante prompted.
She shifted uneasily under his expectant gaze. "Never mind. I, uh, forgot what I was going to say."
He leaned forward to set his wine glass down on the solid oak coffee table and then turned to her with an uncompromising stare. "Pardon me, but that's bullshit. You were going to say that you wish your boyfriend would put ya before his job once in a while, weren't ya?"
"All right, yes. But I have no right to be critical."
He slid a bit closer. "Why would you think that?"
"Because he's been honest with me about what his job entails, and that it would take him a while to establish himself. I shouldn't have felt that I needed to check up on him."
"You had every right if you thought you were in trouble." Dante said. "Or if ya thought he was cheating."
She looked uncomfortable. "I didn't think that he was cheating. And I'm sure he's not."
"But you thought you were in trouble if you didn't show up." He pressed, and she nodded.
"It's a matter of how we started out. He was only seventeen and I was fifteen when we first met. We fell in love and desperately wanted to be together. There were some very tough times where we were forced apart, and each time we fought to be together again. It was incredibly romantic whenever we reunited." Her smile was brief and tight. "If I'd stayed in Japan and simply vacationed here, the romance would be still be alive each time he returned home. Instead, I took it as one more challenge to overcome and followed him here with unrealistic expections of having what we had back then again in this new world. I wasn't thinking that my perfect plan for love wouldn't survive the reality of my feelings."
"For what it's worth, I think you did the right thing in coming here to be with him." Dante remarked, after a contemplative silence. "Long distance romances might be romantic but they can't work forever. Eventually you have to actually be with a person to understand what's needed to make things work. You can be realistic while throwing in the other stuff to keep things exciting and fun."
"That's what I'd thought." She gave him a sad smile. "He comes from a poor family, but he worked hard and got an academic scholarship to international business school. When he had a chance to work in the U.S., I knew that he couldn't and shouldn't turn it down. He assured me that he would return for a visit every few weeks, but when it got to be well over a year without a home visit or any sign that he was trying for a transfer..." She gave a bitter chuckle. " At that point, I didn't care about having my career. I just wanted to see him!"
"It was a chance for a fresh start."
Miaka nodded. "I did all the necessary paperwork, and he arranged for an apartment and sent me application links for the local job postings for restaurant workers so that I could apply for a position here in the city."
"So why didn't you just move in with him?"
"He did ask me to." She admitted. "It would have been common sense to do that...but I said no, because it just didn't feel like the right thing for me to do."
Dante didn't comment, but his expression made it obvious that he was glad of her decision. "So then what?"
"If we wanted, we could see each other every day, It certainly saved on phone and internet bills." She shrugged. "As it turns out, I'm still calling or texting to him far more than I see him. If I see him in person twice in a week, you can bet it's because there's a weekend social event to attend for his work."
"Not what you signed on for."
"Yes. At one point, I was very close to packing up and going home." She brightened. "But as it turns out, I love my job, and I've made some friends, so I decided to give my new life a chance!"
Dante raised his wine glass to hers. "Then I say, here's to taking chances and stickin' it out!"
They clinked and drank.
"So what are ya thinkin' about right now, Miaka?" Dante asked, after seeing her expression turn pensive.
"That even if it has sometimes seemed that way in the past, I know I'm not a victim of fate or circumstance. I will always have the power to choose my path..." She couldn't say more, because of the sudden lump in her throat. She turned her head to try to hide the tears that had suddenly filled her eyes, but the sharp-eyed Dante had seen the tell tale glitter.
He set his wine glass down. "Miaka..."
"I'm sorry." She said huskily. "As a rule, I'm not this downhearted about things. And now I've spoiled our nice evening by crying!"
The sofa cushion moved, and her spine stiffened from shocke as strong arms came about her from behind and crossed in front. Her eyes widened, and she gasped.
"Ya haven't spoiled anything," Dante said near her ear, "I'm havin' a great time getting to know you, Miaka Yuuki."
"And I, you." The words were too strained, too stilted. She tried again. "I'm glad I stayed. You make me feel so at home."
His chuckle tickled the tendrils of hair near her ear. "But not when you're bein' hugged from behind?"
It was true she was uncomfortable, Miaka thought, but a lot of her tension was from the memory of a similiar surprise hug that had ended with near tragic consequences. Similiar, but not same thing, she reminded herself. This was Dante Tager hugging her, not a Hikou- influenced Tasuki! It did feel good to be held! Why couldn't she accept comfort? Why did she have to keep bringing up the past?
"You're tense beyond belief!" Dante said. "I know exactly what you need. A neck massage!"
She started to turn, but thought better of it when his lips made incidental contact with the hollow of her cheek. "I don't- I can't ask you to do that!"
She could feel him smile."I'm the host and you're my guest. You can ask."
"An uninvited guest! Anyway, it's not necessary-"
He made a derisive noise. "Like hell! Your head is pulled so far into your shoulders I coulda mistook ya for a turtle!"
"Charming." She muttered, nettled in spite of her discomfort. "I suppose you have had women eating out of your hand with lines like that?"
"Who needs lines? I let my hands do the talkin'!" Dante shot back, then tighted his hold as she made to yank herself away. "All right, calm down! I'm only teasing!"
"But there's usually an element of truth beneath the teasing, isn't there?"
She had him. "Listen, now. The experience I have with neck rubs comes from helping my ma with her headaches. She's told me a million times that therapuetic touch is best for tension caused by worry and unhappiness."
She wasn't struggling to get out of his arms, but wasn't ready to give in completely. "So you're feeling sorry for me. That doesn't mean you have to-"
"Dammit, woman!" He exclaimed, interrupting. "I think I've made it pretty clear tonight that sorry is the last thing I'm feelin'! But that's not the point! Look, I'm thinking all that cooking an' bending over an' choppin' things all day long has to be hell on your neck and shoulder muscles. Is it?"
"Yes." She admitted, her resistance fading under his disarming truth and logic. "It can be very, very hard on them."
"Do you not like massages?"
"I adore them." She said. "I would book them often if they weren't so expensive!"
"But here it's free!"
"I know, but I feel like I'm taking advantage."
"You're not, I offered. I'd like to have the pleasure of doin' something nice for ya." As he spoke, Dante's cheek and chin rubbed against her hair. "I promise that I know what I'm doin', but if you don't think it feels right, just tell me and I'll stop."
Miaka drew her bottom lip between her teeth. She couldn't help but be reminded of Tasuki and how he had always tried to make it up to her in his own unorthodox way whenever Tamahome had done something to upset her. Dante trying to do the same was an irresistable force.
She sighed her capitulation before voicing it.
"Thank you, a massage sounds wonderful."
"Thatta girl!" He said, while giving her a little squeeze. "No worryin', y'hear? I promise you're in the best of hands."
Miaka caught his mischievous look out of the corner of her eye and simply nodded, thinking it was safer not to reply.
She was finally released so that Dante could lean forward and push the coffee table farther from the sofa, and then grab a large throw pillow from the opposite end.
"It'll be easier on my arms if you sit below me for this." He explained, noticing her wary glance as he placed it on the floor between his feet. "And sitting this way I can get the right amount of pressure."
"Oh...okay." She set down her glass on the end table next to her, and then slipped from the couch to sit indian-style on the plump cushion. As Dante shifted into position, she tried not to think about the muscular thighs and calves that were now pressing into her sides. "Am I in the right spot?"
"Back up a little bit more…okay, that's fine."
She shivered in reaction as large hands gently gathered up her hair and draped it so that the thick mass fell entirely over her left shoulder.
"Um…there's one more thing." He said, sounding hesitant. "Please don't take this wrong... but you're gonna have to loosen things up a bit." He tugged lightly at the collar of the robe which was drawn tightly around her, demonstrating that access to her neck was almost impossible. "See?"
"All right." Making sure to hold the neckline closed across her chest, she pushed and pulled at the neck and opening of the robe until it draped around her upper arms, displaying her shoulders to advantage and confirming the fact that she wore no bra.
There was a heart pounding pause. Miaka held her breath until she heard the sound of cracking knuckles.
"Okay, tip your head forward and try t' loosen up your shoulders." Dante instructed.
As soon as she had complied with his wishes, he positioned his hands on the nape of her neck. Miaka felt herself tensing up again, and immediately chastised herself for doing so. It was so silly, since this the same man she had already let kiss the living daylights out of her after just having met him! What was the point in worrying about letting him give her an innocent and much needed neck massage?
Dante impatiently squeezed her sides with his legs. "I said relax!" He barked, in what she had come to think of as his 'manly cop voice'. "I can't do anything for ya without some cooperation!"
The authoritative tone succeeded where kindness had not. Miaka obeyed the command, and then closed her eyes as lean, strong fingers began to rhythmically knead the tension filled muscles at the base of her skull.
A thick silence fell and minutes passed as Dante massaged Miaka's soft, creamy flesh and the tense muscles beneath it. It had taken some convincing, but she'd loosened up.
And now he was the one tensing and struggling with his emotions.
You can do this! He told himself, as his fingers moved. Keep it therapuetic. The reward is havin' her trust, and that ya got her to feel better.
His fingers stroked the corded sides of her neck, and he closed his eyes to block out the tempting sight of the robe that was sliding further and further down her chest. He opened them again after making the discovery that not only didn't it help to take his mind off what she looked like, but that a lack of visual stimulation greatly sharpened his other four senses. He was already far too conscious of her intoxicating floral scent, the fluttering of her pulse under his fingertips, her sinfully soft skin, and the pleasured sounds she made as a particularly large knot was undone- and he sure as hell didn't need to add to the impact they were having, thank you very much!
Thoroughly digusted by his lack of self-discipline, Dante hung his head and kept rubbing.
You can do this. She trusts you- you don't wanna blow it by actin' like a wolf on the make.
Reminding himself of the importance of trust was helping recoup his composure, until the instant Miaka tipped her head to the side and a swatch of her hair swept across the inside of his left thigh and he lost it for good.
He wanted to cuss. He wanted to rant. He wanted to throw her down on the floor and be done with it. His good intentions were slipping away just like the goddamned robe she wore. He glared at the back of the offending garment. What the hell had he been thinking? Why hadn't he given her one of his T-shirts or a sweatshirt?
Because you wanted it to happen, ya moron!
It had been insane to think he could ever touch her this way without wanting more; the hard evidence of that had risen between his parted thighs. The overwhelming need he had to make her happy had overruled his common sense, and now he would have to grit his teeth and take the consequences of that decision like a man. It was just too soon. She still had another boyfriend in the picture. He repeated that admonition like a mantra as his fingers tenderly massaged the spot where her neck met her shoulders.
Miaka groaned. "Dante."
"Yeah? That feel okay?"
"Ohhhhh yessss...right there…feels so good!"
Her suggestive direction of his movements made him want to laugh and cry at the same time. She's not that naïve, is she? She's got t'have some idea of what she's doin' to me! Ironically, his irritation helped him keep his other emotions under control as his fingers left the base of her neck to run over the tops of her deltoids, which were strung as tight as overstretched rubber bands. His fingers unerringly picked out the spots where balls of tension had formed and began to work at them.
"Owie!" She exclaimed, as his thumbs bore down strongly on a tender spot.
Chagrined, he quickly eased up on the pressure he was applying. "Sorry. Is this better?"
"Ohhh yes…" She was purring again. "Wonderful."
Her hand lifted to absently pat his knee, and then stayed there. He wanted to chew on his knuckles, but settled for biting his tongue.
"Good," he said tersely.
Silence fell once more. Dante concentrated on working one shoulder and then the other, and then moved to the outside curves, idly taking note of how her head and her body were moving in tandem with the motion of his hands. It was almost like watching a puppet controlled by its master, and he couldn't help feeling a surge of primal satisfaction as he realized that it meant Miaka had completely surrendered to his touch.
After a few more moments she shifted her bottom to get more comfortable on the pillow. Instant heat shot through him when the movement caused the neckline of the robe to slip open a little bit more. She seemed not to be aware of it; her head had tipped to one side, as if she had fallen into a light doze. Only the slight catches in her breathing as he worked out the sore spots told him she was still conscious. Torn between chivalry and desire, he silently debated on what course of action he should take. Should he risk pulling it up himself? Or should he let her know that it was coming undone?
A few seconds later the decision was taken out of his hands as he watched her slowly lean back until her head was resting on one of his thighs. She looked lazily up at him through half open eyelids while his own gaze fixated on the curves of her mouth, so tantalizingly close to his sex.
"Thank you so much." She murmured drowsily. "That was good. All of the tension has gone."
He cleared his throat. "You're welcome."
After a few seconds of companionable silence, Miaka made a half-hearted attempt to get up on the couch, waving off his offer of help with a smile. Too late, Dante realized that her heel was caught up in the hem of the robe, but before he could warn her, she had already overbalanced and instinctively caught herself by putting a hand on the floor.
Unfortunately for both of them, the hand she used to catch herself was also the hand that had been holding the front of the accursed garment shut. As she dropped to a knee, the neckline was yanked to the side, exposing one perfect breast and its stiffened, rose-pink epicenter to the glowing rays of the sunset streaming in from the picture window.
After one shell-shocked moment of gaping, Dante quickly looked away, but those precious few seconds were enough to etch an eternal imprint on his memory cells. He drew in a shaky breath, mildly surprised that he was still conscious since he was quite sure that all the blood had just drained out of his head. Even without looking at Miaka he knew that she was blushing, but he refused to satisfy his curiosity as to how far down that blush was extending.
"Don't worry, I didn't see anythin'!" He fibbed gallantly.
He sensed Miaka had risen, but to his surprise she didn't turn away. A sidelong glance told him she had dropped back onto the pillow between his feet and that she hadn't covered herself, a sight which made him painfully aware that he should have had the sense to cover his groin.
He stared off into space with mortified resignation, knowing that she was getting a real eyeful and that he couldn't do a damn thing to hide it.
Long, silent seconds ticked by as she took in his condition and he studiously avoided her eyes.
"Onegai, Dante. Please look at me."
He obeyed her request reluctantly, and tensed when she placed her hands on his thighs. She used them for leverage to raise herself off her haunches, until she was kneeling on his eye level. He kept his gaze on her face, a muscle working in his jaw, body tense and taut with the restraint he was imposing upon himself.
Her changing expression suggested she was fighting an inner battle as well. But then, she closed her eyes. Slowly, the lines of worry creasing her forehead smoothed away. Her lips parted in a exhalation of acceptance.
Whatever decision she'd come to, she looked at peace with it.
When she opened her eyes again, and her gaze deliberately lowered to the rising bulge between his legs, he could stand it no longer.
"Dammit, Miaka, don't do this to me! I'm havin' a hard enough time as it is!"
"I can see that!" She murmured, staring at the bulge with open fascination. "So tell me, Officer… is that a nightstick that you're packing, or are you just happy to see me?"
"Not funny!" He ground out, as his gaze strayed to her chest and then quickly jerked back up to her face.
"I didn't mean it to be." She said quietly, reaching out to grasp one of his clenched fists.
A tremor of excitement ran through him as she gently turned it palm up, and then bent her head to nuzzle the inside of his wrist with her lips. As she did so, her glossy auburn hair spilled forward, covering their joined hands. His fingers slowly uncurled under the silken onslaught.
"Miaka-"
The protest he was about to voice was wiped from his mind as she slowly brought his hand to her exposed breast.
"Touch me," she exhorted, arching her back to press herself into his palm.
God in heaven. His fingers were already curling around the sweet curve of flesh. "Like this? Are...ya sure?"
She regarded him with eyes that glistened with moisture and memories. "I've made the mistake of not following my instincts before, and every single time I've lived to regret it."
"And what are those instincts tellin' you now?" He asked, holding her gaze.
She touched his cheek with trembling fingers, and then brushed back his bangs, which seemed to spark to flaming life in the fading rays of the sun.
"That my being here with you is meant to be." She whispered.
The tenderness in the look she gave him precluded further discussion. He released his hold on her breast to curl the arm about her and haul her up across his lap. Once she was situated to his liking, he wiped away the fat teardrops that hovered on her lower lashes with tender but unsteady fingers. With this woman, all of the protectiveness he possessed was coming to the fore. He'd always hated seeing her look sad...
"My Miaka-baka," he murmured, not knowing or caring where the words came from. "Don't cry. I'm here with ya."
It took a moment to register what he was saying, and then her eyes went wide as they sought his. "Dante? Did you just call me-"
But Dante wasn't having any more discussion. Not now.
"Don't talk." He said. And his mouth made sure she didn't.
Miaka completely lost her train of thought as Dante's mouth took possession of hers. Her lips parted on a sigh and he slipped his tongue into her mouth with a smooth, silky thrust. His free hand caressed her from shoulder to hip, his tongue moving in rhythmic, sensuous strokes that sent wave after wave of heat through her body. She angled her head to deepen the contact, following the rhythm he set, pushing and sliding her tongue against his.
Her hands glided up his chest to the tops of his shoulders, then to the sides of his neck.
When she began to caress the sensitive hollows behind his ears with the pads of her thumbs, Dante broke the kiss.
"Come here." He growled softly. The muscles in the arm that held her tightened, lifting her shoulders off his lap as his other hand ran up and over the curve of her hip. She arched under the caress like a feline being stroked where it felt best, tipping her head back to expose the entire length of her throat to his hot, searching mouth. He bent his head to nibble and nip at the tender skin with his fangs, then nuzzled it with open lips and the tip of his tongue. The contrasting sensations caused her body to arch in silent invitation.
After a minute or two Dante raised his head once again.
"I wanna hear it! Say that ya want me, dammit!"
"I …I want you. " Her fingers found his braid and caressed it. "So much. You have no idea how much."
His eyes shone with triumph. "How do I find out?"
She looked up at him with aroused, frantic eyes, her breath coming in short pants. "Keep touching me…"
Their gazes remained locked. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders as he palmed her breast, then used his fingertips to lightly trace its circumference, moving toward its center in gradually diminishing circles. She moaned in frustration when he barely brushed her nipple with a finger and cried out in aroused satisfaction as he returned to tug and roll it between the pads of his forefinger and thumb.
"Ahh... that's good…"
Her hips moved in tandem with his fingers, as the liquid heat between her legs rose to volcanic proportions. When she was released, she whimpered a broken plea in her native tongue, and then in his. "P-Please...don't stop..."
"This is gonna feel even better." Dante assured her thickly, as he put his other arm around her and pulled her chest closer to his mouth.
His fiery head bent degree by agonizing degree until his hot breath caressed her skin. Miaka arched her back, pushing herself towards the only thing that could give her relief. When his lips engulfed the hardened tip of her breast, her hands went to his head, fingers curling into his scalp, holding him in place as he suckled gently. After a few moments, he drew her nipple between his teeth and bathed it with the wet warmth of his tongue, laving her thoroughly before flicking over it in rapid, back and forth motions. She cried out at the sensation, her arousal heightened by the feel of a rock-hard erection pressing into her bottom. Instinctively, she pushed and rubbed her buttocks against it; in return, Dante's hips lunged upwards as he drew her more deeply into his mouth, a response that was intensely gratifying to them both.
Releasing her grasp on his hair, Miaka grabbed for his t-shirt, yanking it up as far as it could go without them having to break contact. As an overwhelming need to please him surged within her, she ran greedy palms over the arched, muscled warmth of his back, then switched to lightly raking her fingernails over his shoulder blades. Dante released her nipple with a moan as the sensation held him in temporary stasis. Intrigued by his response, she switched to fingertips, and slowly repeated the gesture. He gasped and trembled with arousal, reactions which both thrilled and encouraged her to be bold.
Slowly, teasingly, one of her hands slid around to his abdomen, which quivered under her exploratory caress. She let it linger there just for a moment, then moved it in an unerring path up to his chest. She ran her thumb across the soft bump of his nipple, then smiled in satisfaction as it rose and grew hard as a pebble. A quick glance up told her that her partner was greatly enjoying her touch; his eyes were closed, a hard flush stained his cheeks, and his breath came in pants from partially open lips. Feeling deliciously naughty and wanton, she pinched his nipple, gently rolling it between her thumb and forefinger, as he had done to her.
The effect on Dante was instantaneous. He tipped her onto the sofa, whipped his shirt off, and straddled her body.
"I'm gonna ask once more, Miaka!" He rasped, looking down at her with smoldering eyes. "Am I what you really want?"
Miaka stared up at him, mesmorized by his intensity. Sculpted pectorals rose and fell with his rapid breathing, barely a foot above her exposed flesh. His arms and hands were planted on either side of her head, keeping the bulk of his weight off her body. His face was flushed with passion and taut with restrained desire.
He was beautiful. So beautiful that it made her heart ache.
Her answer was to wrap her arms around his waist and pull him down on top of her.
Dante capitulated to the silent demand with a throaty groan. Lowering his mouth to hers, he slid his pelvis between her parted thighs with a seductive thrust and grind that she returned in force, only to pull away again to stare down at her with a dark and dangerous expression, his eyes blazing at her from beneath a curtain of fiery bangs.
"I'm gonna make ya forget him!" He promised hotly, pausing to administer a toe curling kiss before lifting his head once more. "I'll make you happy! Once I'm inside ya, you're mine!"
Miaka blinked as the voice from the past penetrated her erotic daze. Suddenly, lying beneath Dante like this, hearing his passionately spoken words, seeing the bare chest and the flush of arousal slashing across his cheeks... was like a trip straight back through time. The circumstances, the place, and the language were so different, but the voice and the intent were the same.
She was about to make love with Tasuki!
Her hips slowed their movements, then stopped moving altogether. Though she was trying her hardest to suppress the memories, it was to no avail. They continued to flow, steadily eroding her feelings of pleasure. Tasuki wouldn't have wanted it to be this way, he hadn't wanted to come between her and her love for Tamahome! He had been willing to sacrifice himself to avoid that very thing! Would making love with Dante render that sacrifice meaningless?
Oh Suzaku, not now...! Not when I'm thinking about Tasuki, and Dante doesn't understand what he's getting into!
Dante had sensed her withdrawl, and pushed himself off her by extending his arms. "What is it? Did I do somethin' ya didn't like?" His voice shook. Dark brows met over eyes that held hurt and confusion. "Tell me!"
"It's not you! I love what we've been doing..." She lowered her eyes to his tattoo and began to trace around it with her finger, taking comfort in how quickly the colors came to life under her touch.
His mouth tightened. "Is it that Tasuki guy again? That I look like him?"
There was no way she could avoid answering. "Y-yes!" She admitted, blushing deeply.
His eyes narrowed; jealousy and frustration blazed in their amber hued depths. "Were ya wishing I was him?"
She was stricken. "No!"
"Then what is it about him that gets to you? I think I got a right to know!"
Miaka sighed. This was so complicated! How could she ever make him understand? "I know what you're thinking, but we weren't lovers!" She answered, as steadily as she could. "It wasn't like that! We were very good friends, that's all."
"I see." Dante looked as if he didn't see anything. "If that's all it was, then why did you freak out on me?"
"Because...Tasuki tried to be more than that to me, once," she said, choosing her words carefully, "I was seventeen. It was one of those times where it looked like my boyfriend and I weren't going to be able to stay together. To try and cheer me up, Tasuki took me to a nice restaurant at an inn. We had fun, and ate so much...and he encouraged me to drink alcohol. I wasn't used to it and I got drunk, and he took me to a suite upstairs and then tried to forcibly seduce me."
Dante looked forbidding. "You mean he attempted rape," he stated bluntly. His voice softened. "Did he succeed?"
"No!" She exclaimed. "He stopped when I asked. I guess he thought making me feel good would make me forget everything bad that was happening to me... but when I started to cry and beg him not to do it, he stopped! A lot of other things happened after that made him see that it was a mistake, too! He took responsibility for it and apologized to me. And I gladly forgave him!"
Miaka had a hysterical urge to laugh as she ended the story. Left out some crucial details, but this is all he needs to know for now. "It's not that I was trying to put you in his place, Dante," she concluded, "it's ...it's that just a moment ago you sounded like Tasuki when you said you'd 'make me forget'. That's exactly what Tasuki said! He wasn't trying to hurt me, he thought he was helping! But it's still a painful memory, you see. Because of him, not you."
Her voice trailed away and her face flamed with embarrassment.
"I get it now," Dante assured her gruffly, "he tried to force himself on ya, but didn't go through with it because he saw you didn't want that from him to make you happy?"
"Yes."
"Why did he even try it?"
"Tasuki was protective of me. He'd get upset when my boyfriend wasn't treating me properly, and gave him a bad time...even though they were good friends too! Somewhere along the way, I think he started seeing me as someone he could be with romantically, and it complicated things for him. But because he never let on, I was really shocked and frightened when he told me that he was the better man for me, I was his, and he would be the one to make me a happy woman!"
Dante's frown deepened as he digested the information. Tasuki's situation and his own with Miaka did have some uncomfortable parallels, which would probably explain the overwhelming desire he now had to atone for his double's mistakes.
"How old was he at the time?" He asked, after a thinking silence.
"Nineteen."
"Did he have a girlfriend prior to that?"
It was an interesting question. She hadn't considered that he might have. "Not that I'm aware of- I never heard about any," she said slowly, "he sometimes said he didn't like women, but that I was the exception."
"Then I'd say it probably wasn't out of character for him to try somethin'." Dante said, surprised to find he'd forgotten his anger in warming a bit to the subject. "At that age guys are dealin' with some powerful urges, but most aren't mature enough to try an' control 'em, much less want to understand how they feel about love. It doesn't in any way excuse what the guy did, but it sounds to me that he fell for you, didn't realize how he felt until he saw that you were unhappy, and things got to the point where he couldn't hold back any more. Even then he couldn't just say it. He tried to give himself to you to show his feelings for ya the only way he knew how."
At first I thought you were this weird kid. Then, as time went on, you became a woman to me...
Those words had been forever burned into her memory, thanks to what Hikou had told her about the spell he had put on Tasuki. Though destructive in intent, it was essentially a spell based on truth, a spell that coerced the victim to reveal or act on feelings and emotions they might have otherwise kept hidden. Knowing that, the implications of what Tasuki had said to her that night been too difficult for her to deal with, and she'd chosen to leave them behind for the sake of keeping a friendship and the peace.
Tonight the past had somehow caught up with her. It was literally hovering over her, staring her in the face and speaking to her, giving her redemption even as she grieved for what might have been.
She no longer wanted to escape it. She was older and wiser now, and more than strong enough to face facts.
"I was as much in the dark as he was." She said quietly. "The thing is, even if I had understood his feelings then, and even if I had returned them, it wouldn't have mattered. There was no way I could have stayed in...in China, and it wasn't possible for Tasuki to leave there. Certain circumstances have kept us from staying in touch, and it isn't possible I'd ever be able to go back and find out what happened to him."
"Right girl, wrong place and time." Dante murmured. "That was harsh for both of you."
Miaka felt strangely comforted by his words. Though it was very odd telling Dante about Tasuki, doing so was helping her lance a wound she hadn't realized was still festering. "My biggest regret is not telling him how much he and his friendship meant to me while I was still with him."
"I'm willin' to bet he knew."
"I hope so!" She said, feeling desire returning in full force. "He was always the one who kept me moving forward, and gave me the courage to act. Thinking about that helps me even now!" Before Dante could say anything, she reached out and cupped a hand over his denim-sheathed gender. Her fingers took measure of him, traced his outline, followed its rapidly swelling contours before boldly palming its breadth.
"You're magnificent." She whispered. "And I want you so much."
He moaned and shuddered, then quickly reached down to prise her hand away.
"An' God knows I want you...but if ya want me to last, you can't do that!"
She was abashed. "I am sorry."
"Don't be, I like it." He assured her. "But you would be sorry if I let ya keep goin'!"
Despite her chagrin, she couldn't resist a retort. "I think that you should let me be the judge of that!"
Dante looked surprised, and then tempted. "I will...later." He bent down to press a swift kiss on her lips before rolling off the couch to kneel at her side. "This sofa is way too cramped for what I got in mind. Would you go down the hall with me?"
Miaka regarded him with a solemn gaze, then gave a slow nod. Before they could move, the strident summons of a telephone cut into the room.
Dante cursed savagely, then buried his face in the curve between her neck and her shoulder as the phone continued to buzz.
"Don't you have a message service?"
His voice was muffled by her hair. "Turned it off! It'll quit in a minute."
Miaka felt a prickle of conscience. Dante was a policeman, what if the caller really needed his help? "I think you should pick up."
"I'm not on call. Ignore it." He began to nuzzle and nip at her soft skin in a blatant attempt at distraction.
It didn't work. "I think you should answer!" She admonished, and pushed at his chest. "Even if you're not on call, it could be an emergency! Or a family member!"
"This isn't the night the family calls," he argued, "and I'd bet you twenty bucks it's a telemarketer!"
She raised her eyebrows. "Are you that certain?"
He pressed suggestively against her. "Very."
Miaka drew in a breath and pointed.
"You. Kitchen. Phone. Now."
Mumbling a curse, her host pushed himself to his feet. He stood pouting down at her while she closed and retied her robe, and Miaka grinned up at his put-out expression as she was pulled her to her feet, silently reveling in the knowledge that Dante made her his top priority.
"I'm not going anywhere, you know," she assured him, "I'm just taking what you Americans call a rain check!"
"A rain check on what?" Dante asked, pretending confusion.
She smiled shyly. "The sooner you take care of that call, the sooner you'll find out!"
His fanged grin was wide and wicked as she literally pushed him out into the hall and then marched him down to the kitchen where the phone was still trilling impatiently. Dante picked up the receiver, barked, "This is Tager, hold on a sec!" and then covered the mouthpiece with his other hand.
"How about a lil' sneak preview to tide me over?" He pleaded, giving her his best woebegone look.
As her gaze roved over his naked torso, Miaka's expression made it clear that she found it pleasing. When her eyes finally met his, she gave him a smile that was pure sass.
"Patience is a virtue, Dante-kun." She teased softly. "I'll be waiting for you when you've finished."
He was about to explode, and she hadn't even touched him. "You're killin' me!"
"You look very healthy to me!" She countered, with a glance at the front of his cutoffs.
He made a quick grab for her. She danced just out of his reach, then tormented him with another shy but inviting, over-the-shoulder smile before padding out of the room.
After she had gone, Dante took a couple of deep, somewhat calming breaths before lifting the receiver to his mouth. If it was an emergency of some kind, he didn't want to sound too pissed off at the caller, even though he was determined to make short work of the call.
"Yo, Wolfman!" Craig's voice crackled cheerfully over the line. "What took ya so long?"
Dante gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes at the use his old high school nickname. Some people could never leave the past alone- and his best friend was one of them. "Yo, I have company! Whaddaya want?"
"You have company?" Craig repeated in astonishment.
"Yeah, and your sense of timing fucking sucks!"
There was a significant pause as Dante braced himself for the inevitable.
"Would said company be of the female persuasion?"
"I ain't sayin' nothin'!"
"It's Miaka, isn't it?" Craig chortled gleefully as his friend's silence confirmed the guess. "I knew it! You're goin' down, brother! Kiss yer single, solitary days goodbye!"
"Don't be too sure. There's another guy in th' picture. They've been dating a long time."
"So?" Craig scoffed. "From the way that cute lil' chickie was eyeing ya today, I'd say she's already chosen you over that big time desk jockey… and that's why I'm callin'! I figured out where I've seen Miaka before."
"Where's that?" Dante asked. His interest had peaked in spite of himself. Maybe this would explain the powerful sense of déjà vu that had been haunting him since he'd first laid eyes on her!
"Her picture's been in the community pages with the boyfriend."
Dante's stomach lurched with foreboding. "So who is he?"
"Jeez, you still don't know?"
"We happen t'have a lot more important things to talk about!"
"No need to bite my head off!" Craig grumbled. "Seems he's this big shot young executive that likes to make the corporate society scene. Thought you might be kinda worried when ya shouldn't be. His bein' Japanese, and havin' dough an' corporate social status don't mean that the guy's any more worthy of carryin' your jock strap!"
Like the proverbial big brother, Craig always had his back. "Yeah, okay. Sorry."
"So do you wanna know? Or are ya gonna ask her?"
Dante didn't and wouldn't. How many young, high powered Japanese executives could have settled in the Springs in the last couple years?
Better to hear it from Craig.
"What's his name?" He asked.
"Sukinami. Taka Sukinami."
To be continued!
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