Chapter 7: Center

Despite Rin's rejection, Sesshoumaru persisted. He allowed her to continue her work, but tormented her the entire time, rubbing her clothed sex to orgasm after orgasm. Breathing in her scent, nuzzling her neck, kneading and feeling and massaging her slight figure, and every once in a while, turning her around to lift her chin and place feathery light kisses on her lips. She had to stop him, always feeling the passion grow and the fire flare to life. When he pressed against her, his head on her shoulder, she couldn't and didn't want to struggle. Upon her sculpture's completion, there was nothing to distract her from him anymore. Defeated, she gave in.

It was a big mistake.

Drawn into another mind-shattering orgasm, she didn't notice as he picked her up and carried her to the cushions. Claws rid her of her vest, shirt, and skirt. His fiery touch scoured her slender shoulders to her breasts, kneading as lips pressed light against her own. Feeling his sex press against hers once more, she moaned a shaky gasp. His tongue dove into her mouth, exploring. And she didn't find it strange, adjusting the moment they started their little dance of tongues as she wrapped her arms about his shoulders, hands grasping at strands of silver, tightening, begging for more. Suddenly, he was rubbing against her in long steady strokes, his sex and her sex unable to touch each other, but taking and taking the heat and pleasure.

She threw back her head, beading with sweat and gasping, panting for release. Sliding together, pressing and rubbing against each other, the sound of his growl, deep and vicious, made her sex pulse in want, throbbing for sweet invasion. "Sesshoumaru," she moaned, and his strokes became harder out of desperation. Moving with him, encasing his waist in her legs, she whispered, "More…" The rumbling of his chest above her wetted her, made her body shiver and plead for more. She couldn't stand it!

"Sesshoumaru," she whined.

In an instant, he moved her to the cold floor, only her head supported by the cushions. She shivered, exposed to the cold night air and the concrete against her back, but clutched to his bare warmth, his heat ensnaring her all over. Soon, he would be inside her, she knew, and her body pleaded for him to hurry, stop the agony. His bare member was hard like stone, still stroking her entrance, teasing her.

"Sesshoumaru," she pleaded, pushing forth her chest, her breast brushing against his hardened pectorals. He smirked above her, not that she could see, so taken in bliss.

"Do you see," he whispered, "You belong to me. Every inch of your body," he kissed her jaw, "every moan," he pressed his member harder and she moaned wantonly with a shutter, "every hope and desire," he stilled, proving his point as she trembled in need of more, "You belong to me…"

Two claws suddenly plunged inside her as he pulled his pelvis away. Within instants, she was moving on the fingers. He didn't have to thrust his fingers in and out, only scissor gently as she did all the work for him. Then adding a third finger, letting her go on. As something ripped from his claws, his eyes widened down at the withering desperate girl beneath him. Didn't she feel the pain? An orgasm seized her, his name on the tremble of her lips. He waited, but she knew.

"I can take pain," she whispered softly, "The breaking of my virginity is nothing." She paused, hesitantly pulling up her right hand and before his eyes, removing the glove to show him what she had done to herself. His eyes didn't widen. For hours, he had smelled the injury, but with a look at it now, it was worse than he had expected.

Meekly mustering a smile, she explained, "Red paint wouldn't have justified you, so…," she turned her gaze away, "I used my blood."

He leaned forward, "I agree," he murmured, "Only your blood," and in the course of a single moment, he took away his fingers, he thrust in his member, he grasped her hair and turned her head to the side, and his fangs buried in her pulse as he pumped in and out, a strong pace, slow but sharp with each thrust. "Sesshoumaru," she gasped.

He lapped at the mark on her shoulder, ignoring her plea. Ignored the desperate buck of her hips, ignored the shuttering pleas in airy breaths, ignored the grasping hands clawing at his back, but not for long as he paused, tormenting his lustful charge in her call for release. She continued moving, tightening around his member. Her lashes fluttered to reveal misted brown irises, at which, he smirked knowingly, switching positions so that she found herself on top of him. Brushing his lips against her cheek, her lashes, and her brow, he whispered, "Move for me."

Instantly, she sat up, the palms of her hands pressing against his bare chest, unintentionally digging her nails as she lifted and thrust down again and again. Thrust after thrust, forcing his member deeper and deeper, she couldn't see anymore. Unable to notice when he began to respond, his claws digging into her hips, pulling down and lifting as her hands latched onto his shoulders and her elbows burrowed into his sides. Throwing back her head, covered in sweat, panting as she rode the demon to release, she heard the slap of their flesh, her own heady pants and his growls as she murmured his name. Heated lips smothered her own, a tongue dancing with and against hers, she didn't know, she only felt him and drowned in him, his heat and his desire. And he drowned in hers, swallowed and plunging into the insanity, the heat of her core, falling with her want and need.

Then her eyes shot open as together, they struck with lights exploding in her head, she gasped and trembled uncontrollably. She needed to hit that spot one more time. But with opened eyes, she caught his molting stare filled with lust, watching her, loving her. One last thrust, one last punch to the nerves of unbridled pleasure, one last glance at his ensnaring entrancing golden gaze, she was gone.

His name caught on her lips. The walls disappeared, the floor no longer held them, the confines of her body were released, it was his soul and hers, it was the flames of pleasure hotter than in the depths of hell, burned alive with ecstasy. Something still moving in her. And suddenly, something hit, shooting inside her, pooling and filling her. She became light and air, disappearing with the world that disappeared to her, bringing him with her as they drowned, intertwined, became one with each other.

As she fell upon him, her name resounded in his whisper. "Rin…"

Yet she didn't feel so complete.

- - - - - - - - - - -

How many times had they gone through it? How many more times did he fill her and make love to her? How many more times did she have him in her grasp and feel almost whole? As she gained back her senses, she questioned and questioned, yet found she didn't mind. The companion she craved was holding her in his arms.

At least, she wanted to believe it, but there were two issues, his possessive claim and the memories bottled inside, crying to her never to be released. Why didn't she want to remember? What was there, scared to be faced and distressed with the feeling of being broken?

Rin shifted out of his loose embrace and lifted herself off of him. She knew he was awake, but he was allowing her a moment. Pretending to rest, she looked a moment at his calm expression. Before she stood, she kissed him on the lips, a somewhat passionate kiss that she didn't want him to respond to. Probably catching it in her scent, he didn't.

With ease, she moved away and stalked over to the sculpture she had finished several hours ago. The woman emerged from the cover of the maple tree. Is that like me, she wondered. Circling the sculpture, she thought over how similar it seemed. Sesshoumaru, a tree of stone like the blooming maple tree of silver, red, and blue leaves, still and apathetic, unmoved, strong and defiant, holding up the young woman, her, yet she was trying to leave, to be taken by the winds.

Last night, Sesshoumaru had marked her. He claimed her; he said she belonged to him. But before all of it, he said to remember. There was something in her memory, the memories of a life before her own, a life back in the times of war and chaos in feudal Japan. This man, this demon wanted her to remember. Her memories, the life long past now, screamed at her "Don't open the chest!" At the same time, she could hear her past weeping, mourning. Was it Sesshoumaru she truly wanted? He was and wasn't like the one she dreamed of. Hundreds of times, she had always mulled over the idea of a female as if she expected her companion to be female. So then who was she waiting for? Who was her heart truly sitting still and patiently passing time in hope they would come? With it, she had a feeling there was the need in remembering to ask, What was their relation to Sesshoumaru?

Rin gazed down again at the sculpture. The woman's hands were reaching towards the sky, but the more she looked, the more Rin realized the meaning was becoming distorted. It wasn't reaching, it was catching. What was the young woman trying to catch? As the woman tried to leave, she was also trying to take hold of something. Knowing this was a part of it all, the center of all her distress and anguish, spurred from love and yearning, she had all the pieces surrounding, but the piece of the center.

"What am I trying to catch," Rin murmured, tears suddenly streaking down her cheeks, "Who am I waiting for?"