The first rays of dawn filtered through the paper-covered shoji, casting soft, diffused light across the room. Sesshoumaru was wide awake, the experience of sharing the bed with Kagome had been, to put it mildly, harrowing.
Gazing at her tranquil face, one would never believe the animated antics of her slumber. In the dead of the night, she managed to commandeer all the blankets, wrapping herself up like a cocoon, leaving him cold and exposed. Her restless limbs were another force to be reckoned with. The number of times he narrowly dodged a direct elbow to his face or a kick to the groin area had him questioning his centuries of combat training.
And then there was the snoring—soft, rhythmic snores that would rise in crescendo before dropping into whispers. To add to that, her mumbled dream-talk was a jumbled mess of made-up words like "Wacdnalds" or "Starclucks". He would occasionally hear his name, which left him more intrigued than he cared to admit.
Yet, as he looked at her now, all that night's troubles seemed trivial. There was an inexplicable warmth that bubbled up within him. And just as he was lost in this reverie, Kagome shifted, draping her leg over his. Her thigh pressed dangerously close to his groin, and he felt an involuntary swallow clinch his throat.
Unaware of her provocative pose, Kagome murmured something unintelligible and slipped her hand under the collar of his kimono. Her fingers explored his chest, trailing fire on his skin. They brushed against his sensitive nipple, causing an unexpected jolt of sensations and redistribution of blood-flow.
Her eyelashes fluttered open, and it took a beat for reality to hit. Her eyes widened in horror, realizing the compromising position they were in. Sesshoumaru, in his fluster, sprang from the bed, nearly tripping over the futon in his haste.
"I... must attend to–, "he stammered, not meeting her eyes, or even completing the sentence. A perfect image of a cornered demon lord. Without bothering with a believable excuse, he fled the room, sliding the shoji closed behind him.
He pressed his back against the wall, trying to calm his racing heart, the thump echoing loudly in his ears. From beyond the door, he could also discern Kagome's equally rapid heartbeat.
An air of understanding had gradually descended on the fortress. The servants, with their inquisitive whispers and watchful eyes, all had started referring to Kagome as "her ladyship". It was a title that insinuated much more than just her place as a temporary resident. It was a title that hinted at permanence, a silent acknowledgment of her status as Sesshoumaru's partner and the lady of the house.
Gone were the days of Sesshoumaru's disdainful silence or clipped retorts whenever he heard the title. His initial irritation had mellowed into resignation, and ultimately, concurrence. He could no longer ignore the role she had inadvertently taken up in his life, and he found himself strangely at peace with it.
As days passed, the thought of Kagome leaving had turned from a welcome relief to a looming uncertainty.
Taneiko, being the senior servant, approached his master with a particular request. "Her ladyship wishes to have a specific dish prepared," he began, casting a wary glance at Sesshoumaru. "But the ingredients are rather hard to come by, my lord."
Sesshoumaru didn't hesitate, his response immediate: "See to it that whatever she wants, she shall have. No expenses are to be spared."
The servant was stunned into silence. It wasn't like Sesshoumaru to be so forthcoming, especially regarding demands that were typically deemed trivial. A look of profound bafflement passed over Taneiko's features as he tried to deduce why his master was acting so out of character. Could there be a spell at play? Or perhaps some hidden strategy?
The day was drawing to a close when Taneiko found Itachi in the quiet of the fortress gardens, lost in her thoughts. The weasel servant's eyes were far away, following the swift flight of a bird against the orange-streaked sky. The soft crunch of Taneiko's steps on the gravel path announced his approach.
Taneiko's voice queried while he rummaged his vest for a pipe. "What's got you lookin' so chuffed, eh?"
Itachi turned, a slight smile softening her pensive features. "Just been thinkin', ain't I?" she said, her eyes twinkling with a secret.
Taneiko raised an eyebrow, chewing on the handle of his pipe and crossing his arms over his chest. "Spit it out, then. What's been bouncin' round that noggin of yours?"
With a chuckle, Itachi replied, "Our gaffer... Lord Sesshoumaru... he's got 'isself smitten, ain't he?"
Taneiko's eyes widened, he nearly dropped the pipe from his gaping mouth. "You're havin' a giraffe!" He spluttered, incredulous. "Our Lord Sesshoumaru? You're pullin' me leg."
"Nah, mate," Itachi responded with a shake of her head, her smile more pronounced now. "Seen it with me own peepers. The way 'e gazes at our ladyship... there's summat there, ain't there? A soft spot, a fondness, that ain't normal for 'im."
Taneiko stood, his thoughts whirring. The idea of their gruff, distant master harboring sentiments of puppy-love was almost laughable. But recalling recent happenings, the pieces began to fall into place.
Silence enveloped them, as Taneiko mulled over Itachi's words. As mad as it sounded, Itachi was on to something. Their lord, their home, was undergoing a transformation, one that stemmed from the most unexpected source - their master's heart. Love had seeped into Sesshoumaru's life, taking the form of Kagome.
A stack of fabric samples, each dyed in an array of breathtaking colors, was spread out across a wide table in Sesshoumaru's chamber. The demon lord, in his trademark stoic manner, stood observing the selection, a deep furrow creasing his brow. The task of selecting fabrics for his new attires was proving more complicated than expected.
Kagome had been seeking Sesshoumaru out to discuss a scroll she recently borrowed from him. Approaching his chambers, she noticed the door slightly ajar and hesitated for a moment before peeking in. The sight of the vibrant fabrics immediately caught her eye.
"Sesshoumaru," she began with genuine curiosity, "What are you doing with all these fabrics?"
His gaze shifted to her, but he remained silent. She took a moment to study the materials on display before speaking again. "You seem to be in a bit of a fix," she commented lightly. "Would you like some help with choosing?"
Without a word, he moved aside, granting her access to the table. He watched as she brushed her fingers over the fabrics, her eyes bright with the same enthusiasm she had shown when picking out the colors of the blooming ikebana.
Kagome's hands paused over a bolt of silk the color of the winter sky at dusk, a shade that vividly reminded her of Sesshoumaru's arresting eyes. She tentatively picked it up, the silk cool against her fingertips, and held it up to him. "This one would look good on you," she suggested. The color mirrored his gaze, those intense golden eyes that seemed to peer into the deepest parts of her soul.
Sesshoumaru glanced at the fabric, then Kagome whose reflection was captured within the silky weave. A now familiar urge stirred within him. He cleared his throat, breaking his own silence. "I require your assistance," he stated, his voice steady. "I need you to take measurements for the tailor."
He saw her flinch slightly at his words, her wide eyes quickly meeting his before turning away. A blush colored her cheeks as she nodded, her fingers slowly retracting from the silk to reach for the measuring rope. The professionalism of the task at hand laid a veneer of propriety over the underlying tension between them.
'What am I feeling?' Kagome pondered, acutely aware of the accelerated pace of her heart. The atmosphere felt charged. As her fingers touched the measuring rope, she took a steadying breath, silently reminding herself to focus. 'I'm just helping him out with measurements,' she told herself, though the proximity to Sesshoumaru, the magnetic pull she felt towards him, spoke otherwise.
As Kagome stepped closer, Sesshoumaru found himself holding his breath, her nearness doing strange things to his senses. To her, it felt like they were trapped in a dance neither knew the steps for. She could feel the warmth radiating from him, the heat making her almost light-headed.
He watched her, observed her hands as they worked, her fingers deftly moving the measuring rope across his body. Each brush of her fingertips against him felt electrifying, an inexplicable sensation that left him hungering for more.
Every point of contact, every glance exchanged, sent shivers down Kagome's spine. She was lost in the intricate details of his physique, the regality of his stance, and the intensity of his aura.
A part of him yearned to ask her to examine him physically again, to have her touch him, not just over the clothes, but his naked skin. A ludicrous thought that he quickly dismissed as childish. And yet, he found himself captivated by the way her hands seemed to trace his form with such care, such delicacy, as if she was memorizing the contours of his body.
Before he could comprehend it, the pull was too great. His hand reached out, tugging her closer. He grabbed her hand that held the measuring rope and she let it fall to the floor, their performative professionalism giving way to the simmering desire that had been slowly building up. Kagome didn't pull away, instead, she readily leaned into his touch, her hands moving up to his chest, a sigh escaping her lips. Their mouths met in a ravenous kiss, their surroundings forgotten, the fabric samples left neglected on the table.
The air in the room suddenly became thin, as though they were atop a high peak where oxygen was scarce and they were left panting. Sesshoumaru's grip on Kagome tightened, pulling her against him. His hopes for how the scenario would progress was rigidly pressed against Kagome's lower abdomen. Her surprised inhale was hungrily swallowed as he claimed her lips with his. Their bodies were flush against each other, and he could hear the rapid flutter of her heart. A bolt of electric heat shot through him at their contact, driving any rational thoughts from his mind.
In return, Kagome wound her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer to him. The silk of her clothes felt like a poor barrier against the heat radiating from his body. Sesshoumaru's hand moved to her back, walking her backwards and pushing her against the wall, adding an element of stability to their passionate entanglement.
A persisting thought had driven him mad ever since their first kiss, and it had only grown tenfold on the night he spent ensconced in the warmth of her bed. He hadn't been able to detect Inuyasha's mating marks. Could it be due to the diluted blood of the half-demon? To the keen senses honed by pure demonic lineage, an unmarked female signified a maiden free to be claimed.
Such a mark, however faint, must exist. Its discovery might quell the incessant, maddening obsession he had with this human woman.
His other hand ventured up her side, caressing the smooth fabric of her robes, trying to tug her attire open. He needed access to her neck to prove his brother's claim on her. Find that indelible mark on the sacred expanse of her being. Lest he'd lose all will and power to fight against his desire for her.
Gently, he pulled her kimono aside, baring her neck and collarbone. Sesshoumaru's sharp gaze moved over every inch, every crevice, not finding the mark he sought. He verified his findings, or lack thereof, with his lips. Did Inuyasha not know of the ritual of marking? It seemed improbable as it was something that was compelled by blood and instinct. Things that demanded Sesshoumaru to sink his canines into the delectable skin of her untouched neck. He groaned in aggrieved arousal, in tempestuous battle with his very nature.
Kagome sensed his indecision, feeling a pang of vulnerability under his scrutiny. But she wasn't fearful; she was drowning in her own desire of him. Every brush of his body against hers sent waves of need coursing through her, a longing she hadn't realized she harbored. She craved his touch, the sensation of his hands mapping out her form, the feeling of being wholly desired.
Sesshoumaru's hand descended further, the fabric of her kimono parting under his touch. He rolled her attire higher on her hip, revealing her legs. With the added mobility of her freed lower body, he hoisted her up, positioning her heated core against his probing groin. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist and cried softly when his manhood grinded itself against her. In an unintelligent primal haze, Sesshoumaru began to thrust his hips back and forth.
Kagome's hands moved, fingers tracing the muscles of his chest through the fabric of his under-robe, making him shudder under her touch. His fingers trailed over the bare skin of her thighs, every inch he explored making her seep with wetness. When his hand reached her buttocks, he paused, fingers brushing against a foreign barrier he had not anticipated. Kagome felt the investigative press of his fingers against the soft fabric of her panties, a modern contraption he clearly was unfamiliar with. Regardless, with laughable ease, he was able to locate the part that was soaked through. His fingertips, quickly becoming slick with her longing, rubbed circles around her clit and entrance.
She cried out, hanging unto him in desperation. The violent throb inside and raw hunger to be fulfilled by his cock made the stark reality of their situation come crashing down on Kagome.
"Wait," she managed to utter, pulling away from him with a gasp, her wide eyes locked onto his, their labored breaths heavy.
The silence in the room was deafening after Kagome's plea for stopping. She took a deep breath, her gaze cast downwards. "Sesshoumaru," she began, her voice shaky. "I'm married."
Sesshoumaru remained silent, his eyes carefully observing her, though his hand still lingered on her thigh. The words left unsaid hung up in the air, 'not just to anyone, but to your brother.'
Kagome continued, her voice barely a whisper. "I've... I've behaved poorly," she admitted, the guilt evident in her voice. "I've led you on, and I apologize. It wasn't fair of me."
Sesshoumaru stilled, her rejection of him was punctuated by the scent of her arising tears. Carefully, he eased his hold on her, allowing her to slide off his lap. Kagome hastily began rearranging her disheveled kimono, the movement frantic in her attempt to regain some semblance of propriety and distance.
He sensed her intentions, the determination in her voice. "I have to go back," she declared, tucking rogue strands of hair behind her ears. "Regardless of the rat demon threat."
His mind raced, possibilities and arguments flitted through his thoughts, but his response was instinctive, almost desperate. "Kagome," he pleaded, his usual composed demeanor completely breaking. "Stay."
Kagome faltered, her surprised gaze meeting his pleading one. The sincerity in his voice seemed to give her pause, her eyes filled with indecision. Sesshoumaru pressed on, "I won't... I won't kiss you again," he promised, his voice heavy.
He could see the surprise on her face, quickly replaced by a hint of... disappointment?
Kagome took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving his. There was a tenderness in her gaze. "Only if you keep your word," she responded, her voice steady, but he could hear the faint tremor of uncertainty.
The affirmation felt like a victory, yet the condition tied to it felt like shackles. As if the promise of distance was both their redemption and their punishment. As Kagome walked out of the room, leaving a tense Sesshoumaru behind, he found himself torn between relief and regret. Relief that Kagome was staying, and regret for a promise that he was unsure of keeping.
He stormed out of his chamber in search of Taneiko.
Sesshoumaru swiftly located his tanuki servant at the gardens, accompanied by the kitchen maid. Sesshoumaru didn't explain his command, simply decreed: "Stop all searches for Inuyasha."
A/N: Good job there looking for Inuyasha for a whole of *looks at her bare wrist* fifteen minutes, Sesshy!
Answers for reader feedback: Kagome is 23 (being 18 when she married Inuyasha five years ago). Rin is "canonically" 16, but in my story she's closer to 14 or 15. As described in the first chapter: "On the cusps of adolescence" (late bloomer). But no, Rin is not a baby in this story. Though her age is still pretty irrelevant here as according to the "real" canon (I don't take Yashahime into account as it wasn't penned by Takahashi, I review Yashahime more as fanfiction) Sesshoumaru left Rin to be raised by Kaede/the humans. So, Sesshoumaru does not have a say when or IF Rin will ever get married. But even though girls _did_ get married as young as tweens in the feudal era, marriage was a union of convenience and lineage, and didn't have the same romantic notions we associate with it today. Girls were married at a young age, but they would often live and mature into adulthood in their childhood homes. But I digress, this isn't a story about Rin.
Anywho, it will be a slippery and smutty downhill from here on out. xD
"I won't kiss you again" AHHAHHAAAHHAAA MY ASS HE WON'T :''DD (Sorry, spoiler? ^^;)