Stomping over to her yellow backpack and hefting it up, Kagome turned on her heel and left Kaede’s hut with as much dignity as she could muster. As she pushed past the noren curtain, she met Jakken on the porch–still maintaining his loyal vigil. Leaning against the door frame, the imp hugged his nintoujou between his bony arms, faintly shivering as he met her with a wary glare.

Kagome had to admit, she admired his dedication.

“You can go in now,” she said. “He’s up.”

Without so much as a backward glance, the imp barreled across the threshold, nearly tripping over his staff. His high-pitched wail of “Milord!” hurt even Kagome’s dull human ears–she could only imagine how much it must have pierced Sesshoumaru’s. A small smile pulled at her lips as she set out for the bathhouse, a little more spring in her step.

Revenge, she thought, is sweet indeed.

As she crossed the yard, Entei lifted his head in question, part of an excavated root sticking out from the corner of his muzzle. The image was so very horse-like that Kagome had to stop and laugh.

“I’ll be back in a little while,” she told him with a pat, intelligent red eyes considering her for a moment before he went back to munching.

The winter bathhouse was pretty well deserted this time of day–so Kagome had the spring-fed tub all to herself. Relaxing into the balmy heat, she scrubbed at her grimy hair and skin, her injured left arm resting aloft on the ledge. It still hurt something awful, but while the wound was deep, it was exceedingly narrow–so narrow, in fact, that it hadn’t even required stitches. As long as she didn’t jar it too much, Kaede had told her, it should start to scab in a few days.

Glancing over at her bloodied bandages, Kagome’s stomach sank. Well, so much for that.

She remembered watching Sesshoumaru’s tongue trail through her blood on his palm, and a tremor seized her, despite the heat. The act had been so terrifying and alluring all at once. Terrifying and alluring…that was a pretty good way to describe the demon lord, in general.

Kagome froze.

Without even realizing it, she’d been running her fingertips over the set of bite marks on her left breast. They were faint, but terribly sensitive to the touch, her nipple hardening beneath her palm as she stroked them lightly again.

Darting a quick look around—even though she knew nobody else was there—she sank a little farther beneath the water’s surface, her hand falling from her breast to her inner thigh. Telling herself she just needed to wash anyway, she slipped her fingers into the cleft between her legs, testing herself.

Even in the water she was noticeably wet, and Kagome bit her lip as she probed a little deeper, her finger sinking just barely inside of her—like the point of his knuckle had the night before. Even now it seemed surreal that he had been touching her there. Wondering where else he might have touched her, she trailed her fingers up from her slick entrance and rolled them across the throbbing little bud that was situated higher up, framed by a dusting of soft, floating curls.

Closing her eyes, she imagined him looming over her once again—the hard muscles of his chest and abs glistening through the gap in his haori, his own hand cupping her between the thighs as his liquid gold eyes studied her with that dark, rapt hunger. She could feel his cool breath near her ear as he leaned in, his tongue sliding along the edge of her jaw.

“Do you want me, miko?”

“…yes,” she whimpered, her hips bucking reflexively into her hand.

Her fingers’ pace increased, but it was no longer her own touch that she felt. In her mind, his smooth, firm lips glided along her cheek, his mouth coming to rest just above her own. Her breath hitched, her muscles going perilously taut.

“Do you want me, Kagome?”

“Yes!” she gasped, her back bowing as she came hard against her mad, roving fingers. “Oh gods, yes!”

Kagome’s eyes flew open at her throaty scream, her orgasm surging through her like the waves now crashing violently against the sides of the tub. Belatedly, she clapped a wet hand over her mouth, heart pounding as she listened to  a couple of frightened doves outside on the roof take flight.

Hopefully, they’d been her only audience.

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi