Still more or less paralyzed, Kagome watched as Sesshoumaru sank down beside her. Clawed fingers descended to the ties of his hakama, loosening them before her eyes. When his hand disappeared beneath the parted silk, she felt her paralysis begin to lift, her damp fingers twitching against her swollen, needy skin.

“That’s what you were doing the other day, wasn’t it?” she murmured, her neck craning to catch sight of him through the opening of his pants.

“Yes,” he said, giving her no more than a glimpse of his striped wrist as it rose and fell with his slow, steady strokes. His voice was lower and rougher than usual, but his tone left no room to be questioned. “Touch yourself now. I want to see.”

Belatedly, she realized it was his left hand he was stroking himself with. Even before his amputation, Kagome was pretty sure he’d favored his right. A stray, dirty thought crossed her mind–something that Yuka had once mentioned, about how guys would sometimes use their less dominant hand because it felt more like someone else’s. Aroused by this thought, her own hand resumed its course, the pads of her fingers slipping and swirling with increasing fluidity as she imagined him imagining her.

She could see the outline of him now, his erection rising through the silk–straining the fabric as he continued to grow beneath his fierce attentions. Her eyes widened, her breath and motions quickening at the sheer size of him. She couldn’t imagine fitting him inside her–the idea of even attempting to was frightening and erotic all at once.

“There’s no way,” she whispered.

“No way of what?” he faintly growled, his sharp eyes fastened on the shape of her roving fingers, the flex of her tendons beneath the delicate skin of her wrist.

“No way you’ll fit,” she said, the words coming out as little more than a whimper.

And now his piercing gaze was locked with hers, the assurance in it setting her sizzling nerves ablaze.

“I will.”

Her breath hitched, her left hand scrambling awkwardly to unfasten and tug down her jeans. The air was warmer today, but still unquestionably cool as it hit her bare thighs, her already hard nipples threatening to bore through her sweater. But she needed the space to move. She needed to have her fingers inside her–she needed to have something inside her, or else she felt certain she would die right there on the spot.

Freed from the confines of her jeans, she reached down with her slick right hand, the crotch of her panties stretching out as her hand pulled back, delving two fingers into her drenched, aching heat. Her back bowed at the bliss of penetration, Sesshoumaru’s expression darkening ferally at the sight. His breath was coming quicker now, his posture tensed as if poised to strike. Red crept steadily into his eyes, the normally smooth stripes on his face growing jagged and wide.

His hand worked furiously over his clothed length, Kagome’s fingers striving to keep pace. Her walls fluttered, her stomach drawing taut as that familiar pressure built within her, heightening the pleasure of each sensation–when, suddenly, she felt her wrist being ripped away, her cry of protest transforming abruptly as Sesshoumaru’s touch replaced her own.

“Do you see what you reduce me to?” he thundered, his fingers curving within her as they plunged. “Do you see, Kagome?”

The sound of him speaking her name arrested her as ever, her misty blue eyes striving to focus beyond the way he was so perfectly plundering her sex. She watched him—still relentlessly stoking his own pleasure, as much on the verge of unraveling from it as she was herself. In this state of vulnerability, he revealed himself to her, and she could see how much he desired her and how much he resented himself for it. He was in torment because of her, and her heart ached for him as much as her body.

“I see,” she said softly, her damp fingers dipping beneath the loosened hem of his hakama, gliding lightly over the smooth, burning base of his shaft. “I see you…”

His jaw clenched even as his eyes melted with pleasure, a ragged groan catching deep in his throat. Hot fluid trailed down to her hand as she convulsed at last around his buried fingers, losing herself along with him.

She felt so keenly empty as his hand withdrew, a small gasp escaping her as he gripped her wetly by the chin. His eyes glared into hers— gold once more, but no less ferocious.

“What you felt just now,” he said to her lowly, heavily, “was nothing.”

He rose, vanishing in a flash of white. Bonelessly, Kagome fell back against the rock, her mind and body still reeling in the aftermath of her release. There was a promise in those parting words of his, and she trembled even now, anticipating their fulfillment.

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi