Kagome sighed as the last of her orgasmic convulsions rippled through her, her dizzy head rising from the strange pelt behind her–which may, or may not, have just grazed along the outer swell of her breast. Holding her rear-end captive in his claws, Sesshoumaru raised her hips to his mouth, his face tilting as he fit his lips to her and drank in her latest release.

The current score, if she was tallying it up correctly, was now 3 to 2. In his typical superior fashion, Sesshoumaru seemed determined to one-up her–not that she had any real grounds to complain about it.

Through the lingering fog of her pleasure, she watched as he drew back, his red tongue gliding over her hot, sated flesh, golden eyes pinning her own. Thoroughly, he licked away her wetness, the increased pressure he was now applying to the overwrought bundle of nerves at her apex once again seeming counterproductive to the supposed “cleaning” effort. Kagome whimpered, writhing in protest.

“Too—too much,” she choked out, Sesshoumaru’s eyes darkening ferally as he pressed his tongue to her that much harder.

Kagome gasped as what felt like 10,000 volts of white-hot pleasure jolted through her, turning her to a pile of human mush on the spot. 4 to 2, her melted brain counted as Sesshoumaru loomed over her, lowering his smug mouth to hers. She tasted the tang of her own arousal, his rough tongue pressing into hers insistently.

Way to literally rub it in, Kagome grumbled inwardly, kissing him back nonetheless.

As she broke away for air at last, he moved his mouth to her neck instead, his fangs scraping enticingly over her pulse point. Kagome shivered, threading her fingers through his silky hair as she urged his face up to hers.

“It’s getting late,” she entreated. “Maybe we should actually clean up now? If you came looking for me, Kouga-kun and the others are probably searching, too.”

At the mention of Kouga, Sesshoumaru’s sultry gaze cooled. Kagome yelped as he abruptly stood, gathering her up like a sack of potatoes.

“Very well,” he said, his implacable face an inch from hers.

Kagome had half a second of uncertainty before he tossed her into the spring with a resounding splash. Spluttering, she surfaced, glaring over at him as he slipped gracefully into the pool. With a huff, she paddled over, joining him near the ledge.

“That was rude,” she groused, the daiyoukai ignoring her as he submerged.

Massaging her stinging side, Kagome shook her head as she turned, reaching for her bath products. She was just rinsing the shampoo from her hair when she saw Sesshoumaru inspecting the bottle in his hands.

“What is this material?” he asked, little ribbons of plastic curling away beneath the scratch of his claws.

Fearing for the safety of her few remaining modern luxuries, Kagome figured she’d better speak fast. The way he was narrowing his eyes at the English brand name wasn’t putting her any more at ease.

“It’s called ‘plastic’—and it’s harmless,” she added quickly, Sesshoumaru giving her a look.

“You cleanse your hair with this?” Flipping open the cap, he pointed it down and squeezed, a long jet of her precious shampoo streaming down into the water.

Panicking, Kagome slammed her palm over the opening to dam it up before all was lost, Sesshoumaru’s curious gaze slanting to her. She stared at him in exasperation. He really was a force of destruction.

“…Yeah,” she answered wearily. “Where I’m from, we use this stuff to wash our hair because it lathers and conditions a lot better than regular soap.”

“So I see,” he responded evenly. “But it will not be invented for some time.”

“Right,” Kagome nodded—before she abruptly paled, gazing at him in fearful shock. “You…you know…”

“That you have traveled here from the future,” Sesshoumaru finished for her, righting and re-capping the bottle with perfect nonchalance. “Yes, miko—I know.”

“H-how did you…?”

Sesshoumaru’s gaze slid pointedly to her open backpack. Spilling out onto the ground, along with a towel and a dog-eared comic book, was her old school planner, the year 1998 emblazoned on the cover.

“Ah,” she said, sinking neck-deep into the spring.

If there was an Olympic event for stupidity, Kagome would easily take the gold. She couldn’t believe she’d been so careless. Bracing herself for the sudden collapse of the space-time continuum, she retreated into the ledge. It was a tense moment, awaiting the end of the universe. As Sesshoumaru approached her, her wary gaze shifted to him.

Regarding her briefly, he pressed the shampoo bottle into her hand as he turned. “You may  wash this Sesshoumaru’s hair.”

Kagome blinked, the tension bleeding from her like a stuck pig. It seemed, at least for now, that the immortal demon lord was content with the knowledge that there would be superior hair-care products in 500 years.

“…Gee, thanks,” she returned dryly, her lips twitching in a grin even as she lamented the toll he was going to take on her diminishing shampoo stock.

All that long, gorgeous hair… Kagome’s fingers itched as she uncapped the bottle and flipped it upside-down above her eager hand.

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi