Kagome found her still-damp yukata hanging in the branch of a nearby tree. Snatching it down, she stalked toward the stream that lay at the edge of the abandoned village. Her jaw clenched as Sesshoumaru’s last words to her replayed in her head. What he could have meant by them filled her with furious suspicion.

As the pebbled shore came into sight, she practically threw her belongings down into the sand and waded into the chilly water with her haori still wrapped around her. White fabric billowed above her hips. Kagome pushed it down as she turned her back purposefully to the village and began to wash herself beneath the cloth. Her inner thighs were laced with the slick, grisly evidence of her pleasure—her folds, her cheeks, her curls as well. Scraping her nails over even her most delicate skin, Kagome scoured herself free of that sinful grime.

Her hackles rose as she sensed the one who had sullied her approaching her from behind. Crossing her arms defensively over her chest, she turned partway toward him, glaring.

“Come to spy on me again?”

Undeterred by the venom in her voice, Sesshoumaru continued to walk toward her across the overgrown grass. Grateful that he’d at least had the decency to fully clothe himself this time, Kagome watched as he lowered himself gracefully onto one of the low boulders lining the bank. Cross-legged, he adjusted the glossy fur draping over his shoulder before meeting her gaze with infuriating calm.

“When have I spied on you?” he asked.

Kagome’s arms fell with a splash. Her fists balled angrily at her sides as she rounded upon him. “Don’t play dumb with me, Sesshoumaru. I know that you saw Inuyasha and I together—the very morning after you threw him into that shed and nearly cracked open his skull!”

Golden eyes trailed briefly over her exposed front before returning to hers. “Observing what takes place in plain sight,” he said with measured pause, “can hardly be considered spying.”

Flushing, Kagome wrenched her gaping haori closed once more. Turning from him, she stormed out toward the middle of the stream.

“Well,” she snapped back at him over her shoulder, “you certainly have a very narrow interpretation of the idea.”

“Enlighten me, then.”

Kagome grit her teeth, shivering as the cool current rushed over her breasts. “Just because a door is open doesn’t mean it’s acceptable for you to look through it. You intruded on our privacy, and that’s both creepy and offensive.”

Giving Sesshoumaru no choice but to mull this over, Kagome submerged herself fully below the surface of the stream. Raking her nails through her tangled hair, she cleansed her long locks as well as she could without soap on hand. She’d meant to give her hair and body a proper washing, but then he’d shown up and ruined that plan—just like he’d ruined everything else.

Re-emerging with a glower, she sloshed back to shore. Her arms were banded around her breasts, but she couldn’t shield every part of her from his view. Now translucent at best, her soaked haori clung to every dip and curve. She could practically feel his eyes moving over her as she strode past him, pointedly refusing to meet his shameless stare.

“So,” he said, as if picking up the thread of a perfectly normal conversation, “if the observance causes offense, it is ‘spying’.”

Kagome didn’t like the insinuation in his tone. Blatantly ignoring the statement, she kept her back to him as she stripped off her haori and drew her yukata around her shoulders.

“If that’s the case,” he continued implacably, “then I wasn’t spying on you that day. Nor am I now.”

Fuming, Kagome spun on her heel. “If you can’t tell that I’m offended, Sesshoumaru, then you have about as much emotional awareness as that rock you’re sitting on.”

Unfazed by the insult, he held her gaze. A breath of frustration hissed through the vise of her teeth. Yanking open her pack so hard the zipper nearly snapped, she began rifling through it in search of her toothbrush and toothpaste—desperate to get the lingering taste of him out of her mouth.

“Your indignation is a pretense,” he stated as Kagome viciously scrubbed. “You are fond of them, it seems.”

Spitting out a jet of minty foam, Kagome swiped a hand across her lips, shooting him a dark, reproving look. “Trust me, Sesshoumaru—I’m not pretending.”

“Why not ask me to leave, then, if I’m intruding?”

Kagome tensed. “…What good would that do? You can probably still see me from a mile away.”

Stuffing her toothbrush and toothpaste back into her pack, she retrieved her comb and set to work on her dripping, sex-snarled hair. As she winced at a particularly stubborn knot, Sesshoumaru’s shadow fell over her. Frowning, Kagome looked up from her crouched position. His gleaming eyes lanced into hers.

“You didn’t ask me to leave because you enjoy being discomfited by me. You enjoy it, because you are a masochist.” His voice pitched lower, the glinting tip of a fang showing as he darkly smiled. “Pain and humiliation…the act of punishment arouses you, does it not?”

Kagome stared at him. Her breath had gone still in her lungs. With trembling fingers, she thrust her comb into an outer pocket of her yellow backpack and rose swiftly to her feet.

“That’s disgusting,” she bit out, hefting one of the straps over her shoulders as she began to walk away.

Ripped from her, the pack crashed to the ground. Her hands flew out as he bore her down along with it. Kagome’s heart lurched in her chest when he tore the back of her yukata clean away. His claws wedged roughly between her bare thighs. Panting, she glanced back as he crushed his palm repeatedly against her captive sex. A low whimper smothered in her throat when the tips of his claws pricked her mound.

“You enjoy it,” he growled. The tightening of his clutch made her whimper again. “You enjoy what I do to you.”

Splitting her cheeks open, he ground against her there once, briefly—before cruelly and completely removing his touch. His hand was visibly damp as he brought it to his mouth before her. Kagome’s eyes flashed as she watched the slow, gloating glide of his tongue through her wetness. Pushing herself to her feet once again, she righted what she could of her shredded clothing, her tattered sense of self.

“If I’m such a masochist,” she seethed down at his kneeling form, “then what does that make you?”

Still gleaning himself of her taste, he met her hostile glare with primal, smoldering intensity. “The father of your child.”

Stricken, Kagome shrank from him, retreating a step before she turned and fled from him altogether.

---

Inuyasha ©  Rumiko Takahashi

Revised 9/3/22

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