It was a coincidence, he supposed.

Or perhaps it had only begun as such. In truth, Sesshoumaru couldn’t remember when this routine had become established, or by whom—if in fact, one could call it a routine. It just hadn’t seemed worth noting at the time, and he had developed a habit over the centuries of quickly dispensing with frivolous memories.

Yet presently, he frowned, and found himself racking his mind just the same.

“Ah!” Kagome exclaimed, seizing at something buried in the depths of that ponderous yellow ‘backpack’ she insisted on hauling around. “Here it is! For a second there, I was afraid I’d squished it.”

Breaking his distant stare, Sesshoumaru glanced aside, grudgingly curious. Perched on a stretch of weathered stone, the miko sat, sharing the shade of the hilltop tree against which he himself was reclining. It was high noon, and they were both in their accustomed spots—Kagome for her ‘lunch break,’ as she called it, and he for his ‘people break’, as she also called it.

Sesshoumaru had never bothered to point out the irony.

While the relative solitude of this place was welcome enough, it was the view which had first attracted him. For her, he supposed it was the same. With the tree cover overhead, the midday glare was softened and filtered, and the rolling valleys toward the west unfurled in a vista of green, gilded splendor.

Even still, the dim bustle of village activity was a background noise he had to consciously dismiss in order to appreciate it fully, and a part of him envied Kagome and her dull human hearing. It was an envy which sharpened furiously as she shrilled in delight.

“Ooh! It’s a good one, all right!”

Withdrawing her swallowed arm, Kagome clasped a strange, oblong piece of fruit in her hand. It was unlike any Sesshoumaru had ever seen before. Cylindrical and yellow and subtly curved, it emitted a scent which he found particularly cloying, and vaguely resembled a root vegetable or a squash—

Or, he reflected snidely, a penis.

“What is it?” he asked her.

“It’s called a ‘banana’,” Kagome replied, turning it over in her hands with a grin. “They’re my absolute favorite fruit—although I rarely get to enjoy them these days.”

Sesshoumaru arched a brow. “And why is that?”

The miko glowered. “Because some people around here think that they look like penises.”

Sesshoumaru’s face betrayed no reaction. Unlike ‘some people’, he had mastery over his words and expressions.

“It’s so immature,” Kagome continued to grouse, the overlarge fruit jutting out at an obscene tilt as she planted her hands on her hips. “Grown men, and they sit there snickering and making ‘dick jokes’ until they’re rolling around in the dirt like a couple of pigs.” She shook her head in disgust, before beaming over at him. “Anyway, it’s nice to be around a guy whose mind’s not stuck in the gutter.”

Wondering briefly what gutters had to do with anything, Sesshoumaru replied with a noncommittal, “Hn.”

Satisfied, Kagome returned her attention to the fruit in her grasp. Rather intently, he watched as she weighed it in her palms. Her small, slender fingers couldn’t quite manage to encircle its prodigious girth, as she smoothed her hands up and down and around it.

“Kami, this is a nice, big, thick one,” she breathed. Sesshoumaru’s eyes widened slightly as she brought the banana to her nose and sniffed, rubbing the length of it from cheek to cheek. “Mmm, smells so yummy…”

For the first time Sesshoumaru could recall, he felt a distinct pang of commiseration for his impetuous half-brother. Yet by brute force of will, he kept his tongue in check, and continued simply to stare.

Blushing, Kagome caught his eye. “I know I’m dragging this out a bit,” she confessed. “It’s just been so long since I’ve really gotten to savor one of these. In the past, when we were hunting for Jewel shards, the few times I brought bananas on our travels, I had to gobble them down so fast—it was always such a shame.”

Catching himself on the verge of nodding in assent, Sesshoumaru closed his eyes briefly to regain his composure. Though he’d scarcely noticed the warmness of the hour before, he now felt distinctly overheated.

“This one really has a fine shape to it,” Kagome observed with a murmur. Holding the banana aloft by its short, stubby stem, she ran her eyes slowly from the point of it to the base. “Not dead straight, but not too curved, either.”

“Is it that important?” Sesshoumaru bit out.

As he cursed himself inwardly, the miko blinked. “Well, it’s a matter of personal preference, I guess. But for me there’s definitely a sweet spot. I like it best with just a little bit of bend to it—too stick-straight and my arms get tired from having to hold it up higher, too bent and I’ll have to keep rotating and readjusting my grip.” She flashed him a quick smile. “Now I’m sounding like I have some sort of oral fixation, but I just love when guiding it in feels natural—when the whole thing just kind of glides right down my throat.”

Sesshoumaru swallowed dryly, gritting his fangs. He was certain he could show her another angle she would most definitely like—it was pressing hot and hard against the underside of his armor.

Yet once again, he bit his tongue, abashed even at this inner lack of restraint. Kagome was no longer a girl, but she was still a miko—too naive and innocent to comprehend that she was inundating him with this deluge of innuendo.

Then, she swirled her fingertip so lightly and teasingly over the banana’s tapered point that Sesshoumaru had to dig his claws into the earth for purchase.

“There’s a technique for eating these tip-first,” Kagome mused aloud, “but I’ve never really picked it up. I always just start in at the base.”

Well, Sesshoumaru thought savagely, there was nothing wrong with that.

Kagome pressed the stem aside. With a light snapping sound, the fruit’s thick yellow skin broke open, revealing the pale, cream-colored flesh within. As the miko licked her full lips in anticipation, Sesshoumaru struggled not to pant.

“Mmmm,” she moaned as she took in the first inch or so, holding the end in her mouth for a good long moment before she popped it off with relish. Slowly, indulgently, she chewed, continuing to hum pleasurably in her throat. “Oh, gods…” she said on a muffled groan. “It really does taste as good as it looks.”

As she went back in for more, advancing leisurely along the banana’s thickening shaft, Sesshoumaru watched her glistening lips work over it in feverish captivation. He failed to remember the last time he’d felt this titillated. Had he ever? Distantly, he was ashamed of it—but he was far more aroused than ashamed.

By this point, her sounds of gustatory rapture had become almost orgasmic. Her long lashes fluttered above her flushed, distended cheeks, her eyes misted with sheer satiation.

Sesshoumaru mentally recited the long and tedious genealogical history of his family line he’d been forced to memorize as a child. He ran through katas in his mind’s eye, performed complicated arithmetic and grammatical diagramming. But as she closed her lips voluptuously around that last tantalizing bit of flesh, it was only by picturing Jakken’s pinched, repulsive little face that Sesshoumaru kept his self-control from capsizing in lustful abandon.

Swiping a bit of white residue from the corner of her mouth, Kagome sucked her thumb clean of it and sighed. “…It’s always over way too fast.”

Sesshoumaru couldn’t disagree more. He felt perilously lightheaded, all of the blood in his body having seemingly drained to his groin. Nevertheless, he was proud of his restraint—

Miserable, yet proud.

“Hmm,” Kagome said, her pretty eyes alight with thought as she glanced to her yellow pack again. “…I wonder if there’s another one stuffed in there.”

Releasing a growling breath of exasperation, Sesshoumaru let his head fall back against the tree trunk with a thud. Kagome looked to him in sudden, wide-eyed concern, taking in the sight of his sweat-slicked brow and the glassiness of his stare.

“Sesshoumaru…? Sesshoumaru, are you all right?”

 

 

…the end

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Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi

Inspired by actual bananas.

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