Red Ribbons by Chiaztolite
Red Ribbons
The peak of summer brought its joy and pain. Kagome loved the symphony of cicadas in the meadows and forests, greeting her as soon as she awakened to get the village shrine ready for visitors. The smells of grass, leaves, and pure sunshine were everywhere. But, the weather could be so hot it became irritable, and thus, Kagome had made it a habit to take her work outside of the shrine.
One of her favourite places was underneath the cool shade of the large tree out in the yard. She had just sat down and began her work when a familiar girlish voice spoke up from behind her.
“Kagome-sama?”
She turned and smiled. “Yes, Rin?”
“What are you doing?”
The miko’s smile widened as she took the basket she placed on her lap and showed it to the girl. Rin came closer to admire the content, marvelling at all the colours inside the container.
“I am cutting strips of coloured papers for the Tanabata celebration tomorrow,” Kagome explained.
“Tanabata? What is that?”
“It is one of my favourite festivals,” she said. “It celebrates the only day of the year when the Heavenly Princess Orihime and the cow herder Hikoboshi can meet.”
Rin’s young, innocent face was crestfallen with sadness. “They can only meet once a year?”
Kagome smiled and nodded. “Would you like to hear the tale?”
The girl grinned and nodded. Kagome laughed and patted the empty spot on the rock next to her.
“Come and sit, and I will tell you.”
A long time ago, lived a heavenly maiden named Princess Orihime, who weaved the most exquisite fabrics for her father, Tentei, the Heavenly King. One day, Orihime met Hikoboshi, a cow herder, and they fell instantly in love and married. However, their love and devotion were so deep that they soon began to neglect their duties.
Her father was enraged. He separated the two lovers by placing them on the opposite side of the Amano River. Princess Orihime despaired, and because her father loved her very much, he permitted the lovers to meet once a year, on the seventh day of the seventh month.
In the first year, as Princess Orihime travelled to meet her husband across the Amano River, she could find no way to cross the water. She wept with heartbreak until a flock of magpies came and formed a bridge with their wings…
“Magpies?” Rin repeated, her mouth opened in awe. “Magpies helped them see each other?”
Kagome chuckled. “Magical, isn’t it?” She said to the girl. “But, Rin, remember that magpies won’t come on rainy days. That’s why it’s important to have good weather on the night of the festival.”
“What do we do at the festival? How do we celebrate?”
“There’ll be music and dancing. We also celebrate every year by writing our wishes on these pieces of paper and hanging them on bamboo trees," Kagome explained. "Tomorrow night, I will help you write your wishes at the festival, and then we will hang them on the tree."
“Thank you, Miko-sama.” Rin beamed at her. Then, shyly, the girl added: “I look forward to the festivities. Sesshōmaru-sama brought me a new yukata. I can’t wait to wear it.”
Kagome smiled. “Come see me before the festival, and I will be more than happy to dress you in your new yukata.”
When another shadow came over them, they both looked up. The familiar figure of the inu daiyōkai stood not far away. His face was inscrutable as he gazed down upon the priestess and his ward. The bright afternoon sun shone upon his silver head, glinting off his armour.
“Rin.” The silky baritone voice of the inu daiyōkai called for the girl. “Come away and leave the priestess to her task.”
Heartbeats pounding a little faster, Kagome rose to her feet. She had not known he had returned. There were rumours, and Rin herself mentioned Sesshōmaru would stop by the village, but no one knew when precisely he would arrive.
“Sesshōmaru,” Kagome said, bowing slightly. “Would you like to make a wish as well?”
Her fingers rifled through the strips of paper inside the basket until he found one she believed suited him. It had a brilliant crimson shade, which she prepared specifically with the thought of him. He stared at it blankly, his expression shuttered.
“I have this one,” she told him. “Which I think—“
He stared at her blankly before he interjected. “Miko, I have neither the time nor the desire for foolish fancies.”
She winced. “It is not—“
He strolled away, completely disinterested.
Kagome bit her lower lip and looked down at the basket filled with papers she had worked on for days. Perhaps it had been silly to spend so much time on such trivial things when she could employ her efforts on more meaningful endeavours.
But, the Tanabata festival was one of her favourites. Back home, she and her family used to decorate the trees at their shrine with coloured papers, and people from the surrounding neighbourhood and communities came and hung their wishes onto the branches.
She looked up again at the retreating figure of the daiyōkai. The warm summer breeze made his hair and fur sway gently with every step he took.
Lowering her lashes, she realized he had walked away without a second look.
Away from her.
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That evening, when Shippō visited her at the shrine to have dinner together, Kagome was still working on the strips of coloured paper.
“Kagome. You look sad,” the kitsune said, observing her face. “Why are you sad? I thought you said this is one of the festivals you like most. Shouldn’t you be happy? It’s tomorrow.”
She glanced out the window as thunder echoed in the distance. “It’s true, it is my favourite,” she murmured. “But I think… the weather is making me a bit melancholy. It feels like rain.”
“Can you wish for the rain to go away?” Shippō asked, rubbing one strip of yellow paper between his small fingers.
She forced a bright smile. “That’s exactly what I’d wish for,” she said, catching herself telling a blatant lie.
What did it matter anyway, she thought as she continued to cut more papers, when her true wish was an unattainable one. But her heart was a foolish organ, for it continued its futile yearning.
I wish… for Sesshōmaru’s heart.
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The daiyōkai looked up at the sky. The air smelled heavy with moisture. But, even without further inspection, he knew rain was coming. He had herded his small pack to take shelter at an unused hut just outside the village in preparation for the downpour. Then, not long after he finished that thought, the first few raindrops fell, and fat drops of water drenched the earth in a deluge before long.
Rin was busy doing something in the corner, and she seemed to have roped Jaken into helping her. They each had fashioned a doll from a scrap of white cloth, which the humans believed had the power to stop the rain.
“Rin. What are you doing, precisely?”
“Kagome-sama said that if it rains, the lovers in the sky won’t be able to meet,” the girl replied, glancing back at him. “I’m hanging teru-teru bozu to stop the rain.”
Sesshōmaru arched his brows at the crude creations skeptically, but he let the girl be, even if he scoffed inwardly at her feeble attempt.
What foolish endeavour, both Rin’s and the Miko’s.
He thought back to the Miko Kagome and her colourful strips of paper and scoffed inwardly again. If only something as simple as writing on paper could make wishes and dreams come true.
But he could not help but wonder if she, too, made a wish for herself.
He wondered what she wished for. If she had been an ordinary village woman, she would have wished for an advantageous marriage and a large brood of children. But, if they had been what she wanted in the first place, she would have accepted Inuyasha’s offer for marriage and adopted a life as the hanyo’s wife.
Yet, she had not.
It had been three years since Inuyasha married a girl from the neighbouring village and moved to the capital city to better provide for his family. Still, the miko remained, even though she had moved out of her hut and into the shrine. Since then, she seemed to focus all her efforts on taking care of everyone in the village, including his own ward on many occasions.
She was the villagers' pillar of support. Their paragon of virtue, belonging to everyone and yet no one.
He recalled the salty scent of her tears that had reached him as he walked away. Unhappiness radiated from her. What would be the cause for such sadness? Was it because the festival might be cancelled because of foul weather?
Sesshōmaru stood and approached the edge of the porch, looking up at the sky and the rain. He should be smelling the wet earth and damp leaves right now, but the scent of her tears was the one that lingered in his mind.
Miko, would good weather return that smile to your face?
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It had rained all afternoon, all evening, all night and into the morning. When the next afternoon rolled around and the rain still showed no sign of stopping, the villagers had to accept that the festival simply could not go on.
Kagome stood on the shrine’s porch, watching the rain that poured so heavy, it obscured her vision. Sorrow filled her heart even more. As she looked up at the dark sky, her heart bled for the two celestial lovers who had to wait for another year before they could be reunited.
Also, yet another year of unfulfilled wish for her.
Kagome fingered the piece of paper hidden within the folds of her sleeve. She had picked out a pink strip of paper for herself and written her silly wish on it, ridiculous as it might seem.
Her big little secret, hidden still.
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Sesshōmaru arrived at the cavern just as lighting split the darkened sky. Everything — his hair, attire, and fur pelt — was drenched by the torrential downpour. The cave was damp and had the earthy smell of things long buried, but at least it provided a shelter from the elements.
The daiyōkai went deeper, following the meandering path that took him to the bowels of the cavern. He arrived at a subterranean lake, its water the colour of a murky turquoise. He approached the water’s edge and nicked the pad of his thumb, squeezing a drop of blood from the wound and letting it fall into the water. It disperse itself into a faint ribbon of red. The weather sprite was a fickle one, and certainly was not known to be generous or charitable. The blood offering into the lake would summon her, but she would demand something else to grant any wish.
As soon as the traces of blood disappeared, ripples began to disturb the water's surface. A creature emerged — a female, human in appearance from the waist up, but a sea serpent from the waist down.
“Sesshōmaru,” she purred; a long, forked tongue the colour of blood darted out from between a pair of blue lips. “A rare visitor. When was the last time you came to me? It must have been three centuries ago, at the very least.”
Sesshōmaru ignored her mention of his past visit, or any hints of familiarity.
“I require good weather,” he said. “As soon as it can be managed.”
The sound of the female’s chuckle echoed through the cavern.
“Such feat is easily done,” she told him. “But not for free. You know what I want in exchange for this boon, son of Inutaisho.”
“Fine,” Sesshōmaru said impatiently as he edged even closer to the water and lowered himself to his knees. “Take it quickly and be done with it.”
She flashed a toothy smile. Her long torso emerged from the water, dripping wet as she reached for him. He looked away and weathered her touch, and whatever else she had to do to obtain the payment for her services. Her grubby, slimy hands made his stomach roil with distaste, but he forced himself to endure it.
After the weather sprite finished, she handed him a small piece of driftwood.
“Burn this and let the ashes melt into the rain,” she instructed, grinning widely, showing off a row of gleaming sharp teeth. “Shortly after, you will have your wish fulfilled.”
Sesshōmaru accepted the driftwood, even as he wondered: Would he have his wish fulfilled?
He scoffed inwardly and shook his head.
Hnn. Unlikely.
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The afternoon crawled into twilight, and still, the rain poured.
Kagome had long given up. She was on her way to toss the basketful of coloured papers into the fire when the pitter-patter of rain stopped and suddenly, she was able to hear the cicadas again.
She rushed outside to stand on her porch. Just as she had suspected, the rain had ceased. The sky was the clear, bright orange and fuchsia of dusk. How miraculous. One second it was raining cats and dogs, and the next, it stopped dead. Like magic, dry wind blew continuously for several minutes, eliminating all traces of moisture from the ground and vegetation.
Quickly, Kagome changed out of her miko uniforms and into the yukata she had laboured over the winter just for this occasion. It was sewn from a deep indigo cotton with camellia pattern imprinted on the fabric in a slightly lighter blue shade. A matching obi completed her outfit, tied in the popular tachiya knot which formed a neat bow on her back.
Rin arrived when Kagome finished putting her hair up into a messy bun. Then, the miko deftly dressed the girl in her new yukata, made from jade green cotton with a dragonfly pattern, perfect for the height of the summer. The quality was much more refined than anything Kagome had ever seen the village children wore, and it made her smile inwardly — albeit a little sadly, because it got her thinking about Sesshōmaru again.
“How lucky it was that the rain stopped just in time,” Kagome said, blinking her eyes rapidly as she ran a lacquered comb through Rin’s abundant hair.
“It was not luck, Miko-sama,” Rin said, looking at the older woman over her shoulder. “Sesshōmaru-sama was gone all morning and afternoon. When he returned a few minutes ago, he told me to get ready for the festival, as if he knew the rain would stop.”
The girl paused to giggle. “That could only mean that he was the one who made it stop.”
Kagome’s hand stopped moving. Her eyes widened in shock. “Sesshōmaru-sama did?”
Rin nodded, grinning. “It seems Rin is not the only one who wants to see the smile returning to Miko-sama’s face.”
The girl was so innocent, Kagome doubted the words were meant to tease, yet she could not contain the blush from colouring her cheeks. Thankfully, Rin had returned her eyes forward and teased no further. The miko focused on brushing the young girl’s hair, styling the glossy locks into a simple updo and decorating it with a beautiful flower ornament of painted wood.
All dressed, they walked to the center of the village together, where the merriments were beginning to take place. Kagome distributed the coloured papers she had worked on so that the villagers could write their wishes and hang them on the surrounding trees. She helped Rin, Shippō, all three of Sango and Miroku’s brood, and a few other village children with their wishes on the papers. A slight smile curled on her lips as she watched them join the others at the foot of the tree.
It seemed that everyone was happy. Everyone was having a wonderful time. Kagome observed the festivities and the dancing from the sideline. After a few moments, she sighed and stepped away from the festivities. She did not know why; her melancholy remained even though the weather had taken a miraculous turn. The good cheers of her fellow villagers somehow made her wistfulness even more palpable.
It was as though her joy and excitement had been washed away with the rain and vanished with it. She had not even hung her wish on the tree, and could not conjure the will to do so.
She took a solitary stroll under the guidance of the moonlight until reached the edge of a bamboo forest a little further away from the village. There, she admired the view of the night sky, trying to spot the celestial lovers — or the stars Vega and Altair, normally separated by the Milky Way aside from one night a year.
The soft hairs on her nape stood to attention when a tendril of familiar yōki brushed against her, and she turned around. There was no one behind her, though she caught a glimpse of a familiar figure clad in white and red standing between the layers of bamboo trees.
“Sesshōmaru?” She called, but he disappeared within the blink of an eye.
Kagome stepped into the bamboo forest, intent on seeking him out. If indeed he had done something to turn the weather, she wanted to speak to him, and thank him for making it possible for their celebration to commence.
“Sesshōmaru…?” She called again, her voice soft in the stillness of her surrounding.
There was no answer. Any trace of yōki from before had vanished. The forest seemed empty, except for the dense cluster of bamboo trees that surrounded her.
Just then, another trail of yōki, as familiar as the first, beckoned her. She followed. The sounds of the music and the celebration dimmed further as she took one step after the other into the forest.
Soon later, the dense cluster of vegetation opened up to reveal a small clearing. She stepped out into it and, upon the first glance, she gasped.
Before her, the sea of bamboo trees were decorated with colourful strips, and they were not papers. They were long streamers of silk ribbons. Hundreds of them, swaying gently in the breeze. Someone had also set yōki lanterns amongst the trees, illuminating the forest in a warm, golden glow.
As she looked around with amazement, the red ribbons caught her interest. There were only a few, carefully interspersed between the remaining colourful silks in shades of rose, violet, blue, green, and yellow. Yet, amongst those other colours, the crimson shone brightly, beckoning her to reach up and pluck.
And plucked she did.
When she flipped them over, she saw a poem written in bold, masculine brushwork. It must have been Sesshōmaru’s writing, she thought, as the penmanship was exceedingly confident. Reading it, heart pounding, she recognized it as one of the famous poems from times gone by.
Thinking about you,
I slept and saw you
In the dream.
If I had known it’d have been a dream,
I wouldn’t have woken up.
Kagome’s heart clenched with tenderness. Her eyes were blurry with tears, and she had to blink to clear her vision before she searched for more. She ventured deeper into the bamboo forest decorated with hundreds of silk ribbons. Not far away from the initial spot, she found another one. On the back of it, in the same beautiful penmanship, she read yet another famous poem:
To meet you
I didn’t think
Even my life was precious.
But I hope now
To have a long life.
Kagome cradled the two ribbons in her hand as she searched again, hungering for the vision of that strip of red silk. She found another one deeper inside the forest.
I fell in love,
The rumour already
Goes around.
Though I began to
Give my heart to her secretly.
Kagome closed her eyes and brought this one to her lips. A tear rolled down her cheek as she realized what the daiyōkai tried to convey with these borrowed words.
She looked around and found she was still alone, though he must be inside the bamboo forest somewhere, of that she was certain. Carefully, taking her time – even if her heart galloped and all she wanted to do was to run further into the forest, she wanted to relish these moments of anticipation.
She reached another cleaning, and one last red ribbon dangled there, just low enough to reach if she stood on her tippy-toes.
On the back, she found Sesshōmaru’s own version of a poem, written down in the same bold, beautiful penmanship. It was terse and to the point, but no three words could be dearer to her than the ones he had inscribed there.
I want you.
Kagome stared at the piece of silk, her vision blurring once more. Her heart clogged her throat, and her breath was trapped inside her lungs. She did not dare to move – lest she awakened from this dream, or ruined the most beautiful illusion she had ever seen.
I want you.
She felt his yōki flared gently, grazing her back – his own brand of greeting.
“I do want you.”
Sesshōmaru’s voice had her swirling around. Her eyes found him standing between the bamboo trees, his magnificent figure half obscured beneath the mottled shadows of the night. She could hardly speak, or breathe.
“Rin said… you made… the weather turn,” Kagome said brokenly. “How?”
He took a few steps toward her, coming out into the light. Amber glow bathed his hair and clothing, casting a warm shine on the metal of his armour.
"I asked someone for a favour,” he simply replied.
What kind of creature did he have to ask to stop the rain and bring out the sun and moon? She was about to ask him to elaborate when she noticed something slightly different about him.
“Wait—“ She peered closely at the inuyōkai. “What happened to your hair?”
She dared herself to touch a few locks on the side of his head that had obviously been shorn short quite recently.
“Never mind my hair,” he said, his golden eyes never straying from her face. "Tell me, Miko. Are you having a pleasant time? Is the celebration the way you envisioned it to be?”
Kagome frowned. Was he trying to change the subject? She gave him a stern look.
“Sesshōmaru.”
He seemed loathe to answer her. But under her fervent, insistent gaze, he succumbed.
“It was a fair price to exchange for good weather,” he finally told her.
She stared at him with suspicion. “Why hasn’t it regenerated itself?”
He just stared at her and shrugged. Kagome suddenly had a sinking, ominous feeling deep in her stomach.
“Sesshōmaru, no! Your beautiful hair—“
“— will grow back eventually,” he interjected. “It may take decades. Nevertheless, I would gladly give it away again and again, just to see that smile back on your face, Miko.”
Kagome shook her head, dismayed that he had ruined his beautiful hair to give her the good weather required for the festival to commence.
“Sesshōmaru. It is just an annual festival. You giving me these poems, and your feelings for me in your own words, would have achieved the same,” she told him.
“I have it on good authority that you are exceedingly fond of this festival,” he stubbornly said. “One night out of a year, at the very least, this Sesshōmaru will see that you are happy.”
One night a year?
Kagome mustered enough courage to ask: “… Only one night a year?”
She told herself to temper her hope, to not want too much. One night a year was better than an endless draught. One night a year was better than no nights at all.
Just like Princess Orihime and Hikoboshi, the star-crossed lovers who journeyed across the Milky Way once a year to be reunited, she could endure the same fate.
But, the wavering in his eyes, the uncertainty, tightened her chest and made it difficult to breathe.
“Would you want… more than that?” Sesshōmaru asked her. His tone was one of disbelief, as if he did not think she would ever want such a thing.
“You may think me greedy,” she said. “But I want nothing less than all the nights in a year, every year.”
He stared at her with bewilderment. “But, you have never given any indication—“ He paused. “Inuyasha said… as a woman who came from a time and place vastly different from the here and now, you value your independence. And that is why the two of you were not—“
“I do value my independence,” Kagome told him. “But that is not why I refused to marry Inuyasha. I came to realize Inuyasha and I are better as friends than lovers. We parted amicably.”
“So… I will not be clipping your wings by courting you? I will not be taking away your freedom by making you mine?”
Kagome knew he was a male of action; thus, she would show him, not just tell him. She raised herself on her toes, her fingertips gliding across his cheek. Then, quickly, before her nerves left her, she kissed him. Her lips were trembling when she pressed them against his, though she was pleased to find them warm and pliant under her mouth. Sesshōmaru's breath hitched, but she persevered, even going so bold as to tease the seam of his lips with the tip of her tongue. Her cheeks burned as she took the lead and deepened their kiss.
“What do you think?” She asked when they finally parted. “Did it feel like I have any objection to being yours?”
His eyes flickered with something she had never seen on him before: mischief.
“I cannot decide,” he replied, golden colour deepened as he gazed upon her. “Perhaps… another demonstration is required.”
Sesshōmaru took her chin and bent his head to meet her halfway. Her knees buckled when he took control of their kiss, tugging at her lower lip with the ardour she had only dared to wish in her dreams.
Before she fell, he caught her and wrapped his strong arms tightly around her back, supporting her in his embrace. His lips moved against her, gently at first, until passion and desire overrode any intention for tenderness.
In that one kiss, he conveyed that he wanted her for more than the desires of the flesh. Infinitely more.
His lips moved across her jaw, biting the lobe of her ear gently before he descended to the juncture of her shoulder to inhale her scent.
“Tell me to stop,” he breathed as he sucked the side of her neck.
“Proceed,” Kagome whimpered, lifting her head and arching her back to give him more access to her body. Her one-word answer prompted him to expel a helpless chuckle; his breath warm against her skin.
“Miko, here I am, relying on you to keep me sane.”
“I don’t want sane,” she told him, her hands already fumbling with the fastenings of his armour. “There has been too much of that in my life. You said you want me, and I want you as well. I am tired of waiting and wishing.”
His golden eyes seemed to glow with the fiery embers in those depths. He laid her down upon the fur which he had spread on the ground and proceeded to undress himself. The thud of his metal armour hitting the ground fuelled her anticipation.
“Come here,” Kagome said, opening her arms, wanting to touch him.
Sesshōmaru hesitated, his hand halfway to undo the knot of his sash. Then, his eyes softened as they gazed upon her, and he moved to hover above her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his head down for another kiss.
Their lips latched together, she pulled at his sash just as his hand reached underneath her to undo the knot of her obi. They began to undress each other, removing layer after layer of clothing and attire until, finally, her palm glided over the bare skin of his chest.
Something seemed to break inside him at the first touch of her fingertips. A thread of resistance that snapped — may it never mend.
He came down fully atop her, his hand slipping underneath her nagajuban to caress her breast. The rough, calloused pads of his fingers grazing her nipple. All the while, his lips were still upon hers, eating at her mouth as his hips moved in the old-age rhythm of mating.
Gingerly, as he sat rigidly on his knees, she slipped off the last layer of his outfit. He was now fully bared to her gaze. The glow from the yōki lanterns cast amber sheen on his skin, playing across the hills and valleys of his musculatures, his perfect physique. The slashes of magenta stripes were a stark contrast upon his pale complexion, decorating his arms, ribs, and swirling down to his hips, drawing her attention to that place where he was so blatantly male.
Cheeks hot, heart beating so fast it was a gallop, she let him guide her down to lay upon his mokomoko, sinking into the softness of the fur. He was above her, his much larger eclipsing her body as she clung to him. Their bodies were pressed together from head to toe; her soft breasts were plastered against his unyielding chest.
Something was happening to her, she thought, as she felt herself getting wet. Suddenly, his fingers were there, parting her gently, playing between the dampened folds between her legs. A low, breathy moan escaped her when his thumb found the swollen, sensitive nub, and he rubbed there. Her toes curled instinctively, and her legs rose to bracket his hips, invariably opening herself up more for his fingers to strum. Then, he was gliding that hard part of him against her. The head of his cock rubbed against the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.
Whimpering, she clutched at his forearms, suddenly impatient to join with him.
Just as impatient as she was, he realigned their bodies and positioned himself at her entrance. The broad tip of him parted her, and she cried out when he nudged her opening, rocking into her little by little. Nothing could have prepared her for the sensation of housing him inside her body, the utter closeness she felt to him at this very moment. It was more than anything she had ever felt with anyone before. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and she winced when he slid deep enough to take her maidenhead. Yet, the discomfort was fleeting, and the sense of fullness — and of completion — burned the pain away.
He was breathing heavily. They both were. Even now, he was patient with her, and gentle, even if the untrained movements of her hips urged rougher motions. The arms that supported his body on each side of her head were quivering. His hair fell around her in a curtain of silver. He was so, so beautiful. But more than that, he felt beautiful. Inside her, around her.
And then Kagome realized: he scarcely moved, and probably had not since he breached her. His yōki was hot, pressing against her. She could feel his latent strength coiling inside him, waiting to be unleashed even when he held himself so still, as if he was worried he would break her.
“Sesshōmaru,” she whispered, reaching up to caress his face. Her blue eyes sought his golden ones. “You are trembling.”
For a moment, as he rubbed his forehead against hers, he looked as though he could not speak.
“Kagome,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Inside you… it is the most tender place I know.”
The ache in her chest was so staggering she could scarcely breathe. Helplessly, instinctively, she clenched around him. The tightening of her body seemed to set him into motion, and he began to drag himself out of her. Kagome gasped. Oh, the frisson of heat she felt when his heavy member scraped her walls… It was indescribable. But she felt so bereft without him inside her. Before she uttered any words of protest, he pushed himself back in. Suddenly, she had to close her eyes, because there was too much feeling. Stars burst behind her closed eyelids as she surrendered to the rhythm of his pounding.
He growled and nipped at the juncture of her neck when she finally caught his tempo. She planted the soles of her feet onto the forest floor and began to move sinuously with him, against him, matching his pace. Gasping, she somehow managed to take him a little deeper. He clasped a hand over her buttocks and brought her closer to him, moving so deeply inside her that he left no part of her tunnel untouched.
As he made love to her, Kagome’s eyes watched the swaying of hundreds of silk ribbons above them. All the while, he laboured between her thighs. She wrapped her legs around him and clasped him tightly to her.
Should she feel embarrassed to be taken so lewdly upon the forest floor, with fallen bamboo leaves scattered all around her? If yes, then she would never want to know honour.
Sesshōmaru coaxed her to shift and reclined on her side, as he did on his. She did not think he would choose this position where they would lie face to face, limbs entangled so intimately as he slipped a hand under her knee to hike her thigh over his striped hip. Whatever his reasons, she was thankful for it. The position allowed her to run her hands all over his body, learning his contours and planes by sight and touch.
He was inside her again as they pressed their foreheads together. She took him easily this time, her body having adjusted to his size, though the feel of him cleaving her open was no less intense than the first time. Their noses rubbed in a gesture that felt so innocently intimate. He was cupping her face, kissing her, piercing her heart with his tenderness.
She ventured to rub her hand all over his chest. His skin was supple and smooth, like heated silk stretched over iron. His breathing quickened when her palm brushed against his hardened nipple. A faint blush crested over his cheekbones. She did it again, and his hips gave an involuntary jerk that invariably pushed the head of his cock against that spongy mouth of her womb.
That deep kiss had her crying out, because he was now rubbing against a place she had never been so aware of before. Overcome, her blunt nails dug into the unyielding muscles of his pectorals. Writhing, still whimpering from the aftershock of the contact, she smoothed her palm over the half-moon marks.
Intrigued by his raw, visceral reactions, she repeated her touch, and once again, he let out a harsh gasp.
“You like this,” she murmured when the sharp bolt of pleasure ebbed into a blissful thrum, until he repeated his thrust, and it started all over again.
Sesshōmaru groaned and hid his face in the crook of her neck.
“Only when you touch me thus,” he murmured shakily, rolling his hips and nudging almost helplessly into her. “Your hands upon me, Miko, the feel of your reiki… They are magic.”
There was no hesitation afterwards. She ran her hands over his chest, shoulders, and back, mapping the contours of his muscles and sinews into memory as he thrust into her repeatedly. She was gasping with every fervent roll of his hips, every push and pull that cleaved her body wide open around him.
Take me, take me…
Kagome was unsure if she said those words out loud, but he rolled her underneath him, and he did. He did. She clung to him, letting the feel of his solid body become her anchor as he shook her to the core. Their lips met again, melding together as he held her tight and swallowed her cries, never once stopping the movements of his hips.
The heated coil in her belly continued to tighten. She clawed at his back, and whether it was because of the tightening of her body or the added sting of her nails, his movements became unhinged then. Finally, one hard thrust careened her over the edge. She bucked against him, a hoarse cry joining the symphony of the night insects as her spine arched tautly with the intensity of her climax. Her release gushed around him, flooded him, and triggered his own. His hips stuttered against her core. His face was buried against the crook of her neck where his teeth clung to the supple flesh, and he spilled his warmth into her.
Mindlessly, and so naturally, she kept him pressed to her body, wrapping her legs around him and not wanting to let go.
A desire fulfilled, and a wish came true.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
A whisper of the summer breeze kissed their skin, cooling sweat-dampened limbs intertwined under the moonlight.
She lay in his arms, surrounded by his luxurious white fur, staring at the colourful streamers swaying gently in the winds. The amber glow of the lanterns cast a golden sheen over the silk, illuminating the forest in a myriad of colours.
The tip of a red ribbon peeked from underneath his pelt. Kagome pulled it out and held it overhead as her eyes retraced each character he inscribed on it.
I want you.
“And here I thought you would do your own rendition of an elegant, sophisticated poem,” Kagome said, placing a gentle palm on his chest.
“I tried,” he confessed. “In the end, many big, clever words failed to express what three little ones could do perfectly.”
“What about these three little words?” She asked before she reached for his cheek and leaned over to whisper in his ear.
I love you.
He had not yet said those words to her, but she knew. His hands cupped her shoulders as he rolled her underneath him and began to kiss her again, melding their lips and tangling their tongues together until both their chests pounded with want, and renewed desires sang in their veins.
When he looked at her again, his eyes lit up with the shine of the Milky Way.
“It is the most beautiful poem ever existed, Miko.”
Fin.