Snowdrop by PhoenixBlade

Inamorata

Beware! For this chapter has LIME content! (though not much I think). By the way, as you can see, I do very little when it come to editing. Many apologies! Also, the word count in this chapter went up... *sweatdrop*

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Snowdrop

By: PhoenixBlade

Prompt: Inamorata

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He waved away the last few servants.  They bowed and scurried out of the room quickly, lest they find themselves at the end of his poison whip.  Sesshoumaru merely hn’ed as he moved over to the bed where its naked occupant laid underneath layers of blankets. She was… beautiful, an absolute beauty. Even with the light of the moon dimly casted on her, she was a sleeping goddess.  Her skin was pale, (though not as pale as his) smooth and soft to the touch.  Her ebony tresses were like silky ink against the pillow she laid on and her lips, gods her lips, they were so plump and luscious, he had to refrain from pressing his lips to hers for fear that the spell over her would break and this beautiful woman would disappear.

He’d come across her on one of his border patrols.  His mother had been dead set against him patrolling.  They had the ookami guards who regularly patrolled the land, but he felt it improper of him to let them do all the work.  Additionally, he helped to relieve him of his boredom.  His mother ruled and he stood by her side, but there was little for him to do but train, fight and patrol as his mother oversaw all the smaller details.  Though he could run the shiro and the land by himself, his mother insisted on continuing her reign and he humored her by letting her do so.  Despite it all, he refused to stand by and do nothing; therefore he still kept up with his patrolling of their borders.

His mother told him never to take a step beyond them, for the world out there would do him harm. Harm! What could the world outside do to the Ice Prince?  None could defeat him in battle for his strength and power rivaled none, save for his mother and his sire, of which the latter no longer existed in the world of the living. Though he never had the chance to test out his powers against his sire, he knew that none out in the world held anything to rival his, he was sure of it.  For better or for worse, he decided to step out further from their borders on that fateful day and found her.

It was by mere chance that he came across her broken and battered body.  She fell from quite a height, he could tell, but by the damage on her body, he knew that she had been wounded from before her fall.  Though his first instinct had been to let her die, he felt something… something thud inside of him for the very first time.  It was… odd and such a strange feeling for him, for as quickly as it came, it had gone.  Despite its strangeness, he wanted to feel it again.  It was… pleasant, and with such a feeling, he knew that in order to feel it again, he needed the girl, alive.

He picked her up carefully and rushed her to the shiro, sensing that she didn’t have very much time left in the world of the living. He fled past all the guards, past his mother and straight to his room where the power to keep her alive rested.  The Tenseiga, a relic from his sire.  It was the only thing left in this world by his father, who had entrusted the dull sword to him.  He had hated the blunt blade and had casted it aside, but the swordsmith who gave him the sword said that it was a sword meant to protect.  Protect what?

It was only then, that when he held the girl in his arms, as her life was slipping away, that he knew.  What happened after became like a blur to him.  Somehow, he had gotten his father’s sword to her in time and the sword had helped heal her wounds and keep her alive, which was miraculous considering it never helped him before.  This girl had somehow made the sword work.  After about a week, the girl was almost done healing and was now resting.  All that mattered now was to wait for her to wake.  After that, he didn’t know what to do.

His mother had been beyond furious when she heard of the girl he had brought in. An outsider! Outsiders were to be killed on sight, yet the prince himself brought in an outsider. He would be punished, he was sure, but for some reason, he did not want the girl to die for she made him…feel…something… and before he knew it, he had become attracted to her in the short time she laid in his bed resting.  The servants did little to care for her as he did most of the changing and bathing for her, of which he found very hard to do for she was so soft and supple.  Had she been awake, he would have persuaded her to let him indulge in her, but he was honorable. He would never force a woman to bed with him, but he was very good at persuasion. 

Yet with all the other women who traipsed around the shiro and in their lands, some of which he had rutted with, never had he ever felt so strongly for one than the one currently residing in his bed.  The servants never touched her so they didn’t know about her.  The girl… was warm. His people weren’t warm, they were cold.  Their skin was cold, their blood ran cold, their attitudes were cold; in short they were very cold.  Even he was cold, but what would happen to the girl now?  The cold weather did little to affect them as they were cold-blooded, but the girl was warm-blooded. She would surely freeze to death… but not if he could help it.  He wanted her here, by his side, with him, at least for now so that he could figure out why he felt something inside him and for her.

He looked down at her and felt an urge to touch her again, as he had been doing lately. It felt so pleasant to touch her and he had to hold his lust at bay for he wanted to bed her very much, but had refrained from doing so.  Perhaps when she woke, he could convince her to lay with him once, or a few times, and then maybe he could get her out of his system.  This desire that he had for her for getting out of hand… but until then…

Moving the blankets aside, he felt her shiver as his clawed hands cupped her cheek.  Slowly, he made a path down to her neck, rubbing the area where her neck met her shoulder.  He held back a moan as he thought of biting her there.  So tender and delicate.  How he wished to taste her warm blood...

Shrugging those ideas aside, he traced a single claw lightly down her clavicle, down between her breasts before he stopped and cupped a breast, rubbing the nipple until it pebbled between his fingers.  He felt himself harden instantly.  Outsider be damned, he craved for the girl! His other hand rose and cupped the other breast, squeezing it as he leaned down and took a nipple in his mouth.  He loved the way it hardened more and how warm it was in his mouth.  Had warmth always felt his good?  It was odd, yet pleasing at the same time. 

The girl made sounds of pleasure and he suddenly wanted to be inside of her, to feel how warm she was in contrast to his coldness. 

Suddenly, he pulled back as his claw ripped his robe open from his chest.  He felt it!  That strange feeling again!  Yet as soon as it came, it was gone again!  His hand drifted over his chest on the left side, feeling for whatever it was.

A moan from his bed pulled him from his thoughts.  He righted himself and watched as the bed’s occupant opened her eyes and he froze.  Her eyes were hazel, clear as glass and sparkling with life. How beautiful they were!

She blinked a few more times, adjusting herself to the dark room.  He watched as she shivered and he had to hold back a groan of desire as the blankets felt down past her waist as she sat up. 

“Ah!” she cried out as the blankets fell from around her to the floor, making his length twitch in agony.

Her inky black hair fell down her shoulders as she leaned forward to grab the fallen blankets and he found himself growling as her bare breasts bounced at her every movement, wishing he could taste them on his tongue.  A few small spots of blood on her breast caught his attention, perhaps from when he pulled away from her breast in haste, his fangs had nicked her breast a bit.

The girl jumped at the sound and looked over to where he was.  She was frightened.  He didn’t want her frightened. He wanted her in awe of him, to worship him and revel in his touch, but not fear, never fear.

“W-who’s there?” she asked hesitantly.

The magic was broken. She had awoken from her sleeping spell and now he would have to deal with the awaken her.  Though he enjoyed touching her while she was asleep, he wondered how she would taste, awake….though that would come later.

The girl asked again and this time, he complied by taking a step forward into the light.  Her eyes widened and she gasped.

“Who are you?”

What a voice she had, so perfect.  He grinned at her.

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So...when I first wrote this story, I intended for it to be NOT MA... See how I failed so epically?