I Fell for Myself by Stella Mira

Do Not Order Me, Woman

"Do not speak."

It was a command. Sesshōmaru cursed her voice, that lust-wrought temptation. She mustn't speak. Not now. Not when she had him engulfed in her pulsating heat, in the slick clasp of her body. He ceased all somatic motion – but it was futile. Sensation overrode movement. He could still feel her, like a slow-beating tightness, wrapped around him, goading him to pound into her, to lose his inhibitions and take her like an animal, like he had never taken a female before. And then she huffed.

"Either move or get out of me."

He damn near snapped at her waspish tone, at the cutting taunt, at the flexing of her inner walls. Infuriating, daft woman. She didn't – couldn't – understand the complications of their situation, of what she was asking. If she pressed him harder, he would spill past the point of no return – he was close, dangerously close.

"Do not order me, woman."

Another command. Another huff.

"Listen here, jerk. We changed back after the first thrust. You're still hard, still inside me, and you owe me an orgasm. Or did you forget how good my tongue fel-"

He kissed her, if only to make her heed his words, silence those swollen, reddened lips. It was a mistake, he knew, but couldn't stop himself.

"One more word and I will tear that tongue of yours out."

Then he kissed her again. Canines dragged over the expanse of her tongue, grazed the slithery flesh, as if to emphasize his point. No more than a droplet of blood, welling, gliding on his palate, down his throat, carmine addiction. It merged with her lingering essence, thawed his resolve, and finally – he moved. One smooth thrust, one raptured moan, muscles gripping, swallowing him deeper. She writhed beneath him, nails welting his shoulder blades, blunt but sharp, drawing blood, thin rivulets trailing down his back, reddening the waters. Sesshōmaru ceased all motion once more, leaned closer, breasts flattened, thighs trapped, breaths mingled, no inch of skin untouched.

"If you must speak then say my name. Nothing else."

Low, rough-strewn, barely a growl, his warning stroked her lips. She gave a small whimper, unwitting, half-frustration, half-impatience, but spoke no more. The zaffre of her eyes liquefied, gleamed with challenge, seething provocation. It incited him for some reason. He hadn't wished to hear her voice, had scorned the lure of its huskiness, because it whispered unspeakable things, urged him to break and be broken. Sesshōmaru had bidden her silence to tether his control, yet that she would do so now – when he had given her permission – succeeded in unshackling the last bond of his discipline. He withdrew, slowly, almost carefully, then surged forward with a wild, hard thrust, gave in to his animal senses, and Kagome – she screamed his name, clawed at his back with manic motions, bit his lips until their blood merged into a feral kiss, trapped him in the demands of her body and wetness. Deeper. Harder. Tighter.

"Sesshōmaru –"

Her voice had regressed to slow whispers, spent moans, when he relinquished her lips, sought the fragile arc of her neck, tongue laving the slickness of her flesh, teeth scraping, almost tearing through the first layer of skin. His fangs ached, throbbed to be sunk into her, mark her, take her as his body took her – but then she stilled beneath him, back arched, the swells of her breasts pressing into him, pulsing desire and palpitations around his cock, muscles clenching and unclenching, forcing his own release. He gave in, followed after her, if only to be spared of the almost mistake, the near lapse of judgment.

When he spoke, the guttural aggression in his voice, the animalistic undertones, were like spikes of ice, cutting through his viscera, freezing his blood.

"I almost marked you, miko."

Sesshōmaru wasn't even aware that he had voiced this unsettling thought until he felt her shift beneath him, shiver with light tremors, though whether from cold or lingering want, he couldn't tell.

"But you didn't."

The wariness in her voice, her frail conviction did nothing to assuage his malaise. Only one thing could.

"This will never occur again."

It took a long, hollow moment for her to reply and he reckoned she maybe wouldn't – but she did.

"Agreed."