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I Fell for Myself by Stella Mira

I Need...You

Three words sprung forth, long sequestered, never said yet always felt – an inception. Heavy to form, heavier to utter, they were more real than anything she had ever spoken.

"I need…you."

Nothing more, nothing less. Only the ripping of silks and furs, the clangor of armor, discarded, strewn in careless piles on the floor. Man on woman, flesh against flesh, hot and hotter, firewater creasing in dips and swells. Urgency soaked through her, flowed and welled, roughness licking, lathering shivers on her skin, blood and palpitation. Igneous. Drumming. She needed to feel him, to have him inside, to writhe and come undone under him. Her breasts ached, heavy with desire, nipples gliding against his torso, hard peaks of crimson. Kagome arched against him, spine bent, neck thrown back, slinked and rubbed herself all over him, shameless undulations, unbridled. She clamored for ancient rituals, primeval desires, feral, whispered she didn't care for slow motions, for tamed passion. Arms wound around him, pulled and clutched, until no inch of skin was left untouched, unlicked by that roughness – and he gave her what she needed.

Teeth, lips, the coil of tongue and want, Sesshōmaru lavished the mating mark on the curve of her neck, once, twice – then lower. Canines dragged over her collarbone, across the accentuated lines, only teasing, reddening, never marring the flesh. Her nails welted his shoulder blades, sank into skin, urged him lower, sought that sinewy tongue, that maddening burn. Hands enclosed her breasts, kneaded the undersides, fingers splaying, gripping, not too tight, not too soft, just enough to make her flesh swell in his mouth, nipples sliding against blunt teeth, from left to right, and right to left, over and over – a snare of licks and strokes. Neck craned back, she bit her lip, slid her pelvis against him, slathered wetness on his torso, back and forth, thighs bruising against his ribs.

A rumble rippled through his body, over glistening skin, full of animal urges, intrinsic. Kagome tilted her neck to see into his eyes, crimson spiraling into gold, glazes of heathen impulses. Pleasure seethed in her blood, nested low in her abdomen, a mass of cravings. Wet, growing wetter, her need congealed with that throb in her core, oversaturation flowing outwards, dripping down her thighs, below his pubic bone. The more she arced and moved and ground against him, the more it thickened, made sweeter. Snaking lower, coiling around his length, it glissaded in slow driblets, deluged in zesty scents and now.

Another rumble, rasp-hewn, one last flick, the flat of his tongue dragging over a turgid bud – then he released it, rose above her. Hands traipsed over the contours of her body, nails raked her sides, the juts of her hipbones, electrifying friction, anticipation. Her legs curled around him, fingers buried in the damp pelts beneath her, tearing fistfuls of fur as she waited. Sable, lust-distended pupils, her eyes roved over his form, sensualism layered with dominance, lithe muscles, bulging, on the precipice of completion. Sesshōmaru grasped her thighs, made her glide lower, lift higher, melded the lower parts of their bodies together. Caged in gold irises, in garnet wine, she drowned in him, in the intensity of his eyes – an influx of sensations, raw, wild-tempered. Hands moving over the backs of her knees, spreading her thighs, hard flesh sliding between sensitized folds, soaking with need, over that knot of nerves, soft tissue – he pressed there, moved, again and again, in a leisure rhythm that had her thrashing back against the furs, arching like a bowstring.

If voice still lingered in her throat, Kagome would have pleaded, would have begged him to finish this – but she couldn't. Only moans, spent with exertion, breasts and hips swaying, sweat streaming in stripes and crevices – then a twist of hips. Sinking, deep, so deep inside, bones grinding, muscles gripping, he filled her with everything she asked. Kagome undulated, waist bended in unnatural curves, screamed beneath him – his name, more, please. Nothing but the soft hiss of fur against her shoulders – and how he surged and withdrew, inside her throbbing heat, her want, twisting and rubbing against all of her sweet spots, places she had forgotten they existed. Satisfaction and heat, smoldering, teeth bleeding her lower lip, blunt but sharp, nipples aching, she wanted, she needed –

A hard thrust, deep-angled, tight-clasped, he gave even more, brought her over the brink. Muscles contracted, convulsions and spasms, he urged, goaded, rammed harder into her – and she fell into that ravine of pleasure, reveled in the melting of flesh, his growls, that mounting sensation, the stretching of skin. Neck strained, back rubbed raw, realization struck as she still rode that high and she murmured his name, ecstasy and pleas.

"Sesshōmaru…don't –"

He stilled above her, tangled in the seam of lust and restriction, tightness and essentiality, unspilt aggression. It was too much – to not move, to not spend himself inside her. Hands on his face, on his body – she bore him down, atop her, stroked his cheekbone, his lower lip, thumb gliding against his canines, eyes luring, making him hearken to her touch. Such need, such want, encased in blue copper, full of sorry and please. A growl slithered beneath taut skin, but he gave what she wanted, let her do as she pleased. Fingers, slim, dexterous, snaked between them, slid across abdominal muscles, flexing, slick with perspiration, low and lower, scraped against his hipbone, coiled around his erection – and he released that growl.

Teeth clamped around her fingers, grazed and nipped, dewdrops of blood, potent, sultry with arousal, drenching his tongue. He slipped out of her, relinquished tight, wet clasp for less tight, less wet, but he didn't mind, nothing mattered. For that glow of heat in her eyes, those moan-ridden sounds, that pressure curled around him, taking him higher with each stroke and pull, sinuous fire, skin against skin. He moved then – rough, wild impulses, tongue dragging over each finger, laving that burn, spiced blood and woman, hips surging inside her grip, coming close, closer with each twist and thrust. Muscles clenched, constriction and spasms, that fire grew and blazed, roared for release, vibrations under strung skin. Lips, reddened, swollen, she tasted her desire on his tongue, rapture and gasps, white heat slathered on her stomach, soaking her fingers.

 

INUYASHA © Rumiko Takahashi/Shogakukan • Yomiuri TV • Sunrise 2000
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