InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Cereal Box Romance ❯ Itsy Bitsy, Teeny Weenie ( Chapter 4 )

Itsy Bitsy, Teeny Weeny…

 

Edited by my fantastic beta thyme_cat and nominated as Best Comedy for 2nd Quarter 2006 by sesshys_jaded_samurai! Thank you! ^_^

 

Also, thank you to everyone who took the time review. I love you guys! Chocolate chip cookies for the following reviewers on MMorg, FFnet, A Single Spark and AFFnet: Anon (not logged in), Malibu Wolf, girlygirl138, Chaos-and-Serenity, swasdiva (I don't know what a Nickelodeon slime demon is - that was actually a Ghostbusters reference), Red Falcon, chibimenthos, P, Jayde!

 

This picks up where the last chapter left off.

 

Xxxx That same day… xxxX

 

The life of a demon lord is not fun and games, unless one makes a concerted effort. Even then, “fun” is in the eye of the beholder, which had better belong to the lord if everyone wants to keep their heads.

 

A casual acquaintance of Sesshoumaru, Lord of Western Japan, would not expect “fun” to be part of the steely youkai's vocabulary. A closer colleague would shudder and grimace at the bloody images brought to mind when pondering Sesshoumaru's idea of entertainment. The lord, himself, knew better: the greatest form of amusement was to be found in soft, feminine curves, firm flesh and slick, wet heat. Until the Izayoi Incident, anyway.

 

Regardless, he had an image and reputation to uphold, inferiors to intimidate and enemies to slaughter, not to mention a bastard half-brother to terrorize. One had to admit that it was a full agenda. But the desire to fuck with his brother was lessening as a more immediate and wholly more engaging pastime was presenting itself; one that was more suited to his taste.

 

Sesshoumaru watched out of the corner of his eyes the twitch of the girl's pert tush under her skirt as she jumped and spun around, gaping at him as her face flushed bright red. Her once yellow top was now translucent chartreuse with demon guts and clung to her skin in a manner of which he thoroughly approved. His right hand tried to twitch, responding to the delightful bouncing of those globes and the budding nipples that poked through the thin fabric.

 

The girl seemed to trip over thin air, clutching at her friend as she pulled something out of a hidden pouch in her skirt and dropped it into the hideous bag she carried. Nonplussed, the slayer steadied her friend and allowed herself to be dragged away with a single, questioning, backward glance at him. Ignoring her, for he had no reason to answer to anyone regarding his business, he continued on his way through the marsh at a strolling pace.

 

The slayer was also a finely built creature but had the scent of another male on her. Though the demon lord had had many types of females in his time, a taken female was off limits. It was dishonorable and below him; a trait he must have inherited from his mother for his father had found no issue with it.

 

His little hanyou brother was an ever-present, and rather obnoxious, reminder of just how deep that strain of dishonor ran through his father's blood. After all, he had had her first! He'd found her, wooed her, made her scream his name until she was hoarse, only to have her stolen away by his own father! In no time flat, she'd been knocked up and he, Sesshoumaru, had been left with unresolved morning wood.

 

And then the old dog had had the nerve to ask, “Have you someone to protect?”

 

Such a stupid, frivolous question: of course he'd had no one to protect! Didn't he remember taking his own son's bitch? Though he couldn't have helped but hope that the pup Izayoi was birthing was his own, just to spite the old dog.

 

The fault didn't rest solely on his father's shoulders: Izayoi had willingly vacated his bed for that of his father. He'd always wondered what it was that had instigated her defection. Was it his father's title, his jovial, genial nature, the way he wore his silver hair? However, he'd never asked: he'd avoided the woman after she left him and ignored the slight pang in his heart when he'd heard news of her death. Her son was no better than a punching bag.

 

After her betrayal, he'd decided that he needed a new diversion since womanizing had lost its luster. His reputation for being a cold, arrogant, yet virile demon lord was honed to that of a ruthless killer and human-hater by countless decades of fighting bloody territorial battles and quashing rebellious uprisings. It wasn't that he hated humans, per se: he simply had no sympathy for their weakness and showed them little mercy. They didn't deserve it, the fickle bastards. He didn't hate hanyou, either: it was a particular hanyou that he disliked and for the immutable fact that he had been born of a woman who had betrayed him.

 

Then to add insult to injury, the old dog had left the Tetsusaiga to his brother. He held no overwhelming desire to possess the fang: it was the principle of the thing. The sword should have been left to Sesshoumaru, to be given to his own son. Instead, it had been placed in the hands of the little twerp by none other than a human female: that girl who had distracted him to the point that he'd lost his arm (and his father's sword) to the boy in a battle that should have been a hands-down victory. Two hands, if you please.

 

The girl had been intriguing from the start: mouthy, plucky, difficult to kill, and most importantly, had fantastic legs that she showed off with reckless, naïve abandon. Threatening her had prompted all sorts of interesting reactions from his hanyou brother and unintentional (or so he assumed) peep shows of outlandish undergarments. If one didn't include the lost arm, it was a win-win situation, and the arm would grow back eventually.

 

Just the same, he'd kept it in his pants since the hanyou and miko seemed to be devoted to each other, despite the fact that the boy had promised himself to another miko years before. Not that it stopped him from bullying his brother, for no other reason than to see what color undergarment the Shikon Miko of the Scandalously Short Skirt happened to be wearing that day. Hell, everyone needs a hobby.

 

Though as skirmishes were fought and wenches were kidnapped, swords were broken and re-forged, and the enemy was finally defeated, he came to understand several important facts: the idiot wanted both miko but was still promised to the undead one, therefore the live one was up for grabs. How ironic would it be if he were to take a would-be lover from his half-brother, who was the result of his father taking his own lover?

 

It smacked of karma. Maybe not. Anyway, he liked it.

 

XxxxxxxX

 

The crisp, clean stream laughed and burbled its way down the mountainside, fast and deep at some points, shallow and lazy at others. As it passed the Demon Exterminator's village, it leapt from a jumble of high, craggy rocks to fall into a wide basin ringed by boulders and tall firs. Catching its breath after such a long fall, it swirled around the pool and meandered by the village wall, not in any real hurry to continue the journey to the sea. For years, the inhabitants of the village had played in its waters and washed laundry on its rocky banks. Then one day, the stream had been completely and utterly abandoned: only the essence of the people who had once graced its shore joining its flow in little trickles of red with the rain.

 

Kagome was oblivious to all of this as she soaked in the cool water, a blessed relief in the warm evening air. Her brain was running itself ragged as it circled around what she knew was real and what her senses (and a stupid toy) had told her.

 

`I was hallucinating: that's it,' she thought with a small, decisive nod. She had seen and heard things that were simply not there and the hallucinations had been so powerful that Sango had seen them too. Because there was no way, in the three realms, that she had heard Sesshomaru ogling her boobs. Or her ass. It was impossible.

 

Sighing heavily, Kagome pulled her washcloth out of the water and gave it a firm wringing, watching as water pushed from the terrycloth to tumble down into the chilly water of the mountain stream.

 

“What did he do?” Sango asked, snapping Kagome out of her thoughts with a small jump.

 

“Huh?” `He? Had she hear him, too? Oh kami-`

 

“You've been sighing all evening. What did that baka hanyou do?” that sympathetic smile was stretching her mouth again and Kagome finally caught up to the conversation.

 

“Oh. Um,” Kagome stumbled as she realized that she had completely forgotten about Inuyasha after the incident with his brother. The incident that did not happen. “I saw him with Kikyou.” At Sango's hissing, inhaled breath, Kagome quickly explained, “It wasn't like that. They were talking or something, but…”

 

Both women sighed heavily simultaneously.

 

“Kagome, some things just aren't meant to be.” Nodding, Kagome slouched in the water frowned at her rippling reflection. “And you won't get a husband if you beat up on the new men you meet.”

 

Glancing up, Kagome raised a meaningful eyebrow at her friend.

 

Sango blushed but pursed her lips. “That was different! You know what I mean.”

 

“I know: I shouldn't have hit that kid. I just thought…never mind.” Dropping the cloth over her face, Kagome hoped that she wouldn't have to explain her violence against the boy from the marsh village. She had thought that he had been the one making those perverted comments and had brained him. Sango obviously hadn't heard them and would ask too many questions that she simply did not want to ponder at the moment. “You didn't like him either,” Kagome reminded her, her words muffled by the wet cloth.

 

“That's not the point.”

 

Kagome stifled a groan. She didn't have to see Sango's face to know that her eyes had narrowed, her face settling into a no-nonsense expression. The teen knew what was coming, and wasn't disappointed.

 

“Kagome,” Sango said solemnly, “there comes a time in every woman's life when she has the urge-“

 

Choking on a wad of her own saliva, Kagome sat up and sputtered, the washcloth falling off of her face and landing, forgotten, in the water with a splash. “Urge?!”

 

“It's nothing to be embarrassed about; all women experience it sometime.”

 

“Sango!” Kagome protested. It wasn't that she didn't like girl talk: quite the opposite, though she was surprised that her normally shy friend was going into such uncharacteristic detail. On any other day, Kagome would have relished this kind of conversation. But after what she had heard earlier that day, along with the images that her mind was supplying of how a particular demon lord might act on his thoughts, her traumatized, hormonal brain was going into overload.

 

“It's the most precious thing you can give to another, the gift of-“

 

“Gah!” Now she was getting all tingly! Good thing the water was cold!

 

Sango's face had dissolved into a dreamy expression, oblivious to the tumult of teenage emotion in the stream across from her. “And the first time you hold him in your arms must be the most magical-“

 

Now, this comment confused the hell out of her. Sango and Miroku had been married for months! “You mean you and Miroku have never…?”

 

Blinking, Sango cocked her head. “Well, obviously not, but we're trying.”

 

“Trying?” Was it that difficult? It couldn't be; people did it all the time! Except for her, that is.

 

“Yes,” Sango admitted with a slight blush. “Miroku can hardly wait for his first son.”

 

Kagome blinked and opened her mouth. Then, she blinked again, pulling her resisting mind out of the gutter by its garter belt. “Babies? You were talking about babies?” she finally blurted in disbelief.

 

“Of course! What else?”

 

“Uh, nothing,” Kagome muttered as she sank into the water until the top of her head was submerged. Babies. She didn't even want to go there. Too many things had to happen first, things that looked hopelessly remote and unlikely. Her only comfort was that she looked good, and covered in slime, no less. Small comfort, considering the source.

 

Then again…he wasn't so bad looking himself. Scratch that, he was sinfully scrumptious. `This is not helping,' Kagome thought as she resurfaced. `I'm doomed.'

 

XxxxxxX

 

Several afternoons later found Kagome enjoying a much-deserved lie down in the sun on a sandier part of the riverbank. Miroku, Sango and her apprentice, Akago, had left earlier that day to take care of an infestation of mole youkai in a nearby farming community, leaving Kagome to her own devices. Her book lay on the ground in front of her, open to a tedious part of the story (meaning that there hadn't been a steamy love scene in several pages) and she lay on her stomach, staring blankly into the water that flowed past her and idly knocking her heels together. Still in pursuit of the perfect tan and satisfied that there wasn't a hentai around for miles, she had untied her bikini top and rolled down her bottoms to just above her crack.

 

Life had been blissfully quiet: no hanyou or youkai to disrupt her peace, unless one counted Shippo, and she didn't. It was easy to please someone whose greatest desire in life was chocolate pocky and spinning, strawberry suckers and whose greatest pleasure was time spent with his favorite person.

 

`Though by the sound of some of his thoughts,' Kagome's eyes meandered to the kit dozing in the shade of a tall fir, `little Shippo is growing up.' The idea left her with a sweetly melancholy ache in her chest.

 

A balmy breeze caressed her back, ruffling the tiny hairs on the nape of her neck and she sighed contentedly, resting her cheek against the open book. She had half-expected Inuyasha to come after her because he certainly would have known that she'd been through Kaede's village; he would have easily caught her scent. Her departure with Sango had been in full view of most of the village, so there was no lack of witnesses. However, three days had passed and there had been no sign of the hanyou. She wasn't sure how that made her feel. Hurt? Disappointed? Relieved? In need of some chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream?

 

`Probably the latter,' she decided as the warm sunshine plucked at her consciousness with nimble fingers until she floated in a bath of oranges and reds, and then finally sank into darkness.

 

She was adrift on a rocking sea of melted ice cream, desperately clinging to a chunk of cookie dough to stay afloat. The sea surged and a milky wave crashed over her head, pushing sweet foam up her nose and down her throat. Coughing and sputtering, she kicked hard with her legs, trying to pull herself onto the wad of dough and only managing to dislodge a giant chocolate chip, which dunked her into the ice cream. Panicked, she floundered in the opaque liquid, hands waving frantically to catch hold of her cookie dough savior.

 

Something tangled in her hair, roughly dragging on it, and she screamed, cream rushing into her mouth as she vainly struggled against this new danger. It pulled her clear of the liquid and gave her a quick shake. Blinking ice cream from her eyes, she met a cool, buttery gaze framed by milky-white hair and magenta stripes. Clots of foam slid down a leanly muscled chest and collected south of his waist. Her eyes fixated on a small piece of chocolate adorning one pink nipple and she licked her lips. `All I need is a spoon. Sesshomaru looks good in ice cream.'

 

“Stand up, girl,” the god in cream and chocolate intoned, giving her another shake.

 

Miraculously, her feet found purchase on the sandy bottom of the sea where there had been no bottom before. She paid no attention, too wrapped up in watching the rise and fall of the chocolate chip on his nipple as he breathed. If she leaned forward, she could lick that tasty morsel from his skin, and then sample the flesh underneath. The claws in her hair seemed to read her thoughts, guiding her head forward to just that spot, and she grinned in anticipation, mouth watering and tongue already straining to taste him. She let her eyes flutter closed just before her tongue reached its destination, wanting to fully savor the deliciousness that was Sesshomaru and chocolate.

 

Her tongue touched dry, chemically treated paper and she jerked awake, her nose in the book and her tongue stuck to a pulpy page. Groaning, she propped herself up on her elbows and blinked in the bright sunlight, swallowing several times to wash the flavor of romance novel from her mouth. It took a long, sleepy moment for Kagome to realize that the demon in her dream was standing on the far bank of the stream, dressed in his usual silks instead of ice cream but looking just as delicious. And he was staring at her.

 

Her first impulse was to scream and she was about to do just that when a wicked sort of curiosity stole over her. `Was it a fluke?' she wanted to know. `Or would he really lower himself to eyeball a human?' He was simply standing there, his stance non-threatening and his yellow eyes glowing eerily, so she decided to take a chance. Without breaking eye contact with the youkai, she eased her hand into her tote and slipped the dog decoder ring onto her finger.

 

`…do all human females lie in the sun with bare breasts?'

 

`Bare? Oh shit!' Kagome shrieked and flattened her body to the ground, frantically trying to retie the strings of her bikini. Though her face burned with high color, his remained expressionless and bland, as if he weren't watching a buxom teen struggle with her bathing suit ties.

 

`What a shame to cover such lovely flesh.'

 

If possible, she blushed harder, sitting up now that she was decent and yanking her towel to hide everything that her suit didn't. `Did he just think what I thought he thunk? Er…' she puzzled over the grammar for a moment until she decided that the important thing, now that she was no longer topless, was that he had thought she was lovely.

 

Kagome liked to think that she wasn't the kind of girl to have her head turned by a compliment. One would think that she'd been inured to compliments, especially ecchi ones, after all the time she spent in Miroku's company. However, her brain kept spiraling around that one word. `Lovely, he thinks my flesh is lovely.'

 

The towel slipped down little, revealing the tops of her breasts and the vale between them.

 

He was still staring and standing as unmoving as a statue, and it was quite obvious to Kagome where his gaze was fixed. He blinked, a languid movement that only seemed to accentuate the stillness of his body. His lips parted slowly and Kagome leaned forward unconsciously, her tongue darting out to moisten her own lips as her grip on the towel loosened. Her heart suddenly seemed to be beating entirely too fast and the air that she pulled into her lungs was thick and heavy.

 

`I would run my tongue along that soft curve.'

 

Color and heat shot from the roots of her hair to her heels as her brain took the initiative and demonstrated a silver head buried between her breasts, his wet tongue tracing the taut skin of a nipple. Muscles deep inside tensed as her breath hitched in her throat.

 

“You will tell the demon slayer that I would use her services.” Flat and silky as ever, his voice teased her senses before the words registered.

 

“What?” she squeaked, thrown for a complete loop by the difference in what he was thinking and what he was saying. It was as if she were interacting with two separate beings. `Has he always thought stuff like this?'

 

He raised a thin, black brow. “You heard me, girl. Or were you…distracted?”

 

“What?!” she repeated, less breathy and more indignant.

 

The brow disappeared under his perfectly parted silver bangs. “You will tell the slayer.” He turned his broad back on her and spoke into the forest, obviously dismissing her, “I will return to the village gates at noon tomorrow. Be ready.”

 

Climbing to her feet, towel and bikini forgotten in righteous anger, she planted her hands on her hips and unleashed her now lucid tongue. “Why you arrogant, pompous, self-important jack-ass! How dare you walk in on me then order me around! I should-“

 

Her tirade was cut short by a single golden iris that glared at her from the corner of his eye.

 

`Feisty bitch. Perhaps I shall oblige her with a spanking.'

 

Kagome squeaked incoherently and threw the towel at his now retreating figure. It fell short, fluttering into the water as the last glint of silver hair disappeared into the trees and she stomped her bare foot in the sand. “Jerk!” she hollered after him.

 

“Is Inuyasha here?” Shippo's sleepy voice murmured from his spot in the shade.

 

“No, it was…it was no one,” she turned to the kit and gave him a reassuring smile. He was still curled into a fluffy ball, eyes closed and nose buried in his red tail.

 

“Then why were you yelling?”

 

“I was just thinking about...”

 

“Inuyasha?” the kit asked as he unwound and stretched his little arms to the side.

 

“Um, yeah…”

 

`I wonder if Inuyasha thinks I'm lovely? Did he ever see me as anything more than a copy of Kikyou? Does he realize that I'm a woman with…urges?' Kagome had no idea and the stupid ring she still wore was completely useless in that department. She found that she liked the idea of being admired as a woman. At least someone noticed her. Really, was it so horrible to be ogled by a youkai that probably tasted just as good as he looked in ice cream? The spanking part was weird, but who was she to say…

 

Smacking her forehead, she blamed Miroku, horny dog demons, hanyou that didn't put out, and hormones for that last thought and waded into the stream for a much needed cooling off. The towel was long gone, of course.

 

“Kagome,” Shippo yawned widely, “when's lunch?”

 

His question focused her onto thoughts of a demon lord and inappropriate uses of food that she simply didn't want to entertain at the moment. She sighed in defeat when they simply would not go away and waded back out of the crisp water. “Let's go back to the house and have an early dinner.”

 

Shippo cheered and picked up her tote, the bag awkwardly banging against his legs as he ran up the path to the gates of the village. With much less enthusiasm and a tremulous quiver in her nether regions, Kagome followed after him.

 

 

A/N: I've got an update list going for this fic since I don't update as often as I used to. If you want to be on it, let me know.