InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Fleeting ❯ Perception ( Chapter 11 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

un_love_you prompt:  #23 – “You remind me of me.”

“Are you sure?” Kagome asked softly, curling her hands into Sesshoumaru’s hair.

He nodded slowly, enjoying the feel of her fingernails raking against his scalp.  “I’m sorry.”

She sighed, her eyes falling closed as she leaned forward, resting her forehead on his.  “So there’s nothing I can do to tempt you away from this place?” she whispered mournfully, draping her arms over his shoulders as she shifted in his lap.

He smiled.  “Now, I didn’t say that,” he mused in response, tracing his fingers along the line of her jaw.  “But I have to finish this – and there are far too many…distractions at home that preclude my concentration.”

He was granted the response he wanted; her lips curved up, if only for a moment.  She sighed again.  “But you practically live here these days,” she noted, a hint of distaste in her tone, gesturing to the three walls that surrounded them as they sat in the basement of the university library.  “I miss you.  My bed’s never been so cold.”

A wave of trepidation rose within him at her words; his heart began to beat painfully against his ribs.  “It’s not forever,” he reminded her, gently padding his thumb across the crest of her cheek.  “My thesis is due for formal review at the end of the month.”  He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.  “It’s just a few weeks more…”

She exhaled sharply, shifting position once more, lifting her head to look over his shoulder as she closed her arms around his neck.  He could sense her disappointment in his refusal to cut his studying short; it annoyed him as much as it worried him.  She hadn’t been the same since Valentine’s Day; apparently, she had been expecting a big to-do, which he’d singularly failed to deliver.

He’d tried to explain to her that holidays held little meaning for him, but he knew that his aversion ran much deeper than that.  He was well aware of what she wanted from him, but it was the one thing he couldn’t give her.

Not without hurting her, at least.

“Please,” he pleaded in a low tone, “be patient with me.”

She pressed a soft kiss to his brow.  “I’m trying, love,” she murmured.  

He swallowed convulsively, tightening his grip around her waist.  Along with the final version of his thesis, he was to turn in applications for post-graduate internships.  At the top of that list?  A position in her family’s company, one he still hadn’t told her about.

One he couldn’t tell her about, not when she was splayed across his lap like this, her hips rocking suggestively into his, her breath warm and seductive in his ear.  All it took was one look at her to set his entire being ablaze with heat and desire – and whenever she was this close, it threatened to overwhelm him and his better judgment.

He was hanging on by a precarious thread, but he couldn’t give in.

Not yet.  Not like this.

Suffice to say, she was not the only one suffering for his honor.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked softly, smoothing his hands down the planes of her back.

She sat up, her expression resigned as she gazed at him.  “No,” she sighed, tugging playfully on his hair.  “I wish you weren’t so insistent on staying here, instead of coming home with me.”

He gave a wry look.  “Dinner wasn’t enough for you?” he teased, unable to resist running his fingers along the waistband of her skirt, tucking his thumbs under it.

Her eyes hooded as she pulled a little harder on the locks of hair that she held.  “Not when you deny me dessert,” she replied coyly, leaning into him, capturing his mouth in a sensuous kiss.

He yielded momentarily to her touch before recovering his resolve, guiding his hands back up to the safer territory of her back.  “Rain check,” he breathed.  “I just need a few more hours here, I promise.  Then I’m all yours.”

She smiled against his lips.  “I’m going to hold you to that,” she purred, letting him go and hoisting herself up.  She heaved another sigh, heavy and exaggerated, as she stooped into one of the corners of his study carrel to gather her belongings.  She pressed a kiss to his cheek as he turned back to the desk.  “I’ll be waiting.”

“I’ll be there,” he assured her with a smile, his gaze lingering on her as she slipped out of the room.

It had taken some getting used to – being in a relationship again, especially with someone as carefree and passionate as Kagome – but in the small moments, like these, he was undeniably happy.

He shifted a stack of notes on his desk, his hand inadvertently landing on the stack of applications he’d picked up earlier that day.

And it was small moments, like these, when he completely hated himself.

It had been two months – two long, glorious months since that fateful New Year’s Eve kiss.  Eight beautiful weeks of coming home to her, spending time with her, indulging even half the lascivious feelings he had for her.  He’d never been an openly affectionate type of person, not even with his own family, and Kagome had taken great relish in loosening his inhibitions – in private and in public.  She was forever touching him – his hand, his arm, his waist, or even his hair, with which she seemed to have a particular, rather adorable, fascination.

However, even when he was the one initiating contact, she almost always ended up in control, pinning him down while she straddled his hips, pulling at his clothes (and hers), directing their course with her kisses and her touch.  Not that he really even minded, especially considering her penchant for wearing short, flared skirts – but it was becoming increasingly difficult to hold himself in check before things went too far.

He had always prided himself on his sense of self-control, on being able to resist all temptation in the face of an ultimate goal.  He’d walked into this relationship knowing full well its dangers, and he’d thought he could handle it – find a way to enjoy her affections, to fulfill her needs, but also to protect his heart all the while, mindful of its inevitable, potentially devastating conclusion…

But he was wrong.

She was too alluring, too seductive, too sweet and kind and loyal.  She was everything he never knew he wanted in a woman… and now, he was a breath away from falling in love, from giving in to her demands, from letting her into every corner of his heart.

I wish I could pretend that none of this was happening, he thought morosely as he eyed the applications.  It was hard enough, trying to keep his desire for her from deepening into love; it was proving nearly impossible to overcome his libido.  He hadn’t had sex in three years, and it was really starting to wear on him, having to live with such temptation.  It took less and less to arouse him these days – sometimes merely the brush of her leg against his was enough to make his pulse race.  He couldn’t hide it from her, how much he wanted her, but he couldn’t give in to it, either.  Without fail, his well-honed sense of honor and pride resurfaced before things could truly get out of hand.

He knew the glacial pace of their physical relationship frustrated her, especially in the wake of having her dreams dashed on Valentine’s Day.  He knew this, because she’d only gotten more aggressive in the interim, as if she could sense just how close he was to giving in to her, as if she thought that rushing him through foreplay would get her there faster –

– but no matter how quick her pace, he was steadfast:  he absolutely would not do something that would, in the end, only cause her pain.  He found no pleasure in that.

Nevertheless, it was hard to resist her advances, which was why he’d drawn the boundaries that he had.  He didn’t allow her to stay the night in his room – in his bed – and he granted her the same courtesy.  He spent most of the day away from the apartment, working diligently in the library when he wasn’t in class (or thesis meetings), only returning home around dinner, in an effort to keep their ‘quality time’ encapsulated in a neat, precise little window.  She’d found ways to make him bend – they shared breakfast together most mornings, and met for lunch between classes – but he had yet to yield completely.

It was absolute, total agony to retreat to bed alone these days, but he kept telling himself that it was for the best.  He knew exactly what sort of position he was putting Kagome in, because he’d once been there himself.  The last time he’d dared to give his heart away, completely and without reservation, it was thrown back in his face, with bitter, resounding laughter, by the gold-digging bitch only interested in his family’s wealth and power.

That painful memory, along with the mounting guilt of keeping something so vitally important from her, was enough to hold him quite firmly in check.

He wouldn’t be that man – and he wouldn’t force her to make that choice.

He gave himself a firm shake, pushing aside his brooding thoughts as he reached for the last of his thesis notes, determined to actually get some work done on it.  He was revising the next-to-last chapter – due the next day by the end of office hours – and he wanted to ride the momentum straight through until the end.  The closer he got to the finish line, the less criticism-couched-as-advice his advisor was giving him, and he wanted to keep it that way.  

Finishing his thesis was merely the first step in his master plan.  With it out of the way, he could concentrate on more important things – like maybe figuring out how to have his cake and eat it, too.

Somehow, time had gotten away from him.  

When Sesshoumaru finally stood, collecting his papers and stowing them away with his laptop, it was much later than he’d anticipated.  And, though he would’ve gladly spent the rest of the evening picking over his word choice for the final draft of this thesis chapter, he was all too aware of the fact that he’d promised part of his night to Kagome.

He shrugged into his coat, hastily belting it and looping his bag over his shoulder.  He was one of the last patrons to trickle out of the building, stepping into the chill of the early spring night air just as the library doors were locked behind him.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m overthinking all of this, he mused, his keys dangling from his hand as he moved through the parking lot towards his car.  If I was any other guy, this probably wouldn’t be an issue for them.  Hell, if I was my father, this certainly wouldn’t have been an issue for him – he’d take his pleasure and run…

He frowned as he slipped into the driver’s seat and adjusted the rearview mirror.  His father was just about the last person he cared to think about, especially now, considering the man was the source of all of his problems.  

Somehow, his father had found out about his relationship with Kagome, the daughter of his biggest business rival – from Inuyasha, Sesshoumaru suspected, that conniving bastard – and now his father was laboring under the impression that he had finally fallen into lockstep with his old man’s devious ways.  If he ever received word of Sesshoumaru’s plan to apply for the post-graduate internship at SHK – and, if Inuyasha was indeed his source, then he undoubtedly would hear about it soon enough – he’d obviously expect that it was a move made on his behalf, to become an inside operative in enemy territory.

The irony was bitter to the taste:  Sesshoumaru was, indeed, angling for a position at SHK, but he was determined to win it on his own merits instead of on his girlfriend’s back.  He wanted the job not for his father’s sake, but for his own – he was planning to use it as leverage in the hostile takeover of his inheritance, the one his father was intent to deny him after dangling it in front of him for the entirety of his life.  Ever since he’d discovered his bastard child alive and well in Europe, his father had become devoted to bringing the boy into the fold by whatever means necessary – and that included positioning him quite powerfully within the company that had always been destined to be Sesshoumaru’s.

In a further show of derision for his legitimate son and heir – or hell, maybe just for his own amusement – his father had also tasked Inuyasha to curry favor with Kagome, because she sat on the board of directors, and thus, held a crucial vote in the management of SHK’s business affairs.  Whereas Sesshoumaru was loath to bend to his father’s will, Inuyasha seemed only too happy to play the part of the pawn.  And why wouldn’t he?  All he’d ever known of his long-lost father was love and affection, encouragement and devotion.

If there was one person Sesshoumaru resented more than his father, it was the very existence of his pathetic half-brother, a gaijin unworthy of kissing his feet, much less sharing his blood.  Had he no mind of his own?  No ability to see past their father’s calculating façade?  Did he truly believe that this was the path to their father’s heart – doing whatever he commanded him to, consequences be damned?

It’s a lost cause, Sesshoumaru thought as he silently navigated the drive home.  If I can’t win Father’s approval after nearly twenty years on this planet, then you don’t have a chance in hell, Inuyasha.  

He’d pity his secret brother, if only he didn’t find him so despicable.

Ugh – the only thing worse than thinking about his father at a time like this was contemplating his reviled sibling.  Sesshoumaru was only too happy to dismiss all thoughts about his family from his mind as he pulled into the parking lot at the complex and made his way to his apartment.

“Kagome?” he called as he shoved the door open.  With the weather gradually warming, it wasn’t quite as much of a chore to get in or out anymore.  He pushed it back into place and flipped the lock, surprised all the while to note that the light in the foyer was off.  He turned, narrowing his eyes as he spied a soft glow from the kitchen – one that had gone out as soon as the door was closed.

After a moment’s hesitation, he dropped his bag noiselessly to the floor and slipped out of his coat, hanging it on one of the hooks by feel alone.  He noticed a slow movement from the corner of his eye and turned sharply, wishing his vision would adjust faster to the darkness, attempting to discern what was there.

He took a step forward, and the common room was suddenly flooded with light.

“Oh, thank God, it’s you,” Kagome breathed, her voice quiet but shaking as she crouched in the archway leading to their kitchen.  With a small sob, she dropped whatever she was holding with a loud clatter and raced towards him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face against his chest.  “I was – so –scared – !”

“Wait, what?” he sputtered, reeling internally as he tried to take in her present, crumbling state.

She tightened her hold on him, her tears soaking into his sweater.  “I’m just – so – glad – you’re home,” she choked out, her words muffled against his chest.

His heart began to thump rapidly as her abject fear radiated into him, crashing over him in copious waves.  Stay calm, he told himself, closing his eyes as he drew her close, circling his arms protectively around her back.  She’ll tell you what happened if you just give her the chance.

Not that such self-reassurances did anything to allay his internal alarms – and panic was not an emotion he particularly enjoyed.

“What happened?” he tried again, striving to keep his tone supportive, but firm.

She simply shook her head in response, her breath ragged in her chest, her shoulders trembling violently under the weight of her sobs as she curled her hands possessively into his back.

Realizing that just standing there was bringing him absolutely no answers, he began to move in the direction from whence she came, wondering what in the world could’ve gotten her so upset in the few short hours between dinner and now.  A niggling bit of guilt surfaced in the back of his mind as he remembered how much she’d cajoled him into leaving the library with her...

She shuffled alongside him, offering no resistance as he maneuvered toward the kitchen.  He turned on the light, unsure of what he might find – and, upon seeing nothing out of the ordinary, his distress slowly morphed into bewilderment.

“I don’t get it,” he said aloud, looking down at the crying girl still huddled in his arms.  He spotted a discarded tennis racquet from the corner of his eye, lying askance in the corner between the kitchen and the hallway, and inclined his head further, narrowing an assessing stare at it.

“Someone – followed – me – home,” Kagome managed finally, her words breaking off between sobs.  She took a deep breath.  “He – he even tried to come in a-after I’d locked the door.  Like, really tried to get in!”  Another sob broke through.  “I was so afraid – I couldn’t even turn on the lights.  I couldn’t do anything.”

Sesshoumaru tightened his hold on her as the explanation poured out, curling one hand protectively around her neck.  She began to cry in earnest then, burrowing into him, searching out every soothing caress he could offer.  He wasn’t sure what to do; he was not skilled in the art of comforting others.  All he could do was hold her, and hope that it was enough.

He didn’t know how long they stood there, but gradually, she began to calm down.  He turned off the light in the kitchen and guided her back to the common area, turning off that light as well.  He led her to the sofa, switching on a nearby table lamp, its golden glow not quite as harsh as the overhead fluorescents.  Together, they sat down, and he draped his arm over her shoulder.  She continued to cry, tears trickling down her cheeks, her sobs finally silenced.

As they sat together in the mostly dark room, Sesshoumaru began to realize that this incident had shaken him far more than he cared to admit, even to himself.  He wasn’t one to rue over past mistakes, but the “what if”s of the situation were creeping over him rapidly.  

What if he had accompanied her home when she’d asked him to?  Would this random creepster have followed both of them, or had he chosen her because she was a woman, walking alone after dark?

What if he had come home earlier, like she was expecting?  Would he have caught said creepy guy in the act, thereby finding out who he was and possibly why he’d targeted her?

What if she hadn’t had the presence of mind to lock the door in the first place?  Would he have come home to a scene far worse than a crying, scared girlfriend?

And, maybe worst of all…what did this all mean?

If he granted these baseless worries voice, would that mean he was admitting that he was no longer standing on the brink, with half a chance in hell of protecting himself?

He dropped a kiss against her temple as her tears subsided.  She tightened her grip on his waist in response, sniffling lightly as she leaned into him, resting her head in the hollow of his shoulder.  Even in such a position, he could feel the rigid set of her shoulders, the way her muscles constricted across her back.

He quirked a small smile as he stroked her arm lightly.  Sitting like this – so close, in his arms, and yet so far from his embrace – she reminded him of himself:  unwilling to let go of the hurt and fear completely, unable to relax entirely.

It was so unlike her – the carefree, confident, assertive woman he’d come to regard so deeply.

“Are you okay?” he murmured, sliding his hand under her shirt, rubbing smooth circles over the small of her back.

Her fingers curled into his side as she nodded against his chest.

Why don’t I believe you? he thought warily, his soothing caress seeming to have no effect on the stiffness of her frame.  He frowned, tracing the length of her spine with one finger, finding so many knots and kinks in the surrounding muscles.

So I’m not the only one holding back.

The thought was not as comforting as he might have expected.

“Come on,” he said after another long stretch of silence, bracing himself to stand.  “I know what you need.”

“What?” Kagome whispered, puzzled.  She seemed disoriented when he took her hands and pulled her upright, but he ignored that as he led her down the hall to her bedroom.  She glanced up at him quizzically as she unlocked the door, but still, he said nothing, merely walking into the room and heading straight for her dresser.

“Lay down,” he instructed, arching an amused brow as he gazed over the assortment of accessories that littered the top of the bureau.  “On your stomach.”

She didn’t speak as she complied with his request, rustling softly among the sheets.  He chose an innocuous hair band from her collection, pushing the heavy curtain of his hair over his shoulders and tying it back.

It had been a long time since he’d done this, but it was the only thing he could think of that might possibly relax her.

He advanced to where she lay, more or less centered on her bed, her head resting on her forearms just beneath the pillows.  He climbed up beside her, settling at her left, and laid his hands on her back, thumbs to the center, fingertips splayed out over her ribcage.  Carefully he repeated the action over the length of her back, stopping only to unclasp her bra.

He used the friction of her shirt to his advantage, pressing hard against her shoulder blades with the heels of his hands, holding the intensity there for a long moment before dragging it down the twin planes of her back.  She gasped as the pressure released at her waist, only to have it begin again at her shoulders and drift down once more.

“Breathe, Kagome,” he directed softly, running his thumbs alongside her spine.  “Let me know if it hurts.”

“Mmhm,” she mumbled in response.

He caught a glimpse of her face as he shifted to her right, relieved to note that her eyes were closed, her expression calm, if guarded.  He brought his hands together on the right side of her back, rubbing long, gentle circles in place, inching slowly down towards her waist.  As he repeated this action on her left side, he finally felt her relax, her muscles becoming pliant beneath his ministrations.  After two more sets of these palm-generated circles, he turned his attention back to her spine, using his fingertips to massage tight circles over each vertebra, careful to keep his touch light, yet firm.

He followed these more rigorous movements with another sweep of softness, merely laying his hands together over her back and drifting outward, using long, soothing strokes.  She sighed deeply as she began to unwind, her shoulders relaxing into his touch.  He concentrated his focus there, again using the heels of his hands to great effect, pushing outwards from the center, all the while allowing his fingertips to brush lightly over her sides.

He adjusted positions one last time, angling over her almost directly now, laying his hands over her back in a diagonal pattern and pulling them apart, the gentle touch of his fingers followed by the more intense pressure of his palms.  He worked down the entire length of her back before returning to her shoulders and reversing the directions of his hands.

By the time he’d finished, she was breathing lightly, evenly, her body sinking into her mattress, her skin smooth and warm under his touch.  She seemed boneless, weightless, ethereal.  Her expression was one of tranquility, free of any trace of worry or fear.

Carefully, he leaned over her, pushing her hair aside and brushing a kiss across the nape of her neck.

“Where did you learn that?” she breathed, her voice so airy that he almost missed the question.

“From my mother,” he replied, slipping off of the bed and kneeling beside her to meet her gaze.  He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.  “She used to give my father and me massages after our training in the dojo.”

She reached for his hand, smiling wistfully as she brought it to her face.  “Remind me to thank her for giving you magic fingers,” she sighed, her eyes fluttering closed as he caressed her cheek.

He studied her for a long moment, his hand drifting through her hair once more.  The massage had probably calmed him just as much as it had her.  His mother had always claimed to enjoy giving her boys rubdowns after their sparring, but he hadn’t believed her – until now.

Perhaps she was capable of demonstrating affection after all.

Sesshoumaru contemplated the thought and casually dismissed it, turning his attention back to Kagome.  Her breathing had slowed and deepened into a regular rhythm, and her grip on his arm had loosened.  When he tried to pull away, however, she stopped him, tightening her hold.

“Stay,” she pleaded softly.

He stilled, averting his eyes to the floor between them.  If he did this – if he stayed the night with her –that meant breaking all of his own rules.  

“Please, Sesshoumaru,” she continued, opening her eyes, finding and latching onto his golden gaze.  “Just…hold me?”

She was so calm, so peaceful, on the edge of sleep.  Could he trust her to not tempt him?

Because if she tried – he knew he would be unable to resist.

He stood, releasing his hair from the holder, returning it to its home on her messy bureau.  He steeled his spine, squeezing his eyes shut as he made his way over to the door, reaching out to switch off her light –

– before going back and sliding into the bed next to her.