InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Perfect Man ❯ The Perfect Man ( Chapter 1 )

Standard Disclaimer: Inuyasha and all belong to Rumiko Takahashi

A/N: I have agonized over this piece for a good long while… determined to make sure it's just right before I posted it for the eyes of the masses to view. Credit for helping me read and nitpick goes to Niamh and Saya for their unending patience with my incessant needs to go over it again and again. This probably wouldn't be up for a good long while without them. Now, I would say more, but this has been my super secret fic…

The Perfect Man

There was a certain sense of satisfaction to be found in knowing that you held no secrets from your lover; that there was never a moment when unnecessary questions or emotions would arise to sully the brief, yet precious time spent attaining gratification. Even more importantly, there was a certain amount of pride to be taken in knowing that lover was already intimately familiar with every single move, every touch and caress that would make the most of such times without the possibility of anything short of perfection.

Anything less would be unacceptable.

A cooler breeze gusted through the heavy leaves of the youkai's surroundings, making him pause as he savored the feel of it gliding through the flowing curtain of his hair like silken fingers before it moved on to leave him standing in peaceful silence.

Nights like these were made for taking advantage of every opportunity, made for stepping off the worn paths of youkai and humans to find a patch of solitude to indulge in such a lover, which only made availability that much more important.

There were never questions, never a flash of surprise across those perfect features to waste unnecessary time, or words to break the fragile mood. There was only a single-minded decision when the timing was perfect, and the night called out to his more carnal instincts. Any other lover would have made demands, would have had questions… Any other lover would not have been permitted to see him in such a vulnerable state, the crack in his stoic demeanor, lest he lose his hard earned respect and reputation.

The typical night sounds drifted to his sensitive ears in a lazy melody, soothing away irritations from the mundane events of yet another unproductive day, and encouraging him to lean back just enough to feel the soft coating of moss covering the trunk of the tree behind him. A deep breath in brought him the scents from the world around him, assuring him that there were no threatening presences to interrupt, and serving the dual purpose of filling his head with the musky, pleasant scent of arousal.

His eyes drifted closed for a moment, a faint hint of a smirk touching the edges of his sculpted lips as he savored the anticipation, the weighted beat of silence where everything seemed to hold its breath until edges of his kimono were parted beneath a cool, smooth hand.

There was no pouting, no complaints of the ever-present armor, the swords he refused to remove just in case there was another youkai daring enough to wander close at such a delicate time. Over the years there had been only a handful of interruptions of that sort, foolish creatures who'd thought they could use the distraction of sex to hide from his superior senses. They never lasted more than a breath or two if he was feeling inclined to take his time decimating them before returning to more pleasurable activities. Sometimes he was disgusted by wasting even that fraction of a moment to dispatch them, while other times he was simply indifferent to the inconvenience of the interruption. One did not attain his status without having to deal with the less savory aspects of life and hatred along the way. These were wild areas, and too often the weak would let delusions of such a prominent would-be victim cloud their already limited abilities to reason.

A slowly indrawn breath broke the heavy silence of the woods when that skilled hand slipped beneath the sash holding his immaculate kimono in place, fingers curling around his thick erection with a gentleness that belied the usual destruction they were capable of producing. The leashed strength in that touch was readily apparent, held carefully in check to apply just the right pressure in a slow, smooth glide from base to tip before it paused to trail a fingertip across the beginnings of fluid pooling at the head.

Intercourse would waste time, create distractions he had no patience for, but again there was never a flicker of doubt or a feeling of neglect for the lack of such intimacies. The goal was always his gratification, pure and simple, no more and no less regardless of the situation or the environment. He would not have tolerated anything but the most direct approach to attain what he desired, unwilling to play such pointless games.

That hand moved again, fingers closing tightly to provide that delicious friction as his hips shifted forward; hot and cold contrasting between the night air and his body as the blood pooled heavy and thick in his groin.

The very faintest of smiles tugged at the edge of his lips, eyelids drifting closed to awaken and heighten all his other senses, primeval senses. That hand effortlessly found his rhythm to curl and squeeze at just the right time and place with each stroke. After a few continued motions, that hand paused yet again at the tip, thumb firmly pressing down to milk more of the glistening fluid onto the rest of those fingers. A low rumble vibrated in his throat when the hand resumed its smooth pumping, the vocalization of pleasure for his benefit alone rather than any feelings of obligation.

All his senses heightened; the smell of the forest, the rustlings of leaves in the new breeze mingling with his deepening breath, and the feel of soft, cool moss against his back contrasted with the heat of his own body. Every perfect glide and squeeze of that expert hand bringing him closer to his desired climax. Gleaming eyes opened, focusing down on the sight of his erection thrusting strongly against the friction of those curled fingers. Even without the moonlight, he would have seen the moisture oozing from the tip, spreading down his skin with every pass, that minor lubrication just enough to prevent any awkward pull or chafe.

His teeth ground together silently, a muscle twitching in his jaw while his lips pulled back off his teeth with the slow tightening in his stomach that preceded his release. Not a beat was missed, nor a word spoken, but that touch still changed perfectly with his increasing need; his hips arching ever so slightly when the fingers tightened their ring of resistance.

This time a low sound, like a rumbling groan, escaped his throat, breath easing out in a long, controlled sigh to reward that new sensation. He leaned back, letting the tree take the brunt of his weight and spreading his feet wider to balance his stance in preparation for the moment of inescapable weakness. Nostrils flared and eyes narrowed as the warmth in his belly spread, almost painful streaks of lust jolting down his spine to match the increasing motions.

Shoulders hunched just enough to seem as though he was curling possessively around the source of his pleasure, eyes held open through force of will to watch that hypnotic play of skin on silken skin again and again.

For a moment the grip and touch against his shaft seemed to border on pain, hovering in that delicate beat of frozen time between aching arousal and the pure ecstasy of climax. Then those perfect fingers switched their hold a final time, curving tight around his erection before using a particularly hard, slow stroke to pitch his body past its closely guarded limits.

It was a moment hidden from all other eyes; the only time that flawless composure ever crumbled, leaving his emotions raw and exposed to the world around him. Body straining forward when the rush of sensation finally became too much, flashing through him like wildfire while his muscles snapped taut and eyes finally clamped shut. His breath escaped him in a choked moan, focusing on that searing heat as it raced through him, gleaning every last second of the mindless pleasure he could afford to waste and finally allowing his body to release.

The peaceful sounds of the night slowly filtered back to his ears as the pounding of blood began to settle back down to its more sedate pace. Gleaming eyes opened as the hand eased away, leaving him free to lean back and stretch the lingering tension from his body. The wind snatched at long strands of hair that had spilled over his shoulder, drawing his gaze down to stare with mellow contemplation at the moonlight playing across each rippling piece.

There was no reason to remain in the darkness, listening to the gradual slowing of breath and smelling the remains of arousal as it began to fade into the natural wild smells of the forest. And yet he still remained, loathe to give up the peace that only came with such stolen times, but well aware that his responsibilities could not be ignored any longer than necessary.

Those slender, clawed fingers lifted to his lips in silent offering, his tongue languidly taking a slow trail up and around each digit to meticulously clean off the sticky, cooling semen. He took in a deep, cleansing breath as the last finger slipped from his mouth, licking his lips to be certain even the residue was gone before he pushed away from tree and resettled his balance.

It took no more than a second, rocking forward on the balls of his feet while that hand tucked him back into his hakama and refolded the fabric into his sash with the speed and immaculate perfection he demanded of everything around him. There was still not a word spoken as he delicately inhaled the night air to find the direction of the nearby water source; ever careful to pick his locations with how very imperative it was to hide his scent completely. His enemies would kill to know that he indulged in such a weakness of the flesh, making each jealously guarded moment all the more precious in his eyes.

Noise was unnecessary and unwelcome as his feet again carried him silently through the grass, senses alert to any suspicious shadow or scent drifting in the scattered foliage. Assured of the absence of threatening presences, he stepped out of the tree line and found himself pausing to stare down at the face reflected on the water.

He knew that face so well, every line, every feature… The way the pale hair fell across his forehead to alternately expose or conceal the symmetrical crescent standing out in sharp relief to the surrounding skin. He stared into those piercing golden eyes, watching the warmth fade back into ruthless cold with every breath until he was staring back just as expressionless as ever. Even the wind settled to a whisper, letting that impossibly soft hair settle and frame the sharply tapering jaw to absolute perfection.

He tossed his head to throw his hair back over his shoulder, out of the way of the water or accidental pulling as he knelt on the bank, lowering the hand that had given so selflessly into the cold stream to take a drink. Dipping it back into the stream again and rubbing his fingers together slowly, the water rinsed away the film of saliva before he lifted his hand out, flicking his claws to remove most of the excess water. Ignoring the last stubborn trails running down his pale skin as they left darker spots in the pristine white of his sleeve, he turned his palm up towards his face.

He regarded the deadly precision of the claws topping each finger, tracing them in turn before letting his eyes slide down over skin unmarred by any human imperfections such as scars or lines of age. Lower still to the muted stripes of color revealed when the billowing sleeve pooled at his elbow, leaving him free to peruse the entire length of his arm with detached fascination.

Unchanging, deadly, trapped by the bonds of flesh and bone to be perpetually at his command… Ever only a single thought away from bending to his every whim and desire.

Perfect.

Sesshoumaru's lips spread in a faint smile one last time as he rose to his feet, flicking his claws again to banish the last of the water before smoothing a hand down the front of his clothing. It was one final check, a test to be certain there wasn't a tuck or fold out of place before turning on his heel to retrace his steps back into the thick forest and continue on his unending patrol without a single backwards glance.