InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Love's Smirking Revenge ❯ The Sound of Settling ( Chapter 31 )

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

Love's Smirking Revenge
- Chapter 32 -
The Sound of Settling
Rin -
The journey from her bed to his room was a blur. She couldn't remember waking up or tip toeing down the stairs. She hadn't felt the cool touch of the hardwood floors against her bare feet or the chilled night air on her skin. Had his door been open or closed? She couldn't recall. And yet, there she was, standing next to his bed.
The hows and whys of it didn't matter. It was all so inconsequential now that she was staring down the barrel of a gun.
Some sound had roused him, some trifle creak of the floorboards beneath her feet or the rustle of the pants he'd given her to sleep in. One moment she was watching him sleep, thinking that he looked far less intimidating when his guard was down, and in the next she heard the ominous, hollow click of a gun trigger being cocked.
The hand holding the gun in her face was steady. His eyes were open but there was no recognition in them, no sign of any consciousness at all. Even still, his fingers bit into the flesh of her arm where he'd grabbed her and held fast.
The world slipped quietly away after that. It started at his dull, expressionless eyes. They blurred and became one solid mass of gold. His body followed suit, along with the floor beneath her feet, the room, the apartment, and Tokyo outside his door. They faded, one after the other, until the only thing that existed in her world was the end of his gun.
She came to know every detail of its construction - the colour of the metal in the dim light, its exact size and shape, and the uncompromising darkness of its endless barrel. She stared down it, stared death right in the face, and dared to take a breath. She let it out shakily and drew in another. Soon the sound of her heavy, wet breaths was the only sound at all and though it bothered her it was better than the silence. Breathing reminded her that she was alive. He hadn't pulled the trigger.
Suddenly something shifted in his eyes then and he looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time since he'd sat up and put that gun in her face. Releasing her arm, he sat back and regarded her with a sharp look.
“What are you doing here?”
He stared expectantly awaiting an answer, but she had none to give. Her lungs struggled for air and her legs gave out from under her. The jarring impact of her knees hitting the floor pulled her back to reality - Tokyo, his apartment, the room, the floor, the man in front of her… It all came rushing back as she watched him calmly stash his gun beneath his pillow. The gun he'd just put it in her face. The gun he'd almost shot her with in his sleep.
She pushed herself up off the floor with trembling hands and stumbled into the darkened hallway. She crashed into something solid and heavy and swore under her breath. Pain bloomed across her thigh and she grimaced at the thought of the bruise it'd leave behind.
A low table, she deduced as her fingers slipped over the polished wood.
She pressed on, fumbling towards the door using her hands against the wall as a guide.
The entryway was closer than she'd thought and once there she promptly flicked on the light. She ripped open the door to the closet and began a frantic search for her things. She hadn't brought much, just a jacket and a bag. It wouldn't take long to pack...
His presence suddenly filled the doorway. She looked up to find him dressed in brilliant white silk pants and not much else.
“It's late,” he said, with only the faintest tone of censure.
She ignored him and began stuffing various items into her bag - scarf, cell phone, ipod, lip gloss…
Her hands were shaking so bad she dropped her house keys before she could get them inside. She scrambled to pick them up off the imported tile but her fingers refused to work. The source of her problem lingered in her peripheral vision until she finally gave up on her bag and stood to face him.
He looked impossibly beautiful, even in the dim artificial light. Had she been less upset she might have noticed that his torso was well sculpted, its every muscle defined and smooth against his skin. Dressed in designer suits or standing half naked in his pyjamas in his front hallway…was there ever a time he didn't look perfect?
But in truth, she was far too upset to be aware of anything more than the facts - the facts being that she didn't know a thing about him and he'd nearly killed her tonight.
“Who are you?” she managed, pushing past the suffocating fear that'd settled in her throat.
The picture of composure, he slipped his hands into his pockets and breathed an audible sigh.
“You don't want the answer to that question.”
“I have a right to know…” she prodded.
“That is where you are mistaken.”
He turned his back to her and headed into the kitchen, turning on the potlights over the stove as he went. She waited, considered running out the door, and then followed him. He set a kettle to boil on the element while she slid onto one of the bar stools lined up alongside the marble island.
“What kind of man sleeps with a gun under his pillow?”
He shrugged off the accusation behind her words and occupied himself with retrieving a mug from the cupboard.
“What kind of girl sneaks into a stranger's bedroom at night?”
“I wasn't…” she began to object but her words fell short.
What could she possibly say? That he wasn't a stranger? Or that she hadn't been sneaking into his room? He was and she had and there was no other reasonable explanation she could offer.
The slight lift of his eyebrow was the last expression she caught before she made a sound of disgust and turned to face the city lights. The floor to ceiling windows had been well chosen for this particular view. Tokyo stretched out before her, an endless sea of neon and white amidst the black.
His presence filled the space beside her and she discretely breathed him in. He smelled so good.
“You could have killed me,” she said quietly, eventually lifting her gaze to his.
His expression was solemn. She'd expected cool dismissal but this was different. Maybe even men like him could make mistakes. Maybe he'd made one in bringing her here. It was what they both were thinking, though neither of them seemed willing to give the words life.
“In my world people don't pull guns on their friends.”
His expression faltered and she caught a glimpse of something there. He turned away before she could read it completely and it left her feeling frustrated all over again.
With his attention diverted by the kettle boiling on the stove, she turned hers to the city below. In her world people didn't pull guns on their friends, but her world was so very far away from this place. They might as well have been on different planets.
The hollow sound of ceramic settling atop granite drew her eyes down to the steaming cup of tea sitting in front of her.
“If you still wish to leave in the morning, you are free to do so.”
She looked up in time to see his back disappear into his bedroom and the door close shut behind him. The cup was warm in her hands and eventually the tremors running through them subsided. She took her time sipping it, letting it soothe her from the inside out while the city remained frozen beneath her.
Could she stay?
The idea circled around her mind, gaining support and condemnation from both sides. He'd put a gun in her face. Staying was stupid and suicidal. He hadn't known what he was doing and he'd rescued her from VOSS. He had a wife. He hadn't asked anything of her. He refused to tell her anything about himself. He'd prepared her favourite kind of tea.
She breathed in the warm, rich aroma of the Darjeeling in her cup and let it out slowly. The irony of their role reversal wasn't lost on her, and neither was the meaning behind it. Men like him always spoke with their actions rather than their words. So what had his actions told her?
Her tea had long since gone cold when she finally finished up the last sip and put her empty cup in the sink. In the distance the sky was lightening over Tokyo in hues of indigo and magenta in preparation for the coming dawn. The long night had come and gone and she was still here. Perhaps it was worth seeing what the day would bring. Everything looked different in the daylight, even him.
On her way to the stairs, her bag caught her eye and she considered it a long moment before tucking it safely into the closet. She wasn't going to accomplish anything by running when she had nowhere to go. Besides, if she left now she wouldn't learn a single thing about him. And that was the reason she'd come here in the first place, wasn't it?
xXx
Kagome -
Morning rolled in with a flicker of lightning and a long, low rumble of thunder. Kagome lay torn between sleep and wakefulness, listening to the sound of the rain on the window. Beneath her the bed was soft, but not her own, and her entire body thrummed with contentment.
It had been a good night. Neither of them had gotten much sleep, but she felt rested nonetheless and perfectly at peace.
Breathing in deep, she sighed softly and turned over onto her side.
He was all around her. The scent of him was on the pillow beneath her cheek and the sheets tucked neatly around her naked form. She took comfort in that and snuggled down further into them, conscious of his absence.
His room was neat, if a little bare and she found her eyes focusing on the small collection of LPs stacked atop a box in the far corner. Pink Floyd's “The Wall” poked out from the middle of the stack, its tell-tale cover giving it away. She smiled to herself, not quite sure what to make of it.
They'd never talked about their favourite bands before. Her mind unwittingly sharpened to full consciousness as she realized that there were still a lot of things she didn't know about him. Somehow they'd skipped all the normal “getting to know you” steps and jumped straight into the deep end.
She had no idea what his favourite band was, or his preferred brand of beer. Things like birthdays, ages and extended family had become inconsequential in the wake of everything else.
She may not know his favourite colour, but she knew what he was and the ramifications of what that meant. She knew about Kikyou and he knew about her past with Oniguomo. They knew all each others' secrets and in the wake of that, the rest simply didn't seem important. They'd learn it in time and really, what was the rush? They had all the time in the world to get to know each other and it brought a full blown smile to her lips.
She was still grinning when the shower in the next roomed suddenly stopped and he stepped out into the hall. He was dripping wet, with a towel wrapped around his waist and another rubbing the water out of his silver hair.
A small glimmer of disappointment fluttered through her when she realized that he was once more in his hanyou form. There was something so encapsulating about being with him, talking with him, when he was altered and his defences were down.
His eyes hadn't held their usual shadows and she longed to explore that side of him. Just as quickly the sense of disappointment was gone, and in its place was a sort of giddy happiness she hadn't felt in years.
Seeing her, his mouth quirked into a half smile and he tossed the towel he'd been using to dry his hair into the hamper.
“Mornin'.”
Her gaze travelled over his nearly naked form and she swallowed. The look in his eyes suggested that he knew exactly what he was doing to her and was enjoying every teasing minute of it. Discretely, she cleared her throat and answered with her own muffled, “Morning.”
He took a seat beside her on the bed and studied her in the soft grey light. Eventually his hand came up to caress her jaw before slipping into her hair. She leaned into his touch and his lips met hers, soft and warm from the shower.
He tasted of mint and smelled faintly of the body wash he'd used only moments ago. Her hand slipped over his ribs and up his back, finding a few stray droplets of water along the way. Eventually he pulled away and looked her over again, more thoroughly this time.
“I dreamt that you left,” he said softly.
His words were weighted and she stayed quiet, not quite sure how to respond. The cynical observation that she hadn't been the one to leave in the first place sprung up and she let it pass without lingering on it. Things were different now, they both were, and she had no desire to go back.
“I gotta go in to the precinct,” he said, abruptly changing the subject. Her eyebrows lifted in surprise and he stood up to gather some clothes together. One drawer after another opened and shut with practiced ease and a small pile of clothes began to form at the end of his bed.
“What happened?” she asked, sensing his reluctance to go.
It was obvious in every defeated toss he made that he had about as much desire to leave his apartment today as she did to watch him go.
Sighing heavily, he scooped up his boxers, stepped into them and slid them up over his hips. Easing his body down onto the bed, he turned his head back and forth and massaged at his neck to work out the kinks. Taking her cue, she came up behind him and kneaded the tight muscles until they began to relax under the pressure of her fingertips.
“One of my leads on a case got shanked last night. He didn't make it, so now I'm back to square one.”
“Who was it?” she wondered, morbidly curious.
“Yoshi Ishii. You might've heard of him…?”
He turned his head slightly, in time to catch her indifferent shrug and head shake.
“Not worth knowin' anyway,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“He was just some yakuza lackey but I got him to fess up to that arson from last fall. He was put up to it and I'd been putting the gears on him, trying to get him to tell me who it was that was payin' him off, but he refused to say nothin'. Now he's dead and I've got nothin'.”
She pursed her lips in thought and rested her chin atop his shoulder.
“Maybe whoever killed him did you a favour?”
He turned at that, his expression dubious.
“How do you figure?”
“Well, if you say this Ishii guy wasn't talking then maybe the guy who killed him will be an easier nut to crack. Sounds like someone didn't want him talking to you and decided to silence him before he said anything important.”
He drummed his fingers against his knee as he turned over her suggestion and eventually nodded in agreement.
“Yea. Maybe ya got a point. I won't know till I get down there and see the lay of the land for myself.”
With a sense of finality, he picked up his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. He grabbed his pants next and then hesitated.
“I need a favour.”
She looked up from where she'd been plaiting her hair into a loose braid and waited expectantly. He set his pants aside, momentarily forgetting them.
“Be here when I get back.”
She opened her mouth to protest that she had things to do and her own stuff she needed to take care of, but the sight of his half-turned back gave her pause.
“It's the only way I'll know for sure…” he muttered, eventually meeting her gaze.
Taking his hand, she pulled him to her and situated herself neatly beneath the press of his body.
“I'll be here,” she promised, feeling every word echo through her.
He gave a tentative, lopsided smile before kissing her. His hand skimmed up her toned thigh, gently kneading the muscles there. They were still sore from the previous night, but so was the rest of her. A little soreness wasn't going to stop either of them though, not when they still craved affirmation the way they did.
He nudged her legs apart and entered her slowly, savouring the pained hiss that escaped both of them.
“How different is it?” she wondered, wrapping her legs around his back. His lips pulled away from the curve of her throat and skimmed the tops of her breasts.
“Like night and day,” he answered simply.
She wondered at that, and then gasped as he caught one of her nipples between his teeth and pulled gently.
“Last night was the first time I…” he shrugged self-consciously and dipped his head to her other breast to hide his unease.
Inwardly, she marvelled at the fact that she'd stolen his human virginity. She hadn't thought it possible, but given how private he was about his night of weakness it made a lot of sense.
“It felt like I was wearing a damn body condom. Couldn't feel a thing.”
She gave him a wry grin. “Seemed like you felt things just fine. More than once, if I recall?”
He laughed lightly and slowed his rhythm to an excruciating pace.
“True enough, but I couldn't feel you like I do now.” He lowered his lips to her throat and followed the line of it down the length of her breastbone.
“When I'm hanyou, I can hear your heart. It speeds up when you're enjoying yourself.”
To prove his point, he quickened his pace until she dropped her head back and moaned. When she lifted it again he was smirking at her, looking rather pleased with himself.
“The sound of the breath in your lungs and your scent tell me when you want it and how bad, what you like and how far I can push you.”
The breath hitched in her throat and she uttered a low `mmmmmm'.
Well, at least now she knew the secret to how he seemed to be able to play her like his own personal instrument. She would have resented him for having that much control over her had she not enjoyed it as much as she did.
“What's my body telling you now?” she teased, boldly arching her hips.
“That you're close,” he answered, sounding a little breathless himself. “But so am I.”
His free hand cupped her backside and pulled her in to meet his next thrust. Her legs tightened around his waist, anticipating release.
He was right, she was close. The grip her legs had around his waist was tight enough to make a normal man wince, but he didn't seem to notice and so she clung to him until she'd ridden out the last lingering wave of her orgasm. He gasped too, and pulled her against him as he found his own release.
He eventually lowered them both back onto the mattress and his body went heavy overtop of hers. He pulled in a long, slow breath and planted a secret kiss against her neck.
“You're killing me,” he teased, gently extracting himself from her limbs.
“Well, at least we're even,” she shot back wearing a playful smile.
She watched silently as he finished getting dressed. There didn't seem to be anything else to say and all the words running through her mind would have only ruined the moment. So she did something completely uncharacteristic and held her tongue.
He bent to kiss her before he left, smelling both warm and inviting. She grabbed hold of his t-shirt to pull him closer and he punished her with a gentle nip. Detangling her fingers from his shirt, he pulled her in for a rough embrace and pressed a kiss into her hair.
With that, he left and she listened to the sound of the front door closing shut behind him. Finally alone, a satisfied sigh left her lips and she turned her eyes to the grey skies beyond the window. After a moment's consideration, she threw off the sheets and made her way to the shower.
She might be spending the day lounging around his apartment, but that didn't mean she couldn't make herself smell nice just the same. Remembering his words she smiled to herself and gently closed the door behind her.
xXxXxXx
Author's Note: I apologize for taking a while to get this chapter out. I had some personal stuff going on that needed to be taken care of. I hope you enjoyed the new developments. As always, I'm curious to hear your thoughts on where the story is headed and how the characters are behaving :)
Just this month, LSR won two awards at the Feudal Association - 3rd place for both Best AU/AR Fiction and Best Drama! YAY! I really appreciate everyone who nominated and voted. It's truly an honour to be put in the same category as the other fics in contention. So thank you :)
As always, my many thanks go to you my faithful readers. Without your kind words of support this story would never have come this far.
Cheers,
Langus