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By: The Hatter Theory

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Inu Yasha or any the whiskeys mentioned therein.

AN: If any of you take this seriously you're out of your minds. Cracksmut for the GM Challenge. Look out for anal sex, religious irreverence, rough sex and crack. Lots of it.

A special thank you goes to Kayelyn and Smortz for giving me locations. Blasphemy and public sex never had more stalwart supporters. Thanks guys.


Flashing lights, music and the crazy partying of five or six dozen teenagers that partied with the particular conviction of those that knew they had no real chaperone and more booze than Greece and Rome could go through in a month to keep them going for a night. That was where Kagome found herself on the night of her graduation, oddly alone and singularly sober, in a singularly single and sober sense.

She was contemplating leaving, which would be unforgivable, because her mother thought she was at a sleepover with her sister and her best friends. Showing up at home would be a particularly bad idea, or finding one of the many rooms in the mansion not occupied by a busy couple, self same sister and son of mansion owner being among them, and trying to go to sleep, which sounded like a good idea, except getting to sleep with the noise at it's current levels would be impossible. Finding an unoccupied room might also prove difficult, if not improbable. At the moment some teenagers were treating them like revolving doors, one couple walking out and another going in.

She tried not to shudder.

Needing to get some air, the mansion itself stifling from the crush of bodies, she walked outside only to be, well, somewhat surprised, but not really, at the sight of Inu Yasha's pool filled with naked teenagers splashing and screaming drunkenly.

Was she the only sober one at the party?

Groaning, she walked back inside and for the third floor, which housed the bedrooms that -she hoped- were off limits. At least she figured no one would try and use the family rooms. Probably not. Hopefully not. Inu Yasha's father was an inu youkai and would decidedly displeased if he came back to the scent and possibly sight of his bed despoiled, not to mention Sesshoumaru, who had a significantly shorter temper.

Being a beloved of the family, well, most of them anyway, Sesshoumaru didn't count, he didn't like or love anyone, she figured she could get away with sleeping in one of their beds, explaining that, well, the situation would explain itself. But it was something she could get away with, Touga and Izayoi loved her, and had for the past eight years, since they had met her.

However, once she got upstairs, she walked down to one end of the long hall to the master suite and opened the door.

A bare behind bounced up and down almost in her face. Slamming the door shut, she tried not to imagine the lecture that would be coming later. Resigning herself and hoping that, even if he didn't particularly love her, -he didn't hate her either- Sesshoumaru wouldn't blame her for seeking shelter from the party in his room. Walking down the length of the hall, the chorus of screams and the calling out of points made her blush hotly. She supposed two couples were in Inu Yasha's room, and she sincerely hoped it was not Inu Yasha and her sister. Kikyo did not seem to be alright with that sort of thing, and if she was, Kagome didn't want to know. Ever.

Except when she opened the door to Sesshoumaru's room, the couple on the bed screaming made up one part of the pair screaming.

Slamming the door shut again, she realized that by the time the party was over, every square inch of the house would probably have been screwed in. The sofas, the pool table, the pool, and every available bed, not to mention the tables and the bathrooms. Briefly she thought of the garage and knew in an instant people would be having sex on top of the expensive sports cars.

Which left her nowhere to hide or to try for sleep. Everyone would take every chance they could to bang on every possible surface of the Taisho Mansion.


Kagome made a beeline for the front entrance, ignoring the party and the invitations to dance and trying not to see or hear the pseudo orgy that had broken out in various rooms. Flushing hotly, she opened the coat closet and, hearing no immediate moans, threw herself inside and slammed the door behind her, hoping against hope that no one would have noticed it and decided it was a possible spot to neck and more.

“Get out,” A quiet voice said just as she was getting ready to sit.

The voice, completely unexpected and singular, unaccompanied by moans or the grunting particular to sex, surprised her so much that she fell back, onto his legs. Because not only had she thought herself alone, but she had been under the -obviously incorrect- impression that Sesshoumaru would be gone for the evening.

“Sesshoumaru?” She squeaked, pushing herself off of his legs and against the wall of the closet.

“You're not drunk,” He observed.

“No,” She said slowly.

“Everyone else is.”

“Everyone else is also participating in the desecration of the mansion and I'm hiding. Why are you here?” She demanded.

“I came home to find two teenagers on my bed,” He said bluntly.

“Then why didn't you throw them out?” She asked smartly.

“I did.”

“And you're here because?” She tried, disliking his normal oblique stoicism.

“My bed was already smothered in the scent of several other people. This was the only place free of morons.”

She could hear the implication. 'Until now.'

“I'm sorry, but please don't make me go,” She sighed. “I don't- I'm not-”

“Interested in making a debauched fool of yourself?” He asked succinctly. She wished she could see him in the darkness, instead she only got a vague outline from the light coming in from beneath the door, and nothing more than that.

“Pretty much,” She admitted. “Drinking a little, dancing, even necking is one thing. But it's just, everyone out there is nuts.”

“My father is going to box our ears for this.”

“Why would he box my ears?” She asked shrilly.

“Not yours. Mine and my dimwitted half brothers,” He retorted. Kagome couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard the sound of a bottle sloshing before he spoke again. “Inu Yasha invited all of them, and I was home and allowed it to happen.”

“Are you drinking?” She asked.


She was going to say something, but there really wasn't anything to say. Given the situation, she would probably drink too. Their father was normally a bit of a pushover, allowing his sons fairly free reign of their activities and behaviors, but she had been around to see his temper flare more than once, and though Sesshoumaru angry was enough to scare her, Touga angry was more than enough to qualify as nightmare material.

“Can I have some?” She finally asked. “I might be able to sleep through all of this.”

“My thoughts exactly,” He told her, and she could hear a note of sympathy in his voice, as well as the sound of the bottle being passed to her, sloshing. She wondered if his was already drunk and that was what accounted for the sound, or if he was trying to let her know where the bottle was.

Reaching out, her hand brushed over his and she tried not to react at the warmth. Not once in the eight years she had known Inu Yasha had she ever, ever had physical contact with his brother. Sesshoumaru had always been cold and distant, and had it not been for the circumstances that had put her there, she would have thought she was dreaming.

She smelled the bottle first and immediately recognized it as the whiskey Touga favored.

“Stealing your dad's liquor?” She asked archly.

“I'm going to get yelled at anyway, and it was the only thing the twits out there hadn't found,” He told her as she tipped the bottle back. Sipping slowly, as she'd been taught by Touga, who had told her how to properly enjoy whiskey in an abstract manner one night, she tried not to sputter as it slid down her throat.

She tried not to think about her lips on the same bottle that Sesshoumaru had been drinking from, because that was more surreal than sharing a closet with him. Taking a moment to breathe, she inhaled the suddenly too cold air and exhaled fire.

“So what is virginal, perfect Kagome doing at one of my half brother's parties?” Sesshoumaru asked as she was putting the bottle back to her lips.

“A, I'm not a virgin, and B, I'm covering for Kikyo. Mom thinks were at Eri's for a sleepover.”

“I bet you have worlds of experience,” He mocked sardonically.

“Probably more than you, Ice King,” She muttered before taking another, much longer pull form the bottle. The whiskey itself burned all the way down, and she wondered how much it would take before she could go to sleep, and how much it would take before he would go to sleep.

“Oh really?” He asked when she pulled the bottle away.

“Really,” She retorted. “I bet you haven't even found someone worthy.” Because one thing Sesshoumaru had always made very, very clear, was that he found everyone beneath him. She actually couldn't imagine him having sex with someone. It seemed too, sweat and messy for someone like him.

“I'll make you a deal. We each list off an activity that we've done, and if the other hasn't they drink.”

“Like the opposite of never have I ever?” Kagome asked. “But the whole point of that-”

“Is to get blindingly drunk,” He told her.

Which made perfect sense. Not to mention she might, while he was inebriated, get some dirt on Sesshoumaru, which would be gold in Inu Yasha's eyes. And the added bonus that she would probably get drunk enough quickly enough to pass out sometime before dawn, not that it was that far off, by her reckoning.

“You start,” She invited.

“I've slept with a woman.”

Kagome drank, figuring that the first shots were freebies.

“I've had sex with a man,” She said, almost hoping he wouldn't drink, just for the sheer magnitude of such a secret. However, he took the bottle from her and she heard him taking a pull from it and exhaling gustily, strange for him even given the circumstances.


“Giving or receiving?” She dared.


She took the bottle from him.

“You've had sex, but you've never had oral sex?” He asked as she took a long pull from the bottle. The whiskey was already working it's magic on her, otherwise she might have never been able to own up to it. Not to mention to Sesshoumaru, although who would he tell? He never spoke to anyone in the house except to insult them.

“I've given, but Kouga never liked the idea of being down there,” Kagome told him, admitting to a secret that she had never told anyone. It had crossed her mind, more than once, that maybe she had smelled bad to Kouga's oversensitive nose, and that was more than mortifying, it had created a complex she was equally afraid to admit to.

“Young and foolish,” He said, voice wry. She could hear the disapproval, and couldn't help but feel that it was directed at her.

“I've given oral,” She shot out, wondering if he was a selfish type of lover, and half expected him to be. He didn't reach for the bottle however.


She didn't drink.

“Doggy style,” She said, smirking and knowing he could see it.

He didn't drink either.

“You should have known better on that one,” He chuckled, a dark sound. “In a car.”

She drank, a longer pull. Already the warmth was seeping from her throat and chest into her arms and legs. The surreality of the situation was lost and instead she was, in a strange way, combating Sesshoumaru of all people on her sexual prowess, which wasn't much at all.

“On a track.”

He drank.

“Standing up.”

She drank.

“Beneath a tree.”

He drank.

“With someone five years older than me.”

She drank, trying not to think about Sesshoumaru's taste in women. The image of him with a cougar made her choke on the sip as it went down, and she coughed heavily, feeling dizzy.

“In a bathroom.”

He didn't drink.

“In my own bed.”

She hated herself for admitting it, but she drank.

“Thought so,” He chuckled.

“Jerk,” She mumbled, although she could tell it was slightly slurred. “I bet you do it in front of a mirror.”

“Have you?”

“No!” She protested, flushing heavily.

“Penalty, take two and then I'll need the bottle.”

She glowered even though he couldn't see it, but took two quick sips from the bottle before passing it to him. She heard him take a sip before he paused, and she wondered if he'd finally had enough and was about to call it a night. She felt ready to, the lethargy of the whiskey beginning to settle in. She felt warm and slightly heavy, and the music wasn't quite so loud as it had been. She might actually be able to sleep if she wrapped her head in one of the coats hanging around her.

“In a pool.”

She took a sip.

“Umm, sixty nine,” She said, taking two penalty sips. He didn't reach for the bottle and, slightly tipsy, she blurted the question.

“How does that even work?”

“You're actually asking that?” He asked flatly.

“Well it's not like I've ever done it,” She defended hotly.

“You've never watched videos?”

“No. I tried once but they seemed weird,” She admitted.

“Standing or laying down?”

“You already said standing,” She reminded him.

“No, I mean, standing or laying down. Or sitting, for that matter.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your question.”

“You mean you can do it all those ways?” She asked, feeling her eyes widen.

He took the bottle from her and she could hear him taking a long swig from the bottle. She wondered how much was left.

“Yes, you can do it all of those ways, but laying down is best for less athletic individuals. The woman is on top and the man on bottom.”

“Oh,” She mumbled, flushing hotly, to afraid to ask how either person was supposed to concentrate, since her only experience had always taught her that a man receiving pleasure like that could only focus on that, and anything else would be impossible.

He was chuckling again.

“I've had more than one partner,” He challenged.

She drank from the bottle.

“Thought so,” He added.

“I'm not some slut that just sleeps around,” She snapped.

“I wasn't implying you were,” He told her. “Your turn.”

“I've- I've,” She started, trying to figure out something she had done that he might not have. Mentally scrambling for something she hadn't already said, she blurted the first thing that did seem plausible, even if saying it under any other circumstances would have been beyond mortifying, it would have been unthinkable.

“I've had a facial.”

He took the bottle from her and after the burbling sound stopped and he inhaled sharply, she could almost hear the question.

“It was an accident,” She said quickly. And it had been, one that had ultimately ended her relationship with Kouga. His kinks and pleasures aside, the burning of her eye had persisted, and her mother had, much to her embarrassment, thought it was pink eye and taken her to a doctor.

“He sounds like a moron.”

She couldn't exactly disagree there.

“It wasn't all bad.”

Just half of it, limited as it was.

“I've never had a partner that didn't get me off.”

She took a sip.

“I hate you a little for that,” She admitted. “I've never done it at a party,” She added before taking the two penalty sips. The bottle itself was heavy, but she could tell the whiskey was almost gone.

He took the bottle from her and sipped, and too late she realized how her words could be construed as.

“In a closet?” He asked, and she could hear him taking two penalty sips.

She thought she was going to accept a bottle when she held her arm out, but was pleasantly surprised to feel his hand wrapping around her wrist and pulling her forward. Gasping before lips pressed against hers, she was going to push against him.

Except that he was an exceptionally good kisser.

Whiskey warmed and more than a little curious, she let him kiss her before he pulled away.

“I'm a human,” She pointed out. Because he hated humans.

“I'm a youkai,” He pointed out, as if she had not been referring to his well known longstanding grudge against the weaker species and merely at their race.

“You don't like me.”

“I don't hate you.”

“I don't like you.”

“You've just spent the last hour in a closet with me talking about you sex life and drinking my father's sixty year old whiskey.”

“It could be the whiskey, for both of us.”

“And? Why should we be the only ones at this insufferable gathering that don't have sex?”

He had a fair point, one that made amazing sense to her not so sober mind. And she acknowledged that drunk her was playing keep away with sober her's common sense, and that he was probably going through the same.

“Besides, you have obviously never had a decent partner, and gods know that you need at least one before going to college.”

“And you're that partner?” She retorted sarcastically, his declaration only reminding her of his ego.

“Are you saying no?” He asked.

“No. No to no, I mean.”

“Then please stop trying to be logical.”

It was a demand that, given any other circumstance, coming from Sesshoumaru, would have made her laugh. He was the epitome of logic, and she hadn't been able to keep herself form admiring that about him at times. Or hating it at others.

But he was kissing her again, pushing her backwards until she was laying down.

He was a good kisser, fangs nipping at her lip before going lower, dusting his skin with light bites, her neck, she found, was more sensitive than she had thought. He growled against her skin, the feel of it making her twitch violently as his hand went lower, pushing up her shirt.

It occurred to her that she was about to have sex with her best friend's (hated) older brother, and that if she ever wanted dirt on him, this was it, not that she'd ever be able to use it.

Except he was determined to keep her from thinking at all, pushing her shirt up all the way and pulling at her, reaching beneath her back to undo the clasp of her bra. The air was cool over her exposed breasts and she arched up into his touch as his hand smoothed over the tightening flesh.

Moaning when his tongue flicked against one of her nipples she allowed conscious, coherent thought to drift away in favor of enjoying heat of him over her, pressing into her as he moved from one breast to another,r nipping at the sensitive bud of flesh and earning a choked gasp that should have been his name but ended in a strangled sound that would have embarrassed her in any other situation.

The closet was thankfully big enough that as he moved lower, she had room to stretch out her legs, which was good, because he was pulling her pants off, panties and all, and tossing them somewhere in the darkness. She could feel his hair brushing against her legs, a ponytail that tickled her thigh as he bent down.

“What are you doing,” She whispered, closing her legs, the fear of that overriding the drunken pleasure she'd been losing herself in.

“Correcting an oversight,” He rumbled, pulling her legs apart.

“But-” She started, any words lost as she felt him nuzzling her inner thigh.

Shut up Kagome.”

She was pretty sure breath wasn't supposed to feel that good against there.

If he had been slightly rushed before, he wasn't now, taking his time and nipping lightly at her thigh, nuzzling the flesh of her sex. When she felt his tongue press against her lips she released a breath she hadn't been aware of holding, relaxing before a quick flick against her clit made her tense again, a long, low moan echoing in the coat room.

Slick and hot and more than she had ever fantasized about he was lapping and sucking at her sex, tongue doing something that made her arch her back and weave her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. Reservations completely lost, she panted his name, spread her legs wider. Every breath, every rumble vibrated against the slippery, sensitive flesh as his tongue swirled and circled and lashed at her, pressing against her entrance before retreating to repeat the process all over again until she was squirming beneath him, the rare feeling of impending release pressing down on her, a physical weight that made it hard to breathe.

When he sucked at her clit she screamed, bucking hard as stars burst in her vision, lighting up the closet for a moment before she was relaxing, her body melting as he pulled away and came up to kiss her. For a moment she allowed it before she realized something.

“Your face is wet,” She mumbled, eyes widening in horror.

“It is,” He said, although he didn't sound displeased in the least, which freaked her out even more.

“I peed on you,” She cried out, pushing at his chest.

“What?” He asked stupidly.




“You've never squirted before?” He asked, and she could hear the note of...pride? How could he find pride in that?


“Some women do that when they orgasm. It's not urine.”

“It's not?”

He laughed again, and she wasn't sure if he was laughing at her or at the situation, because she certainly wasn't laughing.

“What's so funny?” She demanded.

“You obviously need to pick better partners if he couldn't do that for you,” He told her.

“Isn't that what you're trying to prove?” She reminded him petulantly.

“So I was,” He chuckled, moving in to kiss her again. Despite her reservations about her supposed ability, she kissed him back, allowing him to stoke the fire that had almost been obliterated in her mortification. Which he was able to do with ease, given the whiskey and her curiosity, which had been more than piqued after the first orgasm. She'd never had one of that intensity, and she'd rarely done it during sex, mostly bringing herself off only when she was alone.

Despite the fact that he was drunk, at least she thought he was drunk, he was surprisingly quick to get his own clothing off, and she heard the tell tale sound of foil and felt rather than saw him putting the condom on himself.

And despite his possible drunkenness, he was surprisingly steady on his feet, pulling at her wrists and forcing her to stand on her less than solid legs. Weaving and falling against him, she shuddered at the texture overload of the different coats pressing against her back before he was cupping her bottom and pulling her up.

“Wrap your legs around my waist,” He told her roughly.

She did as she was told, used to the strength of youkai.

“Against a wall standing up,” She mumbled, blushing despite herself.

“Adding to your repertoire.”

“How kind,” She replied, feeling the tip of his cock pressing at her entrance. Clinging to him, arms wrapped around his neck, she clenched her eyes shut, unused to the sensation of being penetrated. A groan vibrated in his chest, thrummed against hers as he pushed deeper inside of her. Unable to bite the sound back, a high pitched moan echoed over it, a keening sound that ended in him silencing her in a kiss.

Slow and steady, each stroke filled and stretched her, the feel of him brushing against every nerve sending a shudder through her. When he moved her legs to hold one in each arm she didn’t protest, crying out into his mouth when it only allowed him to push deeper, every movement sliding against a particularly sensitive spot making her bite his lip.

Instead of being angry, which wouldn't occur to her until later, he only seemed excited by the action, thrusting into her harder. Her hands moved away from him, sure of his support of her, but her fingers grazed coats and grabbed, needing something to hold, to clench in her fists as he slid in and out of her,pressed her knees to her chest. Coats fell from hangers and she desperately scrambled for more, keening as he picked up his pace, burying himself fully in her with more and more force.

Her cries mingled with his snarls as sweat misted their skin. Oblivious to anyone outside of the closet or the wall at her back, the coats falling as she grabbed on to the rods on either side, arms stretched out but providing her with something solid to hold onto as he pushed her closer and closer to the edge.

The tightening coil in her stomach shattered, her blood boiling in her veins. The orgasm that crashed down on her dragging her under was even sharper, harder than the first, her scream muffled as she bit down into his shoulder. He continued, drawing it out and forcing her deeper into the bursts of light behind her eyelids. Not sure if she would be able to breathe if he continued, she was going to beg for him to stop, to withdraw when he snarled something unintelligible in her ear and stilled, body shuddering against hers as they both gasped for breath.

Wordlessly he pulled out of her and carefully dropped each leg. Seemingly understanding that there was no way she could hold herself up, he helped her lay down, moving with her.

Too tired and hoarse so say anything (and what could be said, because thank you seemed a little foolish considering) she let him pull coats over them and closed her eyes, exhaustion seeping into her dazed pleasure.




When Kagome awoke, it was with a headache, a hanger digging into her back and the feeling of someone hitting bass drums in her head over and over every time they spoke. Shouted. She wasn't sure. Groaning, she blinked up and realized she was blind. She had to be. Her eyes felt like they were boiling in their sockets at the whiteness pouring into the darkness.

“-And my whiskey! You little shits have destroyed my-”

It was Touga. The man she had respected for eight years. Or his outline and very loud, very angry voice that bordered on divine. Or hellish. Hellish could have qualified for the effect his shouting had produced in her brain. Divine and hellish. A very angry god punishing her for getting into sixty year old whiskey.

“Kagome?” Now his voice sounded more like him, although a surprised, stupefied version of himself.

“I'm going to die,” She muttered, too hungover to wonder if she was fully covered, or to notice that at some point in the night she had taken off her shirt, but that her bra hung off of one elbow.

“Nevermind,” Touga muttered, slamming the door closed and leaving them in soothing, calm, beautiful darkness. She could hear him shouting at everyone else in the house however, his voice booming and crashing like thunder in her consciousness, god like and terrible once again, but thankfully muffled.

“Did that just happen?” She asked groggily.

“No,” Sesshoumaru muttered, sounding as hungover as she felt.




The Taisho Mansion was tastefully decorated with sprays of flowers but little else to acknowledge the celebration. Kagome walked past the patio and into the massive living room, unsurprised to see many of her high school friends and several people she didn't know, her sister's college friends, she supposed, all milling about with the Taisho clan and her own family, both of which she knew well.

The celebration, her sister's inevitable engagement to her best friend, had been unsurprising but pleasing nonetheless, at least if the reactions of everyone around were to be believed. She knew there were some of the Taisho clan that were less than pleased with the continued dissolution of the Taisho bloodline, but they were few and far between, weeded out by Touga and Izayoi before the invitations had even gone out.

After several hours of mingling and catching up, grateful when everyone wanted time with her sister, she was ready to call it a night and to head back to her mother's home.

She was beginning to walk for the entrance when she saw him.

Just as obviously as he saw her.

“Kagome,” Sesshoumaru greeted, walking over to her.

“Hello, Sesshoumaru,” She murmured, not feeling the least bit awkward. What had been a fun -very fun- couple of weeks had ended amicably the summer before, with him leaving for an exchange program in Europe. They hadn't spoken since, but she hadn't minded, not expecting anything to begin with and knowing he had felt the same.

“You look well.”

“I've been well,” She told him, smiling. “And you?”

“I've been doing well. I recently came back from England.”

“How was it?”


“Oh?” Because the way he said it made it sound interesting.

“We should catch up.”

There was no real mistaking what he meant, not if his smile was anything to judge his meaning by.

“I think that might be fun. I'm in town for a few days before I go back to Hokkaido.”

They both looked around.

“This is boring,” She admitted.

“Will anyone miss you?”

“Doubtful,” She murmured.

“I suppose you'll need your coat. The spring has been particularly cold.”

She hadn't worn a coat, but she couldn't miss his meaning, or help but laugh at it.

“Maybe. I'll probably leave in a few minutes.”

And as simple as that, it was understood. He parted ways with her, disappearing, and she went and said her goodbyes, hugging her sister and future brother in law. She bypassed Touga and Izayoi completely, knowing they would know the truth even if she tried to hide it and she couldn't bring herself to try lying about it.

Giddy with anticipation, she walked to the front door and tried not to gasp when the closet door opened and a clawed hand yanked her inside, closing it quietly behind her.

“You're fond of closets.”

“Nostalgia maybe,” He told her. “You don't have a boyfriend do you?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Finally taking my advice?”

“To heart.”

“I suppose I should have brought whiskey,” He chuckled.

“We could always play for clothes,” She suggested, feeling very worldly -and confident- after a few semesters of college.

“Sounds promising.”

“Maybe,” She murmured, standing on tiptoe to kiss him in the darkness.

“Rules?” He breathed, pulling away.

“Same as last time.”

“Workplace,” He started.

She removed nothing.

“Really?” He asked, obviously surprised.

“I work at the campus library. Seems sexy librarians are a popular fantasy. Threesome.”

She could feel him removing his shoes.

“You've been busy. At a club.”

She removed her shoes.

“On video.”

He pulled away from kissing her neck long enough to unbutton and shrug off his shirt.

“Two women at the same time.”

She removed nothing.

“If you tell me it was on video I'm going to demand to see it,” He told her roughly.

“Private video,” She teased, hands easing up under his undershirt. “I'm actually winning this one,” She whispered, gloating until he nipped at her earlobe, forcing a low moan from her throat. “On a desk.”

He removed nothing.

“Standing sixty nine,” He rumbled in her ear, ending it with nipping at her jaw. She unbuttoned her shirt and pushed it off. His hands gripped her waist, claws digging into her skin.

“Handcuffs,” She whispered. He removed nothing.

“Living dangerously,” He mocked. “Rope.”

She unbuttoned her pants and pushed them down, kicking them off and wondering what he would think of the newest additions, once he saw them.

“With a gymnast.”

He removed his shirt with her help his hair getting tangled in it as she tried to pull it away. Laughing throatily when they finally got it free she let it drop to the floor before smoothing her hands over his chest.

“Older woman,” He said, nipping at her lips.

She removed her bra, arching up into his palms when they cupped her breasts. She could feel him stilling as he encountered the jewelry there.

“Piercing,” She said, unable to stop another laugh from fanning over his jaw as his thumbs brushed over the bars piercing her nipples with an experimental curiosity.

She felt his legs bend as he toed off his socks.

“Spanking,” He rumbled.

She toed off her socks, blushing lightly. That was one thing she was no going to admit being curious about. Not yet at least.

“Toys,” She whimpered as his tongue brushed against her too sensitive collarbone and his fingers tugged experimentally at her nipples.

“Giving or receiving?”


One hand left her breast just long enough to undo his pants and push them down. He kicked them away. She could feel his underwear against her hip and wanted them off almost as much as she wanted her own off.

“Taking someone's virginity.”

She pushed her panties down and kicked them in the general direction of her pants.

“Anal,” She gasped when his hand slipped between her legs.

He pushed his underwear down and kicked it away, immediately pushing her against the back wall of the closet.

“Neither?” She asked archly, or tried to. The breathy quality of her voice made it difficult to sound worldly or superior, neither of which she cared about as much as the feeling of him tugging on her nipple piercing.

“No,” He admitted, biting down on her shoulder.

“You should try it sometime.”

“Giving or receiving?”

“Didn't know you swung that way,” She taunted, a startled yelp escaping when he bit her harder.

“I'm not. But I've never met a woman interested in receiving.”

“Yes you have,” She teased, biting back a moan when she felt the length of his shaft pressing against her sex.

“Very busy.”


“A good thing,” He said.

“Your fault,” She groaned when he pulled away from her and bent down. The sound of a foil tearing and falling away and within moments he was spinning her around roughly and bending her over. Bracing both hands on the wall she bit her lip as he pressed against her slit. Knowing that not only would every youkai would know what they were up to, but that the humans would find out if she didn't keep quiet, she tried to hold back her moans as he leaned over her. But the position, her favorite and he knew it, threatened to shatter her control as he bucked forward.

“Sess,” She whimpered, the feel of him stretching her around his girth almost too much. A hand slipped over her mouth and while it hadn't been what she was going to ask for, it was enough as he thrust forward again, burying himself in her to the hilt.

That the youkai knew what was going on was enough to excite the side of herself that, due to discretion and restraint, not many knew about. Added to that the chance of someone opening the door any second, whether to berate them or on accident only spurred her further, making her push back against him as he bucked forward. Her slickness coated her thighs, mixed with sweat that misted her skin and heat that seeped into her flesh, burned through her. Friction sent wave after wave of pleasure jolting through her, jagged and almost painful in intensity.

Crying out in his palm, she didn't try to fight her orgasm as it crashed through her, ripping a moan from her throat that vibrated on her lips and against his palm. He slowed, almost stopping completely as she shuddered and her knees buckled. He bent over, breath in her ear and arm wrapping around her waist to keep her upright.

“Kagome,” He growled softly, so much so that she barely heard it.

“Yes,” She said into his palm.

“Can I-” He began. She turned her head away from his hand.


“I haven't even-”

“I know what you were going to ask. Please,” She repeated, groaning when he withdrew from her.

Slick from her first orgasm, he pressed against her entrance slowly, a muffled groan heard somewhere over her head as she felt him pushing in. Wanting more, she pushed against him, muffling her own moan as she stretched around him. Panting slightly as he continued, she wriggled and pushed back, greedy for sensation. That she was providing him with a first for once only increased her pleasure. When he was fully sheathed inside of her, he stilled completely. Keening impatiently she moved forward.

“Please,” She whimpered, craving friction. She could feel his chest pressing into her back as he leaned over her, breath hot and moist on her already sweat soaked skin. A growl thrummed against her back as he thrust forward and pulled back. A hiss of something that was a mix of pleasure and pain mixed with the sound of wet flesh slapping together. Any semblance of care or thought vanished, the only hint that he remained more aware than she was the hand clapping over her mouth and muffling a pleasured cry.

Harsh exhales rasped from his throat before he bit down on her shoulder, a particularly vicious thrust earning a shrill cry and claws digging into her hip as he came. Somewhat disappointed that she hadn't been able to find release a second time, she found consolation in the fact that she had given him his, and hopefully in an enjoyable manner.

Panting and sweaty, they stayed that way for several minutes before he withdrew. Stumbling in the darkness, she accepted her clothing and pulled it on quietly, unable to stifle a giggle when Touga walked by and made a pointed comment about looking for Sesshoumaru.

“You've been thoroughly corrupted,” Sesshoumaru rumbled as he zipped his jeans.

“Not yet,” She reminded him. “No rope.”

“I'll have to remember that next time we meet, if you haven't taken care of it by then,” He told her, brushing his lips against hers.




“You're not going to disappear into the coat check are you?” Kikyo asked as Kagome helped her with her veil.

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Kagome retorted as she adjusted a layer of sheer fabric. The whole thing was incredibly annoying to adjust, because every time she got one layer of the fine lace and tulle positioned, another had decided to bend just so, and her sister's attempts at making it sit correctly were only making it worse.

“Kagome, it might have been funny to embarrass the stodgy old youkai at the house, but-”

“I will refrain from having sex with Sesshoumaru at your wedding or reception,” Kagome deadpanned. And she meant it, although she could tell Kikyo doubted it.

“Will you even make it to the reception?” Kikyo asked archly.

“Yes,” Kagome sighed, aggrieved. “It's like you think sex with him takes priority.”

“After some of the things you've told me-”

“Not even half of it,” Kagome teased, watching her sister blush with ill concealed mirth. And it wasn't entirely undeserved. In high school Kikyo had been the daring one, and in college, they had seemingly switched roles, although Kagome had become far more daring than even her sister knew. And it was going to stay that way.

“Just promise,” Kikyo begged lightly.

“I promise I will not have sex with Sesshoumaru until after I give the toast and have a dance or two.”

“And not in the coat check.”

“Not even in the reception hall,” Kagome promised sweetly.

“Or in the parking lot,” Kikyo pressed.

“Oh come on, that was one time.”

“For a family barbeque,” Kikyo said, voice flat.

“We were told we couldn't do anything in the cabin that weekend,” Snipped testily. And if it hadn't been for that rule, they would have been fine having sex in the cabin and not in Sesshoumaru's car in broad daylight.

“Why don't you two just get married already?”

“Because we're not in love,” Kagome said simply.

“Too bad lust isn't a good stand in.”

“If it was, I would be getting married with you. And you shouldn't have to share your special day.”

“Thank you,” Kikyo said, and Kagome could tell she meant it. Unsure whether to take it as a compliment that she and Sesshoumaru were, apparently, that infamous or an insult to her character for lack of restraint, she decided on nodding silently. It was her sister's day, and the last thing she was going to do was ruin it.




“I promised her a couple of dances,” Kagome said as Sesshoumaru took her hand and began to dance with her. The music was classical, a live orchestra playing in the corner, and the steps had been easily memorized.

“My father forced a similar promise,” He chuckled, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“What dance are you on?” She asked, brow raised.

“You would be my second. You?”


“Shall we make our exit?”

“Kikyo said no coat rooms.”

“There's always the-”

“No cars either.”

Sesshoumaru looked distinctly put out.

“I did reserve a room.”

“You're showing your experience.”

“Not too much I hope, that wouldn't leave any room for surprises.”

She did not miss Kikyo rolling her eyes or Touga's raised brow as they quietly -and swiftly- made their exit from the reception and into the lobby of the building before he followed her to the elevator.

“We still haven't gotten an elevator,” He commented quietly.

“You're right.”

“Have you had one?”

“Nope. You?”

“Not yet.”

“They said we couldn't do anything at the reception.”

“Or in the coat check.”

“The elevator is entirely different,” She reasoned as the doors dinged open, revealing it to be empty.

“Good thing we took photos before the reception.”

“Why's that?” She asked as she stepped into the elevator. The doors closed and she was pressed against the cool metal wall.

“I'm going to destroy this dress.”

“Keep it to the back, my room is all the way at the end of the hall.”

“I'll do my best,” He rumbled, a fine tipped claw already neatly bisecting the back of the dress. She had almost hoped for something more noisy and violent.

Later that evening, when called to come back down for a final picture, no one commented on the fact that she wore his jacket, or that the hemline of her dress, hanging just below the jacket itself, was oddly split.




Her phone was ringing. Sighing softly and not wanting to deal with people that night, she was tempted to ignore it, except it could be her family. The needling pinprick of consciousness made her role over on her bed and grab her cellphone from it's charger. Flipping it open, she was surprised to see Sesshoumaru's number.

“Hello?” She asked.

“You sound less than pleased. Is it a bad time?”

“I just had to have the talk with my partner about boundaries.”

“Getting emotionally attached?”

It was more than they had ever spoken of before, aside from telling each other their own forays into sexual adventure, sometimes misadventure, in a purely voyeuristic manner.

“They were, yeah,” She sighed.

“I suppose that means you don't want to see me tonight.”

“You're in Sapporo?”

“I am. Business meeting with father and a potential client.”

“Does he know you're coming to see me?”

“He'll probably put two and two together in the morning.”

“He's going to murder us.”

“Only if he can't marry us.”

“Very funny,” She snorted. “My apartment is on the east side of Odori park.”

“Funny, I'm on the north side. It's an expensive area.”

“I'm supplementing my income,” She hedged.

“As? You haven't become a dominatrix have you?”

“No,” She muttered, then rattled off her address. He promised to be there soon and she hung up after a quick goodbye, taking stock of her appearance. Being wrapped in a sheet wasn't entirely bad, although she didn't feel particularly like having sex. However, Sesshoumaru had a way of changing that, not that she'd ever tried to resist. Stretching languorously she thought about the woman she'd had to end things with. It had started out as a light fling, and was supposed to stay that way, although somewhere along the way Kagome had missed the signs of growing attachment, or the woman had merely hidden them.

She did feel a little guilty, although she had made the terms of their relationship clear from the beginning, and Amai had agreed, wanting the same things.

Ignoring propriety, she got up and walked to her living room, mussed and in nothing but her sheet. Hopefully Sesshoumaru would provide some sort of distraction from the loss. Amai had been a fun partner, but not someone she would settle down with.

Coffee had just finished dripping into the pot when a knock sounded at the door, and she walked back into the living room and opened the front door. Sesshoumaru was waiting, eyes widening appreciatively when he saw her.

The familiar overtures of lust bolted through her, and she smiled at him, stepping to the side to let him in. As always, his eyes took in his surroundings without being obvious about it, and she could tell he was impressed as she closed the door behind him.

“So, if not a dominatrix, a prostitute?” He joked.


“Escort?” He rumbled.

“Erotica writer.”


“Pen name,” She chuckled.

“Anything I should be aware of?”

“You're part of a long series of chance meetings and anonymous encounters for a daring heroine out to reclaim her sexuality after a marriage barren of love and sex,” She teased, walking into the kitchen.

“Really?” He asked, following her. She was opening her cabinet to pull down mugs when she felt his hands grab her waist, pulling at the fabric of her sheet.

“And a vampire, a dominant, an incubus, and a sweet neighbor with a wild streak,” She added, relaxing against him.

“I feel like I should be receiving royalties,” He chuckled, bunching the fabric in his hands and pulling it away from her body.

“Settle for the title of muse or nothing,” She retorted, melting as the tips of claws grazed over her nipples before tugging lightly at the jewelry there.


“Nothing,” She said firmly, although it was a lie and they both knew it.

But he pulled away, a first, and leaned against the counter next to her, eyes speculative.

“So tell me about your partner.”

“Amai,” She sighed, lust immediately cooling. “She was really fun, just in a different place in her life than me.”

“You sound sad.”

“She was as good at oral as you are.”

“I'll take that as a personal challenge.”

“Oh, whatever shall I do?” She mocked lightly. “She wanted me to give up my other lovers.”

“You have more than one?”

“Not at the moment, but I told her at the beginning that we would never be exclusive, would never be more than friends that had sex. She wanted monogamy. And to move in.”

“Can't interfere with an artist’s workspace.”

“I think it would drive me insane to live with someone else.”

“It probably would. I did for awhile, bad idea.”

“You lived with someone?” She sputtered, eyes widening. “Oh, screw coffee. This is a whiskey story.”

“You're probably right,” He acceded, watching as she walked over into her living room and to her elegantly carved liquor cabinet. It was small, and held very little in the terms of variety, but there was a bottle of her favorite aged whiskey which happened to be the same whiskey they had gotten drunk on their first time together. It was not lost on Sesshoumaru as she poured, and she could see him smirk as he breathed in the scent.

Sitting down on her white couch she didn't bother to pull the sheet up, letting it drape over her legs and down to the floor as he took a seat across from her.

“So when did this happen?” She asked, still curious.

“Last year,” He admitted slowly before taking a sip from his glass. “She was a steady lover and said that she was fine with me keeping mine, so long as she could keep her own. It went well at first, then and then it wasn't. She became jealous, attempted to make my life a living hell all while bringing her own lovers home still.”

“I don't get it,” Kagome admitted quietly. “Why does everyone feel the need to change their partner?”

“Sex is as complicated as we make it. Most people believe sex and affection are the same thing.”

“I like my partners,” Kagome rebutted. “But it's like they keep falling in love with me. It sounds narcissistic, but they do. I can't keep one longer than a few months without it happening. It's ridiculous. And every time they say they love me, they demand I change, which is even stranger to me. I was completely honest with them every time, and when I tell them I'm not going to give up my lifestyle, they treat it like a personal betrayal.”

“It's rejection,” Sesshoumaru pointed out, taking another sip of whiskey. “No matter how gently worded or how obvious it was from the beginning, you're still rejecting them in favor of your lifestyle.”

“I know,” She groaned. “But I hate feeling guilty for it.”

“Then don't. You did your part by being honest with your partners, there's little more you can do.”

“I know,” She sighed, although the affirmation of her own feelings did nothing to quell the needling guilt.

“Kagome, if you're going to sulk while I'm here, I'll leave,” he threatened, although he was smiling.

“Oh the dishonor,” She chuckled. “The booty call that wouldn't put out.”

“You're more than that,” He rebutted.

“Oh?” She challenged, raising a brow in challenge.

“I think you're the only woman that understands me,” He said quietly. “A lover and a friend.”

“We barely talk about anything but sex,” She snorted.

“I live eat and breathe the boardroom and practice discretion to such a degree that even my father is unaware of my activities. You are the only one that is aware, besides the ill advised foray into living with someone, that I am as I am. It's considered highly unnatural for inu youkai to be so-”

“Slutty?” She teased, sitting her glass down on the coffee table and grabbing his, plucking it from his fingers.

“Perhaps,” He chuckled.

“Shrine maidens aren't known for it either,” She told him as she leaned forward to kiss him, fingers working deftly with his zipper.

“Mores the pity. Once corrupted you lot do become imaginative, Urana.”

She stilled, eyes darting up to meet his own.

“You knew the whole time!” She accused, leaning back and grabbing one of the pillows and attempting to smack him with it. He caught it, hands gripping the soft woven cover and padding and pulling it away, tossing it carelessly over his shoulder.

“Is it supposed to be my fault that you described our sex so well? One of my partners went on and on about it, and I realized it either had to be you or someone you were telling everything to, and I doubted you would do that. Not that I'm complaining. Women all over the country are imagining me as their lover.”

“Arrogant. They're imagining a character.”

“With my imagination,” He countered.

He had her there, a lot of her plots had been based off of things she had experienced with him, most of it being his instigation.

“Perhaps more than muse?” He asked, grabbing her wrist and tugging her forward.

“Fine,” She groaned over dramatically. “Your fictional penis is better than any other fictional penis. At least if sales are anything to go by.”

“That'll do, for now,” He rumbled, lips pressing against hers to end the argument. She would have protested, but his hand was weaving into her hair and pulling firmly, tilting her head back to expose her throat. He teased around the spot she wanted, tongue darting out to leave tiny spots of wetness that chilled in the cool air when he passed.

“I think,” He said, lips brushing over her throat. “We should go out.”

“You want to stop?” She squeaked, the idea less than appealing.

“I haven't had dinner yet, or seen any of Sapporo.”

“You can play tourist later,” She growled in frustration.

“I'd like to play tourist now.”

“I'm going to kill you,” She groaned.

“Not until after I've gotten you off,” He murmured against her skin.

He had a point.

“Fine,” She sighed, slipping off of his lap, ignoring the sheet completely and leaving it on the couch as she walked back to her room.

“A skirt,” He called out after her.

“It's fall in Sapporo.”

“I'll keep you warm,” He promised.

She made a dismissive sound, but when she got dressed, she chose a shorter denim skirt that hugged her thighs and ended inches above her knees and a sweater, pulling them on over a lacy white bra and thong. Discarding the idea of tights, she opted instead for her knee high boots trimmed in fur, hoping they would be enough to keep her warm. Brushing her hair and leaving it down, she walked back out into the living room, surprised to see him staring outside of her window.

“Ready?” She asked.

“If you are,” He told her, brow arched elegantly. She nodded, grabbing her purse and following him out, taking care to lock her door behind her before dropping her keys in her bag.

“So where to first?”

“Sightseeing. I crave to satisfy a certain curiosity.”

“I still don't understand why you want to sight see at night,” She grumbled as she followed him into the elevator. She was sorely tempted to try something then and there, but she'd already startled a few neighbors who had been less than pleased by the moment they had been privy too. So she waited patiently, knowing that when they got back to her apartment, it would be worth it.

Once they were outside she repressed a shiver and glared at him, but he merely wrapped an arm around her and guided her down the street.

“Can we at least take a cab?” She whined, hugging herself to try and ward off the chill that pervaded her sweater.

“Then it wouldn't be sightseeing,” He rumbled sardonically. Huffing, she leaned further into him and allowed him to lead her past other people walking down the busy sidewalk, past several blocks before turning and continuing away from the main strip of downtown and deeper into the less busy section of the city.

She was shivering by the time he turned and began walking up the stone pathway between two rows of neatly trimmed hedges.

Towards a church.

“Sesshoumaru, if you've found religion I'm happy for you, but I don't think-”

“Allow me this, and I will do whatever it is you desire,” He interrupted.

She considered it. Despite being brought up on a shrine, she wasn't particularly religious, or even spiritual. Most canon eschewed her lifestyle as hedonistic and depraved, and she wasn't bothered by it. If their gods didn't want her, she didn't feel the lesser for it, although she had found a sort of peace with it.

And it would be warmer in the church than it was outside.

“Alright,” She agreed, letting him urge her up the stairs even if her feet dragged more than she would have liked to admit. He opened the door silently, looked inside, and put a finger to his lip. She stepped inside, and he closed the door just as quietly, taking her hand and leading her over to a small room.

She was going to ask him, but he put a finger to his mouth and opened one of the doors, pulling her into the small enclosed space and closing the door behind them.

“Why are we here?” She whispered.

“Because I want to fuck you in a confessional,” He admitted just as quietly, hands already slipping up under her shirt to rest on her stomach, which was several degrees warmer than his hands. Holding in the hiss that wanted to escape, she looked up into his eyes and saw the genuine lust there.

“No content with despoiling shrine maidens? You have to go for the catholic church too?”

“If I'm going to hell I want to deserve it,” He reasoned, hands sliding up higher, pushing her sweater over her breasts.

“You're awful,” She moaned softly against his mouth.

“Then you're about to think I'm monstrous,” He promised. She was going to ask what he meant, but he was spinning her around, one hand over her mouth and the other pulling her bra roughly down. Moaning into his hand when he grabbed one orb and squeezed it roughly, she ground her bottom against his slacks, able to feel him, already hard.

That he had a noticeable trend in preferred locations to potentially get caught, closets that is, she had never considered a confessional, and hadn't thought he would either. The sacred had always been, well, sacred, unless it happened to involve torturing his relatives, especially his mother. This was new, and she couldn't help but be a little excited, a little afraid, and very excited of being afraid as she pulled her skirt up over her hips.

“Eager,” He whispered. “We might be here awhile.”

What?” She whispered, or tried, the word muffled in his hand, eyes widening when she heard a set of doors opening and the sound of several feet shuffling on the hardwood floor. “Sesshoumaru!” She mumbled furiously into his palm.

“Vespers service,” He crooned into her ear. “We have some time.”

She couldn't quite think him monstrous and whatever anger she had quickly faded as his other hand traced a path of claws down her stomach before they moved over her panties, pulling them taught against her sex.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He asked, voice low. She nodded her head sharply, already losing herself to the slow, spiraling heat beginning between her legs. Knowing he would find proof anyway, she spread her legs further apart, scuffling her foot lightly on the floor.

They both froze for a moment, the sound seeming to echo in the unnatural silence. For a brief, terrified second, she was afraid that someone was going to walk over and open the door, exposing them both. But in the space of a second, the sound of chanting began.

And Sesshoumaru's hand pushed her panties aside, running a finger up the seam of her wetness to press against her clit.

“Wet,” He groaned, a bolt of fear lancing through her a second time as she felt the tip of his claw resting against the sensitive bundle of nerves before it retreated, his hand spreading her lips apart. Youkai claws being what they were, she knew what he was silently commanding her to do, and slipped her hand between her legs, circling her clit with her fingers, surprised by how wet she already was.

Shuddering as he pressed against her, she reached behind her, fingers fumbling with his zipper and once undone, gratified to find that he wore no underwear.

What happened next almost made her stop everything, almost froze the heat throbbing through her.


She'd always used protection, with men and women. Not once in her -perhaps short in comparison- life, had she ever felt the silk smooth hardness of a man's cock without a condom, and had it not been so gratifying, and had it not been Sesshoumaru, she would have stopped it then and there. But it was different, decadently so, and it was Sesshoumaru, and for all of their distance in other areas, she trusted him implicitly, knew he trusted her just as much.

Slowly, excruciatingly so, he pushed in. Every ridge and vein was felt as she flexed around him, greedy for more of the foreign sensation. Keening into his palm, she pushed back against him, bracing her hands on the wall of the confessional. But as she pushed back, he withdrew, the tip of his cock resting just inside of her.

She tried cursing, tried begging, but everything was muffled in the palm that was quickly going moist around her mouth, from sweat or her own heavy breathing and desperation she couldn't tell. But he was ignoring her attempts and pleadings, pulling all of the way out and pushing back in, stopping the moment the head of his cock was stretching her entrance.

The sounds of the congregation were lost in the whimpering and heavy breathing, the rude sound of slick flesh as she writhed, shifting her hips and pushing against the wall with her palms, the scalding heat too much to bear and suffocating her until she was mindless, oblivious to anything but that heat.

A raising of voices and he thrust into her, burying himself completely inside her pussy, hips slamming against her bottom and almost dashing her face against the wall. His hand was wedged between the wood and her mouth and nose, a hard, almost smothering pillow that kept the scream that built in her throat from escaping. Pulling out slowly, every nerve in her sex sensitive to the friction, she tried to inhale, to draw in breathe that he been forced from her.

Until he did it again, bucking forward with violent force, his other hand wrapping around her waist and dragging her back. With every thrust the air was forced from her lungs and despite his languorous ease withdrawing she couldn't fill her lungs. Dizzy and aware only of the heat of him inside of her, of the solid strength of him behind her and the wall his hand formed over her mouth, she gave up on breathing, gave up on standing and silence. Every brutal thrust was another push closer to the edge, faster and faster until she was falling and breaking apart, oblivious to the screams or snarls echoing off of the dark wooden walls.

Hot, pulsing wetness filled her, drawing out her orgasm until she was sure her heart would explode in her chest and darkness hazed her vision.

Someone banged on the outside of the confessional, and she was, in a very dim way, aware of muffled shouting.

Sesshoumaru's answering snarl thrummed through her, a pleasurable tingle over her sweat soaked skin.

“This is a house of God!” Someone shouted angrily.

She shrugged her face away from his hand, free to draw in breath at last.

“There are only demons here,” She declared, voice raspy and smoky from screaming. Sesshoumaru withdrew from her, forcing a long, low moan to punctuate her statement. The banging on the walls echoed around them, reverberated and ricocheted off of the walls, a cacophony of noise that could not pierce the euphoric intoxication that had settled on her.

Bracing herself against the wall, she let Sesshoumaru push her panties in place, pull her skirt down and her bra up before righting her sweater, covering her again. The cashmere clung to her skin, soaking up her sweat. Dragging in deep breaths, she barely heard the sound of his zipper but could not miss the sound of him growling as the insistent cries grew even more fervent, admonishments and declarations of sin barely reaching her as she turned, slumping slightly.

She felt the pressure of youki, felt it twining around her, wrapping her in a blanket that felt purely him, solid and reassuring. He pulled her close, arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders, and opened the door.

A priest and three or four people stood outside, eyes narrowed in rage.

“How dare you desecrate His house! Such sin is unforgivable!” An older woman muttered angrily.

“I would rather earn Hell than beg for Heaven,” Sesshoumaru told her, voice light as he walked for the door, Kagome still tucked safely into his side.

“You will, if you do not beg forgiveness!” The priest declared loudly at their retreating backs.

“I beg for one thing,” Kagome retorted, unable to help herself, a smirk on her features. “And it is not forgiveness!”

“Harlot!” Another woman's voice shouted.

Having been caught, and called out, for the first time in months, for the sheer audacity of her actions, she laughed. And laughed. And laughed. All the way outside. Sesshoumaru was chuckling, and she allowed him to support her.

“There is no way I can go out to eat now,” She declared as they walked away from the neatly trimmed hedges and onto the sidewalk. “Please don't make me.”

“I'm still not finished,” He chuckled. “Although a bed would be best.”

“Food?” She tried.

“We can order in.”

She sighed happily. Everything considered, despite the irreverence the whole scene involved, she'd had a good time. Maybe she was a bad person, but the post coital high was making it difficult to feel bad for her actions.

“So what do you beg for?” He asked as they turned down the block.

“A piggy back ride,” She retorted smartly.

As the fates would have it, he obliged her.




Kagome stared out of the window of her rather nice suite. Below her the bustling city of London awaited, and she had every intention of going out and exploring. Dressed in a simple flirty skirt and a peasant top, determined to look both innocent and as if she didn't belong to the convention she had flown in for, she was grabbing her purse when her phone began ringing. Digging through it she opened it up and opened it, praying it wasn't someone from home.

“I'm bored,” Sesshoumaru told her.

It was a familiar refrain, one that had started countless hours of phone sex that ended in decent conversation. It was when one of them said they couldn't sleep that it ended in, well, sleep.

“I'm about to go out,” She laughed.

“I would, but there's not much to do here,” He admitted. “I never thought London would be boring.”

“You're in London?” She chortled. Oh, this was too good to be true.

“Yes, another meeting. Father's been pawning them off on me. I think he's getting bored of the company.”

“Well, I could entertain you on the phone,” She started.

“Or?” He asked archly.

“You could meet me somewhere.”

“I am powerful and have money, but I also have a meeting in the morning.”

“I'm sure we could figure something out,” She crooned softly, rather proud that she managed to keep the grin from reflecting in her voice.

“You're playing at something,” He retorted.

“Could be.”

“Out with it, or next time I see you I won't show give you your gift.”

“You got me a gift?” She asked, hedging around her revelation.

“I saw them today while in a shop and thought of you.”

“How nice. You should bring them with you.”


“I'm currently at a convention,” Kagome laughed.

“Coming out of the closet?” He asked, smirking.

“A little, and not in Japan, not yet.”

“Not in japan? Then where are you?” He asked, voice turning sly.



“I thought so.”

“I heard about the convention. Bunch of wankers and spankers,” Sesshoumaru said, chuckling. “I hadn't thought about it overmuch.”

“Well, I want to get out. I can meet you somewhere,” She added.

“I'm currently at the Forty One,” He told her, naming the famous hotel.


“And I suppose you're staying at the hotel where they're having the convention?” He mocked.

“Hardly. The Goring,” She snipped testily. While she didn't mind appearing at the convention and speaking on a panel, doing a workshop on writing and signing books and...Many other varied things, she wasn't going to stay in the same hotel, it would be madness and suicide rolled into one. She'd been warned by another of her friends in that circle that fans always found out what room someone stayed in, and to go to a different hotel, preferably at least a few miles away, if she wanted any peace.

“You're not far, only a couple of blocks,” He replied. “And you have absolutely no room to call me pretentious.”

“The Goring doesn't-”

“It's pretentious.”

“It had free standing bathtubs,” She pouted. Which had been the main reason for booking a room there. The elegance of the place had screamed peace and luxury, and she knew she would need it.

“Many of them do.”

“Do you actually want to meet me?” She huffed, closing her door gently behind her.

“I'm already on my way,” He chuckled.

“You'll never change.”

“I hope not, otherwise I wouldn't have the pleasure of your company.”

“Charm only works for so long,” Kagome laughed as she decided to take the stairs, she was only on the second story after all, and closed the phone, knowing he would find her. The receptionist behind the lobby desk said a quiet good evening as she walked past and out the door, not even sure which way to go. Figuring Sesshoumaru would at some point catch up to her, his long legged stride would allow for nothing else, she began walking closer to the attractions she had seen the day before, curious about the pubs nearby and grabbing a drink.

Once she was away from the hotel grounds, she turned onto the sidewalk and continued on towards the lights beckoning in the distance. Knowing a pub awaited, and never yet having a drink abroad, she headed straight for those lights, hoping that they might carry her favorite drink. Besides, it would be appropriate.

When the hand clamped down on her shoulder, she didn't jump, didn't spin and shout, didn't feel the least bit afraid.

“Silent as ever.”

“Only when I feel the need to be.”

“Join me for a drink?”

“I suppose that would be a start,” He rumbled. “Although if you'd wanted a drink, you could have just come to my hotel.”

“And miss out on the spirit of a London pub?” She mocked. “I wanted to sight see.”

“Oh yes, sightseeing.”

“You have forever to travel the world,” She snorted. “I have a few years. So I fully intend to live them with as much fun and as many sights packed in as I can.”

“Not a bad plan,” He told her, opening the door to the pub for her and letting her walk in first. Kagome went directly to the bar, ignoring all of the curious stares she received, and sat down at one of the stools, Sesshoumaru sitting next to her.

“Three fingers of Talisker 18, neat please,” Kagome told the bartender, who gave her a surprised glance before looking to Sesshoumaru.

“Same,” He told the man before turning back to her, a smile on his face. “Talisker? My father would be shocked.”

“I like Talisker more than Highland Park,” She shrugged. “It's more mellow to me.”

“So how was your convention?” He asked, changing the subject.

“Fine, I suppose. I have to go back tomorrow for the second day of the writing workshop I'm doing with a friend of mine.”

“Thinking of coming out as an erotica writer back home yet?”

“My family would never recover,” She joked.

“I think they should expect it by now, given the rumor of your rampant nymphomania.”

Kagome was exceedingly glad they were conversing in Japanese.

“My rampant nymphomania is the reason I write such amazing books.”

“It's amazing how often I figure into them,” He chuckled.

“You've been in my life the longest,” She admitted. “And you're more adventurous than my other partners. Mostly anyway.”

“Only mostly?”

“You're not the one I had sex on a police car with.”

“I had wondered if that was fiction.”

“I've done everything I write,” She admitted slyly.

“I suppose the game is obsolete then, I have the unfair advantage.”

“Are you admitting to stalking my books?” She teased as the bartender came back with their glasses, setting them down and walking away.

“They provide entertainment when I lack company and can't get you on the phone.”

“I suppose that means I have enough sex for the two of us.”

“Hardly,” He retorted before inhaling a whiff from the glass and taking a sip. “Any currents?”

“No, I haven't had the time to find anyone and the last one did the same thing the other ones did.”

“Poor Kagome, leaving a string of broken hearts wherever she goes.”

“It's not funny,” She sighed, not wanting to think about it but unable to entirely block out the nightmare the last 'break up' had been, although it should never have become a relationship to start with, and she had never assumed it was. “He threw a complete fit and broke my computer, all because I told him I would never stop seeing other people.”

“When did this happen?”

“A month ago.”

He eyed her speculatively. Their last encounter had been a month ago because of their conflicting schedules. And it had set her other partner on fire to find out about it, not that she'd ever tried hiding it before.

“Fine,” She muttered. “I admitted I wouldn't stop seeing you, although he demanded everyone, but you specifically. I don't understand it, I really don't. Like I wouldn't choose one of my best friends over someone I've only known for a few months. And the whole thing started over condoms.”


“He knows I've done everything in my books, and asked if I had ever had unprotected sex. I told him with you. Well, he took offense to that, and I told him that he slept with other people just as I did, and that I would prefer him to use a condom.”

“I've slept with other people,” Sesshoumaru pointed out.

“That's what he said. But you told me that you use condoms with everyone else, and I trust you.”

“You didn't trust him?”

“Not after a few months,” She told him, taking another swallow from her drink. “Not like that. You're different. We've been doing this since I graduated high school. I've known you longer than that. And you're you.”

“I'm me. How shocking.”

“You know what I mean. You trust me like that right?” She asked. When he nodded, she continued on, hoping he would understand. “I don't do sleep with anyone like that because it would be bad for me and you. My own health is important enough, but I would never risk yours.”

“And I would never do such to you.”

“Which is why why we're fluid bonded and that jerk and I aren't seeing each other,” She said firmly, taking another sip only to catch the strange expression that passed over Sesshoumaru's features from the corner of her eye.

“What?” She asked, putting the glass down.

“Fluid bonded?”

“Yeah, it means we've exchanged fluids.”

“It sounds so technical.”

“Like bareback is any better,” She snorted. “Besides, other people use it for stuff like blood or urine, that sort of thing.”

“Blood and urine?” He asked. “What sort of people have you been sleeping with?”

“I haven't bonded with anyone else that was Sesshoumaru,” She told him, voice firm. “But I'm an erotica writer. Besides, you'll never believe some of the stuff people will admit in a chat room.”

“Do tell.”

“Just lots of stuff,” She said in an offhand manner, looking down at her empty glass and signaling for the bartender, who came over with the bottle and poured her and Sesshoumaru another glass each.

“What's the strangest thing someone has ever done?”

“Egg laying,” She answered immediately.

“Egg laying?”

“Literally. Boiled eggs in her vagina and squeezing them out as part of a role play.”

“That is strange, but it hardly seems the strangest.”

“The smell. Ugh, I hate the smell of boiled eggs,” She told him with a theatrical shudder. “Well, water sports are pretty strange, but I think it's just the psychology of it that decides it for me,” She admitted. “In a way I guess I can understand that, whereas I have no idea why someone would want to have sex with a dinosaur and have it's babies.”

“Urinating on or being urinated on is more understandable than sex with a different species?” He asked, brow raised.

“Touche,” She laughed, understanding he was referring to his own difference in species. “But a dinosaur is different from someone I can cuddle and talk to, not to mention the idea of having babies is just frightening on it's own. Most people seem to be into water sports for humiliation or as a sort of marking.”

“Similar to marking territory?”

“Like a dog,” She teased, grinning impishly.

“Brat,” he laughed, a full smile stretching his lips. “Alright then, what about the most intriguing.”


“Something that intrigued you,” He clarified. “The most, in fact.”

“I dunno,” She chuckled. “I think that would be giving too much away, and you've said you already have the advantage.”

“I also have your present, and I can choose to withhold it.”

“You brought it?” She asked, immediately looking at his pockets. There was no sign whatsoever of anything in them.

“Presents do not have to be big to be good,” He reminded her. “Most intriguing, out with it.”

“Only if you promise to give me my present after,” She demanded.

“I promise,” He agreed solemnly, or it would have been solemn, had it not been for the smile still tilting up the corners of his lips.

“And you can't laugh,” She added, blushing hotly. She could tell his interest sharpened and took a long sip from her glass, easily swallowing half of it, before sitting back down.

“It's I don't know exactly what it's called, it's more of a fantasy, I think.”

“You're stalling.”

“I know.”

“You never stall.”

“Most people refer to it as consensual non-consent, but that's not exactly what I want,” She admitted. “I haven't found a proper name for it.”

“Rape play?” He asked, surprise etching his features.

“Not, not really, I don't think. I can get the psychology behind that. This is different.”

“Describe it.”

“Sort of like hunting, I guess. I want to be hunted and taken down,” She told him quietly, knowing he could hear. Despite the blush burning her cheeks, something she hoped everyone else in the bar would attribute to the alcohol she had consumed instead of the conversation they couldn't understand. “I want to feel like prey.”

“And after you are captured?” He asked, looking neutral. His neutrality worried her. She knew his thoughts about anything resembling non-consensual role play. He had broken it off with several women that had wanted it and dated him solely because he was a youkai, a predator at heart; and she worried that he would see her differently when she told him the truth, that he would respect her less, maybe even think she was damaged somehow.

“I want to be used. Not, not saying no or anything, not actively resisting, but I want someone to do whatever they want with me, to objectify me.”

Sesshoumaru was quiet, his only response was to raise his glass and finish it. She did the same, terrified that she would lose not only her favorite lover, but her best friend.

“So worried,” He murmured, eyes finally finding hers. There was no censure in the gold depths, nothing to hint that he disapproved. “I would have thought you'd had enough of that with your first partner,” He added, smirking.

“Jerk,” She muttered, relaxing. If he was joking it meant that they were still on even ground, that they hadn't lost anything, and that they would still be friends. Breathing a sigh of relief, she looked down at her glass and considered another. The alcohol had warmed her chest and made it easier to smile, but she knew she had a workshop the next day, and knew another glass would leave her at less than her best, which she refused to do to people that had paid dearly for the chance to listen to her.

Sesshoumaru reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. For a moment she was afraid it was one of 'those' boxes, a sort of box she had been presented with no less than five times, each time ending in rejection and guilt. She wasn't sure she would be able to hurt him that way, but the idea of what was in that box terrified her, made her want to bolt for the bathroom.

The bartender saw her wave and came over with the bottle, pouring them both another glass. Workshop be damned, if she had to deal with a proposal, in a pub no less, from Sesshoumaru, she wasn't going to be sober for it. The bartender walked away as she was picking up her glass and taking a deep swallow from it. She practically clammed it back onto the bar.

“Relax,” He commanded, smiling. “I would not do such a thing to you,” He told her, opening the box. She looked down, surprised to see two bars that looked almost exactly like the ones pierced through her nipples. The only difference she could spot was that the balls were slightly larger.

“Thank you,” She murmured softly, although she had no real idea why he seemed so self satisfied. She had plenty of jewelry for her piercings, piece that fit her mood and when she was of a mind, matched some of her favorite underwear sets. She took another sip from her glass, hoping to hide her lack of enthusiasm behind the rim.

He sat the box down and picked one up, turning the ball on the tip, letting her see a very fine, almost invisible seam.

It began to buzz.

Her eyes widened.


“A present. If-” He started, earning a sharp glance in his direction. “If you go put them on now.”

“Sesshoumaru,” She started.

“You don't have to turn them on, just go put them on. No one will ever know but me,” He added, setting the bar back down into the box and closing it. Kagome looked from him to the box and back to him again.

“Fine,” She sighed heavily, draining the glass and grabbing the box. He smiled and finished his own glass as she walked away. She threw a look over her shoulder, a smirk that might have been sexy had she not stumbled and nearly fallen into someone, uttering a hasty apology first in japanese and then in english, remembering that she was not in Japan anymore. The man she had stumbled into helped right her before giving her a flirtatious smile, which she ignored and walked past him, intent on finding the restroom.

Once inside, she walked into the stall and sat the small velvet box -did he really need to get a box like that for nipple rings, it was ridiculous- on the top of the toilet paper holder. Sighing and hoping he had at least cleaned them before putting them in the box -probably, since he had watched her change out her own jewelry enough- she pulled up her shirt and pushed the cups of her bra down. Carefully working with the bars already in her nipples, she unscrewed the balls and put them in the box, putting the new ones in.

Too curious to help herself, she turned the ball on one and was pleasantly surprised to find that the vibration was not so fast that it hurt, nor so slow that it was merely annoying. Turning it off, she considered the difference.

“I'll have to actually thank him,” She laughed as she closed the box and adjusted her bra before pulling her shirt back down and straightening her top before grabbing the box and stepping out. She was still alone in the bathroom, and she took a moment to straighten her hair and make sure everything looked in place before walking back out. She was smiling, a giddy sort of smile. It was a simple gift, but one that had shown he was thinking of her, and while they had never felt the need to exchange gifts before, and most people would have called her crazy, she liked that he had gotten her something so personal. It certainly felt nicer than roses, and took a bit more thought.

However, he wasn't there when she sat down, and one of the glasses was gone.

“The gentleman paid the tab and asked me to hold this for you,” The bartender said, noticing her confusion and reaching below the bar, coming back up with her purse.

“He left?” She asked in accented english. The bartender looked uncomfortable, but nodded.

The giddiness faded and the tipsiness turned against her.

“Thank you,” She mumbled, grabbing her purse and walking from the bar. The floor listed uncertainly under her feet and the world blurred as she stepped outside into the brisk air. The cool chill did nothing to sooth the embarrassed heat on her skin.

Had her fantasy really been that stupid? Had she crossed a line somehow with that or something else she'd said?

“He sent me in there so he could get away,” She muttered, humiliated as she stalked down the sidewalk. “I can't believe it. He could have told me, could have- have-”

She couldn't even think straight, angry and confused, although whether she was angry at him or herself, or even both, she wasn't sure, and confused because she had thought he would understand, at least in a dim way, what she had been saying. More the fool she was for saying anything at all. It had become a sore point with him because he had been sought out for the express reason of women wanting a man that would pretend to cross those lines, and even straying near that category had been a bad idea.

“I'm such an idiot.”

She desperately wanted the jewelry out, but that would have to wait until she got back to her hotel. Sighing, she looked up from the cracks in the sidewalk...

And realized she had gone the wrong way.

“Damnit,” She muttered. “This is stupid!”

Spinning on her heel and muttering a small, very terse thank you in her head that she had walked straight, she began the trek back to her hotel, wanting more than ever to get to her room and go to bed. Her only regret was that she hadn't drunk more. Workshop or not, being blindingly drunk when losing your best friend and lover was a given, and getting blindingly drunk on single malt sounded like a better idea with each step she took.

When something brushed past her, she turned around, ready to shout, hoping it was Sesshoumaru come to apologize, except no one was there. Putting it off on being slightly inebriated, she made a frustrated sound and continued walking, crossing her arms beneath her breasts and crushing her purse beneath her arm.

Someone screamed in the distance, an unpleasant sound that sent the hair on the back of her neck up. Quickening her pace, she tried to write it off as some strange animal, maybe one of the many stray cats she had seen in the area earlier in the day. Or someone having a good time. Except it sounded like a cat being skinned. Alive.

“He should have at least walked me back to the damn hotel,” She muttered, needing to fill the silence around her.

Trying not to think about every horror film she'd ever scene and every horror scene she herself had written -usually starting with a drunk male or female getting mauled and dismembered, or something of that nature- she quickened her pace even more, keeping her eyes fixed on the distant spot where she would turn the block and hopefully be able to run without anyone seeing her.

“Should have gotten a taxi,” She told herself. Except she had wanted to get out and get air, and look how well that particular urge had served her.

Something clattered to her left, on the other side of the street, and the urge to call out, to scream to get someone's attention fought with the instinct to flee and remain unnoticed.

The scream came again.

Her heart stopped, started.

She bolted.

She was uttering a thousand mental prayers for safety, hoping against hope that she could get back to her hotel in one piece and call the police and tell them what she had heard. Each step took her closer to the corner and she kept her eyes fastened on it, determined not to look behind her or to the side, not wanting to know if someone was coming after her, because she would slow down if she did, and she needed to go.

Adrenaline surged through her, numbing the stitch in her side as her shoes slapped angrily on the ground, clattering loudly and echoing off of the buildings on either side of the street.

She had just turned the corner when she almost tripped trying to avoid the signs and stands outside of the shops, backpedaling so quickly that she yelped in terror, a strangled, pitiable sound. Struggling for breath, as if she had slammed into a wall, she hurried forward, mistakenly casting a glance over her shoulder, the terror and fear too great to go unanswered.

It was a mistake though, apparent the moment she did it. She had looked in the wrong direction, a hand reaching from the right and pulling her into the small photobooth, slamming her harshly against the wall so that what little breath she had whooshed form her lungs in a screech.

Sesshoumaru was staring at her strangely, intently. His eyes, normally shades of gold and amber were red, something she had only ever seen once, when Inu Yasha had broken the seal on his youkai blood. Sesshoumaru had been close to breaking in the attempt to stop him, and it was something she had been terrified of then, and still was now.

“Sesshoumaru,” She whimpered, surprised to see cold, stark blue in the center of all that red.

“Quiet,” He snarled, a clawed hand tangling in her hair and yanking on it roughly. Down, he was pulling her down by her hair, giving her no option but to quickly drop to her knees or risk losing her hair. Yelping at a particularly vicious tug she fell the rest of the way, only resulting in having her hair pulled up and her knees hitting the hard floor of the booth hard enough to bruise.

A yelp was cut off when his cock pushed into her mouth and into her throat, strangling her on it;s girth before he was pulling out and thrusting back in, hands tangling in her hair to keep her head in place. Every time he withdrew she tried to drag breath in through her nostrils only to choke on it as he shoved his dick back in, picking up the pace and thrusting more forcefully, hitting her gag reflex and making her sputter and drool around him. Spit leaked down her chin and she could feel her face growing hot from the humiliated tears that began to gather.

Her jaw cramped and she tried her best not to let her gag reflex best her as he continued, merciless and almost apathetic to her hands pushing at his thighs, trying to get a moment to breathe. It wasn't until he fully withdrew that she was able to gasp in a full breathe, although that too was shocked from her when she felt it.

Warm and sticky, spurt after spurt landed on her face. Her lips and nose, on her cheek and dangerously close to her eye. He was holding his cock as it pulsed, rope after rope of hot come branded her already overheated, flush skin.

Facials had been forbidden ever since Kouga had done it to her, and she had never had one after, no matter how much her partners had begged. Sesshoumaru had never approached the topic himself, but the look of pleasure on his face as he stared down at her, lips pulled back in a snarl as he growled, left little room for interpretation. He was enjoying the sight of it immensely.

When he grabbed her upper arm and pulled her to her feet, she was about to end it, the fantasy itself almost too much, too abrupt and frightening, when he spun her and pushed her against the front of the booth, forcing her head down and against the glass of the small, blank screen. The come streaked the surface and she could feel her skin slipping against the glass, slimy and unpleasant.

Her skirt went up over her hips and her panties tugged against her flesh before rending, the ripping noise echoing in the small booth. The smooth tip of a finger rubbed up and down her slit, his claw ghosting over the sensitive flesh.

She was sopping wet.

A satisfied, feral sound echoed behind her right before she felt him thrusting into her, using as much, or more, force than he had before. Every thrust earned a yelp of pain, the head of his cock pressing uncomfortably against her cervix before withdrawing only to do it again within a second. Claws dug into her bottom and hips, dragging her back to meet him, and the tightness of his grip forced them to prick flesh. Unsure if it was sweat or blood she tried to ignore the flashes of pain that lanced through her.

His body shuddered and trembled behind her, hips smacking against her bottom, the sound cracking and loud. Heat suffused her body, her blood and sank from her flesh into her bones. Either from air of the sudden, dizzying realization that he was using her, completely indifferent to her own feelings, her head felt light and full of air. Every brutal thrust was a bolt of pain echoed by a dim, vague pleasure that swelled behind it, drowning and muffled by the next bolt of pain.

Her hand traveled beneath her legs, her finger pressed down on her clit, circling the hardened nub. The pleasure that had been overwhelmed by the pain tingled lightly as she manipulated her sex, sweat and the evidence of her own arousal making her hand slippery and sticky. Focusing on that tiny bud and the friction of his cock stretching her walls, rubbing against the sensitive spot inside of her cunt, she flicked and rubbed, pinched and circled until she wasn't sure if he was dragging her back or if she was using her other hand to brace herself and push back.

The pain splashed against the pleasure, turned to vapor in the heat of the tightening, coiling promise of gratification. Her body tensed and muscles grew taut, her pussy clamping down around him and hindering his speed only slightly as the first waves of orgasm crashed down on her unexpectedly, snapping the tension and stunning her mind until she was oblivious to anything but the suffocating, spiraling breathlessness.

His own release quickly followed, slick hot stickiness barely registering as she gasped for breath when he finally slowed and stopped. The only thing that did finally break through to her was the feeling of him pulling out of her and him pulling her back. He sat down on the bench and she sat on his lap, shivering as he nuzzled her neck.

“I think we should do that more often,” He rumbled.

“Warning,” She tried to say, but it came out as a croak. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “Warning next time please.”

“That's not half as fun as scaring the shit out of you,” He chuckled.

“I thought you didn't like me anymore,” She told him, feeling irrationally weepy all of a sudden.

“And now you know that couldn't be less true. Even if I found your fantasy distasteful, I wouldn't leave you. You didn't try to force it on me. You should have known I value our friendship too much to sacrifice it over an outre kink.”

He had a point, they'd both done too much, experienced and spoke of too much together to sacrifice for a fantasy or kink.

Kagome felt him shifting and saw him pull his wallet out and hand it to her.

“What?” She asked dumbly, staring at it.

“Open it and put money into the machine Kagome,” He told her, as if speaking to a child. She frowned, opening the wallet and taking out the english banknotes. Putting it into the machine, she tried not to stare at his come streaking the monitor. It blinked on, and she stared at it, unsurprised to see that she was red faced and her hair looked like birds had not only nested in it, but decided to hold a war as well.

“Pictures?” She asked stupidly.

“Why not? I think I'd like one of you like this,” He said, adding emphasis to his words by slipping the straps of her tanktop and bra down before yanking the actual coverings below her breasts.

“Did you try them?”

“One,” She admitted.

“You should have done both,” He told her, reach around to turn the balls. Her breasts, which had been completely ignored during the assault still felt heavy and tight, and the vibrations tingling in her nipples did nothing to ease it.

“Press the picture button.”

She reached forward and pressed the button.

His hands cupped her breasts, and it looked like he was presenting them to the camera as the screen counted down.

“Clown,” She accused, blushing even more hotly as the screen made a clicking sound.

“Perhaps I am in an exceptionally good mood,” He counted. “It's not every day I get to hunt my lover down and give her a facial.”

“I didn't know you liked them.”

“I normally don't care. I enjoyed it tonight. And you?” He asked, chin on her shoulder.

“I don't know,” She admitted. “All of it happened- It was-”

“Was?” He urged quietly, fingers caressing her breasts.

“Sudden. I didn't have a lot of time to think about it.”

“Good. As it should have been.”

“These feel nice,” She admitted with a sigh, finally relaxing. She could go over what had happened later. For now it was enough to just melt into him.

“Let me see,” He told her. She reached forward to press the button again and then turned, hoping to get a satisfied expression on camera. However, half a minute later when the camera clicked, it took a picture of Sesshoumaru glaring at the jewelry and holding a hand over his mouth and her laughing hysterically, tears in her eyes and grin stretching her features.

Apparently vibrating metal did not feel good brushing against fangs.




“He's going to kill us,” Kagome whispered as Sesshoumaru dragged her into the pantry. However, she couldn't help but feel the least, little bit mischievous.

“He'll survive,” Sesshoumaru told her. “Besides, you still owe them for dumping the child on us last month.”

There was that. After admitting friendship and growing closer, she and Sesshoumaru had moved in together. They kept separate bedrooms their lovers rarely if ever knew that they slept together. On night when neither of them had a date or felt like going out, they slept next to each other. It was, surprisingly, a suitable arrangement that hadn't blown up on them. It also meant that Inu Yasha and Kikyo felt inclined to come visit, usually making sly comments about their relationship and sometimes dropping their child off so they could have their own 'adult night'. The last time they had given no warning, and Kagome had been working on a book, Sesshoumaru going over a merger contract. It had not made for a pleasant night.

“Fair enough,” She whispered, closing the door behind her.

As was common between the two of them, having sex anywhere but their own home was a tremendous turn on -although having sex in their own home was just as much of a turn on, given the balcony and the elevator, not to mention the fun straps tucked safely under their mattresses-, and despite the fact that they were in Inu Yasha's home, in his kitchen pantry, there was still an element that never failed to inspire, although what it was she couldn't name precisely.

“These look sturdy,” Sesshoumaru said, making her blink twice. What had happened to the plan for ravishment? Was he thinking about remodeling their apartment? Was their pantry even big enough for the shelves.

“Sesshoumaru,” She started. He stopped whatever she was going to say by picking her up. Immediately she wrapped her legs around his waist, already liking where he was going when he began to pull at his tie. He further confused her by kissing her and pushing the tie between them.

“Sesshoumaru,” She tried again, lips pressed against his.

“Quiet,” He commanded as he pulled one end from under her leg and looped it with one hand before tying a knot. Out of the corner of her eye she watched his hand disappear over her head and felt the silk tie pulled taut, pulling her leg up. He broke the kiss again and looked around, grabbing the chef apron Kikyo had gotten Inu Yasha as a joke -because Inu Yasha did not do pink and frilly- and proceeded to do the same thing.

This was why she always, always, always wore skirts when she went out with Sesshoumaru. His ingenuity did not leave room for pants. Even in the dead of winter.

“Goddamnit you two, not in my fucking house!” Inu Yasha shouted, banging on the door.

Kagome giggled, Sesshoumaru smirked.

“Not like you're going to come in here and stop it, are you?” Sesshoumaru rumbled.

Surprisingly, the door was yanked out, filling the small pantry with light.

Fucking really?” Inu Yasha shouted, eyes lighting on Kagome, who was still dressed, except that her skirt was around her waist. His eyes went to the ceiling. “I'm going to burn that apron, seriously. Why don't you two just go ahead an get married. At least then people would stop bitching!”

The door slammed shut.

“Does that mean we'd be able to fuck in your house too?” Kagome teased.

“Kikyo's on her way here!” Inu Yasha half shouted half screeched.

“He has a point,” Sesshoumaru said, fingers already working under her panties.

“About what?” Kagome asked, straining to lean forward to kiss him.

“Getting married.”

“Stop joking.”

“I'm not. We might as well.”

“We're not in love,” She sputtered.

“We're as close as we'll ever be with anyone,” He rebutted, ripping her panties.

“How do you know?” It was really difficult to think coherently when the pad of his thumb was pressing against there, but damn was he making it easy with the subject matter. Kagome wasn't sure which to resent more.

“Because we are the same. Besides, it would give you the opportunity to live as long as I,” He teased, the sound of his zipper hissing to punctuate his statement. A moment later she felt the head of his cock pressing against her.

“This is the most bizarre proposal out of them all,” She muttered.

“Which is why it suits.”

Kagome groaned as he pressed into her, hands wrapping around her thighs.

“I'm not going to give up the others,” She hissed, the angle giving him deeper access than he normally had.

“And I won't give up mine. I won't ask you too either.”

“Same,” She hissed when he withdrew quickly and slowly began to push back in.

“Was that an agreement?” He rumbled, lips kissing at her chin, teeth nipping it.

“Consideration. Why do we need to get married?”

“It'll get our families off of our backs.”

His argument was persuasive, and it had nothing -okay, more than a little- to do with the fact that he was purposefully teasing her with slow thrusts and quick withdrawals.

“Nothing changes?” She demanded, panting as sweat began to mist the area between her breasts.

“Nothing, except we wear rings. Those are optional, by the way,” He told her.

“Fine,” She groaned, wishing for all the world that she could move, could wrap her legs around his waist and just pull him in already.

“Is that an agreement?”

“Yes,” She moaned, and if it was a yes caused by friction or a yes to the question, he wasn't going to argue.




When they stepped out of the pantry, disheveled and sweaty, Kikyo was glaring at them.

“We're celebrating,” Kagome quickly told her -very irate looking- sister.

“Celebrating what?” Kikyo shrilled, eyes narrowed in anger. “And in MY pantry!”

“We're getting married,” Sesshoumaru rumbled.

And everything, oddly, was forgiven. Kagome didn't have to look to see the 'I told you so' smirk on his face, although she did anyway, and couldn't help but roll her eyes.




If Kagome was being honest with herself, she was hyperventilating, except she wasn't going to be that honest with herself.

Kagome was, for lack of a better word, hiding. On her wedding day. In her wedding dress. And wasn't that just surreal? No, the most surreal part was that she was marrying her long time sex buddy Sesshoumaru. Sesshoumaru that had first introduced her to the pleasures of good sex and not just the high school fumbling of jock morons with absolutely no clue. Sesshoumaru her best friend, Sesshoumaru her roommate, Sesshoumaru that hadn't slept with her in two months!

And it was that last part that had freaked her out and sent her into the linen closet panicking, a puddle of white -okay, so maybe wearing white on her wedding day was the most surreal part of it, not that her family was going to let her do anything differently despite the longstanding list of problems she and Sesshoumaru had caused with their 'misadventures' as they had been politely termed- lace and silk and whatever else her mother had deemed appropriate. She hadn't really taken the time to notice or care, because it wasn't a real wedding.

Except she knew it was, and not in the sense of 'two people destined to spend the rest of their days doing sickeningly sweet things with each other' but in that she was tying -had tied, and that should make it all academic, except that it didn't- herself legally and even spiritually to someone and that they weren't like other people. Marriage and matings were not built for people like them. They weren't. Walking down the aisle, cutting cake, first dances, deejays and rice were not made for best friends slash fuck buddies deciding to tie the knot based on compatible lifestyles.

And he hadn't had sex with her for two months. They'd barely seen each other for two months, and every time he'd been his normal self, sans sex. And for some people it would have been normal. Busy schedules, a wedding coming up. Except their lives, their friendship, had been built on sex, her life literally revolved around sex -she wrote EROTICA FOR KAMI'S SAKE- and the stress had been so much that she hadn't even tried getting laid for those two months.

Obviously he had reconsidered his decision. Or maybe she just wasn't attractive now that they were official. And screw that, because she wasn't going to lose her best friend or the amazing sex for a piece of paper and the free pass to jump him at family gatherings; a free pass, which, incidentally, looked like it wouldn't even matter anymore.

“Kagome?” He asked on the other side of the door. She wondered if she was actually late. Like, late late, to her own wedding. Actually, there would be no wedding, not if it was going to end in not having sex with him. Or being friends. Or whatever else they were.

“Kagome, it's been over an hour.”

“I don't think this is a good idea,” She muttered, knowing he could hear.

The doorknob jiggled, creaked, cracked, and then the door was opening, the knob itself broken. Sesshoumaru, in his wedding suit, rose pinned to his lapel and crisply pressed to perfection, was outlined by the blinding white walls behind him. She suddenly very much hated white and decided, on the off chance she ever did get married -doubtful, but still- she was going to do it in a green or red dress. Maybe blue. Not white.

He closed it behind him and pulled her to her feet.

“Why not?”

“Because things changed, and you promised they wouldn't,” She muttered, feeling betrayed. And it had been a betrayal of sorts, because he had promised, and while she should have said something earlier, she had, in some ways, been hoping it hadn't been a change. Except now that she was facing down the aisle -figuratively anyway- she knew it couldn’t happen.

“You mean we've stopped having sex,” He commented.

“Well yeah!” She hissed, refusing to bring up the fact that he hadn't been having any sex at all that she knew of. Or that they'd cuddled. A lot. And it had driven her up a wall because she didn't want a stereotypical marriage. Didn't want to be married to someone that preferred cuddling over sex or changing their lives for a stupid piece of paper.

Sesshoumaru heaved a sighed and shrugged.

“I couldn't,” He told her.

“It's a little late to try saving yourself,” She snapped waspishly.

“I wasn't saving myself,” He retorted. “I was healing.”

Her mind stuttered to a halt.


“Did you catch something and not tell me?” She hissed, stepping back and finding the wooden shelves of the closet digging into her lower back and shoulders. That would have been just as unforgivable as deciding on a stereotypical marriage. Maybe even worse. Throughout their relationship, they hadn't worn condoms, not for a few years, and he had always promised, she had trusted, that she was the only one.

“No,” He chuckled.

Why was he laughing?

“What is going on?” She demanded.

“I had thought to surprise you,” He murmured, leaning down to kiss her.

No dice, she wasn't going to give in until she knew what was going on.

“Sesshoumaru,” She demanded in her best 'I am very unhappy' impression of him.

“After you waxed poetic on that one man, I decided to visit the piercing shop.”

“You-what?” She asked dumbly.

Maybe crudely, but to get his point across, she could hear his zipper go down and looked down, cursing the fact that it was dark and she was supposed to be looking at his penis.

“I took a different option though,” He pointed out.

Gingerly she reached out and grabbed the hot shaft in her hand, surprised to feel warm metal against her palm.

“A much different option,” She mumbled, swallowing thickly.

“And while my capabilities with healing are singularly adept, this was one thing that took some time,” He murmured, and she could feel him pulsing in her hand. Her mouth went dry. The man she had waxed poetic on, well, not him so much as his cock and the lovely bit of metal in it, had only one piercing and it had been at the tip. Sesshoumaru, from what she could tell, had at least six, and they went down the bottom of his shaft.

“Why's that?”

Had he really gotten them for her?

“My body was like to reject the metal. I wanted to make sure it didn't.”

How was she going to give him a blowjob?

Scratch that, that she could figure out.

How was it going to feel?

Much more pressing.

“How long before you can-” She mumbled, swallowing again and hoping to get some moisture in her mouth.

“I was going to surprise you tonight.”

“I'm surprised now,” She offerred.

“We're supposed to be getting married.”

“We're in a closet.”

“We are.”

“Why break tradition? Besides, it'll piss of your mother and her side of the family.”

“True,” He rumbled, chuckling against her lips as she experimented, running her fingers over the line of flesh that covered each bar. He shuddered against her, and she wondered if he had been as desperate to have sex as she had.

His hands fumbled with her voluminous skirt -she was never wearing anything that required a petticoat EVER again- before he growled and gave up, ripping the skirt away from the bodice. It ripped, tore, echoed in the small linen closet. And then it was around her feet, completely ruined.

They'd already signed everything anyway, the ceremony had been a formality, one their families had insisted on. She wasn't going to miss it. She was pretty sure he wouldn't either. And why hadn't she considered that before? Maybe it was the aisle. Or the priest. The families. Whoever the hell.

This was so much better.

“I know you didn't choose this ridiculous thing,” He muttered, yanking at her panties and ripping them away.

“Mom and Kikyo,” She groaned as his hand cupped her slit.

“Don't do it again. Ever,” He threatened, removing his hand from the place she really, really wanted it and grabbing both of her legs. That worked. That more than worked.

“We're going to ruin the suit,” She whimpered, feeling him pressing against her. Not like it would matter, they'd ruined more clothes than she could count over the years, she had to buy a new wardrobe every couple of months, and she didn't think the suit was going to bother him.

“Oh gods,” He muttered, sliding into her.

“Fuck,” She cried, the feeling of being filled and stretched and ohgodthatdifference pulling the word from her throat as a guttural cry.

Two months of pent up aggression and tension came out in the form of hard thrusts and words that would have made a sailor blush. Possibly explode into small suns. And had Kagome been paying attention, and she wasn't because she was too busy screaming and panting and begging for more, she would have realized she was screaming, and Sesshoumaru was louder than normal, and that they were in a linen closet in a very nice chateau with their families and friends waiting downstairs.

Instead, she was enjoying the added sensations the piercings brought, and promised herself that she was going to try and find some sort of equivalent to her vibrating bars. It was only fair, and while there would be more, she had a feeling they would both enjoy them. As long as she didn't try kissing the area.

However, she hadn't quite gotten to her own orgasm when she felt it. Sesshoumaru tensing, stilling, snarling that particular noise, and then the pulsing throbbing heat followed by the distinct feeling of him coming in her.

She wanted to kill him. For the first time ever, he had come before her. Two months of celibacy be damned, she wasn't done!

“Sesshoumaru-” She growled.

“I am not done yet,” He snarled, and she wondered what he looked like as he pulled back, thrust in hard, almost forcing a scream from her lungs.

She wasn't going to complain. Not when the slick, foreign friction continued, not when the added sensation of his cum only made her more slippery, more sensitive, and certainly not when she felt her body tense and her walls clamp down on her, only making the friction more all encompassing.

She was going to complain when she heard it.

Or, to be more accurate- them.

She was definitely set to complain when he slowed down.

“Everyone left because they thought you two had decided not to get married,” Kikyo shouted shrilly.

“I thought you said we got a free pass,” Kagome panted, although there was no heart in the accusation.

“It seems weddings are the exception,” He growled, pushing into her harder.

“You two aren't even married yet!” Inu Yasha muttered.

“I could marry them,” Miroku offered.

“You could marry them,” Sango's voice said.

“Your lover is ordained?” Sesshoumaru asked, kissing at her neck.

“You're her lover!” Inu Yasha shrieked. Kagome couldn't help but snort at the girlish noise coming from the hanyou. And why were they still there? Couldn't they just go away!

“Both of us,” Sango told him. Kagome wondered what her sister's face looked like. Her bisexuality had been a, well not intentionally well kept secret, but a secret nonetheless. For half of a second she almost wished the door was open. And why was everyone so fascinated by her and Sesshoumaru in a closet? It's not like they hadn't done it before.

“Papers are signed,” Kagome shouted, voice breaking when Sesshoumaru seemed to take offense to her focusing on anything other than him and thrusting into her hard, hitting her cervix and making her whimper.

“But the ceremony!” Kikyo shouted. “Get out here and do it properly!”

“You should just go ahead,” Sango said, voice on the other side of the door. Kikyo huffed something indignant and too garbled for Kagome to understand.

“If it will get everyone to go away,” Kagome shouted in frustration. The distractions were unwanted, unwarranted, and she was getting ready to push the door open to scream at them, and she knew, knew, Sesshoumaru would be upset with her if she exposed him to Inu Yasha before he had a chance to tease the hanyou about his piercings.

“Do you, Kagome, take Sesshoumaru to be your husband?”

“Yes,” She shouted, whimpering when Sesshoumaru bit into her shoulder, hips bucking up.

“Was that a yes to the marriage or-”

“Yes I'll marry him!” She shouted, voice cracking and breaking again.

“And Sesshoumaru, do you take Kagome-”

“Yes,” He snarled next to her ear when he thrust up into her.

“I can't believe they're actually doing this.”

“Everyone else left. Dad's gonna be pissed he missed it.”

“Think they'll call a do over?” Sango snickered outside of the door.

“Dress is ruined,” Sesshoumaru told them in a voice that was half angry half exasperated and all growl.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

“Telling him to kiss her seems a little backward at this point,” Kikyo sighed.

“Go away!” Kagome shouted. “And let me fuck my husband in peace.”

“Finally,” Inu Yasha huffed. Kagome could hear him groaning and whining to Kikyo about proper ceremony and could hear her sister bemoaning the fact that no matter what, nothing could complete with sex when it came to the newly wedded couple.

Kagome had been officially married, in a closet, while having sex, and she could actually handle that more than the celebration. So she found it was easy to ignore.

They were still enjoying the feel of the newest additions to their sex life when her new father in law was heard shouting, actually, bellowing, down the hall before shouting about 'fucking closets'.

“We need a fucking closet,” Kagome giggled, lost in the euphoric daze of several orgasms and world shattering relief from the pressure of a wedding.

“They're all fucking closets.”