It was past lunch and Sesshōmaru had just wrapped up a pointless business meeting. Unfortunately, his precious time had been wasted by the thoroughly infuriating Kōga from the Masshiro Corporation, and as usual, there had been barely disguised hostility and a thorough lack of cooperation from both sides. Frustrated by the lack of progress and an abundance of stupidity, he’d ditched the office and set out in search of distractions.
Sesshōmaru checked his watch as his feet took him down a familiar street that sheltered him from the hustle and bustle of Tokyo. Hidden away like a secret within a suburban neighbourhood, his usual haunt was a tea shop that always promised relief from life’s aggravations, and caffeine sounded good right about now. His brisk pace soon brought him to the Pink Moon, a tiny tea shop which sold a truly remarkable variety of teas alongside freshly-baked selections of tempting desserts.
Stepping through the door, he heard the faint tinkle of wind chimes and the soft strains of a string quartet, while his nose picked up a bouquet of flowers and fruits. Since it was late afternoon on a weekday, the Pink Moon was mostly empty, and Sesshōmaru took a moment to savour the aromas of jasmine, cinnamon, and yuzu… alongside some of his favourite smells: cherries, cherry blossoms, and sage.
From the doorway, he saw all the shop had to offer. The cramped place was packed with a handful of tables and scuffed wood stools, as well as loveseats by the cream-coloured walls. At the back of the shop was a grand teak counter and a large display case of sweet treats from all around the world. Sesshōmaru saw the golden rounds of lemon tarts, the caramel-brown peaks of mont blancs, and flaky cones of sfogliatelle, with rich cream barely contained within buttery shells. A large board by the cashier was covered by a messy scrawl informing all customers that today’s brew was the Blue Lotus, a refreshing green tea that was a perfect unison of luscious red fruits and a sprinkling of fresh water blossoms.
Sesshōmaru made his way through the cozy establishment, tuning out the faint hum of conversation from a small scattering of patrons as he headed for his usual seat: a comfortable armchair by the shop’s large window, from which golden rays of afternoon sun streamed through. He’d barely settled in when he heard a sweet voice pipe up from behind him.
“Your usual, sir?”
Sir? Sesshōmaru turned with a raised eyebrow, taking in the waitress who was hovering by his table with her order pad in hand.
A deceptively guileless smile and large, blue eyes, crinkled at the corners and sparkling with mischief, greeted him. She was dressed in a rumpled sky blue apron, and her name-tag, sitting somewhat askew on her chest, said Kagome as it always did. Sesshōmaru’s eyes passed over slightly messy, glossy black hair and concentrated instead on the full pout of her lips as she tapped a pen against them.
“I’ll have the Geisha Blossom—”
“Green tea again huh?” Kagome tutted, shaking her head. “But you look so tense. Perhaps you shouldn’t have caffeine today.”
Sesshōmaru raised an eyebrow. “Is it always your habit to decide for your customers?”
“Only my favourites.” Kagome winked, a twinkle sparking across lively cerulean eyes. She stuffed her notepad back in the front pocket of her apron. “Well?”
Sesshōmaru fought the smile he felt on his lips. “Hn. Very well. Give me your best recommendations.”
“At your service,” Kagome called over her shoulder. She hurried back behind the counter and immediately got to work, rummaging for brewing tools and multiple tins of loose leaf teas.
Sesshōmaru watched her work with great interest, taking in the way she meticulously measured out precise portions of tea leaves, the way she carefully noted the temperature of the water, and the way she used small hourglasses to make sure she didn’t over steep his tea. He was having a good time admiring—no, respectfully looking—but it didn’t take her ten minutes to return to him, carrying a tray with six small porcelain cups.
“No dessert recommendations today?”
“I’m right here.” Kagome quipped, not batting an eyelid while she sat herself in the armchair opposite him.
He snorted, not missing her blatant attempt at flirtation. It was a habit of hers, borne of her constant desire to provoke some sort of reaction from him. He’d lost count of the number of times she’d teased him for being “stoic” and “reserved”.
“Here we have the Red of Arabia.” She gestured to the first cup on his left. “It’s a sumptuous blend of malty nuts and warm spices. Perfect for anyone who’s had a long day.”
Sesshōmaru couldn’t disagree with her assessment. He raised the cup to his lips while he watched Kagome do the same. Closing his eyes, he let the unique flavours wash over his tongue.
He pronounced the tea “acceptable”.
“Only ‘acceptable’?” Kagome placed a hand over her chest in mock hurt, protesting his lukewarm reception of her tea. “But this is one of our bestsellers!”
“The tastes of others do not concern me.” He cleared his throat and waited for her to introduce the next cup. Kagome sighed, though an exasperated smile touched her lips.
“This is a red chai.” She pushed the next cup in his direction. “A classic choice. It contains a blend of three aromatic Indian spices. It’s a rejuvenating herbal concoction. Wonderful for your energy levels.”
“Hn.” Sesshōmaru took a sip. He tasted hints of cloves, star anise, and cinnamon. He placed the empty cup back down on the tray, only to see Kagome gazing upon him with a faint smirk.
“Really warms you from the inside, doesn’t it?”
“I preferred the first.”
“Well, some appreciation for my efforts would be nice,” she huffed, though she didn’t look annoyed in the slightest. That same smirk still graced her lips, and Sesshōmaru found himself wanting to respond with a smile of his own.
“Here’s my last attempt to please you.” Kagome sighed. She nudged the final cup towards him, and as she did so, their fingers touched, a warm brush of bare skin on skin. She lingered. Sesshōmaru’s breath caught in his throat, and he held it until the brief moment of contact was over.
“This is the Jade of Africa,” Kagome announced, nodding towards the tea he grasped in his hands. “A lovely red tea that’s practically a symphony of red berries and just a hint of sunflower petals.”
Sesshōmaru drank a mouthful of tea, swirling the fragrant infusion in his mouth. It was light and refreshing, sweet but not cloying. He polished off the rest of the cup in two more sips.
“Good, huh? It’s one of my all-time favourites.”
“Your recommendation pleases me.” He answered, rewarding her with a nod. “I’ll have the Jade of Africa then.”
“Right away, sir.”
Sir. She’d done it again.
Kagome sat with him while he drank leisurely from his mug, her thigh sometimes brushing against his within the narrow confines of the small table. The little minx knew exactly what she was doing, he deduced. There was no other reason to explain the devious grin she wore so smugly. He finished his tea and looked at Kagome with knowing, golden eyes.
“How do you feel?” She prompted, peering closely at his face in hopes of a positive reaction.
“Relaxed,” he lied. After all, the tea had always been secondary. That much he could admit to himself. He came here for Kagome, and while he’d had enough tea for the afternoon, he certainly hadn’t gotten enough of her. That said, teasing was a game for two, and Sesshōmaru gave as good as he got.
“I must return to work,” he announced. “However, I would be happy to hear more tea recommendations outside.” Sesshōmaru stepped past her, his hand gently grazing the curve of her ass as he headed for the exit. Kagome watched him leave, feeling her breath come just a little faster than usual. He disappeared through the doorway with another tinkle of wind chimes.
“Miroku?” Kagome called out, her eyes still fixed on the door. “Could you take over for a moment please?”
She was out the door the moment she heard Miroku muttering in the affirmative. She turned around on the street, in search of a beloved finicky customer.
“You took your time.” Said customer admonished, his voice coming from where he’d been hovering right beside the door. Kagome giggled and murmured an apology. Sesshōmaru took her hand, their wedding bands clinking together as he did so. He pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Happy anniversary, my love.”
“I was waiting for you to come in,” Kagome admitted, reaching out to tuck a long lock of silver hair behind Sesshōmaru’s ear. “Hard to believe it’s been five years since you walked in for the first time.”
“Hn.” He grunted, relishing the glide of her fingertips along sensitive skin. It took all his willpower to not nuzzle into her hand. Especially when she stroked along the pointed tip—
“And you were every bit as difficult to please as you were back then.” She laughed, tapping him lightly on the nose. “I’ve never met a customer quite as fussy with their tea!”
“I liked everything you brought me,” he purred, leaning in close to steal a kiss. “But forget the tea. What was it you called me just now? Sir, was it?” Making sure that nobody else was around, he slipped a hand up her dress, his claws a gentle, tantalising prickle against her skin. There was a delicious shiver from Kagome that he felt through the firm grip he maintained on her lush thighs.
“Yes, sir.” She whispered, her eyes half-shut, a trace of pink riding high on her elegant cheekbones. Sesshōmaru’s nostrils flared as he breathed in an aroma he’d had the pleasure of scenting just this morning: Kagome’s arousal, thick and warm, surrounding him like a heady cloud of perfume. His thumb caressed the front of her lacy underwear, collecting a few precious dew drops of her desire. Then he raised his hand to his lips and swept up her fluids with his tongue, thoroughly tasting her. Cherries, cherry blossoms, and sage—with the heat of pepper and the sticky sweetness of honey. Utterly delectable.
Kagome's moan was just as he'd remembered it this morning too. A soft mewl that betrayed just how much she wanted him, breathy and with a hint of desperation.
“I’ll be waiting for you to get home.” Sesshōmaru murmured into her ear. "Please me tonight."
The light peck on her cheek was as chaste as any kiss he’d ever given her. But the suggestive rumble of his voice held the promise of a long night.