Curiosity Caught the Miko by Stella Mira

Killing Me Softly

Written for KYN's Word Prompt Challenge

Prompt: Kiss

~~~~~

Shock and bewilderment suffused the atmosphere when Kagome all but barged into the hut where Miroku's holy aura pulsed distinctly – then a babeldom erupted. Voices rang in her ears, high-pitched and ecstatic; arms enfolded various parts of her body, from her shoulders to her waist down to her ankles. Kagome bore with the jarring display of emotion, swapping pain for affection. It appeared she had interrupted their lunch, judging by the array of plates and bowls on the table and the children's sullied lower faces. Smiling, filled with warmth, she allowed to be led at the table and be seated between the twins, Hanae and Kaori. They were still gripping the sleeves of her kimono, smiling in the way only children could. Sango and Miroku sat across from her with their youngest son, Yūta, on Miroku's lap.

She was pelted with a barrage of questions before she could even lift her chopsticks, not that she expected otherwise. Two hours passed with friendly conversation, Sango fretting over her injuries, Miroku's clever yet not-so-clever for his scalp jests, and light, childish giggling.

"I still can't believe you fought a mizuchi and survived to tell the tale." Disapproval and admiration colored Sango's tone in equal doses. She shook her head, wiping her son's drooling mouth.

The twins stared at her with eyes wide and full of awe.

"Auntie is strong!"

"Stronger than papa!"

"Now, now…" Miroku laughed, his gaze half-serious and half-amused. "There is no need for biased comparisons."

An indelicate snort came from Sango's side. "Don't you mean accurate?"

Miroku's mouth parted for a heavy sigh. "The women in this family are cruel. Your visit is a blessing, Kagome-sama."

Her lips twitched with the beginnings of laughter, and Kagome gave in to a little bit of the discomfort it brought.

"I really missed you, guys."

"You should have visited sooner then." Sango's voice might have been chiding but it wasn't entirely directed at Kagome as it seemed. "I'd have come to see you, but I can't when I'm getting pregnant every year and a half."

Beads of sweat clung to Miroku's temples. "My dear Sango is exaggerating. It has been more than –"

One loud clearing of throat. Sango's palm stroked her distended abdomen meaningfully.

Miroku stiffened then stood. "I shall clean the plates."

Kagome waited until he disappeared inside the kitchen, the twins following suit, before she gave a short chuckle.

"That was mean of you, Sango-chan."

Sango shrugged but there was mischief in her eyes. "He likes it." Intrigue replaced the impious glint in her gaze then, and she smirked. "But enough about us. What I want to know is how you ended up traveling with Inuyasha's brother of all people."

"It just happened?" A frown wedged itself between Kagome's brows, and she realized that she meant it. There was more than simply that, though. "I don't really know myself. Sesshōmaru is actually…nice." A smile. "And caring." A sigh. "And –"

Sango barked out a laugh. "Alright, I get it. No need to sing the man's praises."

Until Sango phrased it like that, this thought hadn't occurred to Kagome. It wasn't a lie but not the truth either. For some ridiculous reason, Kagome felt the need to make Sango understand that her words weren't empty accolades.

"I wasn't… He just is all that."

Sango's mouth twisted into something sly. "Heeh."

It didn't take a genius to grasp the question riding on that shrewd heeh. Kagome huffed then mimicked Sango's smirk. "And yes, I like him."

"I didn't ask."

"You didn't have to."

~~~~~

A week passed by in the blink of an eye. The taijiya village was full of laughter, the clangor of metal, and strangely, domestication. It was a community but dissimilar to the tight-knit bonds of a pack. Everyone held a position, responsibilities, unique based on skill and experience, yet it was human structure that kept this village functional. Miroku and Sango acted more relaxed than she'd ever seen them, no shadows in wary eyes, no pulse of revenge in hot blood. They had built a life here, the life both of them had longed for so long, swarming with children, loud banter at the dinner table, and tenderness beneath snippy words.

It reminded Kagome of all the things she could have had if she hadn't been as self-willed and left her village in search of adventure and some deep-rooted purpose even she couldn't fully understand. Maybe she could have settled down with a man and raised her own family, even if it meant she'd compromise and change herself – because no man of this era could handle her temperament, progressive views, and wayward tongue. But it was too late. She now wanted no man, no community, no village. What she wanted punctured the membrane of possibility, plunged into chaos and self-doubt. Sesshōmaru was yōkai, not man as she knew them to be – and even among his kind, he was…an exception.

He may consider her pack, under his protection and care, but that was a far cry from the things she craved. Kagome was human, with all the imperfections that defined one of her kind, maybe even more so in her offbeat case. The mere notion of him being remotely interested in her belonged to the sphere of wistfulness, somewhere between absurdity and audacity. Kagome was all too aware of that. It was an indisputable, rational fact. But then why did that capricious, wretched organ she called a heart refuse to see reason and heel under it? Maybe it was her fate that was capricious and wretched, always having her chase after what she couldn't have. If so, fate had a twisted sense of humor. Whatever the case may be, Kagome couldn't deny one thing. She missed him – the variations of gold in his eyes, the inflexions in his voice, the heat of his body, silence welling with implications, skin against skin and raw instinct.

A week had passed – and she had enough…of wanting him, not seeing him, not feeling him. Perhaps it was shameless of her to exploit the closeness he permitted for her pathetic wants, but she was past the point of caring for right and wrong. In the end, she was the only one who'd hurt, and she supposed that had always been her excuse. It was fine if the pain was borne by her alone.

~~~~~

The moon hung heavy and high, pale glow in the midst of amorphous shapes. It was dark hours, wrapped in black haze, when she entered the forest near the village. Insidious. Sultry. Kagome felt its lure more potently tonight, the urge to do things better done in the dark. Thrill-ridden, nerve-edged, she yearned for the brush of his yōki – to feel him.

"You should be resting, miko."

His voice rippled over her skin, wound around her body, smooth like coils of silk-web. Kagome spun around, too quickly. Her back collided with the bark of a tall tree, sent jolts of pain down her vertebrae. She winced but molded herself to the rough surface, stared up at him through heavy-lidded eyes.

Sesshōmaru appraised her quietly. When she still didn't speak, he might have doubted her abilities for cognition – because he thought it necessary to word his advice in a more elaborate manner, if slightly cynic.

"It defeats the purpose of your visit if you are gallivanting in the woods at night with no care for your body's condition or predators."

It sparked boldness inside her, made her impulsive, belligerent. Chin angled high, lips pursed, she huffed.

"Aren't you a sweet talker?"

Her eyes rose to his face, burning inside, rush after rush of hot blood, and she found herself ripping through the veil, the fathomless gold that was his stare. Time stopped. He was…too close.

"It occurs to me that you have taken liberties far above merely discarding formalities."

His words were deliberate, too blunt yet cunning – and he was leaning above her, a mere breadth's away, heat so intense it seeped through skin, licking bones and muscles. Shivers lathered on her skin; tingles slithered down her spine. Kagome could even smell him this close. His scent was thickly potent. A crisp fragrance but woodsy with spicy notes, light hints of sakura blossoms…and the scent of man.

Kagome stared at him, tongue-tied. Myriad thoughts raced in her brain. She was stunned, numb. Her lips seemed to move on their own; her vocal cords formed whatever words they wanted.

"You don't say." What poured out of her mouth defied logic but writhed with suggestion. "Do you dislike it?"

Sesshōmaru didn't move away, caged her under him without even touching her, merely standing close. Too close. Her eyes traced the contours of his lips, waiting, dreading…hoping.

"No."

His voice spilled in her ear, an amalgam of smokiness and intent. Heavy, narcotic. It was a low whisper, thick in insinuations, dripping with sensuality. This was madness. His voice was madness. But once she started, she found herself unable to stop…baiting him.

"So you like it?"

His head dipped before she could process the movement, lips pressing, tasting. Her legs were weak, barely supported her. She was liquid heat, smeared on that tree and his mouth. A moan raked her throat, clamored for release, and she let it out, let him in – the motions of his tongue, the graze of his teeth, sinuous and dominant. Air was becoming nothing but a memory of necessity. Lightheaded, almost swaying on her feet, she breathed his name.

"Sesshōmaru…"

He stilled. Slowly, lazily, he spoke against her lips, voice gone husky and less smooth.

"Go back –" Teeth sank into her bottom lip, clamped down and nipped – a sinful tease. Then one lick of tongue, slow and lavish and dragging on flesh sensitized. "And rest."

She was panting with heavy breaths, dazed and stimulated to searing sensations. Her tongue darted out, swept across the lip he had been nibbling but seconds ago. It was still wet, tingling, marked by his teeth and the roughness of his tongue. Kagome dared gaze up and into his eyes – they were dark honey, raw and pulling her in deep. Frozen in place, she felt hands sliding down her sides, drawing her closer, breath and lips hot against her neck – then pushing her away gently, firmly. Kagome moved, almost mechanically, allowing her feet to lead her back to the village.

Did he just…kiss me?

~~~~~

Sesshōmaru watched her leave, shackled the impulse to follow after her. She was an outline of slender bones and messy hair, slinking into the night with slow motions. The taste of plum liquor and sweetness was ingrained on his tongue, the feel of her lips, swollen and malleable under his, open for him and gasping his name. The way his name had fallen from those lips – breathless, wanton, wanting – had been the breaking point. Humans were so fragile, bruised and bled too easily. If he wasn't careful…and he was teetering on the edge of precipitance. She might think she knew what she was doing, and perhaps she did…to a point – luring him with those lips and moans, chiseling his control and urging him to take more, ravish her soft flesh and drink up the sounds that spilled out of her throat and into his mouth.

Yōkai weren't made for restraint, gentle touches and tameness – and she gave too much. She always did. Then she thought too much. A sound rumbled in his throat, not quite a chuckle but rippling with amusement. It might be another kind of pleasure to let her struggle and writhe and burn, striving for an answer she already possessed. Humans were...irrationally complicated – or perhaps only their women.