Bound by Corruption by BelovedStranger

Lair Lair

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Word Count: 3,014

Glossary:

Tenshi—Angel, Or Celestial Being

Fundoshi—A Type Of Loincloth

NIGHT WAS WANING, the sun cresting across the horizon. Songbirds sang, heralding the new day. Soon, Kagome heard the town’s people emerging from their homes and going about their daily chores and business.

Golden rays peaked through the two windows along the far wall, and she eyed the beams of light with longing. A golden glow. Amber fire. She’d never be able to look at that color the same again.

Then a shadow moved across the window, a person hurrying by without even a glance of curiosity inside the infirmary. The shadowy figure broke her stupefaction. Kagome blinked tired eyes and shook her head to clear it of such nonsense.

A pitiful groan drew her attention where Onigumo lie on a thin pallet on the floor. The wooden planks were hard beneath her knees as she knelt beside his sickbed. Back protesting, Kagome reached over him for the rag folded across his brow. It had grown warm, nearly as hot as the fever blazing beneath his flushed face. Dipping the rag into a bowl of cool water, before wringing out the excess, she replaced the cloth along his brow.

His eyes flickered beneath his closed lids, but he did not awaken. His fever had set in soon after their arrival to the town.

After Onigumo had fallen from his mount, Kagome had been forced to run into the sleeping settlement for aid. Luckily, the first home she’d come upon heeded her frantic calls. A father and son had reluctantly followed her, only after she’d revealed herself as a miko. Wearing her peasant garb, ripped at the knee, they had been slow to believe her claim, doubt clouding their eyes. In the end, they’d come, carrying farming tools as weapons. She didn’t blame them for their caution. For all they knew, she could be luring them away from the safety of the town for an ambush, but once they saw Onigumo, alone and collapsed on the road, they’d hurried to help her get him to the village miko.

Kagome had said nothing of Onigumo’s identity to the father and son as doubts rose, unbidden, cautioning her. How would they react knowing whom they were aiding? Kagome had seen enough bloodshed and death for one day. She’d offered no explanation and they’d asked few questions. Only when they left her on the elderly miko’s doorstep was she questioned, bluntly and a bit rudely. Even then, she’d hesitated.

Caution had won.

Kagome blinked tired eyes, vision blurred. Despite her fatigue, sleep continued to illude her. Her back muscles twitched, protesting after being bent over for such a long period of time. Shoulders slumped, she stared at her patient with vague dispassion.

Onigumo’s fever was fierce, yet his wounds did not ooze with infection. She could only assume his body was reacting to the poison from Sesshomaru’s strange darts.

The warlord certainly was handsome, even with his fever blotched face, sweat oiled skin, and cracked lips. Would anyone recognize him? Did anyone know his face? So far, they were the only ones making use of the healer’s ward situated at the back of the elderly miko’s home.

Upon seeing her, pain had stabbed through Kagome’s heart, for the older woman’s resemblance towards her obaasan was uncanny.

Though the town’s miko had been rather curt at the appearance of strangers at so late an hour, she hadn’t hesitated in offering them a place within the back room used for the ailing and wounded.

When questioned, Kagome had given the barest of information. There was no hiding her reiki from the elderly miko, and Kagome had already revealed her identity to the two townsmen, so she’d been candid about talking of herself; however, she’d refrained from disclosing the truth of who Onigumo was, saying only that she’d found him lying wounded along the road.

As the father and son had, the priestess had looked over Kagome—at her too short yukata. Though it was not uncommon for a miko to travel incognito, she flushed at the state of her clothing, cursing Sesshomaru for his help. Only to feel dejected under the weight of his abandonment. Foolish, foolish.

At least she’d been able to arm herself after pillaging the dead. The acquisition had made her grimace, but Kagome was glad for the bow and quiver of arrows she now possessed. She’d needed the protection they provided, she’d reasoned, especially now that Sesshomaru was gone, and with the weapon, she would draw less suspicion. It was one thing for a miko to journey in plain attire but an altogether different matter to travel unarmed. 

The town was large, big enough for the need of another miko, but the elderly woman had explained their village monk was absent, having left to heed the call of the desperate cries of a distant town that was plagued by an evil spirit. It was his responsibility to protect the surrounding towns who did not have the protection of the divinely gifted.

The town had, also, suffered a recent death. There’d been another miko protecting them, the elderly woman’s own daughter, who had passed away in childbirth last year, leaving behind a baby boy. Orphaned, for the father was not around, the grandmother looked after her grandchild, with the help of a neighbor who nursed him alongside her own babe.

Not wishing to burden the old woman further, Kagome had convinced her that she would see to Onigumo herself and encouraged the obaasan to return to her own bed. No sooner had she gotten him settled in a cot, Onigumo’s fever came roaring to life, surprising her.

She’d planned on making a visit to the village headman the next morning, to quietly notify the proper authorities of the warlord’s presence. However, now that he was in such a precarious position, Kagome dared not leave his side even when morning came. It was all she could do to keep the fever down with constant cooling baths and forcing him to sip water throughout the long night.

Perhaps, she should have confided in the elder miko. She still could, but continued to hesitate. A decision she constantly doubted, for the sooner she released him to the headman’s custody, the sooner she could leave, her duty towards an injured man completed. No one could expect more of her, not even herself.

However, an important question remained, unsettling her: what was she to do afterwards?

Kagome had nowhere else to go.

Her silence continued all through the morning and afternoon, allowing herself the excuse that her patient needed her, convinced the elderly miko had other, more pressing duties to take care of. She fully intended to inform the headman of Onigumo’s identity after he began to show signs of recovery.

She hadn’t changed her mind about him. He was a criminal, and justice had finally caught up to him, ending his reign of terror. She was determined he would answer for his crimes. After she had time to think, to evaluate her situation, and to plan her next course of action.

Once more with the hot rag, dipping it into the cool water, but this time, she began whipping the cloth down his throat and across his shoulders. He moaned at her administrations, probably tortured by the heat of his body against the cold of the cloth, but he still did not wake.

If she wasn’t so tired, she knew she would cry from despair. Instead, she continued to bathe Onigumo’s face and bared chest. He was unclothed from the waste up, his stained and torn hakama having been changed for an old but clean pair. The drab brown pants had been an offering on loan from the elderly miko, the infirmary well supplied by the generosity of others.

Only after she had cleaned up Onigumo and changed his clothes had she given herself a quick sponge bath and dressed in one of the elderly miko’s spare priestess garments that had once belonged to her deceased daughter. Kagome had been hesitant to accept the offering, but the old woman had been instant, and Kagome was all too eager to discard the clothes she’d taken from the dead woman yesterday.

When Onigumo began thrashing about, mumbling incoherently, Kagome soothed him with a gentle voice and even softer touch, stroking the top of his head, his cheek, then his chest. Petting him seemed to soothe him, and Kagome did it not because she cared—though she was loathe to admit a part of her dared to feel even the slightest sympathy towards him, she needed to keep a low profile. She didn’t want the elderly miko coming in to help and possibly asking more questions.

Lying sat ill with Kagome. What was more, she knew she was a terrible liar. Kikyo had told her often enough that her face was too expressive, always giving her away.

What did a leader of murderers and thieves dream? she wondered in vague interest, staring down at him, his brows pinched. What nightmares plagued Onigumo? Kagome hoped it was his conscious tormenting him for all his past evil deeds.

Or, was he so far gone that he was a youkai in all but blood?

And with that thought, what did that make her, judging all youkai for the acts of the few, just as Sesshomaru stood in judgment of all miko?

Always, her thoughts returned to the inugami.

Where was he now?

FOR THREE DAYS, Onigumo’s fever raged.

Each hour Kagome fought for his life, a fiercer battle waged within her.

Betrayer. Cruel taunts, sounding eerily like Sesshomaru, questioned her loyalty to the dead.

Be at ease. Quieter, softer words. Her inner voice encouraging her to hold fast to her convictions.

The darkness didn’t have to win. Even the smallest light could cast off the deepest of shadows.

For a time, Kagome was certain Onigumo would die, but she continued to nurse him, forcing water and broth constantly down his throat, all the while giving him cooling baths. Because of his illness and lack of infection, the elderly miko had suspected a deadly virus after that first night and had all but forced Onigumo to be moved to the outskirts of the town, in an abandoned, dilapidated hut.

At first, Kagome had tried to fight the senior miko, until she realized the blessing in disguise. There would be no more strangers coming and going, no more worrying that someone might recognize the warlord, for Kagome had yet to reveal his identity to anyone, let alone notify the proper authorities.

During the long, grueling hours nursing Onigumo, she hardly even thought of Sesshomaru. When thoughts of the inugami did encroach, she had mixed feelings of pain, anger, and betrayal at his abandonment, and though she would never admit it aloud, a small part of her missed the silver haired daemon.

One the fourth morning, Kagome was dozing, propped up against the wall beside Onigumo’s pallet. She’d wanted to remain close in case he’d had need of her but would be too weak to call out to her.

“Miko, wake. Wake, I say!”

Kagome jolted to awareness, blinking gritty eyes down at the prone figure beside her. Brown eyes stared back at her with full awareness. She saw him swallow.

“Water.” A hoarse plea.

Muffling a groan, she forced sore muscles to respond as she picked up a pitcher of water and poured a splash into a clay cup. Then she shuffled closer on sore knees and curled an arm beneath his head without his having to ask, before lifted him a few inches to help him sip the cool liquid.

“Slowly,” she advised, voice cracking. She cleared her throat and eyed the water, licking her own dry lips. Only after he’d had his fill and after she’d set him back down did she seek to quench her own thirst. She hesitated for a moment before using the same cup. It was the only one on hand, and she was too tired to get another.

“Thank you,” he murmured, eyes closed.

“Do you need anything else? The privy? Are you hungry?” She felt his forehead with her wrist. His brow was sweaty but cool, his fever having broken sometime during the night while she slept. A sigh of relief escaped her. Not because he lived but because she was utterly exhausted after caring for him for so long.

Rather than answer her, he struggled to rise on shaky arms.

“Easy! You’ve been terribly ill for three days. Your fever has only just broken.” She placed a staying hand on his shoulder, but his strength gave out a second later and he fell back with a groan.

“Careful,” she admonished him. “Didn’t you hear what I said? You are in no condition to be moving around just yet.”

“Cease yammering at me, onna. I heard you.” Voice rough, he emanated a sound of disgust. “As weak as a babe.” Only then did he turn his head towards her, flashing what she knew would have been a roguish smile had he been well. Even now, a flicker of charm reflected in his tired eyes. “If you would be so good, I shall avail upon your first offer.”

It took Kagome a moment to understand him. Then she flushed.

She’d assisted him with his bodily functions on numerous occasions the past few days and never once had she given it much notice. How many times had she done the same in her own village over the years when the sick or infirm required the assistance? But now Onigumo was awake and staring at her in open flirtation.

Glaring back at him, she nevertheless moved to comply, while silently berating herself for feeling a spark of shyness. The privy pan was nearby, and after she’d untied his hakama and placed the pan near his hip, she scooted back and turned aside to give him as much privacy as she could while not leaving the room.

“Miko? If you would offer further assistance?” he rasped. When she turned back to him, he hadn’t moved, but smiled at her in a sheepish manner. “Apologies. My need is very pressing. Could you..?”

His request was apparent.

Kagome felt another flush creep up her neck and spread across her cheeks. Why he discomforted her so, she could not understand. Her embarrassment angered her, which enabled her to react as though she was unbothered by his heavy stare. He didn’t look away, until he tried to turn over. Hissing in pain, he grabbed his left leg, which was immobilized in a much sturdier binding of planks than the rough field dressing she’d given him after that first night.

“Are you alright?” Kagome reached for him on instinct, her hand hovering over his bare thigh.

“Just give me a moment,” he gritted through clenched teeth, eyes tightly shut. He didn’t seem to care that his male anatomy was hanging free between them, and Kagome was careful to avoid staring. Now that he was awake and aware, his nudity had taken on a whole new meaning.

He was still her patient.

But he was male.

An attractive male.

From chest to knees, he was bare. All muscle and lean physique. Temptation beckoned. She peeked—and compared him to another.

Onigumo was nearly hairless, like Sesshomaru. But not as muscular. He had lean hips very much like the inugami. He even possessing that intriguing v-line that defined his lower abdomen and hips. Whereas the dusting of hair along Sesshomaru’s abdomen was silver, Onigumo’s was black, and looked coarse in comparison. Until she saw that part of him. Shriveled. Small. Limp. With two, large and grotesque testicles covered in thick, black hair. 

Kagome scrunched up her face. She’d never seen the intimate details of that part of Sesshomaru’s body, but she had noticed the dual strips slashed across the inugami’s pale hips, the same purple as the stripes along his forearms and wrists. He even had them along his calves to his ankles. They perfectly matched the markings along his high cheekbones.  

Onigumo’s shaft was unimpressive. Ugly, even.

Would Sesshomaru’s be the same?

Suddenly, it twitched. Before her widening eyes, Onigumo’s shaft enlarged swiftly. Dear kami, had she though him small? That part of him had grown more than double its original size, reaching just inches shy of his naval. It reared over the thin line of black hair leading downwards to the patch surrounding his enlarged organ.

As she watched, it jerked, bobbing.

She gasped and raised her wide-eyes to Onigumo’s smug face, a cocky grin plastered across his lips.

“Though I enjoy a beautiful woman’s appreciation, I now find myself in a conundrum. Not only do I need to relieve myself, I need to relieve myself.”

Kagome blinked, not understanding. When she did, she knew her face had transformed, turning scarlet. She was staring at an aroused male.

An attractive, flirtatious male.

She saw the same, heated look in his eyes that she’d seen smolder in Sesshomaru’s, after he’d kissed her and touched her where no man had dared before.

Mortified, she sputtered, which only made Onigumo throw his head back and laugh, the sound rasping and hoarse, but she knew once he recovered from his illness, it would be boisterous, infectious.

She was far from amused at being the brunt of his mirth.

“Oh, you!” Grabbing the wet rag from the water bowl she’d used to cool his fevered flesh, she threw the soggy cloth at his chest, where it splattered water over his muscular frame with a loud smack.

Her outburst only made him laugh harder, then cough horribly.

She glowered at him as he fought to catch his breath. Even then, he continued to chuckle uncontrollably through his coughing fit.

“I think you’re capable of relieving yourself,” she replied darkly, rising and turning her back on him. “You must be hungry. I will return shortly.”

“Hey, wait! Onna, come back here! I still need your assistance!”

Kagome ignored Onigumo’s call as she stormed from the only room separated from the main area of the old hut.

“Onna!”