Forbidden Love by BelovedStranger

Acceptance

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I just want to make this clear. I am NOT emulating ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’. I do not like the series, and yes, I have read it—much to my displeasure. That being said, I can say that actual facts support my viewpoint if one did research. It does NOT portray the BDSM lifestyle in any form of accuracy. *I* have done extensive research into the BDSM lifestyle, so please, faithful readers, don’t belittle my work by thinking/saying my fic (this fic) has anything to do with ‘Fifty Shades’. 

Prompt: 'An open door may tempt a saint.' 

It was a mere two hours after he’d taken Kagome, and yet, it felt like an eternity to Sesshomaru. Guilt was eating at him. She’d given all of herself to him, entrusted him with her body and heart, and he was a fiend for keeping secrets from her, withholding knowledge she had every right to know. He’d belittled everything she’d given freely without doing the same for her. Of course, she already knew about his demonic state and had accepted him despite the darkness within him. He’d never expected her to, or even thought she would. Not in his wildest imagination.  

However, right now, her acceptance meant very little considering he hadn’t been completely open with her in regards to sharing the same lineage. No matter how diluted, biologically, they were still family, and in this day and age, it was not nearly as acceptable to be in a sexual relationship with one’s family as it had been when he was still alive. Sesshomaru had no idea if Kagome had the same outlook as others of this age, but more importantly, would she be able to forgive him for keeping this information from her?

He swallowed thickly at the thought, and eyed her across the kitchen counter where she was bustling around, making herself a light snack. She was wearing black shorts and an aqua colored tank top, not wanting to walk around indecently since Michael and his family shared the residence. Michael’s two little girls were already in bed, his wife out on errands, and he’d gone along with her, leaving Sesshomaru and Kagome virtually alone.

“Kagome?” he spoke up, gaining her attention.

“Hmm?”

Her back to him, she had apple in hand as well as a kitchen knife, cutting away the outer layer. Perhaps now wasn’t the most prudent of moments to blurt out his confession, but he wasn’t thinking about the possible consequences when he spoke up unexpectedly.

“We’re family.”

Her movements stilled. Voice coming out soft, she asked, “You’re not about to tell me what we did was a mistake, are you, Sesshomaru? Perhaps because you believe you should view me as a daughter or younger sister instead, right?”

There was no mistaking her displeasure at the thought, but at least she wasn’t jumping to conclusions and yelling at him. Not to mention, informing him again that she wasn’t a child and could make her own decisions as any adult would.

“That’s not what I meant.” Exactly, he amended silently, for she had unwittingly jumped to the topic he wished to broach with her.

Kagome’s shoulders relaxed, and she went back to peeling her apple.

“Then what do you mean?” she asked conversationally.

“Do you recall when I mentioned my twin sister Kikyo?” he hedged.

Nervousness and trepidation made his muscles bunch with tension. Around her, more often than not, he felt like he was walking around blind. It went against everything he’d once thought to be true about himself. Where was his calm, his assurance and innate authority over everyone and everything around him? All gone around this one, little, mortal girl. Like a youth unsure of himself, he walked upon egg shells, fearful of making one mistake or wrong error of judgment. Why? Because Kagome meant so much to him that he feared losing her forever, and that appeared to make all the difference. Dammit.

At her silent nod, he continued before shaming himself by losing his nerve.

“You are her descendant, my blood relation.” His words came out quietly but loud enough to be heard.

The knife slipped. As it clattered first onto the island and then onto the floor, Kagome jerked back with a cry of pain and surprise. When she clutched her arm to her chest, the scent of blood reached him. Sesshomaru was on his feet and next to her in less than a second. Turning her towards him, he gently grabbed her wrist and brought her hand towards him for inspection. Blood welled and spilled over her palm where she’d cut herself just under her thumb in a long line. So sharp was the blade, it was a clean cut.  

The intoxicating scent of her life’s essence so close to hand—in his hand—caused his incisors to shoot from his gums in an almost painful manner. His fangs filled his mouth, saliva pooling on his tongue enough to where he had to swallow before he spoke around his lengthened canines.

“Come. I’ll take care of this for you.”

He intended to drag her towards the bathroom where he was sure there’d be some manner of medical aid, but Kagome pulled back from him, or tried to.

“Forget about that. What do you mean we’re related?!” she demanded loudly.

Gazing into her wide eyes, he saw surprise and nothing else—for now.

Slowly, keeping a firm grasp on her wrist to keep her from running from him, he repeated, “You are the last of my line, a distant descendant of Kikyo’s.”

Kagome’s eyes travelled to the blood on her hand. It wasn’t bleeding freely, so the wound wasn’t deep. Thank God. However, she stared with such rapt attention that it unnerved Sesshomaru. Looking at the crimson stain, he understood the symbolism it conveyed. Loving Kikyo as a man instead of a brother as he had had been unnatural. Falling for her descendant was no better in society’s eyes. Not that anyone would ever know, but really, that was beside the point. He knew and now Kagome did, too.

“So you really are like a father to me,” she murmured, shielding her eyes from him purposefully, he knew. “Well, more like a very great-grandfather.” The low laugh she made was wry and held no amusement. Then a sardonic half-smile curled one side of her lips.

“I tried to look at you as a daughter but…”

She peeked up at him from beneath her bangs. “It doesn’t change anything, Sesshomaru.”

His hand tightened marginally around her wrist at her admission.

“Though it is not always socially accepted, even cousins can be in relationships, especially distant ones. You and I share blood but it is distantly.” She continued more strongly. “I can only speak for myself, but I don’t have a problem with that.”

He would have relaxed, but he still had more to tell.

“That’s not all…”

One, black brow lifted. Another wry smile. “What more do you have to tell me, Sesshomaru? Whatever it is, I doubt it’ll change anything either.” She reached out and held his free hand tightly. “Haven’t you realized yet that I’ll still feel the same towards you?”

“You still deserve to know,” he replied. “I don’t want to keep things from you, not after—”

A blush tinted her cheeks at his subtle reminder of their recent activities in the music room, and she nodded quickly.

It was harder to say this next part, but he managed to. “I loved her.” He gazed at her meaningfully, and by the widening of Kagome’s eyes, it was apparent that she understood his subtle meaning.

Releasing his hand, she jerked back from him, and the only thing keeping them together was his hold on her wrist. Not painful, but it was restraining.

“Kagome—”

“You loved her?” she interrupted, aghast.

A pained expression crossed her face as she looked up at him. His heart plummeted. Though she’d said it didn’t faze her for distant relations to be intimate, it was apparent that his feelings for his sister was not so accepted, even by her.

“I realize my past feelings for her was wrong,” he said neutrally, striving to hide his feelings. “I never once acted upon them. However, logic holds no sway over one’s heart.” Was he trying to make excuses? Attempting to convince her to overlook her revulsion? He clammed up, not wishing to dig himself a deeper grave.

She stomped her foot, looking aggravated as she glared up at him. “That’s not what I meant!”

He blinked, perplexed.

“It’s just…” She paused, as if struggling to speak. “Is that why you took me in? Because you felt some obligation?”

“I have not revealed myself to her descendants in hundreds of years, until you,” he answered tonelessly without telling her about the first time he’d tried that ended in disaster. A tale for another day, if there was a future with her, even a platonic one.

“Oh,” she said softly, looking nonplussed. And like a switch, her expression was guarded. Her emotions came and went swiftly, making it hard for him to follow. “I don’t resemble Kikyo, do I?”

Now it was his turn to hesitate. It was only for a second, but it was telling, and Kagome understood the significance.

“Were you thinking of her after we—when we..?” 

Swiftly, he moved closer, invading her space. Her injured hand was still held loftily between them as he snagged her waist with his free hand. Curling over her, he spoke with all seriousness. “No. No. Remove that thought from your head this instant! For it is wrong, wrong, do you hear me?”  

He swooped down and kissed her hard, chastely, for a couple seconds before staring into her eyes once more. “Yes, I loved her, but she is no longer the one who holds my heart so enthralled, though the damned thing has not beaten in centuries.”

“You…love someone..?” She breathed, her expression open, and he could hear her heart pounding.

Gravelly, he admitted, “Yes. It is you. The one I love is you, Kagome, and no one else. Not even the memory of my long since deceased sister.”

Tears filled her eyes at his confession, but they did not fall. Wordlessly, Kagome went up on tiptoe, her free hand clasping the front of his open shirt. He obliged her silent request and bent forward, meeting her halfway. The kiss was all slick tongues and moving lips. Hot breath was shared and taken deep into lungs, only to be expelled roughly.

“I love you, too, Sesshomaru,” she told him for the second time that night.

Breaking away from her frantic mouth so he could think, he closed his eyes tightly.

“This is wrong,” he whispered. He opened his eyes, met her gaze. “But it doesn’t feel like it,” he confessed.

“It doesn’t feel wrong to me, either.” She shook her head. “If it is then I don’t want to be right.”

He wanted her. Now. But first…

“Will you allow me to take care of your wound now? Humans get ill and worse from the most minor of injuries,” he murmured teasingly, but he was completely serious about treating her cut. Though, it seemed to have already ceased bleeding.

Kagome grinned up at him. “If you must, though I can take care of a minor injury such as this on my own.”

“I insist,” he replied, tugging on her wrist gently.

“Where are we going?”

“I assume there are medical supplies in the bathroom.”

“There’s a medic kit right here in the kitchen.”

Sesshomaru halted dead in his tracks on the threshold. Wordlessly, he turned around and returned to where they had started. Glancing down at her, he lifted his brow inquisitively. She pointed under the sink helpfully, and he retrieved the red and white box. Silence ensued as he wet a washcloth and dabbed at her palm, wishing he was licking it clean. She hissed when he skimmed the rag over her shallow cut.

“Forgive me,” he murmured.

“That’s alright.” She stared up at him with a direct look. “You can lick it. If you want, I mean.”

Now it was his turn to stare. “I know you accept me for what I am, but you do not have to force yourself.”

“I’m not,” she insisted quickly. “I’d like you to, actually.”

She blushed once again and he caught the scent of her budding arousal, which thickened his shaft. His gaze was hooded as he brought her still bloodied palm to his mouth. Their eyes were locked when his tongue rasped over her palm, staying away from the cut for now. Like him, Kagome’s desire washed over her—over her face, spicing her scent, causing her breath to quicken—in seconds. And unlike him, her heart pounded.

Another swirl and he made a small, pleased sound in the back of his throat.

“Does it taste good?” she asked on a raspy whisper.

“You taste divine,” he replied truthfully and with feeling.

A quick dab at her wound, then a fuller taste with the flat of his tongue. She trembled, her finger nails grazing his jaw when she attempted to curl her fingers.

“Does that hurt?”

“Not…” she swallowed, “in a bad way.” 

Interesting, stimulating that she liked some measure of pain with her pleasure. Purposefully, he allowed his fang to prick the pad of her thumb, before drawing it into his mouth for a gentle suckle. A gasp, a shuffle of feet, and she moved closer yet. Her free palm was placed low on his torso.

“Bandage it later?” she more asked, begged, than demanded.

Considering she was no longer bleeding, and the wound really was shallow, he didn’t insist on bandaging it just yet. Instead, he released her wrist and placed his hands on her hips. Lifting her tank top just enough to bare an inch of her flesh, he stroked her hipbones with his thumbs, before hooking the edge of her shorts and drawing them down. Quickly, he realized that she wore no panties. He didn’t even have to instruct her to step out of them since she did so on her own.

“Good girl,” he breathed against her neck.

A light nip against that fluttering pulse, his hot breath—a promise, followed by an open mouthed kiss. Her blood rushed against his lips. His fangs and gums ached to pierce her flesh, to taste, to drink. Instead, he teased her. The point of his fangs against the fragile beat, a light graze, leaving twin trails of pink without actually breaking flesh.

Kagome swallowed thickly, and though her hands had a tight grip on his open shirt, she didn’t pull away or push him away, but trusted that he wouldn’t harm her. Another wave of her desire flooded his nostrils. Breathing deeply, he soothed the slight sting of his fangs with the flat of his tongue.

He knew she ached, but he did not even try to touch her the way she needed. Only teased and enticed with the promise of more.

“Sesshomaru.” A moan. A plea.

“Patience,” he encouraged, insisted.

Kagome took the initiative to explore him. Palms flat against his torso. They skimmed against the defined muscles of his abdominal, and instead of going downwards towards his erection, they went upwards. Stroking, fingers caressing against his pecs, then his shoulders under his shirt. Suddenly, a nail scraped over his left nipple, causing him to shudder strongly.

Ignoring the thin strap of her top, he nipped her shoulder. A reprimand and encouragement. When she did it again, her arms were over her head as he yanked her top up and off. With a firm flick of his wrist, it smacked against the cabinets behind him, falling to the floor, forgotten. 

Hands flat on the counter behind her, he took his fill of her naked body, eyes roving, admiring—lusting.

“Beautiful,” he murmured.

She shifted from foot to foot. “It feels weird being the only one naked,” she muttered without meeting his gaze.

“I enjoy it.” There were doors to both entrances to the kitchen, and he telepathically shut them sharply, keeping them closed by force of will should anyone try to gain access within. “No one but I can see you.”

“That’s not the point.”

“That is every point.”

He wanted her nude while he remained mostly clothed, needed her to feel vulnerable but trust that he’d take care of her.

“Trust me,” he implored huskily as he lifted her on top of the counter.

It must have been cold, for she shivered. He stepped closer. Though it was unnecessary, he cupped her knees and spread them wide to make room for himself. Again his eyes roved downwards, over her breasts—her nipples already hard peaks, down her stomach, and over the patch of black curls.

“I do trust you, Sesshomaru.”

“Hn.”

Fingers against her ribcage, he traced them upwards, thumbs stroking the underside of her breasts. Kagome’s head fell back, her long, black hair a silken mass behind her. Her left hand cupped the back of his head with a delighted gasp when he suckled on her nipple. A lash of his tongue, a swirl, and another suction, and she was moving against him.

Right hand on her knee again, slowly, agonizing slow, his fingers brushed up her thigh. She trembled with a murmured yes.

Fingers parting her, he found her wet—ready. Two fingers pushed inside her. Hot, moist, muscles gripping. Another finger, a gentle thrust, testing.

“Are you sore?”

“No.” Another thrust, a strangled moan.

He pricked her nipple with his fang in gentle reprimand. Kagome jerked back on a harsh exhalation.

“Be honest. Always be honest with me, Kagome.”

She squirmed against his palm when he rubbed against her folds.

“A little,” she panted. Her hands holding onto his shoulders tightly, she ground against his palm. “But a good ache. Please, Sesshomaru. Don’t stop.”

“Are you ordering me, little one?”

“No.” She moaned when he curled his fingers inside her, rubbing against the top of her channel. “Begging. I need you inside me.”

“I am inside you,” he chuckled, purposefully misunderstanding her meaning. He rubbed that spot inside her to demonstrate his meaning.

A shrill cry, another shiver. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?” He licked between her heaving breasts. “What do you want?”

“Sesshomaru,” she begged, obviously not wanting to utter her desire out loud.

He gave her no quarter and disengaged his fingers, literally leaving her hanging on the brink of orgasm.

Capitulating to his demand, she said desperately, “I want your cock inside me.”

“Hn. Good girl,” he praised her. “Release my cock.”

She blinked owlishly at him.

“What?”

“You heard me. Don’t make me ask again.” His hands were on her hips, waiting.

Her hands shook as she reached for his jeans. Holding himself still, he allowed her to stumble her way through unsnapping and unzipping his denim. Without having to encourage her further, her hand was already reaching in and releasing his shaft. Her palm was warm, and he wanted to thrust into it, but he wanted something else more.

“Lie on your back,” he instructed.

He placed a hand behind her skull to make sure she did not accidently bump her head, when she complied. Then, one hand on her hip, the other taking himself in hand, he found her entrance, which bathed the head of his cock. He trembled in longing. Without allowing her to grow accustomed to his girth this time around either, he thrust forward strongly. Inside her clenching channel, he gasped, she cried out.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he commanded between clenched fangs.

Calves hugging his lower back, feet pressed against his ass in an attempt to make him move, he allowed her subtle demand for more, and moved. In and out, slow and deep. A hand to the back of her thigh, he dragged her ass to the edge of the counter and curled over her. One forearm supported his weight as he surged forward, only to move back, and repeat.

Slick heat, smoldering fire. His shaft was gripped firmly and rippling waves squeezed him as she climaxed around him. A muted cry, and Kagome writhed beneath him. Sesshomaru pushed through her body’s attempts to make him release prematurely, pumped faster, harder.

“Yes, yes,” he panted.

Losing all sense of time, all he knew was Kagome, her sweat slicked body, her tight sheath, and the blood rushing loudly in his ears—hers and his. Another thrust, the next harder yet, and the third was his undoing as she spasmed around him again. Following her this time into mind-numbing release, a groan was ripped out of his chest, guttural and animalistic.

Even before he came down from his pleasure induced high, he knew that he was never going to let her go.