Fuck, InuYasha thought as he exhaled in a soft hiss. I love my job.

InuYasha could not remember ever thinking that before. Until today, he'd always thought of his job as simply a given: an irritating necessity at worst, and at best a way for him to profit off what otherwise made his life difficult. If I gotta deal with shit for being a hanyou, I might as well use it to make a living. It was just a practicality. The job was just there, a way for him to live in the world.

But today? Today he fucking loved his job. Today he thanked every god he could name or make up for his job. In fact, today might just compensate for the ever-growing pile of shit that necessarily came with his job, might even make up for all the years of headaches and hassles and messes he'd had to clean up.

Another hiss escaped his lips, followed by a groan. InuYasha's head fell back against the wall with a soft thunk. His eyes closed in anticipation.

Oh yeah. Today made up for all of it.

The woman kneeling between his legs—the woman he'd watched and admired and fantasized about for the last three years of his life; the woman who had just unzipped his fly and lowered his pants and boxers down to his ankles—leaned her head forward and slowly dragged her wet, pink tongue along the length of his cock.

Fuck. His dick went impossibly hard, painfully hard. It stood to attention to meet her mouth. He was so hyper-focused on her, he could swear he felt the texture of every individual taste bud on that sweet little tongue as it laved his erection.

Her tongue had reached the base of his shaft. She paused for a moment; then that slick heat travelled back up his length, tracing the line of a throbbing vein as she made her way to the head. Once there, she hesitated for a split second before cautiously swirling the tip of her tongue in a circular motion around the aching head. His blood turned to liquid fire, hardening him further. Then she pulled back and gently blew a puff of air against the spot she'd just dampened with her tongue.

An electric zing shot straight to his balls, tightening his groin muscles. A growl ripped from his throat. In response, she made a soft, absent humming sound.

Then he felt her lips close over him, encasing his straining dick in wet heat. Her tongue cushioned the underside of his shaft and pressed it firmly against the roof of her mouth; her mouth's ridges and contours rubbed against him, tortured his sensitized skin, created a maddening friction. The contrast between the roughness of her mouth and the softer texture of her tongue—both rubbing against him at once—was sheer bliss. More pulsing, electric shockwaves traveled through him, tightened his muscles until he couldn't tell the difference between pleasure and pain.

I. Fucking. LOVE. My. Job.

With his eyes closed, his body was extra attuned to the feel of her to make up for the visual deficit. He felt tenfold every little lick and scrape and breathy, humming vibration.

She slowly took more of his length into her mouth, teeth gently scraping along his skin. Then he felt her cheeks hollow around him in a sucking motion that had his blood pounding in his ears. She sucked at him, pulled at him. Tentatively at first, then with more assurance.

If he'd thought he was ready to explode before, now he felt like fucking Mount Vesuvius.

Eyes shooting open, he dropped his chin and stared down at her. He'd remember the image that met him for the rest of his damned life.

She was on her knees before him, her midnight black hair falling in wavy, loose curls around her slim shoulders. Her blue-grey eyes were averted, focused on her task. He wished she'd look him in the eye, but the warm blush brightening her cheeks made up for it, some. Her face—high cheekbones, small rounded nose, striking jaw-line—showed concentration and the slightest hint of nervousness. But the most arresting feature of all, to InuYasha's eyes, were her lips. Those full, pink lips—ones he'd admired for three straight years—were glossed with saliva and sealed tightly around the girth of his erection. Suckling him, gliding over him, setting his entire body ablaze.

He'd always remember this, always; those swollen pink lips fucking worshipping him like a supplicant.

As damn good as it had felt before, the sight of her sucking him off added a whole new dimension to his pleasure. Excitement ricocheted along his nerve endings. None of his fantasies—and he'd had three fucking years of them—had ever come close to producing this level of sanity-shattering sensation. In response to the new stimulus, InuYasha's hips reflexively rolled forward, towards the wet heat of her, thrusting his dick deeper into her mouth. A little choking sound—more surprised than truly uncomfortable—escaped her throat, and an answering jolt shot through his groin.

It took all his control to keep from wildly thrusting into her mouth.

Not yet. Enjoy it. Make it last.

Fire pooled in his stomach, flowed through his veins, smoldered under his skin. Every tug of her mouth fanned the flames and fed a building pressure in his groin, his balls.

"Kagome," he groaned out, his voice ragged and his breath uneven. Despite the temptation to close his eyes again, he kept his eyes fixed on her face, on the motion of her lips.

At the sound of her name, her blue eyes rose to meet his, and the burn in his blood raged hotter. He raised his hands and slid his fingers through her thick hair, firmly gripping the sides of her head to keep her in place.

He wanted her eyes on him. Wanted her acknowledgement. Her submission.

She seemed to understand this, and obediently did not lower her gaze as she sucked at him harder. She began moving her head backward and forward, pulling his dick into and out of her mouth. In and out, suck and lick, teeth and hot breath. He could feel her jaw working beneath his palms as his fingers tightened in her hair.

Blue eyes never leaving his, head still bobbing—taking him in and out, in and out—she raised the slightly-trembling fingers of her right hand and gently cupped his balls.

He froze, entire body tensing. His breath left him in a whoosh.

Pressing very lightly—almost as though she were afraid to hurt him—she used the pads of her fingers to trace over the highly sensitive skin of his sacs. She massaged him, her fingertips moving in slow circular strokes while her palm cradled and manipulated the weight of them.

Then her left hand was wrapping around the expanse of his shaft not currently in her mouth. Her fingers gripped him tightly and—oh fuck YES—began to pump up and down, in an opposing rhythm to that of her mouth. The contrast between the feather-light strokes on his balls and the firm pulling on his shaft created a sensation unlike anything he'd experienced.

He wondered, distantly, if dying felt like this.

For another beat, his body remained completely still as her talented mouth and fingers worked.

Then a rasping, primal groan from low in his throat. His hands fisted in her hair, more roughly than he'd intended judging by her semi-pained little gasp (but fuck if the sound didn't turn him on). He pulled her head towards his body, forcing her to take more of his dick into her mouth—and then he began thrusting.

Her eyes widened in surprise, her lips forming a more pronounced "O" around his plunging cock. The expression on her face—the arousal-brightened eyes, the flushed cheeks, those fucking lips—sent him over the edge. His mind went numb: all he knew was moist heat and the fast-mounting pressure in his groin, pushing him towards a peak he was suddenly desperate to reach.

She took it like a champ, only allowing that choking noise to slip out once or twice. After a few more strokes of her fingers, her hands left their work on him in favor of bracing against the floor, stabilizing her body against the force of his thrusts.

Held steady by his grip on her head, she seemed to focus on relaxing her throat, because with each rapid thrust she was able to take more and more of his length. Soon nearly his entire shaft was disappearing into her mouth, his balls brushing against her chin while his head arrowed down her throat.

She was making the most maddening noises, noises that had his fingers tightening against her scalp (careful with the claws, don't cut)—gasping, choking, mewling little sounds in the back of her throat, the vibrations of them caressing his cock as he picked up his pace. She gagged a few times, her throat convulsing around him. If he hadn't been so mindless with pleasure, he would have pulled back, restrained his thrusts to keep her more comfortable. But his instincts were in command now, his body seeking the source of its release.

Several more thrusts, more irresistible sliding friction between her tongue and the roof of her mouth, more wet wet heat... and with a rush of sizzling, electric bliss, the pressure in his groin finally exploded as it had been threatening to do since she first unzipped his jeans. Complete and utter satisfaction swept through him as he came in her mouth. All his muscles seemed to relax at once, his release turning his limbs to jelly, his dick throbbing with the force of his orgasm. His hips rocked forward almost lazily, once, twice, a few reflexive thrusts as he emptied himself of his seed. Finally, he relaxed his grip on her head and eased his cock completely out of that devastating mouth.

He could die now and he'd die a happy man.

He dazedly noted that she had swallowed at least one mouthful of his cum, but her mouth was still full. Now that he'd pulled out entirely, she quietly spat the rest out, off to the side. Leaning back on her heels, she wiped her arm against her mouth and chin to remove excess cum and saliva.

Their gazes held each other for a moment, lust-filled gold meeting turbulent blue. They were both breathing hard, both bright-eyed and faintly flushed.

Then her eyes fell away from his. Looking down towards his feet, her lips twisted in an uncertain smile; she reached towards the clothes still heaped around his ankles, and gripping the waistline of his pants, she started to pull them back up his legs.

At this motion, a strange awkwardness filled him—though hell if he knew why, since she'd just spent the better part of fifteen minutes sucking his dick and was now extremely familiar with that area of his body—and he grabbed his jeans from her, gently swatting her hands away so he could dress himself.

She stood up and took several steps back to allow him some room to maneuver.

Once he was properly covered by both boxers and jeans, he looked at her again, and his awkwardness completely evaporated. He couldn't contain the lazy, satisfied smirk that spread across his face as he eyed her up and down. Her skin was still flushed, her breasts heaving as she caught her breath, straining against the fabric of her sundress—a green, short-sleeved, floral number with a v-neck that flattered her cleavage—and her lips were still swollen from all their previous activity.

Oh yeah. Fucking love my job.

In a way, he'd been damn lucky that the sight, sound, and feeling of her had so distracted him from noticing her scent. Because now that her mouth wasn't wreaking havoc on his brain cells and he got a good whiff of her, he knew one thing for sure: he wouldn't have lasted two minutes before blowing his load if he had been paying any conscious attention to her scent. Kagome always smelled good—in fact, her scent was the reason he'd first noticed her those three years ago—but now, with the spicy fragrance of her arousal, not to mention his, and his own scent mingling so strongly with hers... well, now she smelled downright mouth-watering.

He felt a tiny twitch in his groin as her scent wrapped around him. Down boy. We just finished.

The blush in her cheeks had brightened under his obvious perusal. She faltered for a moment, seemingly unsure of how to act in the aftermath of the deed. Then she met his gaze squarely and said, "Well?"

His smirk widened. "Well what?"

She blinked for a second, then frowned. "You—we—" she paused, "it's settled now, right? We're even?"

"Even?" He let his eyes slide up and down her body again, intentionally baiting her. "You think pretty highly of yourself, don't you?" He cut her off mid-sputter, "Don't get me wrong, that was real good—grade-A work—but do you really think a single blowjob is enough to cover your debt?"

Her mouth dropped open. Those perfect pink lips were a little puffy, and his muscles stirred remembering their talents.

He wasn't sure, just now, if he should bless or curse his demon stamina.

"The way I see it," he continued, and her jaw snapped shut as she listened, wide-eyed, "you've still got several more payments to make before we can even start discussing 'even'."

Outrage rippled across her expression and wove through the scent of her residual arousal. Her face was always doing that, always baring her emotions to the entire world, communicating her thoughts to anyone who bothered to look. And he was always looking, always aware of her.

Her hands clenched. She bit down hard on her lip. When she spoke, her voice was strained with anger. "You said that if I—" she stopped, swallowed. His eyes followed the ripple of her throat. He vaguely wondered if she could still taste his cum in her mouth.

She took a deep breath and continued with a little more composure, "You said that... that if I did as you asked, you'd consider it paid. You said that—"

"What were my exact words, Kagome?"

She went very still. Her eyes locked onto his, searching, seeking his intention behind the question; and once again, she found it. She understood exactly what he wanted, exactly how he expected her to answer.

And he could tell she didn't like it at all. Her jaw visibly clenched. Her breathing got a little shallow.

And the scent of her arousal grew thicker, took on a richer, headier tinge. He knew she didn't like that, either, knew she was bothered by her body's reaction to his dominance. He could see it in the strain of her jaw and the rigidity of her shoulders.

"I'm waiting, Kagome." He put as much authority as he could into his tone, and felt triumph slice through him when an answering spike in her arousal hit his nose. "What exactly did I say?"

The fierce defiance in her eyes might have worried a lesser man. It might have even worried him once upon a time, before today: before he'd learned that his three-year attraction wasn't one-sided. Before he'd learned that she wanted him too.

For a split second, he thought she would refuse to speak. Those blue eyes scorched him with her ire. Angry because she did know what he wanted from her: submission.

An expectant beat passed between them. Then, the scorch in her eyes never diminishing, she gave him what he wanted.

"You said," she spoke crisply, enunciating each word, "that if I was a good bitch and swallowed your dick, you would consider it payment toward my debt."

Lazy heat curled through him. He'd said those words intending to shock her, aiming to rile her into reckless action. She was always reckless when she was angry, always more susceptible to provocation. He'd needed her provoked. He'd needed to test her, to find out if she... Hearing those words now repeated back to him—and remembering the spike in her scent after he'd spoken them, the wet arousal she hadn't been able to hide from him, the dawning realization that she wanted him too—had his gut clenching with excitement.

He stepped closer to her, extremely pleased when she held her ground. "That's right, bitch. Payment toward your debt. Not payment in full."

She inhaled sharply. Then her eyes narrowed in challenge and she stepped in even closer, bringing their bodies within inches of each other. Goosebumps rippled along his flesh.

"You're blackmailing me."

"It's not blackmail, it's payment for what's owed."

"What's owed! I don't owe you anything, and certainly not my body!"

He leaned in until his nose brushed hers, his breath fanning across her face. He could smell his earlier release on her lips. "You're the one who couldn't come up with the money. You're the one who asked for another way to pay—any other way. Didn't you?"

"You know I never thought for a moment that you'd ask—"

He spoke over her protest, "Didn't you, Kagome?"

Something sharp as flint glinted in her eyes, but it was quickly overshadowed by a blaze of lust. "Yes, dammit, I did."

Her rich scent was all around him, blanketing his senses. "You're the one who made a deal with my," he paused, sneered, "employer. You're the one who couldn't keep up her end of the bargain."

She looked away from him then, traces of shame mixing with the anger in her features.

He wouldn't allow it. His hand came up to grip her jaw, his thumb and index finger framing her chin, forcing her gaze back to his. He growled low in his throat as he stared at her. "You know what my job is, Kagome. What options did you think you'd have once he sent me to collect on your debt?"

Her chin trembled, the movement so faint he would have missed it if he weren't holding her face. But her eyes still snapped fire. "I-I thought I could buy more time. I know what his usual... collection methods are. But I thought he would understand that... well, that I'm no good to him maimed or dead. And I thought if I could talk you into—"

His grip on her jaw tightened, and his growl took on a hard edge of warning. She immediately closed her mouth. An inner part of him—visceral, wholly instinctual—was thrilled by her intuitive understanding of, and obedience to, his dominance.

"Did you really think I would do that to you, bitch?"

"You said it yourself—it's your job, InuYasha."

He yanked her face closer to his, their lips nearly touching. "You're full of shit. You knew I'd never hurt you, that I'd never treat you like another of his debtors." He paused, studied her. "Is that why you asked me to step in? Because you… trusted I wouldn't hurt you?"

She just stared at him, blue eyes wide.

"Answer me, Kagome."

Her breath hitched at the command in his voice. The sound shot through him.

"Kagome?" he prompted more sternly.

Her mouth opened briefly, involuntarily, a whisper of sound escaping her throat. Then her brows furrowed angrily, and she pressed her lips together in a stubborn line. She was tired of submitting.

Ain't that too damn bad?

She tried to pull away from him. Really, the bitch should've known better. She knew his strength. The growl in his throat turned to a snarl. The hand on her jaw squeezed a warning and tilted her face closer to his. His other hand snaked around her back and pulled her soft body against his unyielding frame. She gasped at the contact, and her scent spiked.

"Forget it—you can try to hide it all you want, but I know better. You do trust me."

"I don't! I… I just—!"

"You do."

"No!"

"You asked me to help you make good on your loan." The words ripped out of him, made fierce by years of repressed desire. His arm tightened around her, nearly crushed her to him. "You begged me for another way. You said you'd do anything for me if I could make him forgive your debt."

Each statement was a blow to her pride, as he intended them to be: a reminder that she was responsible for this; a reminder that she was indebted to InuYasha now, not his employer.

She looked steadily at him, resentment and full-blown desire vying for dominance in her expression. "I didn't think you'd take 'anything' to mean—"

"Making excuses now, Kagome?"

"No. But you know when I said 'anything' I didn't mean that."

"Don't make deals with the devil unless you're prepared to meet the terms; and don't say 'anything' if you're not prepared to do anything."

For a split second, she actually seemed embarrassed. She jerked her chin against his grip. He growled a warning and she stilled. "Obviously I was prepared or I wouldn't have just swallowed your—" she stopped abruptly, tried to bite off her words, and winced when she realized she couldn't. At his throaty chuckle, she glared. "Stop lecturing me, InuYasha. Anyone in my position would've said the same. Especially to you. He's your boss. Who better to ask for help, who better to talk sense into him?"

He snorted. "We both know I'm the last person he'd listen to. He hires me because I'm useful to him, not because he likes or respects me. And you know that. You also know that I've got leverage on him, and that's probably the real reason you asked for my help."

Her eyes drilled into him. "What does it matter why I came to you?" she hissed. "I needed help, and you agreed."

The smirk that quirked his mouth was feral, and he didn't miss her little gasp in response. "That's right—for a price. I don't just call in my favors for free, especially favors that big. Not even for friends. Not even for you." He leaned in, used his fangs to nip at her lips. "I've got no credit with him anymore, you know. I used it up, cashed in my only leverage against him—for you. To free your debt. You know what position that puts me in." It was a statement, not a question.

There was that flash of shame again, softening the tension around her eyes. "We've been over this. I know I owed you, and y-you… you already told me what you wanted in return. And I gave it to you."

He rocked his hips against hers. "I remember. Vividly."

Her eyes narrowed even as she gasped at the feel of him. "Isn't that enough payment?"

"Not hardly."

He nibbled on her bottom lip, pulled it between his own lips and sucked. She gasped against him, the heady musk in her scent skyrocketing, nearly making him dizzy. Her hands rose to fist in his t-shirt.

"What else do you want from me, InuYasha?"

That's the question he'd been waiting for—he felt as though he'd spent the past three years waiting for her to ask it of him, waiting to tell her his answer.

He leaned back enough to look her squarely in the eye. "Damn, you're a slow bitch. I thought it was obvious. I want you."

Her breath hitched again. He felt her fingers spasm against his chest.

"You want—" Her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before snapping shut. The expression on her face spoke to him, as it always did, announcing her emotions plainly: surprise, lust, caution, and… a hint of something else, something deep-seated and swift, difficult to pin down. Tenderness, maybe. Warmth. Yearning.

He stroked his thumb along her jawline, and she leaned briefly into his hand, her eyelids fluttering, her scent soaring, singing.

Then he kissed her, his mouth rough and demanding, a stark contrast to the gentleness of his fingers stroking her chin. She moaned against his lips, into his mouth, and the sound felt like a gift, a balm on three years of craving.

Her arms looped around his neck, tugging him closer, fitting his mouth more firmly against hers. He growled his approval, his claws digging into the small of her back. She arched against him, pressing her breasts into his chest.

He ripped his mouth away from hers, ignoring her small cry of dismay, and trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of her jaw.

"You, Kagome—that's my payment." His mouth moved down the column of her throat, his merciless fangs nipping and scraping the skin, followed by the soothing wet stroke of his tongue. Her skin tasted incredible, like nothing he'd ever imagined.

She was making those sounds again, those breathy mewling sounds from before. He felt his groin muscles tensing, cock coming back alive.

Thank the gods for demon stamina.

"And believe me," he growled, his fangs now tugging at her earlobe, "you've got three years' worth of back payments to make, bitch. I've been waiting for this—" His hand went from the small of her back to her left breast, fingers cupping and firmly squeezing the rounded flesh: a demonstration of what "this" meant. She moaned in response, throaty and long, and the sound made his ears quiver with anticipation. Her head dropped back, exposing her throat to him, and her hands left his neck to grip helplessly at his shoulders. Her breasts heaved against his chest, into his hand, her breath coming in ragged, panting gulps. Strands of her dark hair clung to the sides of her neck. He swept the hair aside and continued his attentions to her throat, his hand still squeezing and caressing her breast, thumb toying with her stiffening nipple.

"—since the day I met you. That blowjob was just the start. A fucking great start, but still just a down payment. You owe me a lot more than that, bitch, and I intend to get what's mine."

The hand that had been squeezing her breast moved up, trailing claw-tips over her breastbone, the dips of her collarbones, her neck, her jaw, into midnight black strands. She twisted her body against his, shivering from the sensation of his claws. His fingers gripped her hair at the nape of her neck and tugged, forcefully pulling her head back even further. His bitch gasped and arched against him, breathing shallow.

"Inu—"

His other hand dropped to her hip in an equally firm grip; using this to steady her on her feet, he began walking her backwards, her head still sharply tugged back so she couldn't see anything but his face looming over hers. That's all she needed to see, as far as he was concerned. Her eyes were glazed, heavy-lidded and smoldering as they watched him. He could see the wild fluttering of her pulse point, could smell the heavy, piquant perfume of her desire, hot and thick as his.

She didn't struggle, didn't argue or fight—she only watched him with that heated gaze and dutifully took a step back with each of his forward steps. Her body was still snug against him, her hands clinging to his shoulders.

Soon, they reached the opposite side of the room, and InuYasha crowded her roughly against the wall, until her back flattened against it, and her front flattened against him.

He tugged on her hair again, a little harder this time. She cried out, and he dropped his mouth over hers, tongue plunging inside to caress and dominate her own. She whimpered and responded in kind, her tongue sliding against his with equal ferocity, equal eagerness. She pressed against him, angled her head as far as his grip would allow and fitted her mouth more tightly against his. Soon she was dipping her tongue into his mouth: quick inciting licks followed by more leisurely, exploratory strokes.

This seemed to him somehow both submissive and aggressive, both compliant and defiant at once.

And hot damn, he liked it—liked her spirit, her aggression, and liked even more that she willingly submitted it all to him.

Her hands began moving, stroking his shoulders, his neck, sifting through his silver hair to massage his scalp—he felt the faint scratch of her nails against his skin and shivered. Then her fingers found the downy, fur-covered ears atop his head and started to rub. She might as well have been rubbing his dick, because her ministrations had him instantly ramrod stiff. He groaned low in his throat. She smiled against his mouth.

In response, he kneed her legs apart and rocked his hips into her, settling his rigid, straining bulge into the warm hollow between her thighs. The clothing separating them—his jeans, her damn dress riding high on her legs—did little to stop the electric bolt of pleasure caused by the motion. With a primitive snarl, he did it again, thrusting his hardness into the juncture between her legs.

If he thought he'd heard her moan before, it was nothing compared to the noise she made now—it seemed wrenched from the very pit of her, the very soul. He filed the sound away in the part of his brain committed to memorizing every single detail about this night.

His bitch was so responsive. He'd make good use of that. Suddenly he was very, very glad he'd had three whole years to fantasize about all the ways he wanted to fuck her. He had an entire damn arsenal at his disposal, and he was going to make her writhe.

Judging by her current enthusiasm—grinding into his erection, tugging on his hair, arching her spine to bring her body closer to his—he didn't have too far to go before she was writhing in ecstasy.

But first he needed to rid them of their clothes.

After one more rolling thrust of his hips against her, he released her hair and hip, and brought both hands to the v-neck of her dress. He clasped the material between his fingers—and in a quick motion, ripped it right down the center of the 'v'. The dress split all the way to her navel.

It took her a moment to realize what he'd done. Then she gasped loudly. "InuYasha!"

Maybe she'd intended to sound angry, but she didn't: she sounded shocked, breathless, excited. He smelled the sharp spike of her arousal as his claws slid the dress off her shoulders, eased it down past the curve of her hips. The material whispered against her thighs as it fell to the floor, pooling around her bare feet.

He took a small step back to admire the body he'd only dreamed of seeing before today.

I love my job I love my job I love my job.

She wore black cotton panties that sat low on her hips and a matching black bra—the bra so low cut that it covered little more than her nipples. Her breasts were full and round and begged for his touch; their pale skin seemed almost luminescent against the blackness of her bra. Her waist was lithe and slender, and his eyes lingered on the curve where midriff joined the soft flare of hips. Then they moved down to take in her smooth, creamy legs.

Every part of her was perfect to his eyes. He'd known she would be.

He savored the moment, taking his time, allowing his eyes to travel over her slowly, possessively, and completely.

She flushed under his gaze, still breathing hard, desire clear-writ in her eyes as she watched him eye-fuck her.

He reached forward, placed his palm flat against her stomach, and slowly smoothed his hand up. She shuddered at his touch. The shift and clench of her stomach muscles beneath his hand made him shudder, too. His palm came to rest just below and between her breasts; two of his fingers slid underneath the band of her bra. Then with a forward tug, his claws sliced through it. He tugged the straps off her shoulders and dropped the shorn material to the growing pile of (her) clothes on the floor.

He stared down at her, mind slowing as his body came alive with a vicious throb.

Plump, supple, perfect breasts—adorned with tan nipples that were hardening before his eyes—her breasts, right there, just a touch away. Finally, fucking goddamned finally.

She opened her mouth, undoubtedly to comment on his treatment of her clothes, but his hands grasping her breasts shut her up fast. Her protest turned into a breathy sigh, a tiny gasp in the back of her throat.

His palms cupped and weighed her breasts while his fingers massaged them, stroking and gently kneading. Through the fog of lust in his brain, he marveled at the texture of her skin—he'd never felt anything so soft, and his fingers slowed, more languidly rubbing the fine texture. Using his thumb and index fingers, he pinched her pebbling nipples—rolling, tugging, rubbing.

Then he leaned down and replaced his right hand with his mouth.

She arched, cried out. "InuYasha!"

His name on her lips was like wine in his blood.

He closed his lips over the peak of her breast, tongue swirling over the erect nipple—mimicking the motion she'd made over the head of his cock. He dragged his fangs over her sensitive skin, not rough but not gentle, his tongue following after to lave and soothe her. He alternated between tortuous scrapes and assuaging licks. Then he sucked—hard—on her nipple.

The sobbing half-scream she released was highly satisfying and had his cock pressing urgently against the zipper of his jeans.

His bitch was squirming beneath him now, driven nearly mindless with pleasure if her scent was any indication. The sounds in her throat had gone from tiny gasps to mewling, indistinct pleading. Her hands clutched at his arms and shoulders, her nails biting into his skin through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. Heat pooled in the pit of his stomach, flowed through his limbs, ignited his skin as he imagined those nails scraping down his back.

"InuYasha," she panted, cheeks pink and eyes hooded, "I... ah!"

He moved his mouth to her left breast to give it the same treatment. While his mouth scraped and licked and sucked, his right hand played with the breast he'd just left.

"Ohhh," she moaned, deep in her throat. "Inu—"

He pinched—and bit—her nipples roughly, and she let out another half-scream that rang like music in his ears. She rested her head back against the wall, eyes closing as her body shuddered hard.

The bitch liked it rough? Good.

"Gods," she gasped, "I need..."

She stopped herself, but he wasn't going to let her off that easy. With a final nip at her breast, he pulled his mouth away and straightened.

"Kagome, look at me."

With a gulp and another full-body shudder, she obeyed, lowering her chin and meeting his gaze.

"You tell me what you need."

Her eyes rounded slightly. "I..."

He leaned in and nipped at her lips, her jaw, her neck. "The gods can't help you. But if you're a good bitch, I will."

She rolled her hips against his. "Is that a promise?"

His hands skimmed down her sides as she spoke, settling on her hips. A pleased growl rumbled in his chest at her reply. Hooking his fingers beneath her cotton panties, he pushed the material down until it joined the rest of her clothes on the floor at her feet.

She was completely naked before him, flushed and quivering with arousal.

Now he could die a happy man.

His body felt like a furnace, his skin nearly scorching. Sweat beaded on his scalp and collected along his chest. Her scent tantalized him, the sound of her drove him carnal, the sight of her damn near made him explode.

He needed to be inside of her.

He'd needed it for years.

Now, now, NOW.

Quickly, nimbly—his mind already ahead of him, thinking of her warm tightness, of making her scream—he pulled his t-shirt off over his head and threw it to the floor. His fingers had just reached the button of his jeans when one of her hands rested over his, stilling him. He stopped and looked at her face.

She looked back at him squarely, her scent thick and taunting. "Let me." She hesitated, then added, "Please."

His groin tightened at the huskiness in her voice, and that maddening little "please." She was an enthralling contradiction: deferring to him, asking his permission, and yet decisively announcing what she wanted from him. It was what he'd noticed in her before: simultaneous compliance and defiance, submission and boldness, fire and ice. Everything about this woman beguiled him, incited him, made the demon in his blood snap and bite.

Staring at her intently, entire body tensing in anticipation, he moved his hands away and nodded. "Do it. Now."

She shivered just a little at his tone. Her eyes darkened, pupils dilating. The tip of her tongue darted out and moistened her lips.

Then she reached down—fingers steady and quick—and unbuttoned his jeans. The sound of his zipper being undone was loud in the quiet room, and it had both their breaths hitching.

For the second time that night, she slid his pants and his boxers down his legs.

Then she surprised him. She'd lowered herself down in a crouch as she pulled his pants to the floor. Instead of rising again when the job was done and he'd kicked the clothing away, she stayed where she was. Her hands smoothed gently up and down his bared thighs.

"You know," she whispered as his thigh muscles flexed under her touch, "sometimes I can't get you out of my head. You... I even dream of you. I don't—" She paused, swallowed thickly. "You say I owe you, and you're right: but I think maybe you owe me something, too."

Before he could even process her words, she very deliberately leaned forward and placed an open-mouthed kiss to his muscled thigh.

His entire body went still.

Well, maybe not his entire body—his damn cock rose in a fucking salute.

No doubt noticing that particular reaction, she raised her blue eyes to his incredulous golden ones, smiled, and slowly licked his thigh. Then she moved a little higher up and kissed him again.

She placed a hot, moist trail of kisses—adding little licks and nips along the way—up his body as she slowly rose. A kiss on his thigh, kisses along the pronounced line of his pelvis bone, a wet swirling tongue against his hipbone, up to his abdomen... and there she slowed, taking her time, exploring the dips and contours of his abdominal muscles with her tongue. She rested both of her hands on his stomach and let them rove, fingers spreading over and caressing the toned flesh.

And all InuYasha could think was fuck fuck fuck FUCK. It was like burning alive and freezing to death at the same time, her touch. His blood heated like waves of fire, until a quick flick of that talented tongue had his body going rigid as though from a shock of ice water, all tense and clenched and waiting... before her lips worked him up into another heated daze. Fire and ice. If this is what going insane felt like, he'd gladly give up his sanity.

Her mouth found its way to his nipple. She bit down on it with her teeth.

His hands shot to her arms, gripping them tightly. A feral growl rumbled low in his throat.

She paused for a moment. When he didn't do anything else to discourage her, she continued working her mouth over his nipple, gently nibbling and tugging. Her hands stroked his chest and shoulders, fingernails scratching lightly across his pectoral muscles.

Just when he thought he couldn't take another second—when he was ready to slam her back against the wall and fuck her unconscious—her mouth moved again, lips whispering across his collarbones, the straining muscles in his neck, his jaw. She pressed her naked body against his, hips to hips, chest to chest. He felt the plush weight of those perfect breasts against him, the rub of her hardened nipples on his skin. His hands squeezed her arms convulsively and his growl roughened, took on a dark edge.

Her lips weren't finished. She kissed his chin, the corner of his mouth… then, after a moment's hesitation, her eyes closing, she kissed him full on the lips.

A shiver, an electric ripple—both like and completely unlike the other sensations elicited by her mouth this evening—travelled up and down his spine and spread out through his limbs. Something about the kiss and the sensation it caused was deeply intimate, more intimate than anything else they'd done that night. There was a vague shyness in her kiss, a fleeting emotion that hadn't been present—or just hadn't been shown?—when she'd been between his legs, or when they'd ravaged each other's mouths. This was…

This was vulnerability. She was tentatively offering him something, something he couldn't quite name.

And he didn't care that he wasn't sure exactly what it was—he'd take it. He'd take anything she gave him. She should give it to him, whatever it was. She owed him now.

He gripped her shoulders and pushed her back, breaking the kiss. Her eyes flew open, and hurt flashed briefly through her gaze, but he chased it away when he crowded her back against the wall and leaned forward to kiss the shell of her ear.

"Tell me what you need, Kagome."

A command, but also a question.

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, bringing him closer. "You." She kissed his collarbone. "Gods, InuYasha. Don't play any more games with me. We've been playing games for too long. I'm yours. Take me. Fuck me. I've wanted you inside me since the day I met you."

It was as though the floor dropped out from under him. Something inside him roared in absolute triumph.

Three years.

She'd been his this whole time.

The snarl that ripped from his throat was her only warning. Faster than he'd ever moved, he kneed her thighs apart and hooked his hands beneath them, lifting her legs up to straddle his hips. With a choking gasp, she leaned her upper body back against the wall to support her weight.

Hands sliding up her thighs to hold her ass, InuYasha adjusted his stance, shifted his hips, carefully positioned the aching rod between his legs… and thrust up into her slick, welcoming heat.

With a sharp cry, she threw her head back and wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, locking her ankles together at the small of his back, her heels digging into his ass.

Trusting that her grip around his waist and her position against the wall would keep her upright, he slammed his hands into the wall on either side of her body, his arm muscles bulging and faintly trembling.

Rolling his hips back, he pulled his cock out of her—heard her strangled whimper of protest, enjoyed a moment of masculine arrogance—and then thrust back in, harder this time. Her body jerked up, breasts bouncing, her tailbone audibly thumping against the wall. She clutched his shoulders with desperate fingers and screamed.

Bliss. She was sheer bliss. Hot and tight and wet, her inner muscles surrounded him, held him, squeezing and caressing. He wanted to shout, he wanted to soar. The entire world, everything in the known universe, narrowed and contracted to a single point: her, her body moving against and around his, her moaning voice, her pleasure-soaked scent. Nothing else mattered but her, nothing else existed but her and this wet heat.

He started to feel that building pressure in his groin again, increasing with every thrust, with every slick kiss of her inner muscles along his plunging length, every thump of her tailbone against the wall. And the sounds she was making didn't help. He'd never heard sounds like these: half deep-throated moan, half rasping scream, she sounded completely undone as he pounded into her.

And he was not gentle. His thrusts were wild and deep, cock pistoning into her body at a rapid pace. He was three years past being gentle: he wanted hard and long, wanted to make her feel just half the frenzied craving he'd felt for the past three years.

She didn't seem to mind his roughness—in fact, she seemed to be enjoying it more than he was. "Don't stop," she begged raggedly, dropping her face against his shoulder, fingers digging into the skin of his back as her body bounced against him. "Don't you dare stop."

Fuck, he didn't intend to.

Her hips started to move with his, matching his rhythm, meeting his thrusts to take more of him in. The slap of skin on skin and the smack of her tailbone hitting the wall made the pressure in his groin skyrocket. He buried his face in her neck, feeling everything inside him reaching for that peak.

She was panting, squirming, begging. "InuYasha, InuYasha…"

Then her body tensed. Her legs manacled almost painfully tight around his waist. Her inner muscles squeezed forcefully around him, nearly drove him mad, and then she cried out so loud her voice echoed in the room, "InuYasha!"

A wash of warm dampness coated his moving cock. He could smell the overpowering loamy scent of her cum, could feel her shuddering muscles slowly relaxing in the aftermath of her orgasm.

Snarling, arms tensing against the wall until he thought they might snap, he thrust harder, faster.

She was so warm and so wet and the smell of her orgasm so rich. Soon the pressure was at an unbearable level, his balls heavy with it, pushing him towards that peak…

And with a groaning shout, he reached it. One final, savage thrust pushed him over the edge and he came, leg muscles shaking as he emptied himself into her. She moaned at the feeling of his cum inside her body, and his hips instinctively jerked against her in response. She gasped.

A few more reflexive thrusts, and then he stilled, breathing hard, sweat trickling down his back. His body felt heavy and more sated than it had ever been, muscles loosening and tingling with pleasure.

Her legs were still wrapped around him, arms circling his shoulders, fevered face pressed against his neck as she caught her breath. He leaned his body forward, pressed his chest against hers both to keep himself upright and to keep her weight pinned to the wall. He slipped his right hand into her hair and pulled her head back until their eyes met.

They were still joined, bodies pressed tightly together, chests heaving and faces damp with sweat.

And he told her what he'd always wanted to tell her.

"You're mine, Kagome. You hear me? Until I decide you've paid your debt, you belong to me."

He kept his grip in her hair, wouldn't give her the chance to look away from him. She would hear this. "I've had three years to think of exactly what I want from you—and that's exactly what you owe me. Nothing less than that. Until you've given me that, you're mine. Those are my terms."

Those blue eyes stared at him, searched him.

He brought his face a little closer to hers. "Do you understand me?"

Her gaze heated—that nameless, fleeting emotion passed through her eyes again—her lips parted, and with a soft indrawn breath, she nodded.

"Yes," she said. Then she was leaning forward to meet him, and just before she kissed him—just before she stole his breath and bound him to her—she whispered one thing.

"I think I'd like that."

A/N

... I really like domineering InuYasha, okay? (Plus, he may THINK he's the one in control, but really he's putty in Kagome's hands.)

Hope you all enjoyed reading! Depending on interest, I may turn this into a two-shot and explore their history, everything that led up to this scene (especially since that dialogue in the middle was the most fun to write). But I may also just leave it a smutty one-shot. Let me know what y'all think!