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Little Gifts

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Commissioned Artwork by hopidoodle


What a day.

What a goddamn, annoying day.

Honestly, Inuyasha had never met anyone as incompetent as his boss. Inuyasha had spent the better part of the week working on a pitch for a client, and when he presented it to his boss, the guy basically shit all over it, then gave him the rest of the day to come up with something better, but couldn’t specify exactly what better meant. So Inuyasha and his team had worked through lunch, and past dinner, to come up with that “something better.” When they presented that to their boss, he was happier, but sent Inuyasha home with the task of cleaning up the language and the PowerPoint to make it “flashy” and “appealing” (again, with no sense for what those words could possibly mean). 

Inuyasha’s ears laid back on his skull; he let out a little growl, and wanted to punch a hole through the wall along the corridor as he stalked to his apartment—to number 328, to be exact. In fact, he had to hold back with everything he had to keep from doing so; that was, after all, why he’d been “asked to leave” his former place of residence. But honestly, if his fucking boss asked him to do one more thing without a clear direction, he was seriously going to lose his shit.

It was close to 9:00; he’d had nothing to eat since lunch, and he was rapidly approaching hangry status. Why had he taken an apartment so far at the end of the hallway? If he’d been in the first one, he could be inside, eating, relaxing, having a few beers, and definitely not doing the work his boss had asked him to do.

Inuyasha nearly fell over something when he reached his door. Snarling, he bent down to see what the fuck had been in his way.

It was a basket. A cute, little basket. 

What the actual fuck?

Inuyasha bent down and picked it up in both hands, turning it this way and that. There were...chips (he fucking loved chips), and some onigiri and yakisoba from a nearby convenience market? And a six-pack of beer. He balanced the basket in one hand, and dug around in its contents with the other. Towards the back, he found a note.

Welcome to the building! I hope you had a good day at work, and will enjoy living here.

There was no signature, but the basket had a distinctive scent—tangerine, with a hint of sweetness, like cherries—that obviously belonged to whoever had so carefully put this basket together. 

And, he noticed, the chips were his favorite brand, as was the beer. He would have preferred ramen to yakisoba and onigiri, but he wasn’t going to complain. 

But where had the basket come from? Who had left it? 

His head whipped around the corridor, as though he’d be able to see if someone was lurking, waiting to laugh at him. Because this couldn’t be real. It had to be a joke. No one left little gift baskets with cute notes for inu hanyou, especially grumpy, surly ones who didn’t understand how to use their “indoor voice.”

Before he had time to process this situation further, though, his phone rang, and he let out another frustrated growl. He held the basket in one hand as he dug around in his bag for his phone. He yanked it out of the front pocket.

“What?” he bellowed. “Oh, come on!” he yelled. “What do you mean, now he wants a completely different kind of pitch? Not fucking again! I was gonna spend the night watching Macross and having some beers.” He paused. “Hold on,” he said, “I gotta call you back. I’m in the middle of the hall. I haven’t even gotten inside my fucking apartment yet.” He disconnected the call and put his phone back in his bag, pulling out his keys instead. He opened the door, looked around for a moment, then threw himself inside. The door slammed shut, and a few minutes later, Inuyasha’s booming voice could be heard again, yelling something about wireframing and focus groups.

What Inuyasha had been too busy to notice, though, was that the door to apartment 333 was slightly open, and when he slammed the door to 328 closed, the door to 333 stayed open a few seconds longer, then closed as well. 


And so it went on for the next month and a half. Not every day, mind you, but at least 4-5 times per week, Inuyasha would come home from work—usually when he’d had a particularly rough day, for some reason—and find a little gift waiting at his apartment door. One time, the person had left him homemade cookies (which yes, he smelled first, and no, they were not poisonous). Another time, the person had left him a succulent plant, with a note to please leave it in his office, as plants could cheer up the workspace, and this one wouldn’t need much caring. Another time, the person left youkai-grade earplugs—how had they known that he’d been banging on the neighbor’s door at 2am, demanding that they stop fucking and go the fuck to sleep? Along with the earplugs, the person had given him a diffuser and several essential oils: chamomile, lavender, and cedar—all scents that his inu youkai side fucking loved. And the snacks: chips, ramen, beer, and sometimes nikuman or some other such fresh food from the nearby convenience store. 

But the thing that got Inuyasha most were the notes. Always sweet words of encouragement and comfort: Hope that work wasn’t too stressful today! Or: Here’s a little something to relax after your long day at the office! Always kind; always thoughtful.

He still had no clue who the fuck it was, though.

He’d actually taken to sitting at his door when he was home, waiting for that tangerine and cherry scent to come by, so he could burst through the door and yell GOTCHA! and hopefully scare the shit out of the person. And if it was a practical joker, he could beat the shit out of them. That would definitely make him feel better. 

But the person never came by when he was home; they must have waited until he was at work. And since the food was always still warm (when it came from the convenience store) and the beer always still cold, it meant that the person knew approximately when he would arrive home. 

If the person knew his schedule, and knew exactly what he liked, did that mean that this wasn’t a practical joker, but rather, a stalker? Someone who knew his every move, who was just waiting for the right time to...fuck, he didn’t know. It couldn’t be “kill him,” because he’d rip their throat out before they could land one punch. 

The other possibility was almost scarier. Could someone actually be leaving him sweet little baskets because they liked him? Because they thought he was...well, shit. He didn’t know what people thought another person was when they were attracted to them! But whatever that was, could a person feel that way...about him?

That realization changed everything for Inuyasha. Suddenly, he was living and breathing these little baskets. He found them endearing; he found them adorable. He looked forward to coming home from work every day. What would they say? How cute would it be? What kind of treat would be left for him? Would it be more cookies? (Because he really liked those.) Would it be ramen from the convenience store? (He liked that, too.)

But mostly, he liked that someone had noticed him. That someone was paying attention to him, and not just because they’d known him since he was a kid, because he was fucking good at his job, or because he could turn human once a month or had nice hair. Because someone had seen him, and liked what they saw, and was maybe willing to get past the fact that he was a right asshole most of the time. (He knew he was, and he kind of owned it?) And actually...he liked that someone probably recognized that about him, and didn’t care.

Inuyasha became a hanyou obsessed. He had to know: who was tracking him? Who knew his movements? Who was so clever that they could leave him a gift nearly every day, without him getting a clue as to who they were? So far, he hadn’t been able to detect the scent of that tangerine/cherry anywhere, although he felt like it permeated the hallway whenever there was a gift left for him? 

They had to be close. They had to live somewhere in his building. Maybe even somewhere on his floor. 

Part of him was dying to know who it was. But honestly? Part of him also liked the secrecy, the excitement. He liked the mysteriousness of having an unknown person leave him little gifts and admire him from afar. Because that’s what this was, right? This was a secret admirer? 

Fuck, he’d never had anyone “admire him;” not really, anyway. There had been Kikyo, sure, but she had mostly been interested in him on his human nights; she hadn’t really wanted to be seen with him any other time. And before that, there was Yura, who had a weird kink about his hair and liked wrapping it around various parts of her body as he fucked her. So the women he’d dated… none of them seemed to see all of him; none of them seemed to admire him, not really and truly.

And even though he’d never met this person before, he felt like maybe, this person did?

So even though he really wanted to know who this person was, at the same time, he was kind of terrified to find out. What if they also had some weird kink? What if they also didn’t want all of him? What if he ended up rejected, all over again?

But really, deep down? He wanted to know, and he wanted to know badly. 



As per usual, Inuyasha fucking hated his boss. 

It was late; maybe 10:00 or so, and Inuyasha was finally leaving work. Once again, he was starving and dying for something to eat. Naraku, his asshole boss, had given him “feedback” on his latest design, and it wasn’t good. Inuyasha wished that, just once, he could get some positive feedback mixed in with the criticism, or that the criticism could be more specific and constructive, or that it could be...anything, really, besides what he was getting, which was “this sucks; it’s not what the customer wants; your grammar is bad.”

My grammar is poor, you asshole, thought Inuyasha angrily as he meandered the aisles of the convenience store, not really sure what he wanted to eat, but knowing that he had to have something. As it was, he would be up until at least midnight making design changes so they would be ready to go first thing in the morning, and he would need to replan his focus group questions to fit the new markup.

As he stood in front of the prepared foods, trying to decide how many nikuman he could possibly eat, he caught a whiff of a familiar scent.

Tangerine...and cherry.

Instantly, his golden eyes flew around the store, searching for the owner of that by-now familiar, and (he had to admit) delectable, relaxing scent. His nose went on high alert; since his eyesight wasn’t helping, he decided to give all energies over to his nose. He quickly looked around to see if anyone was watching, closed his eyes, and inhaled.

Gods, it was glorious. The tangerine scent filled his nostrils, curling around his nose and trickling slowly down into his lungs. He’d heard that tangerine was relaxing for dogs, but fuck, he felt like rolling over and letting the owner of that scent rub his belly. And his inu youkai instincts tended to stay pretty buried beneath the surface. This scent...it was bringing them all out. 

Inuyasha quickly got a bead on the owner of the scent, and he opened his eyes. He stalked slowly around to the back of the store, and stopped at the end of the aisle, peeking around the shelving. And there she was—there she was—standing in front of the alcohol, trying to decide between Asahi Dry and Sapporo. 

Sapporo...Sapporo… He was dying to shout this to her. 

He was sure. He was fucking sure. It was her. The person—the woman—who had been leaving him gifts, who had been making his shitty days that much brighter with her notes and her chips and her cookies and her succulents. And now, she was in front of him—well, her back, anyway—and from what he could tell, she was incredible.

She had blue-black hair that tumbled down her back in thick waves. Her body was tight—her jeans hugged her ass and thighs in a way that should have been illegal—and she wore little black ankle boots that she was tapping as she tried to decide between the beers. Her blazer was black, and three-quarter sleeved, and some kind of thin material that matched the warm weather. 

He had to see her face. Inuyasha needed to see her face.

He sauntered up beside her, leaned over so his right hand rested casually on the refrigerated shelving, and turned his face towards her. 

“Asahi is a decent beer,” he said, “but you never can go wrong with Sapporo.”

The woman jumped, let out a little yelp, and turned to face him. And yup: it was her.

How did he know? Because she immediately turned beet red and started stammering, and because her tangerine and cherry scent immediately became tinged with ginger—just a little at first, and then quickly overpowering. He grinned at her, just one fang poking out and over his lower lip. 

Her face swiveled slowly to meet his.

Holy fuck.

She was gorgeous.

Her face might have been as red as a tomato, but it was heart-shaped, with full, lush lips, and shining blue-gray eyes. Had he ever seen eyes that color? And her eyelashes...was it possible for eyelashes to be that long? 

Fuck, he didn’t know. He wanted to reach out and touch her. To see if she was as soft as she seemed. His youki, which was usually pretty subdued even at the best of times, started purring. 

That was when Inuyasha realized: whatever she was doing, whatever she wanted, he was all in. 

If this girl could make his youki fucking purr, what else was she capable of? He just needed to know.

“I—I—I don’t really drink beer,” she whispered. “I was going to bring some to a friend.”

“Oh?” He leaned into her, getting close to her face. “And who might that friend be?”

“Just—just someone I know,” she murmured. She grabbed a six-pack of beer—Kirin, not even what she was deciding between—and dashed away to the checkout. Inuyasha followed her lazily; now that he had her scent, he was in no hurry to see where she was going.

He’d be able to follow her anywhere. 

And he planned to.

Inuyasha watched as the young woman ran from the convenience store, across the street, and then hung a frantic left. 

Right in the direction of his apartment building. Of their apartment building, it seemed.

Inuyasha smirked, snagged himself a six-pack of Sapporo, and went to the checkout counter. He paid for his beer, and sauntered out of the shop, his hunger for food having been replaced by a different hunger.

For the chase.

For the catch.



Kagome paid for her beers and for the onigiri and nikuman and got the fuck out of the convenience store. She ran the whole way back to the apartment building, crashed up the stairs to the third floor, and flew down the hall to apartment 333. She thrust her key into the lock, shoved the door open, and burst through the door, slamming it shut behind her. She collapsed against the door and slid down its length.

What...the actual fuck!

She had been careful. So careful. She’d thought that it would be safe to go out that late at night. That she wouldn’t see him. That she wouldn’t see her handsome, hot-as-fuck, inu hanyou neighbor. 

Her neighbor that she’d been crushing on basically since he’d moved in down the hall.

Kagome rested her head back against the door and sighed, closing her eyes. She couldn’t believe she’d almost been caught! Did he know? Did he know who she was?

No. There was no way. If he had known, there was no way that he would allow her off so easily. He would have done...well, done something...let her know that he knew...teased her, yelled at her...something. Right?

Kagome thought back to the first time she saw him. Well, actually, she hadn’t seen him: not exactly, anyway. She’d heard him: his loud, gruff voice, shouting at his friends who were helping him move in. And as sour as he sounded, there was something about his tone that drew her in. It held a touch of sadness, of loneliness…

His voice had made her heart stop, and she’d just had to open the door to her apartment a crack, to see who he was.

He had been so beautiful that she nearly forgot to breathe. Long silver hair pulled back in a ponytail, white fluffy dog ears twitching in anger as he yelled, his muscled arms and chest revealed through a dark red t-shirt as he and another youkai—a wolf, Kagome thought—struggled to carry a dresser down the hall. She’d watched, breathless, as they set the dresser down, and her new neighbor stopped to run his hands across his face. He turned in her direction, and she’d seen his eyes: golden, blazing, burning lava. She’d nearly collapsed on the spot, and shut the door immediately, terrified that she’d been seen.

It wasn’t that Kagome was an agoraphobe, or an introvert; quite the opposite, actually. Usually. But when it came to ridiculously hot men, she often found that she couldn’t speak: she lost her ability to put together a coherent sentence. And with her handsome neighbor, she found she had no words at all. It was both a blessing, and a curse. There were so many men that had ignored her, dumped her, slept with her and then ghosted her, because she got so flabbergasted around people she was attracted to. She could only really express herself physically; she struggled to express herself verbally. When she liked a guy, she would offer him a smile, a touch, a hug, and sometimes, something more. And men were always happy to return her physical attention. The problem was, without proper preparation, she just couldn’t make herself sound intelligent, charming, sweet… especially with a brain distracted by sheer animal attraction. 

She just regularly sounded like a fool.

Like she’d sounded that night: whispering something silly, and then running away.

That first day—that first gift—she’d fully intended to knock on his door, offer up a smile, the gift, and maybe her phone number (or even herself—fuck, he would be hard to resist and she knew it). She planned to brush her fingers up against his; to lean in and maybe rub his cheek with hers. Affection was never the problem, and she really wanted to be close to him. She had it all figured out. 

And, she spent so much time putting that basket together! She had seen him come home with this particular beer; she’d seen him out and about, carrying those chips. She wanted to give him something nice, and she just couldn’t resist putting some of his favorite things into the basket.

But when she’d gotten to the door with her beautiful little basket—when the moment had come—she’d chickened out, left the gift at his door, knocked once, and ran. And then she’d hidden in her doorway, watching closely, waiting for him to come home.

She’d waited two hours. She couldn’t leave the door. She missed dinner; she didn’t even leave to go to the bathroom. She just had to see his reaction.

It was nearly 9:00 when he finally came ambling along, angry and stalking the corridor. He looked so mad that Kagome imagined he might punch a hole in the hallway. His long silver hair was down and wild; his shirt and tie were rumpled; he looked pissed about something. For a split second, she regretted leaving the gift for him; she wasn’t sure how he would react. She saw him nearly fall over her little basket, and she cringed. Then, he bent over, picked it up, rifled through it, and found her note. Kagome saw his face light up a little; his eyes blazing against the darkness of his face. She felt a little thrill at that—that she had made him happy. She thought she saw the soft curve of a smile, and then his phone rang. He answered it, and promptly began yelling into the phone about work. He’d gone into his apartment, slammed the door, and continued to yell.

That night, Kagome resolved that she would keep giving him gifts. She could see how he liked it—even a little bit—and she could also see how much his job must suck. So, if she could bring him joy—even a little—she was more than happy to do it.

Because underneath all that bluster, Kagome had a feeling that here lay the heart of a teddy bear. That sadness she’d heard in his voice...she was sure he just wanted someone to see him, to see his heart: not the fact that he was inu hanyou. And she wanted to get at that heart, more than anything else. 

So nearly every night of the week, whenever she had time, she started leaving him gifts. When she heard him yelling at their neighbors at 2am about some particularly loud sex, she immediately went online and found the best youkai earplugs she could find. When she realized that he was coming home increasingly late from work, she started leaving, if not meals, at least good convenience store snacks. And every night, she watched as he picked up each little basket she made for him with such care, and she watched as he opened each basket, and she watched as he smiled. She didn’t see him much; she really only saw him coming and going from his apartment, and occasionally at the convenience store that was across the street and down on the corner, but she knew enough about him to know that his smiles were rare. So, when he grinned as he opened her gifts, she knew that it was something special, and she glowed with pride and pleasure.

But now, she had fucked up. She had let him see her standing there, at the convenience store, trying to decide which kind of beer to buy for him. And the way he leaned against the shelving, so sexy, so sassy, and then the way he had talked to her— gods, she felt it down in her very soul, in the very core of her being. His voice was deep, and gruff, and amazing. He was talking to her, and only her. And his teasing tone, that little fang poking out when he grinned…

Yup. She’d had no choice but to run away, as fast as she could.

And now she was in her apartment, hiding like a little girl. A little girl who was afraid of the dark. Nothing at all like a grown woman who had the opportunity to talk to her crush and let him know how she felt. 

Kagome got up from the floor and wandered into the washitsu. She sank down at the chabudai and rested her head in her hands. 

What was she going to do?

On one hand, this could be a reckoning. This could be a time for her to go knock on his door, say hello, introduce herself properly, and invite him out for a coffee or a drink. Any normal, rational adult would take that option.

On the other hand, she could just keep doing what she was doing. Keep leaving him gifts; keep hiding; keep her identity a secret. And honestly? While the first was what she should do, she also kind of enjoyed being somebody’s secret admirer. She enjoyed watching him from afar, and she enjoyed watching him get so much pleasure from her gifts. She really did. It was safer that way.

So, maybe this was for the best; maybe she would just go, leave him the beer and a cute little note, and be on her way.

A soft knock at her door had Kagome sitting upright in a panic. She turned her ear to the genkan; who could it be, so late at night? 

Two knocks on the door, slightly more insistent, sounded. Kagome wanted to hide; she wanted to ignore it. But she couldn’t.

She got up, and went to the door. She looked through the peephole, but no one was there. So, slowly, cautiously, she opened it. 

There was definitely no one there, but Kagome’s eyes were drawn to the ground.

Sitting there was a six-pack of Sapporo, and a note. Kagome bent down, picked up the beer and the note, and read the short, dashing script:

I think you may have forgotten something tonight. This is my favorite. Care to share?

Kagome let out a tiny eep and went back inside her apartment, slamming the door for the second time that night.

What she didn’t notice were a pair of fluffy white dog ears, sticking out of the doorway of apartment 328, which didn’t go back inside the door until Kagome’s door was safely closed.



He’d done it. He’d fucking done it.

He’d followed her home—followed her scent home, anyway—back to their apartment building, and was shocked that it led up the stairs to his floor.

To their floor.

Eagerly, he tracked her to the apartment at the end of the hallway: 333. San san kudo. Like they were fucking meant to be.

Inuyasha loitered outside her apartment door for a good while, trying to figure out what to do. Should he knock, demand answers, take her in his arms and kiss her senseless? (Not that he’d ever kissed anyone senseless before, but still.) Should he ignore everything and go back to his apartment? Forget this ever happened?

She had to know. She had to know he knew.

Which meant...she was gonna stop leaving him baskets. She would stop leaving him notes: cute, little notes that made his days significantly less shitty.

Inuyasha let out a tiny growl. That was unacceptable. He couldn’t...he had to…

He had to do something.

He set the beers down and pulled a pen and a notebook out of his bag. He left her a little note, slipped it between in the holder, and knocked once, decided it was too gentle, and knocked again, more insistently. He turned and took off down the hall, making it to his apartment door in five steps. He opened his door, slipped inside, and left it open the tiniest of cracks, and listened. He heard her open the door; he heard her pick up the beer; he heard the crackle of the paper as she unfolded it. He heard her squeak, and then he heard the door slam shut.

He had her. He just knew it.


 Or….maybe he didn’t.

Inuyasha has been so sure that his note would do it. He would leave her the note, and the beer, and she’d come barreling down the hall and right into his eager and waiting arms. He’d been so fucking sure.

But as one day bled into another, he realized: she wasn’t responding.

There was no knock at his door; there were no gifts for him at his doorstep.

Things had gone strangely, eerily, silent.

And Inuyasha realized: he fucking hated it.

Because whether he wanted to admit it or not, he’d grown fond of the gift baskets and the sweet little notes. He’d gotten used to the anticipation of seeing what she had planned for him at the end of what was always (for him) a very long and frustrating day. She made his day a little brighter; she gave him something to look forward to, even when his entire day was shit.

Fuck, he’d gotten used to having a woman in his life, a woman that he barely knew, but a woman he was absolutely dying to know.

He would chase her. He would catch her. He would make her his.

Inuyasha started by staking out her scent. Now that he had a pretty solid recall, he was much more easily able to track her. He realized that she left before he did in the mornings—about an hour before, if the density of her scent told him anything—but that she beat him home by at least 3-4 hours at the end of the day. He reasoned out she was probably a teacher with hours like that, and decided to see if he was correct by waking up super early and hanging around outside their apartment complex—like he was the goddamned stalker—and waiting for her.

At about 7am she came ambling out of the building, pulling on her coat and slinging her bag over her shoulder. He could see it was full of books and papers, and her frowning face made him chuckle. Even irritated, she was still fucking gorgeous. 

She was on foot, so he decided to follow her—see where she taught. It was a middle school about ten minutes away, and while he wondered why she left so early in the morning, he realized she probably had a lot of work to do to get ready for her classes. 

He frowned. Teachers worked hard—really hard—and yet she was taking the time almost every day to get him a little something. And what was he doing in return, for her? 

Except for the beer (which he had technically bought for himself), he hadn’t done anything to show her that he was interested. Outside of accosting her at the convenience store, anyway. 

Yup, it was definitely time Inuyasha did something in return for her.

When he got to the office, he lied and told his secretary that he had a lunch meeting and would be taking an extended break. When she asked who it was with, he gave her his friend Miroku’s name. A real person, yes, and someone who would cover for him should the occasion ever arise. The whole morning, he sat in meetings and listened to his boss drone on and on about budgets and bottom lines and focus groups, but he was just thinking about the smoking hot middle school teacher and what he could do for her. His mind wandered; he could see her shapely ass shifting from side to side in the convenience store as she tried to make up her mind about what to buy. He saw her beautiful, lush, full lips, making a little “o” of surprise when she realized who he was. He saw her adorably irritated look as she tried to balance her books and her bag. He saw all the little baskets of treats with notes written just to make his day a little better. Notes written just for him, special for him. 

Inuyasha saw it all, and knew just what to get her. He couldn’t wait for his lunch break, and when it rolled around, he bounced out of the office, telling his secretary not to expect him back anytime soon.

Three hours. He had about three hours to put together a gift for her and get it outside her door before he started running the risk of her coming back and catching him. He knew that he had to make it count.

He went from store to store in Shinjuku, looking for exactly the right things. Shiseido; Kitao; Hadalabo. He made sure to hit all the right stores and get what he needed. He picked up flowers from a street vendor, then stopped at a craft shop and bought several baskets; enough to last a week. He then went to a stationary store, to get several cards. 

On the train back to their apartment building in Kichijoji, inuyasha had to do all he could to keep from cackling with laughter. He...was… so fucking brilliant. He predicted that after the first basket, she’d be beating down his door, ready to jump him. 

Once safely ensconced in his apartment, he began to create the baskets: lotions, face masks, relaxing bath salts and essential oils. A foot massager. A lavender-scented eye pillow. Stargazer lilies. Godfuckingdammit, he did it all up for her like she was fucking gold.

Because she was.

After the first basket had been placed, Inuyasha had to go back to work, so he didn’t get to see her reaction to the basket. But he fully expected something in return when he got home that night.

Imagine his surprise that there was nothing. Not a note, not a gift: nothing.

There was only quiet.

But instead of causing Inuyasha to give up, her reticence only ignited the Inu youkai in him, and drove him to do more. He wanted to...care for her. To show her that he could be worthy of her attention. That he could be worthy of her.

So every day, the baskets got bigger, and more elaborate. Inuyasha wanted—no, needed to know—what would be her breaking point? When would she finally give in and come to him? And he couldn't believe he was admitting this, but his notes to her were so goddamned sweet he could have been her sugar daddy and not her not-so-secret admirer.

For example: I hope you had a good day at school! I’ve missed getting baskets from you, and hope you will accept mine.

Or: it’s been a few days since I’ve heard from you, and I miss your wonderful surprises.

Or his most recent: I hope all is okay. I didn’t realize how much I loved your baskets and your notes until they were gone. I hope you will start leaving me notes again, because...I miss you.

Yup, he was a goner. He’d just admitted his feelings that he shouldn’t have to a woman he didn’t even know. But fuck, he wanted to know her—all of her—badly. 

Even when Sango and Miroku insisted on taking him out for drinks, and tried to set him up with every single woman in the room, his mind was full only of the beautiful schoolteacher with the stormy eyes and the wild hair. Each time a girl approached him, he could only smell her delectable tangerine and cherry scent. Each time a girl talked to him, he only heard her stammer and her soft, lovely voice. No one else came close. No one else could do it for him.

He was sure.

He just needed to know if she felt the same way.

Chapter Text

The beer ended up sitting in Kagome’s fridge for over a full week.

What was she supposed to do? Should she go over there with the beer, smile, and say hi? Should she leave the beer, and just go by herself and jump him? Gods, that’s what she wanted to do, more than anything else. She hadn’t left him a gift all week; she didn’t dare. She was terrified he would be home, and open the door, and there she’d be, disheveled and completely unprepared for his gorgeous face and sexy arms. Her dreams were full of those arms, crushing her to his chest, and his lips, kissing her with abandon. She wondered what he thought of all this. It was clear he knew who she was; it was clear he was interested in getting to know her more. But could she? Should she?

Fuck, Kagome didn’t know.

After Hojo—after Bankotsu—after the men who kissed her and left her because she had a hard time using her words—she didn’t know anything about men. Not anymore.

So her best option here, as per usual, was to do nothing.

Except he would not let her do nothing. Nope, he wanted her to do something, which was quite obviously to talk to him.

The first time was after school, a few days after he left the beer. Kagome could see it as soon as she came through the doorway into her corridor: a massive basket, and as she got closer, she could see that it was filled with beauty supplies and things to help her relax. She immediately frowned, and opened the (beautiful!) card accompanying the basket. His kanji strokes were lush, and full, and made her feel oddly warm.

I hope you had a good day at school! I’ve missed getting baskets from you, and hope you will accept mine.

It was sweet, and heartfelt, and she realized that he missed hearing from her. And she also realized, reading over his note, her fingers brushing his kanji, that she missed talking to him. Even if it was just through the notes, she missed him

The only thing was, the convenience store. Did she dare face him again? How could she? Even though he clearly knew, and clearly didn’t care, it was all too humiliating for her. Perhaps if they’d met some other way, where she had control over the situation. Perhaps if she had better control of her voice. Perhaps if every time she saw him, she didn’t just want to tackle him and devour him whole. 

She wasn’t ready: not yet.

But the gifts kept coming: every day, a bigger and bigger basket. Kagome had to laugh the day he’d put a foot massager in there; she was on her feet all freaking day, and this would help her feel so much better, and like she could get up and go to school and make it through each day.

She couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have his hands on her feet: rubbing, tickling, massaging. Maybe even on other parts of her body, too...even though she’d never be able to tell him that was what she wanted.

His messages were increasingly sweet, too; they made her smile when she read them, because it seemed clear that he missed getting her baskets. That he missed hearing from her . Whether it was because he was truly attracted to her, or because he felt like he owed her, she couldn’t be sure. But whatever his reasons for the baskets, and the adorable notes, she felt like they shared a secret that no one else knew. And she had to admit: she liked that. A lot .

Kagome still didn’t know what to do, though. Answer him, not answer him...she stuck with doing nothing, even though there was an increasing pit in her stomach that told her not responding was a bad idea. That maybe she should put together the biggest gift basket anyone had ever seen, knock on his door, and offer both the basket and herself up to him. She did have a few things for him stashed away…

And that was exactly why doing nothing was the right option. Why it had to be. Because she didn’t want to act a fool in front of him, once again. What if he rejected her? Laughed, or worse? Nope, better to be safe, and stay the course.

Kagome thought she knew this for sure.

Then, one night about a week after he’d left the beer on her doorstep, Kagome heard his booming, scowling voice in the hallway. She ran to the door and listened, afraid to open it and see what he was doing.

“Come on, Inuyasha,” a female voice was saying. “Why don’t you just let us spend the night? That would be the easiest thing.”

His name! She finally knew his name!!

But...a woman was also saying it. A woman was saying his name.

“I told you, Sango,” he (Inuyasha!) replied irritably, “No one is fucking staying here tonight. You need to find your own way home, and take this fucker with you.”

“Oh, come on, Inuyasha,” said another male, but much more amiable, voice. “It’s been forever since we’ve seen you, we take you out, and this is the thanks we get? You won’t even let us come in?”

“I’m not letting anyone come in, Miroku,” came the sour reply. “I don’t have any place in here for you to sit, and I sure as shit don’t have any place for you to sleep. So if you come in, if you stay, you’re sleeping on the fucking floor.”

“If it’s tatami, I can say I’ve slept on worse,” the man named Miroku was saying. “And I just think that you wish someone else had come home with you tonight.”

“Yeah,” chimed in the woman (Sango?). “I bet you were hoping that it would be Nazuna who would offer you a ride home.”

Kagome heard a loud grunt. “I ain’t interested in Nazuna, or anyone else you made me talk to tonight, so you can get that fucking thought out of your head,” he growled. 

“Oh, so there is someone, then!” Kagome thought that she could practically hear Miroku crowing at that thought.

“Keh,” Inuyasha retorted. “It’s no one you know.” Kagome heard his apartment door click open; the voice faded as they went inside Inuyasha’s apartment and shut the door.

Kagome stood at the door for several minutes, disbelieving what she had just heard. Her hand rested lightly on her chest, her breaths coming in short, quick, gasps.

Inuyasha—that was his name—had someone he was interested in? Someone who his friends didn’t know?

Could it—could it be her?

Kagome scoffed and moved away from the door. It was ridiculous, thinking that he could be interested in her. She was a middle school history teacher; she wasn’t anything spectacular or special. She loved her students, but her worry about her trouble with words (which usually, but not always, limited to hot men) meant that she often spent hours preparing her lessons so that she sounded confident and competent when she taught. Overall, Kagome went to work, she taught her students, she came home. She had some spiritual power, sure (didn’t most people these days?), but it wasn’t anything that was gonna purify a youkai or burn a hole in the ceiling. There was nothing that she could honestly say set her apart from the crowd. She was thoroughly mediocre, and she was kind of happy like that. 

There was no way he could be interested in her. 

Right?

The notes...the gifts...he just pitied her, a sad-sack middle school teacher who couldn’t talk to a guy so she had to leave him presents and cards.

But if she was a sad-sack girl, then what did that make him? 

Kagome went to the refrigerator and opened it. She stared at the cans of Sapporo in her fridge, unknown beacons of the future. 

Care to share?  The note had read.

Kagome narrowed her eyes, determination suddenly flooding her body. There was only one way to figure out if Inuyasha meant what he said. In that note, and in every note he had sent since.

But, could she do it? 


Friday night, so of fucking course Inuyasha had to work late.

His stupid boss had fucked him over again. This time, Inuyasha had gotten the news that a pitch he’d written had made it to the top three for a national multimedia conglomerate. But that meant that they had to refine the pitch a little more, and be ready to give it again as soon as the company put together a schedule. It could be Monday; it could be Wednesday; it could be another two weeks. Whenever it was, Inuyasha had to be ready.

So his boss had decided that they should work the entire weekend to be prepared for Monday. Which meant going into the office and working on a fucking Saturday.

Inuyasha growled and let his claws drag along the hallway wall, leaving a trail of marks from where the cement gave way under the pressure of his long, sharp nails. He didn’t give a fuck that he was damaging the building. He only wished the wall was Naraku’s face. Luckily, he had thought to leave Kagome’s gift that morning, before he left for work. He just hoped that she’d received it.

His only goal that night was to get drunk. And go to bed early, to forget this day even existed. Okay, two goals. He had two goals. 

He was so busy thinking about said goals that he nearly missed the can at his feet. His toe nudged it, and when he looked down, he saw that there was a can of Sapporo in front of his door. With a note attached. He picked up the can, and the note, and read:

It’s never fun to drink alone. I’m in Apartment 333 if you want to join me for a nightcap. 

It was only five doors, but Inuyasha flew down the corridor to the end, where apartment 333 was. The door was nondescript; it looked like every other door in the corridor, like every other door in the entire building. But to Inuyasha, the door held the future. It held promise. It held the anticipation of a hundred lifetimes packed into a single moment. His entire being was on fire as he stood there, considering the door, considering the young woman behind the door. 

Would she like him—like, all of him? Or was she just pretending? Her scent wouldn’t lie, would it? 

It couldn’t. 

He raised his hand to the door, and stopped just short of knocking. Should he do it? Could he? What if she was a waste case? What if she wasn’t what he had built up in his mind? What if she…

The door slowly opened, and there stood the most fucking beautiful woman he’d ever seen, her face flushed, her blue-gray eyes staring straight at him, surprised.

“You’re—you’re here,” she said in a soft, musical voice that stuttered slightly. He shivered.

“Yeah,” he replied, casting his eyes down in his hesitation.

He felt a small hand gently tug on his sleeve; he looked up, and saw her face was shining.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

That made him chuckle in spite of himself. “Keh,” he retorted, “ya left a Sapporo outside my door with an invitation to come join you. How could I not?”

She flashed him a smile; it was brilliant and he had to blink for a moment to keep himself steady. She tugged on his sleeve again, and they stood there for a long, awkward moment, looking at each other, not really sure how to proceed. 

“I’m—I’m Kagome,” she said at last. “Higurashi Kagome.”

He smiled at her. “Taisho Inuyasha,” he replied, bowing his head slightly. “I’m glad to know you, Higurashi-san.”

“Just—just Kagome.” She tugged on his arm and led him into the apartment. 

“Do you—make it a habit of letting strange men into your apartment, Kagome-san?” he asked her, but he followed her into the genkan anyway.

She flushed even brighter, if that was possible. “N—no,” she eked out. “But I kind of feel like I know you.”

Inuyasha knew what she meant.

He slipped off his shoes and looked around. Kagome’s apartment was nicely decorated, with furniture, and pictures on the walls, and bookshelves filled with books. It looked like she had lived there for a long time. The apartment suited her; he felt a warm feeling bubbling in the depths of his stomach and spreading upwards. His own place was nearly empty, but this?

This felt like a home. And he liked that.

“Should we sit down?” he asked her, suddenly incredibly nervous.

“Um...” her voice got even softer. She looked up into his earnest, open, slightly confused face. She squeezed his arm, and ran her hand up to his shoulder. His mouth dropped open slightly at the physical contact she was initiating, but he had to admit: something about her was incredibly alluring. He kind of wanted to see how else she might touch him.

“I—I guess you know what I’ve been doing,” she said at last.

He nodded. “I do.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was now barely audible. “I guess—I guess I should have just—I don’t know—I was—” she really didn’t know what to say. 

“It’s okay, Kagome-san,” Inuyasha assured her, his own face flushing as well. “I—I liked it.”

And once again they were standing, staring at each other, not really sure what to say, Kagome’s hand still on his shoulder. They were close; impossibly close. Kagome felt the heat of his gaze raking over her—approvingly, if she was reading him correctly—and she found that once again, her tangled tongue was getting the better of her. She opened her mouth and tried to speak, but no words came out.

“Sit—?” she finally choked out, and wanted to kick herself for sounding like such an ass. 

“Sure,” he replied, and she nodded in the direction of the chabudai.

“I—drink,” she stammered. “Beer is—okay?”

He smiled. She was awfully cute when she was nervous. “Beer is fine,” he said. “I have to get up in the morning.”

As Inuyasha made his way to the chabudai, Kagome went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. She grabbed a can of Sapporo and nearly kicked herself in her frustration. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she just be straight with him? Why couldn’t she express how she really felt?

That he was handsome, and rude, and sour, most of the time, which made the little smiles he’d given her gifts that much more precious to her. 

So precious that they made her want to do whatever she could to bring those smiles back.

Kagome took a deep breath, counted to eight, and then let it out slowly. She took another deep breath and counted again. When she was sure that she was ready—when she was sure that her heart was solid and beating steadily—she carried her beer into the washitsu. 

Inuyasha was sitting at the low table, watching her with interested golden eyes. “So this is really the first time you decided to woo a guy by leaving him gifts?” he asked her, apparently serious.

Kagome stammered and let out a little laugh as she sat immediately to his left. Normally she would sit across someone, but she just needed to be near him. “Umm—yes?” she replied. “But I don’t really—sometimes it can be hard for me to talk to someone, especially if it’s a person that I…” She found that she couldn’t finish the sentence.

Inuyasha opened his beer and took a swig. “A person that you what, Kagome-san?” Inuyasha purred, leaning forward on the table.

Kagome saw his eyes, dark and golden and burning in a way that she knew was only for her. She also opened her beer and took a big swig. “A person—a person who—” again her words were failing her. 

Inuyasha slid around to her side of the chabudai. He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger, and stared at her hard, forcing her to bring her blue-gray eyes back to his. “A person who, Kagome-san?” he asked. “A person who you might have been leaving gifts for, for quite awhile now?”

Kagome blinked. And blinked. Come on, girl. Get yourself together. Use your fucking words.

She let out a little smile. “Yes,” Kagome said, “yes.”

Inuyasha chuckled. “And do I know that someone?” he asked her.

Kagome blinked again, trying to fight the flush in her cheeks. “Yes,” she said, “you do.”

He stared at her, his amber eyes large, questioning, and daring.

“And why would you be leaving this person gifts, Kagome-san?” he asked her.

“Because—because—” Why was this so fucking hard ?

Kagome took a deep breath. He was close. He was so close.

Oh, FUCK IT.

Kagome gripped his shoulders with both her hands. His fingers still holding her chin, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

Just as she thought: his lips were soft, and velvety. He was unsure and tentative, as though it had been a long time since he’d been kissed. She held him a little tighter, and rubbed her lips against his more insistently. She...she couldn’t tell him in words how she felt. So maybe…

Maybe she could show him another way.

Kagome broke the kiss, her eyes taking in his face heatedly. He still seemed confused, unsure. 

“Was—not what you wanted?” she asked, hesitatingly.

“Wha—what?” Now it was Inuyasha’s turn to stammer.

Okay, sure, when she kissed him, he’d been...well, he was shocked. Who would want to kiss him? 

Apparently, she did. 

And it was amazing: her tangerine and cherry scent enveloped him and made him feel soft, and warm, and accepted. She was soft, and warm, and clearly accepting. And beautiful. And so obviously hot for him, even if she couldn’t fully express it in words. But he just hadn’t quite been prepared for the fact that she would want to kiss him, even if she had been leaving him gifts, even if she had been so familiar in touching him. 

Then her scent shifted, and Inuyasha noticed that she’d dropped her arms from his shoulders. She stood up from the chabudai and stepped back. Her eyes were watery; her face was flushed again, but this time with embarrassment.

“I—I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You—you can go.”

Oh fuck, no. WAIT.

“Kagome-san,” he said hurriedly, getting to his feet as well, “no, no. That’s not—fuck.” He sighed, and this time he made the move and wrapped her up in his arms. Their faces were centimeters apart; he could smell the beer on her sweet breath.

“It’s just—it’s been a long time since anyone’s wanted to kiss me,” he admitted. “I didn’t quite expect it, you know?”

Kagome simply hummed an understanding, her blue-gray eyes blinking, the hint of a smile playing on her lips. Her arms went around his waist and she tilted her chin up. “How—how—about now?” she asked, her voice teasing, even as she tripped on her words.

He grinned. “Yes,” he answered her, and eagerly accepted this time as she kissed him.

This time, his response was passionate, and heated, and his arms were crushing her, just as she had imagined that they would. He had been able to tell just what she wanted, even as she couldn’t articulate it, and she loved that about him. And now, she could feel his biceps flexing as he held her tightly; she was struggling to keep from going limp. This was everything she had expected; everything she had hoped for.

And yet, it was not enough.

Kagome ran her tongue along the seam of his lips, seeking entrance. She had to know what he tasted like; she had to know what the inside of his mouth felt like. And most of all, she needed to feel her tongue, wrapped around his fangs. 

Inuyasha tensed when her tongue began to poke at him, but he submitted and allowed her access. He was stunned when she began to explore his mouth, her tongue a sweet, probing muscle, testing the sharpness of his fangs and the feel of his own tongue against hers. He started against her for a moment, but a gentle tickle at his waist encouraged him to relax. Inuyasha...couldn’t believe this. A woman—an insanely beautiful, adorable-when-she’s-nervous, woman—was not only kissing him, but fuck, she was fucking licking his fangs with her tongue. He was...he was…

He was so hard he could cut a diamond with his dick.

Inuyasha let out a deep, rumbly growl, and shoved his tongue further into her mouth. Kagome whined and tried to climb the length of his body. He was only inside her mouth, but that was suddenly not enough for her. When she lifted her legs, his arms dropped and his hands crooked under her ass, massaging it as he hoisted her up so they were face-to-face. Kagome tangled her hands in his hair; it was just as soft and as silky as she’d imagined, and she yanked on it, hard, as she scrambled into him, even closer. He could feel her breasts mashed against his chest, and he suddenly had a wild, blind, deep desire to know how they looked, how they felt, how they tasted.

“Do you—” he panted in between kisses, “—do you have a bedroom here? Or is the floor okay? Or a kitchen counter?”

She giggled and nipped at his lip, and he fucking groaned in agony. “Bedroom,” she whispered, nodding to the back of the apartment.

Inuyasha grunted and barreled through the washitsu and down the narrow hallway. He loosened one hand from her delightful ass just enough to start opening doors. The first one he tugged open was for the sink and laundry. 

Kagome giggled again. “Cold,” she whispered. “Try—again.”

He growled and teased her neck with his fangs. She moaned and ground into his stomach in response.

Fuck. He needed a futon, and fast. Or the floor—or the wall—or fucking something.

He turned and opened the other door across from the sink. Water closet and bath.

Kagome giggled again, the little minx.

“Still—still cold,” she whispered, now digging her heels into the small of his back.

He latched onto her throat and began to lap at the soft skin there; she let out another moan and twisted her entire body around in his arms.

End,” she sighed, “hurry.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice. Inuyasha turned and lumbered down the hall, practically ripping the closed door off its track. Here, fucking finally, was her bedroom. And she had a…

“You have a bed?” he asked her, incredulously.

She nodded and drove her face into the spot between his neck and shoulder, biting down so hard he yelped and nearly came all over himself. “Do you—like it?” she asked between bites and licks and sucks. 

Inuyasha crossed the room and threw her down onto the bed, and tore his shirt right off his body, then his pants, leaving his clothes in a shredded mess on the floor. Kagome scooted back and watched him, eagerly, hungrily, her blue-gray eyes alight with lust. When he turned to her, she panted audibly. He was remarkably chiseled, his chest and abs fully sculpted and well-formed. Her mouth fell open and began to work, but no words came out.

“The question is, Kagome-san,” he said, dropping low and approaching her with a feral gleam in his eyes, “do you like it?”

Gods,” she breathed, “yes.” And for some reason, the image of him tearing her clothes from her body filled her with an incredible heat, and she couldn’t get it out of her mind. 

She sat up, and reached for him, grabbing his arms and pulling them towards her. When he was close enough, she took his hand, held out his claws, and put the palm of his hand flush with her sternum. Her eyes were fierce, and he immediately knew. 

Inuyasha let out a massive growl and ripped her shirt and her bra; in one, swift moment, Kagome was topless, and her panties were soaked.

She had forgotten. She had forgotten, what it was like, to be with a man, and to burn for him. But she knew, as she felt her clothes tear away from her body, that she had never felt like this . No one had ever made her nerves tingle and spark and flash like this; no one had ever handled her both so roughly and so gently. He’d torn her clothes from her body like it was nothing, but yet, she didn’t have a mark on her. Underneath the tough bluster, he was a big softie, just like she’d always known, deep down.

Kagome had never had claws on her (not even Bankotsu’s nails could compare, as much as he tried), and holy gods in all the heavens, she wanted those claws on her, every second of every day, for the rest of her life.

While she was busy getting massively turned on by his actions, Inuyasha had paused and dropped back. Was he really giving into his basest desires? She was a human—a beautiful, tiny, human—and could he really treat her this way?

He looked up at her, and he saw her face, radiant and aflame with desire for him. She reached out for him again, and he knelt on the edge of the mattress, his own face hesitating and unclear. She took his face in her hands, and drew him to her for a deep, loving kiss, pouring all her understanding and acceptance and passion for him into the way her lips crushed his. Her hands ran down his back, feeling his muscles and reveling in their seeming strength. She needed to know how it would feel to have him inside her. She needed to know what it would be like to taste him, to touch him, all over—not just on his torso.

“Inuyasha,” she murmured against his lips. “I—I—I need…” fuck, her words were failing her again.

Inuyasha chuckled. “What do you need, Kagome?” he asked her, catching her chin between his fingers again and looking at her so tenderly. 

“Y—y—you,” she ground out at last, “I need you.”

“You’ve got me, woman,” he said, chuckling again, “and I doubt that you’ll be able to get rid of me after this.” 

Kagome sighed. “Good,” she replied, and pressed his face to her throat, keening as he dragged his fangs down her neck, over her shoulders, and onto her breasts, her fingers once again twisting in his hair.

There, he paused, rubbing his face in the warmth that exuded from between her breasts, fondling them, kneading them softly in his hands. He turned his almost-full attention to the left one first, and she tensed slightly. Inuyasha realized that it was slightly bigger, and he thought that perhaps she needed some reassurance that her breasts were perfect, even if they weren’t the exact same size. 

Because, they were. 

Kagome sighed as he gently kissed the soft underside of her breast and ran his nose along the curves of her skin. She could feel him inhaling softly; she hoped he liked her scent. She’d done a fair amount of research on inu youkai when she was putting together his baskets, and she knew some of the scents they were particularly drawn to, but she had no idea if her scent was one of them. 

Inuyasha sensed her fingers going limp. “Kagome?” he murmured, still nuzzling her breast. “What’s wrong?”

“Do—do I—smell—good?” Her voice was so quiet.

He nuzzled her even more deeply. “Woman,” he said in a thick voice, “you are the most delicious thing I have ever smelled.”

He heard her let out a whoosh of air, and her hands crept back into his hair. He growled approvingly, and ran his tongue from the underside of her left to her right breast. Kagome hissed above him.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” he said to her, “you taste fucking delicious, too.”

And she did. Her skin was sweet, again, like those goddamn tangerines. The scent radiated out of her very being; he wanted to just take a fucking bath in her, rejoice in her feel, in her taste, in her smell. The way that her fingers ran through his hair, then reached up to lightly massage…

Inuyasha let out a growl. No one had ever touched his ears before.

“Inu—Inuyasha?” she said hesitantly, dropping her hands.

“No,” he said fiercely against her breast. He was at her right one now, and gave her nipple a savage lick. She shuddered. “Please don’t take your fucking hands away from them, Kagome.”

She giggled softly, and he nipped at her in response. She sighed his name, and he knew that he had her.

Kagome gripped his ears lightly and began to work her magic fingers on them. She rubbed them both with and against the grain of the soft, downy fur; he growled against her breast and she shifted her hips underneath him, her body coiling up and tensing. When she reached the base of his ears, she lightly tickled the skin there, mindful of the openings, letting her nails guide her movements. He growled so loudly she thought she’d hurt him, but when he pushed himself up flush her again and proceeded to kiss her senseless, she knew that she had done the exact opposite. His tongue was pushing against her lips, and she allowed him in. He plundered her mouth, taking what he wanted from her, tasting every part of her, from her teeth, to her tongue, to the roof of her mouth, to the inside of her cheeks.

Who knew that his ears were a thing? Who knew how much he needed that kind of attention, that kind of affection? To experience love as an inu hanyou, not as a human, and not as a thing? 

To experience love as Inuyasha?

“Kagome,” he breathed against her, “will you...tonight? Do you want to?”

“Yes,” she replied immediately, nibbling at his lips. “Please—please—please, yes.”

He reluctantly pulled away from her and looked down at his boxer briefs, then back at her. Her eyes were steely and blazing. She again reached for him, and he approached her slowly, unsure of what she would want to do. Kagome hooked her fingers into the waistband of his underwear and tugged, over his cock, down his hips, and past his knees. He helped her at the end, lifting his legs and then kicking his underwear aside. When he looked back up at her, her eyes were large and filled with desire.

“Kagome,” he said, again breathless, but before he could utter another word, she had him by the cock and was tugging him towards her. Almost immediately, she fit her mouth over him and took him in. Inuyasha let out a choked sound, and pressed his hands into her shoulders. Her small hands circled him, and began to work him over as she harshly guided him in and out of her mouth. 

She was hot, and sweet, and moist, and he could feel her tongue running the length of his shaft, massaging it delicately as she went, his cock pulsing in response every time she stopped to offer him a swirl or an extra lick. He tightened his grip on her shoulders, careful not to push her too hard so that she gagged. He would let Kagome set the pace; he would let her do whatever she wanted. Because she was in charge. 

She was in charge, and he loved the shit out of that. 

Her mouth was starting to water just a bit; she was salivating at his deliciousness and his thickness. She massaged his sac lightly, then popped off his cock and ran her tongue and lips down one side, and up the other, sniffing him and letting her nose guide her to the soft silver hair at the base. She buried her face there and inhaled, taking in his deep, musky scent. He let out a strangled cry, and she looked up.

“You—you—amazing,” she stammered, pressing her face back into the soft fur surrounding his dick.  Inuyasha let out a low growl of pleasure at her instinctual ministrations, and pushed her back on the bed. 

“Too many clothes,” he grunted, pointing at her pants.

Her fingers went up to the button of her jeans. Keeping her eyes focused on his the entire time, she slowly unbuttoned them, then slid the zipper down. He reached out to help, but she raised a finger and shook it at him cutely, smiling. “I—I like these pants,” she told him. Then, Kagome raised her hips and slid her pants and underwear down in one swift movement, leaving her fully nude before him.

Inuyasha’s breath caught. She was...she was…

“Do you—do you…?” He could tell something embarrassed her.

He dropped the bed and covered her body with his. “Not even close,” he whispered as he kissed her. “You are fucking perfect, Kagome. Absolutely fucking perfect.”

And to him, she was.

Kagome’s arousal spiked, and she opened her legs for him. He ran his cock along her opening, and was surprised at how wet she was already for him. He had barely touched her, and yet, here she was, practically dripping with her desire. He had to, before he fucked her, he had to…

“Kagome,” he breathed. “Can I…?”

Kagome nodded, and he licked her lips sweetly in acknowledgement. He hovered over her for a moment, then proceeded to run his tongue down the length of her body, pausing to dip into her belly button, and only coming to a stop when he reached the soft hair at the juncture of her thighs. Her scent was strongest here, and he felt it reaching out for him, drawing him into her body, tempting him into wanting to see if she tasted as good here as she did everywhere else.

Inuyasha took a moment and teased her entrance with a finger, feeling the dampness. She shivered at his touch, then let out a loud moan as he laid his tongue against her opening, uncurling it as he pressed it inside her slowly. Kagome said his name harshly, and her entire lower half tensed up. His chest rumbled with pleasure; she tasted fucking divine, and he couldn’t decide which he preferred; her touch, her scent, or her taste. 

Fuck; he loved all three. 

Kagome twisted again as he began to explore her with zeal. He inserted a finger inside her, along with his tongue, and she almost instantly orgasmed from the sensation of both. Her sweet nectar was growing thicker; he could practically feel the core of her body coiling from the inside out. He wanted, more than anything, to pleasure her, to make her feel desired—to make her feel how much he desired her. 

She was his sweetness; she was his deepest, darkest desires, manifested in the form of a beautiful, amazing, woman. Who would have imagined that he’d be about to fuck a woman who left gifts at his front door? That she would be the perfect woman for him? 

“Inu—Inu—yasha,” she moaned, shifting her hips again, “fuck.” 

He chuckled and dragged his tongue back up her body so he could pepper her face with kisses. She giggled and nuzzled his cheeks in response. 

“Now,” she ordered. “Now.”

He sat up. “One second,” he told her, then turned back to his pants, to pull out his wallet. He opened it, and took out the condom he kept just in fucking case he found ever himself in a situation like this, then ripped it open. He sat back on the bed and rolled it out over his cock, making sure it was on and snug. Once he was satisfied, he turned back to face her; she scooted back just enough to make room for them both on the bed. 

He crawled slowly up her body, offering her kisses here and there as he went, hearing her sigh and whisper his name. Finally, she lifted her face so she could greet him with a kiss. “Please,” she whispered, “please.” She opened her legs eagerly.

Inuyasha slowly placed his cock at her entrance. He was already twitching with anticipation. It had been so fucking long since he’d been with anyone; he had never been with someone like Kagome. Just the thought of being inside her was making him light-headed as all the blood rushed to his cock. Kagome lifted her hips to greet him as he gently pressed inside her.

She was hot, and wet, and holy fuck, did he want to fuck her senseless and cum immediately. He would not, though—he could not risk hurting her on their first time. He felt Kagome’s legs wrap around him and draw him closer to her; he could feel her hips starting to move underneath him. He decided to follow her lead and rocked against her tenderly, moving his cock in and out as she rolled her body up, back, and down. She kept a fast hold around his neck, and latched her mouth against his throat, nipping and sucking and laving there, just as he had done to her. The feel of her tiny, blunt teeth against his neck caused him to growl, and he rocked his hips more harshly against hers, looking for the perfect pace to drive them both crazy.

He wanted her to have all the fun, to have all the pleasure, that he could give her. She had given so much to him already. He wanted to give her a little something in return. 

Kagome let out a soft cry of surprise when he started moving against her more quickly and forcefully. She felt a quickening in her groin that started in her walls and spread upwards. She clutched at him and dug her heels into his back, pushing them down as he fucked her. He felt...so fucking good. The perfect length and thickness, he filled her like they were made to fit together. 

Kagome didn’t see him as a hanyou, or an outcast, or a plaything. She saw him as Inuyasha, the man she’d had a crush on for weeks, the man she’d wanted more than anything, the man she wanted to love, and be loved by, for the rest of her life.

Suddenly, the movements were becoming too much for her, and Kagome felt that tension in her body spreading, from her groin out into her legs and up to her belly. She cried out softly, and turned her gaze up to meet Inuyasha’s. He was watching her, his eyes glazed with need, his face a picture of desire. She needed him in the worst way: now, and always.

“Kagome,” he grunted, “Kagome.” His voice was gruff, and rough with need, and she rose to meet him, allowing their foreheads to rest against each other as their bodies moved as one.

“Please, Inuyasha,” she breathed, words now difficult, but for a different reason. “Please...close. ” Her nails scraped his back as she tried to get a firm hold.

He wrapped one arm around her, tucking her in close, and set his other arm so that his hand was steady against the mattress. His own breathing was erratic, labored. He wouldn’t last much longer. “Then let go for me, Kagome,” he growled in her ear, giving in to his instincts and licking her face eagerly. “Let it all go. I’ve got you.”

“You—you do,” she whimpered, and that tightening in her body sprang free. Kagome moaned his name as her body spasmed beyond her control, beyond anything she knew. She felt...free, and warm, and nearly sated. Inuyasha slowed down his movements as he fucked her through her orgasm, but her muscles drew him up, and in, and gripped him more and more tightly, until he, too, felt like he could barely breathe. When she at last released him, the sudden break in the tension was all he needed, and he offered a few frantic thrusts into her before his own orgasm took hold. A bellow of her name, a few grunts, and Inuyasha followed Kagome into the realm of release and joy.

He held her close as he lowered them back to the mattress. She snuggled into this side; he traced her arm lightly with his claws. His youki was so satisfied that, once again, it was fucking purring . And Inuyasha may have let out a few pleased rumbles of his own as he nuzzled her hair.

He felt...what was this feeling?

“Mmmm,” Kagome hummed into the side of his chest, “you—feel good.”

That was it. He felt... good.

Simple; perfect.

And as she nosed her way up his chest to rest her head between his pecs, her sapphire eyes watching him, drunk and lazy with pleasure and with satisfaction, he knew.

He wasn’t leaving Kagome’s bed—he wasn’t leaving Kagome’s side—ever again.


Kagome trudged up the stairs to her apartment, her bag overflowing with books, and papers, and the grumpy feelings of a bad day at school.

Whether it was the weather, or they were all possessed or something, no one had paid attention in any of her classes. Each class spent the entire period giggling and daydreaming; more than once she’d had to snap them to attention so that they would pay attention. And while she had to admit that the arrival of Buddhism in Japan wasn’t terribly interesting, it was necessary and important history. In the end, she’d resorted to flashing her reiki at them, causing everyone, youkai and human, to suddenly become the model of decorum. However, while her abilities brought order to the classroom, they also brought her a visit from the principal, who sympathized with her situation, but also warned her against doing so again. And she’d known that lecture was coming, but honestly? What else was she supposed to do?

All she wanted to do was get home, get this mountain of grading done, have a glass of wine (or three), and snuggle in with her handsome hanyou boyfriend for the night. 

The thought of Inuyasha made her smile. Seven months ago, she had started leaving him little gifts at his doorstep, because she couldn’t tell him how she felt. Six months ago, she found out he was attracted to her too, and they began what had become a passionate, loving, and deep relationship. As surly and grumpy as he was on the outside, he was just as tender and as caring of her on the inside. And she loved that there was a side to him that belonged to her, and her alone. 

When his lease ran out two months ago (why he only signed a six-month lease, she would never understand), she had been the one who suggested he move in. They spent basically every night together, anyway, and her apartment was fully furnished and much more comfortable. (She had completely forgotten about the secret Inuyasha stash she’d kept hidden in the back of her closet—things she had bought for baskets she never got the chance to make. He’d laughed when he found it, then kissed her, then made love to her right there, on her bedroom floor. And then they ate the chips and threw away anything that had expired, and made love again.) Plus, she knew that, even though he would never admit it, he loved her Western-style bed. He loved the firm mattress; he loved all the blankets; he loved snuggling in deep with her after a long session of lovemaking. Kagome had been pleased (and not necessarily surprised) to learn that he was a cuddler; when they were alone, he was always trying to initiate contact, and always trying to lean in close, eager for her touch. And as someone who expressed herself much better physically than verbally, she loved it.

And speaking of her inability to communicate, having Inuyasha in her life meant that she felt more stable, more loved, more prepared to interact with the world. She still stumbled over her words from time to time, and she still needed to prepare endlessly for her lessons, but Inuyasha’s love gave her a light and a confidence she’d never had before. With him, she felt whole, and complete, and safe. 

So now, trudging down the hall to their apartment, despite the shitty day she’d had, Kagome couldn’t help but feel as though the best part of her day was yet to come. She loved getting home before him, having time to focus and grade and prep for her classes the next day. Then, she’d make dinner, and by the time Inuyasha came home, usually super sour and grumpy, she’d get to see his face light up at the sight of her and a home-cooked meal. (She had a feeling no one had ever cooked for him before her.) And then they would eat, cuddle, talk, make love, watch television, make love again, and eventually fall asleep in each other’s arms.

Yes, she thought with a soft smile. Definitely the best part of my day.

She was so busy thinking about Inuyasha buried inside her that she nearly fell over something at the front door. It made a clinking sound, and she looked down in surprise. 

It was a single can of Sapporo beer. Kagome’s smile got broader when she saw the card. She bent over, picked up the beer and the card, and slipped the can into her bag while she opened the card. 

It’s never fun to drink alone, it said. Care to join me for a nightcap?

Kagome opened the door, and stepped into the genkan. She slipped off her shoes and put down her bag, taking the beer back out and wandering into the washitsu.

“Isn’t it a little early in the day for a nightcap, Inuyasha?” Kagome asked him, grinning.

“Keh,” he said, rising from the chabudai and crossing to her, “it’s never too early.” 

She leaned into him, placing her head against his chest and closing her eyes. “Hi,” she breathed.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “Bad day?” he asked. 

She nodded into him, and he hugged her closer. They stayed that way for a moment, Kagome inhaling his musky scent, just enjoying his presence, until slowly, a realization dawned on her. She tilted her head up to look him in the eyes.

“Why—why—are you—here?” she asked, her words failing her in her concern. 

Inuyasha kissed her lightly, relishing the feel of her petal-soft lips against his. “I left work early today, to make sure that you would get my note,” he said roughly, “and you’re here. So I guess that means you’re going to take me up on my offer?” Kagome nodded, and he slipped an arm around her shoulders to steer her towards the chabudai. Kagome gasped when she saw what was there.

Two beers, and a basket full of chips, onigiri, nikuman, yakisoba...all the things she had bought him, all the things she had once filled his baskets with when she was admiring him from afar. She smiled. “What—what did you do?” she asked him.

He shrugged, a soft blush dusting his cheeks. She could only remember him blushing once, and that was the first time he came to her apartment, the first time they…

Inuyasha cracked open a beer, handed it to her, then popped one open for himself. “Eat,” he said, gesturing at the food.

Kagome gaped at him momentarily in shock, then took a swig of beer and helped herself to an onigiri. He snagged a nikuman and tore open the packaging, biting into it fiercely, then finished it off with a huge gulp of beer. He then settled in to watch her eat, his golden eyes following her every move. Kagome saw him, thought it slightly odd, but said nothing. She was suddenly ravenous, and the beer was cold, and the convenience store food surprisingly good.

Then, her hand brushed up against something hard, with edges, and her fingers closed over it, curious as to what it was. She withdrew her hand, and saw that it was a small, square box. Kagome immediately began to shake.

“Inu—Inuyasha?” she said tentatively. “What—what did you…?”

He crawled over to her side of the chabudai and kneeled before her. “Higurashi Kagome,” he said roughly, “all this —” he gestured to the food and the beer and the gift basket “—all this is how you worked your way into my heart. Before you, I drowned in my own misery. I was happiest alone, and I was happiest when I felt like the world fucking hated me. And I hated it, right back. Because it was easier to face the world when how I acted got me the hate, and not who I was.That...that I couldn’t handle. And it wasn't healthy—fucking hell , I know that now—but it was definitely easier to live, shrouded in that misery, than to open myself up to the possibility that I could have better.

“But then, someone left a basket at my door, with a note that was as sweet and as earnest and as selfless as the person who left it. At first, I thought it must be a joke, or a stalker,” he added with a sour laugh, “because who could ever love a hanyou? Especially, a hanyou like me?”

“Inuyasha,” Kagome murmured.

“No,” Inuyasha said fiercely, taking her hands in his, “you know I’m right. I’m an ass, and I hate just about everyone else in the world. But you worked your way into my heart, with your endearing notes and your thoughtful presents. How could I not fall in love with you? How could I not think about you, every second of every day, wondering what was going to come next? Wondering what you would leave me, what you would say?”

He paused, let go of her hands, and took the box and opened it. Kagome’s eyes grew wide. “You have filled every day since I met you with more happiness than I’ve ever experienced before in my life, Kagome,” he said, his voice shaking slightly. “This ring...it belonged to my mother, and I hope that now, it will belong to you.” He paused, his golden eyes now blazing. “Will you accept this ring, Kagome?” he asked. “Will you accept this ring, accept me , and marry me?” He took out the ring and held it to her. It was a single pearl inlaid in gold, with a diamond set on either side. Perfect, and simple, and gorgeous.

Kagome’s eyes grew wide and filled with tears. “Inuyasha,” she said chokingly, “before you, I couldn’t—I couldn’t tell anyone how I felt. But with you—with you I feel like—like I can say anything. You make me—you make me confident. And I never thought—well, I hoped, but I didn’t really think—that leaving you little baskets and notes would lead us here.”

He smiled indulgently. “What is your answer then, koishii?” he asked her, his voice full of emotions she couldn’t quite place.

Kagome leapt into his arms and kissed him deeply. He moaned with surprise and opened his mouth to her when she pushed at his lips with her tongue. She explored it, massaging his fangs, pressing all of herself into him. When she pulled back, they were both breathless and panting. Kagome grinned at him dazedly and held out her hand, wiggling the fourth finger.

“Yes,” she said, “yes, Inuyasha. Yes, I would love to marry you.”

He kissed her again, and again, and again; she responded eagerly, forcing him down to the tatami and covering his body with hers. 

“You know, Kagome,” he said, stopping her for a moment and taking her by the hand, “I never thought I would give this to anyone. That I would find someone that I would want to give it to. And now, here you are, and you’re fucking amazing and perfect, and I’m so fucking in love with you I can’t see straight.” He paused, snuggled her in close, then drew her up for a tender, sweet, kiss.

“You’ve given me so much, Kagome,” he whispered. “But honestly? You’re the best gift of all.”

Kagome smiled and touched her lips to his in response. “No, Inuyasha,” she breathed, “it’s us. You...and me...together. We’re the best gift of all.”