Disclaimer: I don't own Inu x Boku SS. Because I'm a delinquent.
Author's Note: My friends and I put together a whole collection of SouRiri smut ideas, because very few characters in the history of anything have ever needed to get it on as badly as they do. :I
Warnings: Fluffy smut. Poor editing. Based on the anime, because the manga makes me want to curl up in a corner and die. \8D/ Also, a shout-out to a rather popular SNL song. (I don't own that, either.)
Dedication: For Hannah and Ashleigh. Hannah, congrats on graduating! I'm so proud of you. Ashleigh, thank you for watching this series with me! I am proud of you, too, haha. XD
"…what the hell is this."
Head cocked, Miketsukami graces his blanching charge with the most innocuous of his smiles, his innocent visage seemingly surrounded by sweet sparkles and black glitter. "Why, it's cake, Miss Ririchiyo," he cheerfully explains, gesturing again towards the plate he'd set in front of his mistress. And indeed, that's what it is. But for some reason, his explanation doesn't seem to improve his charge's sour mood...
"That's not what I meant!" Ririchiyo barks, her very pale features heating with a vengeance as she snaps an irate stare at her boyfriend. Not far behind him, very obviously eavesdropping, the other residents of Ayakashi Kan are smirking into their suppers, trying vainly to swallow giggles along with their rice. "I meant, what the hell is this?"
"Hm?" Still adorably bemused, Miketsukami leans over to better see what Ririchiyo's trembling finger is pointing at. "That would be icing, my dear."
She resists the urge to smack him. Somehow.
"I'm talking about the message in the icing and you know it!"
"Ahhh." The bodyguard nods, as if he'd only just come to understand the source of his lover's distress. Right. Ririchiyo's expression grows all the more pained as Soushi's blossoms into an even brighter beam. "It seems that Mr. Natsume and Mr. Kagerou, from whom this cake was a gift, were kind enough to have it inscribed with a celebratory message."
With a mounting sense of dread, the young teen glances from her cake to her agent and back again, violet eyes slowly tracing the three letters that decorate her slice. She doesn't even need to see the full dessert; that one word is more than enough. Within moments, Ririchiyo's face has turned the same color as a cherry. A popped cherry, one might even say. "…and by… celebratory message… please tell me you don't mean…"
"Congratulations on finally consummating your relationship! It's about time, you know~?"
With his usual randomness, Natsume pops into view from across the table, felt ears bouncing as he giggles and grins. In one of his hands, he holds aloft half of a silver tray; Kagerou has clasped the second handle, and together they show off their rather inappropriate gift. Behind them, nonchalant as you please, Karuta and Sorinozuka pull the tabs off of party poppers, showering the place in confetti. Nearby, the imaginative Nobara is about a minute away from becoming anemic; Watanuki is very determinedly muttering about how delinquents don't wear paper crowns, even as Karuta drops her popper's pink one on his head. "Unfortunately, we couldn't fit all of that onto this wee dessert, so we went with the far-more concise, 'Congrats on the Sex,'" the red headed agent sunnily explains, perky as ever. "And we mean it, darling"
"Chocolate cake is sweet, but full of calories. It's a sadist!" Kagerou cackles and croons, looking—as usual— unnecessarily proud of himself for yet another pointlessly shared sexual assessment. "A sadist, just like Soushi! Soushi, with whom you earlier engaged in intercourse! My fiancée, I hope you made sure to utilize the ball gag I gifted you not long back!"
…no. No, this is not happening.
"I… you… what?!" With a bone-chilling horror that turns her insides into wet jelly, Ririchiyo gawks at each of her friends, literally seconds away from collapsing into a shrieking heap of embarrassment. She's always known the other residents were the nosy sort, but this is…! "W-why— How did you even—?!"
"Oh, silly girl. Why are you so surprised?" Like the happy bunny he is, Natsume chuckles, serpentine smile slitting his cheeks as he waves a dismissive hand. All the while, Ririchiyo struggles not to faint from the sheer awkwardness of everything. "Have you forgotten so quickly? I see all, don't you know~"
"Also, the elevator kinda holds a smell," Sorinozuka adds, casually picking a bit of confetti out of his udon.
As the other members of the complex snort and smile and share knowing nods, Soushi's features gain a delicate blush—one that would have been much more at home on the cheeks of a school girl. He bows his head, caught off-guard and visibly flustered. And well he should be, his girlfriend seethes. This is mortifying! Infuriating! Beyond rude! Though there is some comfort, Ririchiyo supposes, in the fact that her lover is obviously as offended as she i—
"You are all very kind to so openly and enthusiastically support our relationship," the secret service agent murmurs, his lilted voice a trifle choked. But not—Ririchiyo is forced to note— from anger or repulsion. Oh no. Such emotions would denote the capacity to feel shame. How could she forget that Soushi barely knows the meaning of the word? No, rather than react to a congratulatory confection about coitus like a normal person, her bodyguard opts to sound genuinely touched. Because yeah. He would be touched by something like this. Ririchiyo's head meets the table; she is ready to die and be reincarnated, now, please. "Your thoughtfulness means the world to a lowly dog such as myself. I thank you from the bottom of my heart."
"Oh, Sou," Natsume giggles, dancing gaily over to his childhood friend's side, "you're so naughty~"
"Fuckin' pervert, you mean."
"Now, now, Watanuki, no need to act jealous~! I'm sure you'll get to try Karuta's muffin someday."
"Y-y-y-you're all perverts!"
"That should not be surprising, as I have already admitted as much and have opted to bear the dishonor."
"Ha! And now, you truly are a fucking pervert!"
"Mr. Kagerou, your wordplay is as choice as always."
"Ah, look here! My fiancée has been rendered speechless by shock! Surprise is unquestionably sadistic!"
"So, Miketsukami, I know you can't do tentacles, but…"
"… Ririchiyo? …you gonna eat your cake…?"
"W...What do you think of this dress…?"
"Why, Miss Ririchiyo…! It's entirely becoming."
"Oh, very much so, yes! As in, it will be coming off. Entirely. And, soon after, you will be c—"
"Don't finish that sentence."
She considers pressing it again—that imaginary button, hidden somewhere between the jut of his hip and the bone of his pelvis. She thinks about, if only for a moment, as she pointedly inches her bodyguard towards the wall, her rounded nails digging into the softness of his forearms. She mulls, and the idea unknowingly darkens her violet gaze. In their amethyst reflection, the poor boy looks wholly confused, his mind trying to piece together how his charge had gone from playfully shoving him towards the door to genuinely manhandling him. Still, both know that Soushi would never lift a finger to resist Ririchiyo, whatever her desires; he allows her to push him flush to cold plaster with little more than a noise of surprise and bewilderment.
"Miss Ririchi…?" Soushi begins— but his girlfriend chooses that moment to wiggle a tiny finger beneath the hem of his slacks. In half an instant, his spine has gone ridged. His features are on fire. Words are a strange and impossible concept. And when Ririchiyo's hand wriggles against his pelvis, he swears he feels his heart stop.
The agent cuts himself off with a faint, canine whimper—almost pained as his heart slams repeatedly against his ribcage. Tha-thumptha-thumptha-thump-oh... His groaning grows louder when his girlfriend inadvertently tickles a sensitive patch upon his side, her eager digits working his pants an indecent inch downward.
Her pulling; her panting; her bright-eyed determination… It's nearly too much.
"…?" Rendered speechless by surprise and uncertainty, the guard is reduced to asking questions with his eyes— wide and baffled and warm and concerned— as a shaky breath rattles his chest. He isn't the only one to blush. As usual, half-way into a meaningful task, Ririchiyo feels doubts between to muddle her mind and still her progress… But no, not this time. Not this time. Her hands may be useless, unsteady messes against his waist, but… Biting down on the full of a pink lip, the girl swallows, tightens her grip, and leans slowly over—ever so careful, the glossy curtain of her locks slipping silkily over her shoulders…
"…" She kisses it. The 'button.' With a nip of teeth and a flick of tongue, before glancing up through her lashes at her quavering boyfriend, a timid hunger glowing darkly in the midnight depths of her gaze.
"I… I want to enjoy whatever that activates, now."
"Has Miss Ririchiyo any specific desires for supper tonight?"
"Not really. Whatever you want is fine with me."
"Y-you would really give your humble servant permission to choose…? Oh, oh Miss Ririchiyo—!"
"M-Miketsukami—! It's not a big deal, honestly…! You can let go of me now, geez…"
"Well, then… Miss Ririchiyo? Tonight, I want to eat out."
"Yeah, sure, whatever. I told you, anything is fi— woah! M-M-Miketsukami, what're you—?! Get out from beneath my skir—! Ah…!"
They work their way through the usual scenarios: nurse and patient, butler and mistress, jailer and prisoner. Ririchiyo— being Ririchiyo— takes it upon herself to create a cabinet full of complex personal backstories for each assumed character; Soushi—being Soushi—studies his charge's work with great eagerness, and even helps by finding appropriate (or inappropriate) costumes to utilize. There are props, too, of course, handmade and treasured: the bodyguard once completes 2 hours of math homework assigned at breakfast, nodding in happy agreement when his soon-to-be 'teacher' reasons, "We'll need something to work on in class, won't we? Or why would we be in class at all?"
(The mounting anticipation as she meticulously scours his work for algebraic and geometric mistakes makes the 'lesson' which follows all the sweeter. Never mind that he has red ink stains in unmentionable places for the next week.)
At one point, they even choose to relive that old game of House, relishing the fact that they can be as "weirdly graphic" as they want in the privacy of the bedroom. Round one, and courier service Soushi successfully delivers his big package; round two, and Ririchiyo's 'pet dog' is grinding himself against her leg, whimpering and whining until she's on all fours, as well.
(His possessive growls echo hotly in her ear, low and feral and as greedy as the arm he curls around her waist. He nips at her neck with a sound like a bark, and Ririchiyo's knees grow weak in ways she'll never, ever admit to. Though, from her wanton keening and the eager, backwards buck of her hips, Soushi can guess.)
Still, neither enjoys themselves as much as they do on the day Ririchiyo realizes they've yet to play the most obvious rendition of that game. At the time, it's little more than a whim, a passing thought… But something that should be rectified, she figures, for the sake of thoroughness. So when her boyfriend drops by to collect her, shopping list in hand, she greets him with her hair in a hankie and an apron around her hips, offering a smile and a (mildly flustered), "W-welcome back, dear. How… was your day?"
For a moment, Soushi merely gawks at her. Understandable, really, since it's 3 in the afternoon and she'd given him no forewarning about this change in their plans. That said, her guard is as quick as a fox (no pun intended), and it doesn't take him long to piece together the situation. The dawn of realization is accompanied by a look of heart-rendering adoration, his features turning a precious pink as his eyes catch upon her fake wedding band. It's nearly too much to handle as it is; the poor boy almost faints outright when— after shuffling shyly over to peck him on the cheek— his girlfriend slyly slips a ring of his own onto his hand. Plastic and cheap, perhaps, but… Bless this girl and her love of details. "W-would you l-like dinner first, or a bath first, or…?"
(They're in bed before she can finish that sentence.)
And in the wake of what is unquestionably the best sex they've ever had, Ririchiyo curls atop her boyfriend's chest, frowns a trifle, and laments, "But… what will we play when we're actually married?"
(He's so happy, he starts to cry.)
"M… Miketsukami, I don't… I don't think I can do this…"
"Miss Ririchiyo, I promise you, it is all right. I am far more durable than an average human male, after all. I doubt there is anything you could do that would actually harm me."
"Yes, but… I…"
"It's fine. Truly."
"B-but… That… that is… oh, okay! This is so… stupid... Argh! Um, I guess… Y-you… you idiot stalker. I, er, order you t-to… to make me… tea?"
"... I really can't do this."
"Do you need a demonstration on how to properly…?"
"No! No, I just—! I… I mean, I- I know you want me to, and I want to... to do the things you want, but…"
"My dear, I don't want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable."
"I know, but… I'm sorry. After you went through all the trouble of borrowing one of Natsume's whips… But Miketsukami, I… I can't stand the thought of hurting you. Even if it's pretend or… or…"
"It's just… You've been hurt so much already. And you've spent so much time in captivity and bondage and I…"
"I've ruined the whole evening, I know! I promised I'd try this, and I wanted to make you happy! I really did! But I know how much you already hate yourself, and I just can't—! I can't stand saying anything that would make you think that way anymore than you already do! But I— woah…!"
"Miss Ririchiyo, you…!"
"Mi- Miketsukami…? Are you—? Why're you crying?!"
"'Ruin the evening'…? Oh, silly girl— you did no such thing…! If anything, you… you…"
"…I love you."
"Huh? l- I love you, too…?"
"I love you. I love you so much…"
"I… um… so... you're not mad…?"
"Mad? Oh, no. No, quite the opposite...! Little butterfly, you're truly… Well, never mind. Of course we don't have to try S&M, my dear. But we can still use the rope that Mr. Kagerou gifted me, yes? That much should be fine, don't you think? If it's just my wrists?"
"…how about I wear the dominatrix outfit and we call it even."
"That seems more than fair."
He deflowers her carefully—in every sense of the word.
With tentative touches. With haunting caresses. The camellia blossom artfully twined around the base of her horn is lovingly set aside, lest its petals get bent or damaged in the wake of what's to come. Ginger fingers trace the ribbed curve of the otherworldly protrusion, tickling the pallid line where bone meets flesh. She shivers at the intimate intrusion, but leans into his hand all the same: practically purring as tender skin is stroked. A keen, and already her cheeks have flushed a ruddy rose, as if to match the curve of her breasts.
She treats his many tails in kind. Knees splayed on either side of his thighs, the girl reaches around to firmly stroke from base to tip. Base to tip. Base to tip and back again, nine separate times. It amuses her, the way they independently undulate. Fascinates her. She tries to wrap her fingers around the full width of each, but—as with other things—can't seem to manage… So she molests what she can, almost giggling when they writhe wildly within her palms: quivering with all manner of poorly-suppressed power, anticipation, delight. His ears flick. He chokes on a moan. The glossy fur shines like silk in the inner shadows of the park's cement play structure; the final rays of sunset turn the whole of their special hideaway a glowing gold.
Though her bodyguard had stalked her down like a dog— had practically tackled his prey when she'd tried to hide, then flee— now that their hunting game is over, Soushi is again more protector than predator. And she loves him for that. For both sides of him. For all sides of him. For the cunning and the skill and the sorrow and the desperate desire and the way his cheeks turn cherry red, his mismatched eyes wide and innocent and needy as she takes the tip of one tail into her mouth and gently suckles.
His gasp makes her hips dip of their own accord.
And then he is kissing her: forehead, crown, horns. His lips and tongue trace the circumference of their sensitive bases, eliciting shudders and tingles and wheedled whines and yes and there and please…! Before either fully realizes it, they've begun to move: up and down and back and forth and his shoulders are grinding against the grainy wall as they nuzzle-nestle-rubrubrub against one another, kimonos rustling and getas clattering… And there is a lingering undercurrent of freedom here, in the safety of the dark. In this place where they'd first confessed, first kissed… Where they are first seeing each other, free of clothes and mortal disguises. True to themselves—and to each other—in every way possible.
"Miss Ririchiyo, you really don't have to…!"
"I want to, so be quiet."
"B-B-But Miss Ririchiyo, for you to do such a thing…"
"I said, be quiet! And you do this to me all the time!"
"Yes, but my only desire in life is to please you. Besides, a servant's place is on his knees. For my mistress to act in such a way—! Unthinkable! I am not worthy, and— an— ah…! Oh… O-oh, y-you really d-don't… i-it… it isn't… isn't necessa… hng…"
"Miss Ririchi…oh… oh, y-you nee… needn't—!"
"—Miketsukami, please! Won't you just let me?! Is… Is it that I'm bad at this, or something…?"
"N-no, not at all…! Quite the… the opposite… As in all things, Miss Ririchiyo is s-skilled and… a-an…d… oh. B-but… I'm afraid y-you might… nnn— g-gag or… C-careful! Don't choke—!"
"…Miketsukami. If you don't shut up and just enjoy this… I'll say it."
"—! No, p-please don't! It's… it's too much… If you say it, I'll—!"
"I will. I'll say it."
"T-that will bring things… to an end… very qu-quickly…"
"Then let me do this."
"B-but… but Miss Ririch— h-hah… I m-mmm… merely a… a… ah! D-don't, you'll hurt yoursel—!"
"…oh no. Please, d—!"
There are days she thinks he'd meant it when he said he wanted to become her dog: days she discovers him already on his knees outside her door, waiting with the same affectionate anticipation as a puppy. Days when Ririchiyo can almost see his tails wagging in the wake of attention; days his ears droop when she leaves. Days when he greets her by thrusting his face full into her crotch, nose nudging away lace panties before the doors even have a chance to close.
On these days especially, his tongue is certainly as eager as a dog's.
"Hey, Ririchiyo…! It looks like you dropped a letter. From… Miketsukami?"
"—ah! S- S- Sorinozuka! D-Don't read tha—!"
"Aw, why're you writing to each other? Did you need to apologize for som…? …oh. Oh."
"I said don't read it!Give it here—!"
"…you know, it'd be a lot easier to try sexting—"
"It's none of your business!"
"I was… I was talking to Natsume the other day…"
"May I ask what about?"
"It's—it's kind of silly, really. I mean, it doesn't matter…"
"If it did not matter, you would not have brought it up."
"W-well… He was telling me about our people. You know, humans descended from youkai. And how, after we die, we're reincarnated— over and over. Like, in our next lives, we'll have the same looks and personalities. Sometimes, we even share our incarnation's memories."
"Yes, I am aware. But what of it, Miss Ririchiyo?"
"I was just… I was thinking about that today. About time. And about… about you. And me. A-and… and us."
"I mean, I know it's stupid. I—I won't really be me, will I, after I die. And you won't really be you, but… But the thought of… And to think that, in the past, maybe we… or, those versions of us didn't… Or in the future, we might not…"
"And I just— I don't know! It doesn't seem right, but I—!"
She is silenced by surprise—by her name—by his lips: the gentlest brush of satin against her own, warm and soft and smiling. A hand half-twined in her hair lifts to cup her cheek; the trailing touch of tender fingers calms the girl's fears, but not her heart. Rather, the latter begins to race again—if for new reasons, this time. New, yet familiar. Nostalgic and sweet: a sort of longing that sets her soul on edge. Twists it. Cracks it, just a bit. A throb and an ache, and the intensity of it all lingers as a poignant, nearly palpable pain… But the agony is beautiful, precious. Fragile and cherished. Ririchiyo shifts atop her lover's bare chest, breast to breast beneath the blankets.
He beams. And in the reverential curve of his grin, she senses the gravity of the situation: the way that time weighs on him, as well; how the idea of being apart from her fills him with anxiety. Yet, even still… The tears in his eyes are not ones of sorrow, or hurt, or dismay.
"I love you," he whispers, and the conviction in that vow is enough to leave her breathless. Dread and uncertainty drain in much the same way as strength: in a sudden rush that leaves her body feeling so light, the young woman is afraid that she might float away. So she clings to him, desperate, never wanting to let go. Never wanting to leave him. Never wanting to forget.
His arms curl around her in kind, and she knows she never will.
"I love you, little butterfly. And I will love you always."
The crack in her soul widens. Like a chrysalis— waiting for something beautiful to emerge.
And for a moment, she can see him— but not him, see through him— and there is a shrine, a trickling waterfall, a crystalline pool… tangled legs and shed kimonos; water and sunshine the color of his eyes, and she nearly drowns in all three. A rendezvous lit by paper lanterns… a promise beneath a cherry blossom tree. An ancient castle—a primeval village— a shared hut on the edge of a forest, modest and dear, where camellias bloom in the shadow of an emerald summer.
Fly away with me, little butterfly.
Ririchiyo smiles. There is no need to be afraid.
Ours is the story of a long, long time.
"…I love you, too."