The Burning of Their Blood

A Ranma ½ Romance

By

Jeremy Harper

Disclaimer – Ranma ½ is the creation of Rumiko Takahashi and is used without permission.

Chapter 3

Ranma hesitated before Akane's bedroom door, half-raising his hand to knock, and with a sigh decided against it. No doubt Akane was furious with him – he was honestly surprised she had not been lying in wait for him when he returned to the house – and did not want to start a fight so late at night. He walked into his bedroom, hands in pockets, shoulders slumped, and glared down at his pop, who was grumbling and snoring in his panda form. Scowling, Ranma snagged a blanket off his futon and headed to the dojo. The presence of others grated on his hyper-sensitive nerves, making him seek out solitude. The only person's presence he wanted right now was Akane's, and he was absolutely certain she wanted nothing to do with him.

He sat down in the dojo and leaned back against a wall with his blanket wrapped around him, staring into the dark. After he had fled from Akane he had wandered aimlessly around Nerima for hours, grappling with the feelings she had invoked in him. He had thought what he had experienced previously had been intense – Ranma chuckled darkly. Those feelings were but a lit match compared to the inferno ignited by the startled glittering look in her eyes and her soft, liquid moan.

Ranma shivered, throwing his blanket from him and pressed clenched fists against his eyes. Unbidden, the memory of her body pressed against him, firm and soft and lithe, enveloped him. His breath grew harsh and ragged, and his arms ached with the need to hold her. He leaped to his feet and stalked around the training hall like a hunting tiger, blood coursing molten through his veins. He never wanted anything more than he wanted Akane. He desired her more than mastery of his art or victory in combat or even a cure for his curse. Ranma fell to his knees, his eyes shut tight. A hungry, longing groan rumbled out of him. He wanted Akane so bad, but for the life of him he did not know if she reciprocated the feeling. Had it been passion he had seen in her eyes, or fear? Had she moaned in desire, or because he had scared her?

"Akane," Ranma muttered, tucking his legs beneath him Indian-style as he attempted to summon the Soul of Ice to quell the fire raging through him. "Akane, what the hell am I going to do?" He grappled with the heat of his lust futilely; coldness refused to cloak him, his Soul of Ice melting beneath the flames of his passion. His stomach churned and his heart beat savagely against his ribs. With a growl he gained his feet and walked to a wall, pressing a hand against it and bowing his head, eyes shut tight as he realized just how damn hard he was, his cock as stiff and unyielding as a rod of adamant, aching with need. He hissed, fumbling at the drawstrings of his pants, yanking them and his boxers down and kicking them away. He pressed his forehead against the wall as he worked himself, all the while thinking of Akane. She had felt so good in his arms today... He wanted her so bad. He wanted her mouth, her body, wanted to be enveloped by the passion she possessed and to know that she desired him as much as he did her. Ranma's memory flew back to the first day they met, when she had walked into the bath gloriously naked...

Ranma groaned and shuddered as he spilled out on the wall. He stood breathing heavily for a few moments then shook his head and laughed bleakly. God, Akane's right. I am a damn pervert. Ranma stepped back, his fires abated yet he felt empty and hopeless. It was so stupid, wanting something he could never have; Akane was somehow miraculously his friend, but he doubted she would ever want to be more that.

Akane huddled beneath her covers, knowing Ranma was standing outside her bedroom door, and she held her breath as she waited for him to do something. Finally she heard him quietly pad away. She sighed, not certain whether to feel relieved or disappointed. She rolled onto her back, staring up at her shadow-striped ceiling as she tried to bring to order the turmoil of her thoughts and emotions.

You're very cute when you fight, Akane. She shivered from the memory of his husky voice. Ranma's eyes had shone like sapphires when he said that. She had felt exposed under his gaze, yet strangely not vulnerable. Something within her, powerful and primal, had opened in response to the heat of his look, like a flower blossoming in the light of the sun.

But then, when he seemed about to kiss her, the light in his eyes extinguished and he fled from her, leaving her shaking and burning with the realization that she wanted him to kiss her, and that she very much wanted to kiss him back. Why did he suddenly stop and run away? He had looked almost afraid. Akane's face crumpled slightly and she turned onto her right side. She hated to admit it, but he had just cause to be worried about her reaction to his advances. She experienced a brief moment of resentment – did Ranma not expect her to be wary, after all the times he toyed with her emotions? But that spark was quickly smothered by a far greater heat.

Akane shifted onto her back again, cast off her covers and wrapped herself in her arms as she trembled from the fire burning within her. She sat up, skinning out of her yellow ruffled pajama top and tossing it to the floor. She dropped back to the mattress, hiking up her hips and pulling off her bottoms and panties and throwing them aside. Shedding her sleep clothes did nothing to cool her – she felt even hotter than before, and she was honestly surprised her bed did not ignite beneath her burning skin. The memory of Ranma's body pressing against her, so lean and strong, kept rising to the forefront of her thought, a beautiful torment. From past experiences Akane knew there was only one way to quench the fire wonderfully torturing her. Her left hand began skimming over her body, trying to replicate Ranma's touch, while her right hand crept down toward the warm wetness centered between her thighs.

She lost herself in her touch and her dreams, imagining what could have happened if Ranma had not run. She tried to control her voice, pursing her lips tight, but soft little gasps still escaped her. Finally Akane rolled over on her belly, propping herself on her knees and a forearm and bit her pillowcase to muffle herself. The wall between her and Nabiki's room was thin, and Akane did not want to deal with the merciless teasing that would ensue if her older sister overheard her. Now she allowed herself to be completely immersed in fantasy, imagining Ranma touching her, kissing her, making her ache and burn beautifully. She shuddered hard, her pillow stifling her moans, and she collapsed boneless, breathing heavily.

Akane languidly rolled onto her back, her eyes glittering slits, feeling sated for now yet ultimately unsatisfied. You're very cute when you fight, Akane. Had he meant that? She did not know, but hoped that, maybe for once, he was not playing a game.

Author's Note – Thanks once again to Pursemonger for her proofreading and suggestions.