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Sesshoumaru's Curse	By : SkyFire Category: InuYasha > General > DarkFic Views: 1092 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Sesshoumaru's Curse
- 1
Sesshoumaru's Curse

by SkyFire (LJ: rabid_plotbunny)
Rating: PG13/R

Summary: After his encounter with Sesshoumaru, the monk Ungai can't get the demon off his mind. Is it a curse, or something darker?

Pairing(s): Possible Ungai/Sesshoumaru...?

Warning(s): Psychosis? More warnings in later chapters.
Notes: Takes place after the (anime) episode titled 'Forever with Lord Sesshoumaru'.
Disclaimer: I don't own InuYasha or any of its characters and no money is being made.
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Sesshoumaru's Curse
Part 1
It was only a matter of days after their encounter that the monk known as Ungai came to the conclusion that not only had the demon in question not been purified at the hands and powers of he and his acolytes but that the damned demon had actually managed to curse him.
Him!
Him, Ungai, known far and wide for the skill, power, and determination to purify all youkai and other evil beings he found and send them to the netherworld where they belonged.
Shameful as it was to admit that a demon had managed to curse him so, it was the only conclusion he could find. Why else would his usually-restful meditation slip away with his shattered concentration at the mere memory of pale skin and flashing golden eyes? Why else would his body react as it had not in longer than he could remember? Why else would he remember those sharp magenta stripes against cream-pale skin and find himself wondering if there might be more hidden away under those layers of armor and fine silk?
Granted, he couldn't sense any demonic energy lingering on him, tainting him, but that only proved that the demon was wily and powerful enough to conceal it. The fact that he could not recall seeing the demon casting the curse told him that the cowardly youkai had simply cast it from hiding.
Once he realized the truth of his cursed state, he wasted no time in plastering himself with his strongest sacred sutras and leading his somewhat demoralized group - it was their first defeat, their first failure, after all - back to the mountains and the hidden temple that served as home.
Once there he fasted, bathed in blessed waters, and performed countless curse-breaking and cleansing rituals, but the memories and inappropriate thoughts refused to be banished.
After a week in isolation, the pale demon - Lord Sesshoumaru, the little girl had called him, hadn't she? - was in his thoughts even more than before.
He, who had always taken pride in his unmatched ability to find and eliminate all traces of demons and their influence, could not break the demon's spell.
Clearly, this so-called 'Lord' Sesshoumaru was even more powerful than he had first thought. But even so, no mere demon, no matter how beauti- uh, powerful, was going to best him more than once.
So.
If he couldn't remove the curse - and the persistent memory of those icy-gold eyes revealed that more than plainly enough - then he would use it to his benefit instead. He would take it, twist it, and make it his.
Every time his thoughts were disrupted by those cold golden eyes, he pictured them widening in shock and pain as he was purified. The stripes that wrapped sensually around that solitary wrist brought to mind the marks that would be left by sutra-reinforced shackles. Pale, creamy skin was given a coat of blood and bruises, as was that too-pretty-to-be-male face.
Before long, he didn't even have to think about it; every memory automatically being painted with his own power, dominance, and superiority over the demon.
But the curse was strong and it wasn't long before new images had his body reacting the same, if not even stronger, than before.
It was nothing short of infuriating!
He was Ungai! He should not be defeated by some demon's pathetic curse! With that in mind he redoubled his efforts, oblivious to the way his concerned acolytes had begun to keep their distance as the obsess- curse deepened, whispering to each other about possession and madness when they thought he wouldn't hear.
What nensense. He wasn't mad. He was cursed!
It was about that time that the curse started adding in the full-length image of the so-called 'Lord', standing there in icy, proud perfection, his haughty arrogance wrapped around him like that ridiculous fur.
And so once again he took the image and twisted it, made it his own.
That tall, straight stance was the first to go; reshaped on his mental canvas to leave the damnable creature cringing in the dirt. He made rags of the fine silk; such fine, expensive cloth should never be polluted by being turned into raiment for a creature of Hell that mocked all goodly humans with his shameless playing at being noble. He painted blood and bruises across the pale skin, dirtied the silky hair and fur. Bound those long limbs with chains reinforced with a dozen sutras. Touched icy gold with a coat of fear and humiliation.
For almost a week the new image kept the curse steady; it neither got better nor worsened. His meditations and rest were still being constantly interrupted by the images and his solutions, and his dreams were full of them. As before, he no longer had to think about it before his own 'corrections' to the images were applied, but they were disruptive nonetheless.
Then one night his subconscious mind apparently sensed an increase in the strength of the curse and reacted as it had been trained.
That night Ungai startled awake in the throes of a world-shattering orgasm and the memory of the beaten, defeated, collared demon cringing away from his pure holy light, once-perfect lips split, bruised, and begging 'Please, Master...'
Oh, yes.
Finally, he had defeated the curse. Or it would be, he now realized, once he made the real demon mirror the one he had created.
He already knew where to get the chains; there were plenty of them in the storage rooms, left over from a time when he still used to think that demons were not entirely evil, back when he had thought that they could be reasoned with. He had been young and foolish but not stupid and those sutra-reinforced, thrice-blessed chains were the strongest that anyone could acquire. Also down there were blessed, power-infused rosaries and staves to replace the ones destroyed by the demon's power; stronger, as well.
Armed with those chains and holy items, there would be no repeat of their failure.
Decided, he cleansed his body of the evidence of his epiphany and went back to bed, settling in to the first deep, dreamless sleep that he had had since they first encountered the wily demon.
First thing in the morning, he and his acolytes would head out demon-hunting once more.
No, not demon-hunting. Sesshoumaru-hunting.
The thought of the end of the hunt was making him hard already.
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TBC...?
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Sesshoumaru's Curse