Adult-FanFiction.org : Inuyasha / Yashahime

Undenied	By : TheHatterTheory Category: InuYasha > Het - Male/Female > Sessh?maru/Kagome > Sessh?maru/Kagome Views: 5546 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own thr rights to Inu Yasha, nor am I making any money from this piece.

Chapter List
- 1-Pt 1
- 2-Pt 2
- 3-Pt 3
- 2
- 3
Standard disclaimers apply. I own nothing.

They were ambling along quietly. The mood of the group seemed largely subdued. Since that night in the rain, she hadn't been able to muster the strength to argue with Inu Yasha, and despite his initial impatience with her despondency, he'd laid off and let her stew in her own depression. Miroku had said nothing to her about the night she'd bawled like a child in his arms, and she was grateful he didn't press for details. Sango gently inquired from time to time, and she always fended off the questions with a forced smile.
Shippou was another matter. He knew she was sad, and in his naivete, he blamed the hanyou. The kit's pranks were childish and petty, but they did lighten the mood from time to time. If nothing else they distracted the others from her own visible sadness.
“Goddamnit,” Inu Yasha muttered, pulling Tessaiga from it's sheath. She looked up, wondering what he was cursing about. Then she felt the undeniable flavor of his aura. Instantly her heart clenched painfully, refusing to work properly as the small group of travelers came into sight. Most easily spotted was the daiyoukai himself, standing out from the green landscape like a patch of snow.
Shippou shouted happily, bouncing from his spot on Kirara and careening headlong into the other group. Rin slid from Ah Un and began chattering excitedly, her high piping voice mixing with the kitsune's. As they drew nearer, she tried not to hope, but it flickered dimly anyway, resisting her best efforts to extinguish it.
“Sesshoumaru,” Inu Yasha snapped.
The daiyoukai said nothing as he walked past them, eyes fixed forward. There was nothing to suggest he recognized her, nothing to hint that he even cared that she existed.
“Rin, come along. Sesshoumaru-sama will leave you behind otherwise,” Jaken squawked angrily, shaking the staff in his hand threateningly.
She stopped, watching his back as he continued.
He didn't turn. He didn't even slow. He just kept walking, ignoring them completely, seemingly oblivious to the presence of his ward and the imp trying to catch up to him.
“What a jerk!” Shippou huffed angrily as the other travelers became nothing more than small dots in the distance. “I hope he sits on a sword someday.”
“Keh, he's always been an asshole. We're not good enough for the likes of a pure bred like him,” Inu Yasha snapped as they continued on. She followed behind, walking a little more slowly. Grateful for the wide linen sleeves of the kimono to hide her hands in, she ran her palms over her arms, shuddering as Inu Yasha began ranting about his half brother.
Every word was a blow, a knife wound into her chest, and yet the hanyou continued on, utterly oblivious. The others agreed with him from time to time, or brought up their own points. When asked, she made affirmative noises, hands gripping her arms tightly.
When she looked at them later that night, she realized in her effort to control her tears, she'd left ugly, deep bruises. Where they overlapped the brands, the lines were all the more vivid, almost mocking.

She watched his fist disappear into the strange youkai, a sense of triumph welling through her. In the next instant, the triumph shattered as thick spikes erupted from Magtasuhi's back, impaling themselves in Sesshoumaru's arm. Immediately the flesh blackened and putrefied.
It didn't matter that he'd avoided her, that he had ended everything and ignored her the few times they had crossed paths in the past few weeks. In that moment her heart stopped beating as she began stumbling towards the pair, summoning her reiki and hoping she could do something to help him, needing to do something.
“You are weak,” The youkai hissed, red eyes filled with cold mirth as the spikes slid out, retracting back into the creature's body.
A wave of youki surged through the valley, and her scars burned in response, flashing hotly and feeling like ribbons over her skin, giving her pause. Her arms hugged her body as the warmth surged through her, and she watched, stunned, as his arm healed itself in the split second it took for the youki to wash over them and then pull back. It was more than just healing his arm, it was a declaration of his power.
A hundred different tentacles, all seeming to belong to one youkai or another, but none matching, exploded and wrapped the daiyoukai in their grasp. Within seconds he was entirely hidden from view, wrapped in the ever tightening coils of Magatsuhi.
“Sesshoumaru!” She screamed, fear sending her scrambling over rocks again, towards where the slithering mass of appendages held the daiyoukai.
A pulse of youki sent her to her knees, the ribbons of heat returning, and she had the strangest feeling that he knew she was afraid, and did not appreciate her lack of faith in his abilities in the least.
Rarely had she seen him in his true form, and as the tentacles stretched and snapped, tried to compensate for the sudden size they were trying to hold, she watched in awe as he emerged, red eyes blazing angrily.
Nodding once and steeling her shoulders, she pulled an arrow from her quiver and took aim, hoping to hit the tentacles still flying through the air, trying to trap him. Inu Yasha was shouting in the distance, telling Sesshoumaru not to be stupid and let him do his job. Sesshoumaru's hulking form sailed gracefully through the air, and she had shot a second arrow when he took Magatsuhi's head in his jaws.
The body collapsed, and miasma exploded everywhere. Immediately she covered her face and ran for Sango and Miroku, who were shielding Shippou, Rin and Jaken. Kirara roared angrily, allowing her back into the circle.
The tentacles wrapped around Sesshoumaru, and she reminded herself that he was strong, that he would endure, and would not appreciate her worrying over him. However, where her arrows touched, the ki in them sparked and died, like a small bolt of electricity fizzing into smoke. Hopelessness lanced through her as she shot arrow after arrow, determined to do any damage she could. When she chanced a look at Sesshoumaru, her heart skipped a beat as he fought the tentacles covering him.
“Sesshoumaru-sama,” Rin gasped, sobbing aloud behind her.
“Don't worry Rin, nothing is going to happen to him,” She promised breathlessly as she notched another arrow and let it fly.
There was another pulse of youki that warmed her body and gave her strength. From the corner of her eye, she saw the huge inu disappear in a ball of light, and Sesshoumaru flew out of the mass, Tenseiga at the ready.
“What the hell is he doing?” Sango bit out, watching the daiyoukai move beyond the floating head, sword held high. He brought it down in a long arc, slashing at air.
A shriek pierced the air, Magatasuhi's voice booming above them as a face materialized where Tenseiga had swung, a long slash marring it's round perfection.
“You worthless mutt,” It shrieked, glaring down at Sesshoumaru through it's one good eye.
Tentacles surrounded his body again, this time in force.
Inu Yasha shouted something, but it was fuzzy and muffled as her blood roared in her ears. The jyaki emanating from the head and tentacles was smothering in it's malevolence, bathing her in a wash of sickly nausea. Sesshoumaru disappeared completely, and his youki dimmed to nothing in the mass of coils around his body.
“No!” She screamed, ignoring Sango and Miroku shouting at her as she ran for the writhing limbs caging him in. One of them knocked her back, sending her flying to the ground, her back protesting the scrapes from jagged rocks and the unforgiving earth. Ignoring the pain, she stood and made another run for the daiyoukai, screaming her denial when another coil wrapped around her.
“Your powers should have been sealed, little Ka-Go-Me,” Magatsuhi hissed as she was brought face to face with the normal head that Sesshoumaru had taken only minutes before. Jyaki pushed against her, trying to invade her senses and take over. She could feel it, his evil will just beyond her skin, pushing against it. An angry buzzing filled her ears before a short bark of laughter escaped the disembodied head, followed by another, and then another.
“Oh, this is new,” He hissed in an amused voice, licking his lips. “It seems you have been busy while I was gone. It is of little consequence. He fell to me, so will his protections.”
“He'll beat you,” She gasped, holding on to that thread of hope despite the darkness pressing down on her like a leaden weight. Somewhere in the back of her mind she grasped for Sesshoumaru's aura, searching for him desperately. Not even a flicker of his light remained.
The feel of the poisonous youki buffeted at her, doubling it's efforts to break through whatever was keeping it out. The feel of Sesshoumaru's youki awakened, warmed her skin, then began to burn hotly, as intensely as they had the night he'd given them to her. Screaming in agony, she clenched her eyes shut as light exploded from around her body, the scorching heat reaching her bones and wrapping around her heart.
An angry roar echoed through the valley, and she was falling, plummeting down to the earth. Vaguely aware of the wind pushing against her and her hair tangling in her eyes, she let the cold wash over her, grateful that the ribbons of his youki quieted into a subtle static rushing over her skin. Suddenly cradled against a solid warmth, she looked up, blinking to clear her vision. However, the whiteness didn't abate, but it shimmered and shifted with the wind. Looking further up, she saw she was cradled in his right arm, held to his side carefully.
His left sleeve was so tattered and torn there was only a ragged piece left imitating what had once been a stump, leaving his arm was free of any cloth, cutting wild paths around them as he seemed to glide. Where the sword touched, ash fell in it's wake.
“Thank you,” She whispered. “You let me keep my promise to Rin.”
Darkness crept into the edges of her vision, shadowing the white until there was nothing but a pinpoint of light that wave into the warmth cradling her, and then that too was gone.

She blinked groggily, sitting up and clutching her head. It pounded mercilessly, making her wonder if two particularly angry youkai were having it out over her brain.
“Kagome?” A voice whispered. She looked to her left and saw three pairs of concerned eyes watching her.
“Guys? What happened?” She murmured, shaking her head and trying to clear it of the ache, only making it worse in the process.
“Kagome, your marks,” Sango began, looking at them. She looked down at her arms, glad to find that they hadn't changed.
“How did you come by them?” Miroku asked, eyes meeting her own. There was a curiosity there, flavored by a genuine worry that sent a heavy brick of dread dropping into her stomach. She had avoided saying what the marks were, how she had come by them, and she didn't want to tell now. However, she had the strange feeling that her friends had an idea, at least.
“Why?”
“They reacted in your defense. With youki,” Miroku stated calmly. There was no condemnation in his tone, nothing to suggest he was angry. In fact, if anything he seemed mildly relieved and intensely curious.
“They were a gift,” She said at last.
“That's what Sesshoumaru said,” Sango pointed out. Unlike her lover, her tone held a tinge of anger and suspicion.
“I've never seen marks like that before,” Shippou butted in. “I don't see why Inu Yasha is so mad. They kept her safe, so he should be happy, right? Even if they are Sesshoumaru's.”
Oh no.
“Kagome, how did you come to receive such a-gift?” Miroku asked.
“Does it matter?” She whimpered, hunching her shoulders against Sango's glare.
“It doesn't to me,” He murmured thoughtfully. “But it does to others.”
“Sango?” She finally asked, looking at her friend's cold eyes. “Can you and I go somewhere, away?”
“If you promise to tell me everything,” The taijiya bit out, voice frosty. She nodded, standing shakily. Her headache doubled, then tripled in intensity. Groaning, she clutched her head and bent her neck, a wave of nausea threatening. Stumbling, she followed the other woman out of the hut, noticing that Inu Yasha was nowhere in evidence. Wondering how much he knew, or what he assumed, she climbed onto Kirara. Out of habit she almost circled her arms around her friend's waist to hold on, but refrained when the woman's back stiffened.
“How far?” Sango asked.
“Away from Inu Yasha, he won't understand.”
“I don't understand,” The taijiya muttered as Kirara took flight.
After half an hour, they landed, and by that time the condemning silence was so thick she could choke on it. The only comfort she had was that the headache was gone. They slid off, and Kirara transformed to her natural state. Surprisingly, she coiled around her feet, mewling gently in encouragement. Taking a modicum of strength from the firecat's reassuring warmth, she sat herself and let her curl in her lap. Sango sat across from her, arms folded and expression set in firm, angry lines.
“So.”
“I can't tell you everything,” She sighed. “It's not that I don't want to, it's just that it's not just my secret.”
“Kagome-”
“It's not what you think. We haven't done, well, that,” She offered, flinching at how her words stuttered out. “I don't really understand why he gave me these, or why they reacted like they did. They were a gift. I didn't realize they would protect me though,” She added thoughtfully, tracing one of the spirals on her arms. For the first time in over a month she was able to look at them without the hopelessness that had become an intimate bedfellow.
“Kagome, why would you agree to be marked by a youkai like that? And by Sesshoumaru, he-”
“I care for him,” She shot out breathlessly. “I know it's stupid, please don't tell me it's pointless. I know it is. When he made the offer, I couldn't refuse. It's one of the only things I'll have of him when this is over.”
Sango was silent for several long minutes, each dragging into an eternity. Afraid to look up and see her friend's disapproval, she kept her eyes on Kirara, who was staring up at her with a strange sort of warmth, almost approval.
“He knows, I take it?” Her friend finally sighed.
“I don't know. I think he ended it, he hasn't come for me since he gave me these,” She admitted, the truth hurting even as she said it aloud. “I think he realized how much I cared.”
“I guess he cares too, if he was willing to embed protections into your skin like that. And he did save you.”
That thought was as damning in it's hope as it was wonderful to savor. Shaking her head, she squeezed Kirara gently, nuzzling her face in the soft fur of her ruff.
“Do you know why the marks reacted?” She asked, finally chancing a look up her friend's face.
“I've never seen anything like it,” Sango admitted. “But it's his youki, that much I can tell. I don't know if it reacted to you being in danger or his command, but it kept you safe. I guess I can't really complain, since it kept you alive.”
“Are you angry?”
Sango shook her head again and ran her hand through her hair, tousling it and shrugging.
“I wish you hadn't kept this from us,” The slayer admitted. “But I can understand why you did.”
“Inu Yasha doesn't though.”
“He's still getting over the shock of losing Kikyo, and he probably feels like he lost you too. You might have moved on, but he probably hadn't.”
“What was I supposed to do?” She groaned, feeling selfish despite the circumstances and feeling angry for feeling selfish. Despite the hellish catch twenty two she went on, a spark of righteous indignation giving her words an edge. “Was I supposed to wait for years while he got over Kikyo? I watched him go to her, watched him kiss her, and go back and forth between us. After awhile I got tired of it.”
“You didn't have to go to his brother though.”
“It wasn't intentional,” She shot out, face heating. Not at first anyway.
“I know you can't help who you love,” Sango pointed out. “Kami knows, I wouldn't have fallen for a pervert, at least not at first. But Inu Yasha won't see it that way. And those marks are a sign of choice.”
“Inu Yasha refusing to choose between Kikyo and I was a choice, and I don't begrudge him,” She admitted at last. “But it was his choice. I made one too.”
“So, anything else you can tell me?”
“What do you want to know?”
“How did it start? How did you, you know?”
“Part of it is the secret. But he just wanted to ask me questions, and then it sort of snowballed from there, I guess. We did some- things. When I got these, I thought maybe things had changed for the better. Then he stopped coming for me.”
And that was something she was still having issues dealing with. She told herself that hoping for him to come back had been childish and silly.
And now this. She tried to tell herself it didn't mean anything, that it couldn't.
“And you're okay with it?” Sango asked.
Inhaling deeply, she nodded.
“Why?”
Because it might be her only chance, because somehow, he was her mirror, the other side of the coin. Because each stolen night had ended with her caring a little more, until a little more became too much. Because he had found a way into her heart and claimed it without trying, because he was more, somehow. And because he made her feel free, in those stolen moments, safe and free.
“Sometimes that's just how it is. If I stopped trying because I was scared of getting hurt or being left alone, I'd end up alone anyway. At least this way I have something, I've known something.”
An arm rested across her shoulders, and she looked to her friend's caring eyes, wanting to break down and tell her everything when the concern reflected there warmed and encompassed her.
“You're very brave,” Sango murmured, hugging her.
Needing the solid comfort her friend's embrace provided, she leaned into the hug and found a measure of peace in it. The slayer might not know everything, but she knew enough, and unable to deny herself the solace that came with it, she took comfort in her friend's acceptance.

When they returned, the village was in chaos. Diving down to the ground, Kirara roared at the dissonance of the people around her screaming.
“What's wrong?” Sango demanded, running to Kaede, who stood, bracing herself with her bow.
“Kohaku, the spirit hid within him. He has taken Rin and gone to Naraku. I know not how far it is.”
Rubbing her friend's back in small circles as they absorbed the news, she tried to think about what the spirit would want with Rin. Jaken and Ah Un were both making agitated noises as the imp ran in circles around the dragons.
“I can still feel the jewel,” She told them. “Magatsuhi will be with Naraku. We've got to go get them.”
Sango uttered a small sob and nodded, already getting back on Kirara. Inu Yasha sailed down from whatever spot he'd been occupying in the trees, eyes narrowing when they landed on her. Coldly, he turned his back to her.
“Get Miroku,” She bit out, ignoring his disfavor and running over to Jaken. The imp was still screaming hysterically, and she had to grab his shoulders and shake him to make him stop.
“Worthless female, what are you-”
“We are going to go save Rin and Kohaku, and you will let me ride with you, or I will leave you here,” She declared, doing her best imitation of Sesshoumaru. The coldness of her voice seemed to stun the imp, who nodded dumbly in agreement. “Now let's go.”
She glanced to the twin sets of eyes staring down at her.
“I know where Rin is, and we can save her.”
They both rumbled and bowed their heads in understanding. She pulled herself up onto his saddle and waited for the imp to scramble up behind her. The dragons made a loud sound behind their strange bridles and moved over to Kirara. Inu Yasha was watching the whole spectacle with angry eyes, and Sango looked ready to fall off of the firecat. Miroku smiled that knowing, Buddha's smile that only he seemed able to manage as Shippou bounced into her arms, sticking his tongue out at the still glaring hanyou.
“Let's go!” She shouted, allowing Ah Un to jump into the sky. The others followed, even Inu Yasha.
Jaken's screaming and crying resumed it's normal decibel level, and she refrained from hitting him, but just barely. It was only her quietly worded declaration that she had to concentrate to find the jewel, and thus Rin, that finally shut him up.

In the distance she could feel the jewel, it's aura dark and oily against her consciousness. Both Ah Un and Kirara had tired from the breakneck pace she had set, and given no other choice, they had made camp. It was well into the night, and the others were each dealing with the stress in their own way. Sango and Miroku had disappeared into the forest, Inu Yasha and Shippou argued, and Jaken bemoaned his fate once Sesshoumaru found out he had let Rin be taken.
She paced. In fact, she walked out of camp, needing to get away from the cold glares sent to her by Inu Yasha every time Shippou told him to stop sulking over her marks. Not having the heart to argue with him when she was still trying to sort out the puzzle of the brands, she chose to flee, and it was with a heavy heart that she realized he didn't try to stop her, or even warn her to be careful.
When she had put some distance between herself and the encampment, she let out an angry, frustrated noise that was akin to a growl. The sound only further served to remind her of the problems she kept trying to forget.
“This is not the time,” She snapped aloud, growing impatient with herself. “Just not the time. In fact, it will never be the time.”
“Time for what?” He asked, shocking her into stumbling, her balance precariously off for two seconds before she righted herself.
“Nothing,” She sighed, directing her gaze to the ground. It still hurt to look at him, to know he was so close.
“Why are you not at the village?”
“Magatsuhi was hiding inside of Kohaku. He took Rin,” She explained in a soft voice.
“And you intend to find him how?”
“I can feel the jewel, and I'd bet my life that the bastard went to Naraku.”
“A safe assumption. Why have you stopped?”
“Ah Un and Kirara are exhausted. If we didn't stop to rest-”
“A wise decision,” He interrupted, stepping closer to her. Stepping back, she finally looked up at him. She tried to remember that it had been over a month since he had come to her, that he'd intentionally ignored her the few times they had crossed paths. That for all intents and purposes, he had pretended she didn't exist.
Until today. And she tried to remind herself that he had not saved her for any other reason than-Well, what had his reasoning been?
“I should probably be going back,” She whispered, moving to dart past him only to be stopped by his hand shooting out and grabbing her arm in the exact way he had the first time, reminding her painfully that everything had changed, especially her, and that she needed to get away from him.
“Please Sesshoumaru, this isn't the time-” She began, but was stopped when she was pressed against a tree branch, his hand pinning both of her wrists over her head while his left hand, the one he had spontaneously regenerated, trailed a claw down the length of one of her arms.
“Be still,” He rumbled as the claw, frightening and exquisite, pierced her skin and left a thin red trail weeping gently in it's wake. Despite the warm night air her skin pimpled with goosebumps, and a shudder wracked her body. The red was swirling in his eyes, thin veins that would have frightened anyone else, but only sent another shiver through her. His free hand pushed the kimono open and to the sides, exposing her breasts and stomach to his gaze.
“My brother knows that you wear my marks,” He said in a quiet voice as the tip of his claw pressed into the flesh between her breasts, pricking the skin and calling forth a drop of blood. With it came the familiar, heady breathlessness, the ice that quickly became fire as pain, or what should have been pain, blossomed in her chest. The claw continued it's line down the valley of her breasts, it's pressure leaving an impossibly thin red trail behind it.
“Then he knows,” She sighed, the lines of the world already becoming vague suggestions of their former selves. Only he was sharp and defined against the static. His gold eyes were focused, intent and bearing down on her, boring through her as if searching for something, although what it was she couldn't begin to fathom. She couldn't think of anything she hadn't given him already.
“Did you tell him?” He demanded in a dangerously quiet voice, releasing her wrists only long enough to push her kimono off of her shoulders and working on the ties of her hakama, letting them drop to the ground before beginning another line on her shoulder, skimming the skin with his claw and making her ache for the release it could bring.
He was angry, and she didn't understand why.
“No,” She whispered, falling from that small plateau she'd been resting on. The world became sharp, almost glaringly bright in the moon's light. “It's not just my secret.”
She wasn't sure if he was pleased by her words or angered.
“Our secret,” He rumbled her as the claw once again pressed into her flesh and drew blood forth. Her response died in her throat, coming out as a breathy gasp as she tilted her head to expose more of her flesh, greedy for what only he could provide.
“Perhaps we are both broken,” He sighed, ending the second line and beginning to draw four of his claws over her exposed breast, making her shiver.
“We're not,” She whispered, arching so that the pointed tips of his claws pressed more deeply into the orb of her breast. Adrenaline fueled her euphoria, dizzying her as he took it in his hand and squeezed roughly.
Even though she cried out in a strangled whimper, she did not want him to stop. Each moment could be the last, and she clung to it, resisting the urge to give in to the high so soon, needing to remember every second of him touching her.
“You will be the last, the only,” He admitted, voice almost reverent as his hand left off it's abuse of her breast and trailed down her ribcage. His claws dug in, trailing ice in their wake. Heat bloomed seconds later, the fire blazing it's own path to her groin. The dampness between her thighs misted the air with it's heavy scent, giving away her own perverse pleasure in his actions.
“One should not find pleasure in pain,” He growled, although his claws continued, digging more deeply into her skin as they moved over her naked thigh.
But she did. And she knew with heartbreaking certainty that he would be the last, the only, although perhaps for different reasons. Every part of her screamed out for more, begging wordlessly as she writhed against the tree, grateful his hand held her wrists securely so she wouldn't fall as the lines on her skin grew longer, stopped, and more began.
The blood dripping down, small drops cooling quickly over her skin, only further served to excite her already over stimulated senses. The bark against her back scraped her skin mercilessly in counterpoint to his own explorations of her body.
“My mirror,” He murmured, bringing a blood tipped claw to his lips and licking the tip almost daintily. The single taste seemed to undo his resolve, making him lean down and bring his tongue over the wound he had inflicted on her shoulder. His breath was warm and heavy on her skin, his tongue slick and smooth and hot as it lapped at the cut.
He had never done it before, and she reveled in the sensation as his tongue moved over her skin greedily before his lips latched onto it.
His teeth did not break the skin nearly so neatly as his claws had, but the feel of his sharp fangs puncturing the flesh and digging in sent her spiraling over the precipice, her scream building in her chest and echoing through the dark forest, met with his answering snarl as his claws gripped her thigh and drug it up to his waist.
Something was different this time. Whatever had changed, it had him dropping her wrists and fumbling with the ties of his hakama, pressing into her, tearing through her virginity without a moment of hesitation. As her maidenhead tore beneath his onslaught she whimpered, bringing her other leg up to wrap around his waist and keep him close.
“More of this?” He snarled, finally pulling away from her shoulder. “Is this what you want?”
“More?” She whimpered, feeling his claws on her side, cutting into her flesh and dragging down. Cold warred with the heat of him pressed into her, smothering her with his strength as he pushed her against the tree. “Yes,” She moaned, looking into his red eyes.
“Witch,” He snarled, pushing himself in and out of her again and again, gripping already torn flesh in his hands and twisting it, opening the gashes even further with his abuse and earning another scream for his efforts.
The fire rose up around them, consuming her in it's brightness as she fell into it, crying out his name, begging for him to never stop. Stars collided and exploded into a mosaic of colors, obscuring his crimson eyes from view as she held tightly to him, clinging to the feel of his silk kimono in her fists. Burned and blinded, she held on to the feel of his blood slicked hand coming to her neck and tilting her head.
Their first kiss was tinged with the taste of sweat and the coppery tell tale of blood as he demanded access, commanded her to give everything. Each thrust of his cock into her body came harder than the last, making her scream into his mouth. When his come spilled into her, hot and slick, she was rewarded with fangs biting her lips hard enough to draw blood, further flavoring their kiss with the metallic taste.
Blinking her eyes open, she looked at him in awe. Blood smeared the lower half of his face, and it was perhaps the only time she had ever seen his expression so open, so unguarded. Spent, pleasured, sated. Any one of those things could describe the sleepy look of his half lidded eyes and the faint tilt to his lips.
“We are both mad,” He murmured, licking the last remnants of blood from her lips. Feeling dizzy and heavy, she leaned forward and nuzzled him before her own tongue darted out to lick at his lips and chin, cleaning the crimson smears from his alabaster skin.
He let her, which would have surprised her if not for the warm cloud she floated on, somewhere far above the world. Outside of their clearing, nothing else existed. Even the tree at her back was strangely soft, and he was warm between her legs, against her chest. He was the solid center of reality, and everything beyond him was a dull gray shadow.
“We cannot do this forever,” He sighed when she had finally finished her task and nuzzled the crook of his neck, delighting in the earthy, warm scent of him.
“Why not?” She asked, fighting back a yawn.
“He saw us. I felt him near, then he fled.”
It was not the reason she expected, and she guessed that he was avoiding answering, deflecting neatly by mentioning his half brother.
“Then he knows.” It was said with resignation and determination. She had wanted to keep the secret for as long as she could, for always. That they were mirrors of one another had been a quiet revelation for all of it's intensity, one shared only between themselves.
“We're close to the end,” She murmured, allowing him to slip away. Already the blood was congealing, and she tugged the kimono on, wondering if the blood would stain through to the outside of the fabric, and finding she didn't have the energy to worry about it.
“What will happen after?” He asked in a neutral voice, coming to help her with pulling up her hakama and tying them. He was already the picture of normalcy, immaculate and pristine. The only signs of their interlude on his person were red lines and splotches on his kimono and hakama, her blood from where he'd pressed against her.
“I don't know,” She sighed. The night was full of firsts, not that she could complain. But the glow from her euphoria was quickly fading, and this time it was more abrupt, as she was still awake, and still had to journey back to camp and face everyone, who would doubtless guess at least part of what she had been up to. And Inu Yasha, who knew.
“Will you stay?” His tone was cold, almost clinical as she stepped back and pulled her hair free of it's messy tail, then began braiding it.
“I don't know.”
Because staying would not provide her with what she needed. If she stayed, she could only see missing him, being denied even the little she had now. In the end, she was still a human, and he was still a daiyoukai, and she doubted he would ever be able to see beyond that.
“Perhaps it would be best if you left,” He said, stepping away from her. She tied the end of the braid and nodded, unsure of her voice. Even though she knew he was right, knew that in the end she would be in love with someone that could not -and would not- ever love her, it hurt to hear him say it.
“Goodbye, Sesshoumaru,” She whispered, heart twisting painfully in her chest. Taking a resolute step back towards her camp, and then another, she paused next to him, tempted to touch him just once, but deciding that it would only end with her clinging to him. Another resolute step and she was beyond him.
There was the slight rush of wind behind her, and she turned, needing one last memory of him in the moonlight.
He was already gone.

All around her Naraku's body was caving in on itself, collapsing. Inu Yasha was mangled and unconscious from his battle with the pseudo hanyou, already on his way out on Shippou. No one to save her from falling off of Kirara, no one to catch her. She was falling, and more than anything else, she was sure that when she died, she was going to go without saying the one thing she wanted to. Imminent death came only with the ill timed realization that she was in love, loved deeply.
The jewel in her hand was a small beacon of light in the darkness, burning through it and reminding her what she had sacrificed several years and her real life for. She would have resented it, save for what it had given her in turn.
“Maybe this will be easier,” She murmured aloud as she plummeted into the darkness, Sango and Miroku crying out in shock and denial as the sped after her.
A bright wash of white surrounded her in warmth and softness, completely at odds with her surroundings.
“Sesshoumaru?” She whispered, blue eyes wide as she looked up at the daiyoukai. His pelt had wrapped around her, cradling her in it's warmth. He didn't acknowledge that she had said anything at all, but kept navigating the caverns as they collapsed. Somewhere behind them she heard Sango and Miroku calling out their relief.
More and more the grotesque husk of Naraku's body crumbled, releasing deadly miasma. Sango and Miroku held tight to Kirara, masks on tight, but she had nothing. Even more disconcerting was realizing that she was breathing easily despite the thick fog of poison hovering in the air.
“Sesshoumaru, are you doing something?” She asked, peering up at him with wide eyes.
“Perhaps it is because of the marks,” He intoned quietly. Puzzled by his words, wondering if he was unsure or just unwilling to admit that he had done it on purpose, she tried to figure out if the protections laid into the marks had been intentional or incidental.
When they came to an opening leading to the outside world, she allowed herself to caress the pelt wrapped around her, luxuriating in the feel of it's softness. Not caring whether or not he would be angry -after all, she would be gone soon, wouldn't she?- she ran her fingers through it and sighed appreciatively.
He flew her away from the hulking shell, back to the village the hanyou had been intent on destroying. When they landed, he said nothing, although to be fair, she hadn't expected him to. Rin and Jaken came over, Ah Un ambling behind them lowing happily as their master unwound his pelt from around her and stepped away.
Kirara landed and Sango rushed off of the firecat and ran to her brother, embracing him joyfully. Miroku followed at a more sedate pace, given the siblings time to enjoy the knowledge that they were free and together at last.
Inu Yasha watched her with wary eyes. Ever since she had come back to their camp the night before, the hanyou had been guarded around her, not that she could blame him. In the end, the joyful chaos circled around her, and she was in it's center, a still piece of glass that stood out of place. More than ever she understood that she did not belong.
“Inu Yasha, here, the jewel,” She said, holding it out in her open palm. The hanyou shuffled closer, a bandage covering one hand and his clothing torn. Already he was healing, the bruises on his face fading into traces of green and yellow. All around her the chaos dulled into quiet, everyone watching them in the epicenter of the tension. He made no move to take it, only looked at it before looking back to her.
“I'm fine the way I am,” He said at last. “I don't want it.”
The answering quiet was filled with shock and approval. She nodded, feeling tears gather as pride suffused her being. Despite their own ups and downs, she found that his contentment with his form made her deliriously happy.
“Do you, you know, need it?” He asked quietly.
“Why?” She asked.
“You know, to fix-whatever it is?”
Immediately she knew to what he was referring to. Shaking her head and sighing shakily, she smiled.
“I don't need to be fixed,” She whispered as she turned and walked over to Sesshoumaru. Feeling the weight of everyone's eyes boring into her back, she offered the jewel to him in the same manner she had offered it to Inu Yasha.
“If there is a wish,” She said, her heart twisting painfully in her chest, “Then it is yours.”
She tried to tell herself it didn't hurt that he took it, palming it and vanishing it into the voluminous sleeves of his kimono so quickly she only felt a rush of wind. She told herself that he didn't accept it like she did, that she was leaving so it wouldn't matter. But it did matter, and it did hurt. Feeling like she'd been completely and thoroughly rejected in every way, she nodded once and blinked back the tears. Her palm tingled from what would be the last time he ever touched her, the sensation making her clench her hand into a fist when it came back to her side.
“Sesshoumaru-sama,” Miroku started, moving closer to the group.
“No,” Inu Yasha interrupted, startling all over them. “If he wants to make a wish on it, let him.”
Perhaps she was being punished for acting on her desires. She was a miko after all. Maybe the gods had chosen to challenge her with such impulses, and she had failed. Or maybe it was karma, for tempting him -however unknowingly- in to giving into desires he obviously abhorred. Either way, he would wish them away, and she was stuck with the knowledge that as much as she embraced the strange pleasure, he sought to eradicate it within himself. That she treasured their brief relationship, and he hated the very foundation of it.
“Perhaps we should go,” Kohaku suggested, sensing the undercurrent of tension.
She followed the group, walking a little behind them. Inu Yasha walked next to her, giving her a resigned, strangely sympathetic look every few minutes.
“It's not natural,” He told her as the others moved further and further ahead of them.
“It's not unnatural,” She whispered, afraid that she was going to give in and start crying now that he was out of sight. “There are others like u-, like me.”
“Not here.”
“Not anymore,” She sighed, hugging herself. In the last several months, her healing scars had been a comfort. Now they were bitter reminders that she had found something glorious and terrifying and beautiful.
And lost it.

The tugging at her senses pulled at her, calling her into the darkness. Her friends were all involved in their own rejoicing, even Inu Yasha was having a good time as he told of their adventure. Looking around quickly, she stood and walked from the fire calmly, heart slamming in her chest as she drew further and further away from the fire. The familiar sensation of his youki swirled around her, a quiet command that guided her through the darkness to the clearing where the well stood.
“Hello,” She greeted cautiously, unsure how to act around the daiyoukai now that there was no longer a tangible connection between them. There was nothing to tie them together anymore, leaving her feeling as if she'd been cut free and cast adrift.
“Do you truly believe there is nothing to fix?” He asked quietly, gold eyes reflecting the moonlight.
“In myself, no, there is nothing to fix,” She murmured, hugging her sides as he stared her down.
“Does that mean you see something in me?”
“I do,” She sighed with a sad smile. “But it is nothing that needs to be fixed.”
“It seems strange, that we should have come together like this,” He intoned.
She told herself she didn't regret it, that it was alright, and that it had been worth it. In the end, she loved him, enough to let him be free of desires that he had hated. She only hoped he didn't hate her, didn't look at her with the same disgust he had perceived his own desires with.
“I have not made the wish,” He told her.
She wasn't sure what he meant when he said that. Was it an offer for her to make a wish, and to fix herself? Was it a rejection of the jewel entirely, or even a request for one last time before transforming his own psyche? Afraid of assuming anything and earning a reprimand she was sure she couldn't handle at the moment, she shook her head.
“I don't understand,” She whispered, hunching her shoulders, readying herself for the cutting verbal assault that was sure to come.
“You say there is nothing to fix,” He intoned, coming forward, hand held out. She lifted her hand and watched the pink orb drop into her palm, resting innocently. “Perhaps you are correct.”
Unable to hold back, she sniffed, then choked, and then a sob wrenched itself from her chest. Tears held in check for hours freed themselves, pouring down her cheeks as she nodded, eyes still on the jewel.
His clawed hand wrapped around her hand, closing the jewel in their fists.
“Mine,” He rumbled. She nodded her assent, unable to form even a simple yes as her world tilted on it's axis, righting what had been abruptly turned upside down as easily as if the hurt and shame had never been.
She watched as he took singular pleasure in undressing her slowly, exposing her to the warm summer night. Her clothing fell away to reveal the marks on her body, old and new. When she was bared to his gaze, she trembled, elated and afraid as his eyes devoured her, following the map of what he had done to her over the course of their strange relationship.
His own kimono came off, followed by his kosode, and he spread them on the ground, then her kimono. Next she watched him pull off his hakama, heart hammering it's way up her throat and sticking there. Even when he'd taken her virginity he'd stayed clothed. It was the first time any part of him was bared to her, and she could feel nothing but awe. He looked like a pale god carved from the moonlight itself as he took her hand and pulled her down to the ground.
His folded legs supported her bottom and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Below her, his skin was hot, almost feverishly so, branding her flesh as his hands wandered over her flesh, rough palms smoothing over the skin of her back and claws tracing paths and whorls lightly, teasingly. Already her blood sang, her skin tingling from his touch.
Down her back, up the curves of her sides, beneath her breasts, the sharpness of him dizzying and dangerous in it's guileless lightness. His hands traced her throat, the pointed tip of a claw pressing into the hollow of her neck, forcing her to tilt her head back and expose her throat. She could swear she heard a sharp intake of breath, flushing with feminine pleasure when his lips on the smooth exposed column, the tip of his tongue hot as it darted between the seam to taste her. Already she felt tortured and overwhelmed, whimpering as she soaked in the solid strength of him, clinging to it.
Needing to feel him, to stay anchored to him, her own hands smoothed over his chest, reveling in the smooth, flawless skin beneath her fingers and palms as she explored. His muscles moved beneath the skin, the dips and sharp lines of him shifting as he teased her skin into hypersensitivity. When he fingers tangled into his hair, his claws pushed into the flesh of her back lightly, cutting through the skin as he drug his hands down the expanse of her back.
Her moan echoed through the clearing as he gripped her sides. She could feel the droplets of blood sliding down her back, a trail of fire as they joined, one by one, to slide and rest at the top of the cleft separating her cheeks. She could feel the wetness between her legs, her clit throbbing painfully.
“Please,” She gasped, her hips bucking to rub her sex against his stomach. A deep, throaty chuckle answered her as he lowered his head and took a nipple into his mouth. He held it between his teeth delicately, resting over the metal piercing it, the tip of his tongue teasing with light flicks. Mewling desperately she arched her back, hoping for more. His answer to her offering was to bite down harder, pulling a ragged scream of pleasure from her throat. Unaware of her hands fisting in his hair, she arched higher and hugged him to her chest, the world around her shrinking to a pinpoint as she greedily strained to give him everything.
Again and again he tightened his jaw for mere seconds, then loosened, a steady pulse of pain shooting through her nipple to her sex, making her writhe on his lap. Too lost in the dim haze of her euphoria, she didn't notice his hand moving between her legs until she felt her clit pinched between two of his fingers lightly. The moment she felt the heat of the digits she sobbed his name as she struggled for breath.
He was cruel, she had known that. But his ministrations lightened into almost nothing, and he pulled away from her breast. Frustrated moans and gasps broke the stillness of the night as she moved against him, needing more of everything he could give.
“I have held back before,” He rasped, eyes glowing red in the darkness.
“Don't,” She pleaded. “Please, please, please,” She whimpered.
Her clit was pinched viciously, the sudden pressure sending her over the edge of reason. All around her an inferno roared into being, rising up from the earth and pushing her up into the sky with the flicking tendrils of it's limbs. Stars grew and burst like fireworks, skimming over her skin with their heat. Ice trailed and followed the curve of her ribs before melting into flames that licked the surface of her skin.
His grip was bruising and twisted her already torn flesh, drawing blood from the previous nights cuts and inciting another wave of the keen pleasure pain that pushed her higher into the night. His cock slid into her, burying itself in her sex in a single thrust. Even as she flew higher, he was tethering her to the earth, keeping her held safe in the strength of his arms.
Again and again he moved into her with agonizing slowness, demanding the whole of her. Each thrust climaxed in exquisite pain as he hit the barrier of her cervix and withdrew only to press against it again. Sweat dripped down her skin and burned the gashes left by his claws. Deep, feral sounds ripped themselves from his throat as he bit down on her shoulder. As his fangs sunk into her flesh, she flew apart, mentally shattering into so much stardust as liquid heat spilled into her, scorching her from the inside out.

When she came to, dawn was beginning to lighten the sky. She felt warm and sore, every muscle making known their protest of the previous night's treatment, and yet she couldn't stop the small smile tilting up the corners of her lips. Moving experimentally, she noticed that she was wrapped in his kimono, and that her wounds weren't nearly so bad as she had anticipated.
“Sesshoumaru?” She asked, looking to the daiyoukai that lounged in his hakama and kosode, looking utterly satisfied.
“Hnn.”
“Good morning,” She whispered, feeling shy suddenly. They had always parted before, and they'd never slept next to one another. She wasn't even sure he had slept. But this morning was as different from the others as it could have been.
“You are worried,” He stated calmly.
“I have no idea what I'm supposed to do now,” She admitted, blushing heavily.
“What do you want to do?”
She was about to tell him she had no idea, but it would be a lie. She had a perfect idea. It was a wonderful idea, to her, and she was terrified he wouldn't like it at all.
“Miko-”
“I think you can call me Kagome,” She said with a small smile as she pushed herself upright, feeling the tug of knitting skin protest the movement.
“What is it you want to do?” He commanded gently, gold eyes boring into her own, giving her the feeling that he saw her clearly and could read what she wanted as easily as if she had spoken it aloud.
“I want to stay here with you, to see where this goes,” She admitted in a small voice, bringing the pelt closer around her. It's warmth was safe and solid as she waited for his response.
“Then you may.”

Four hundred and thirty six years later she was delighting in the feel of him massaging a healing salve into her back and over her ribs.
“It seems I was more violent than I had thought,” He murmured as he slid his slick palm over a particularly vicious cut on the meat of her shoulder blade.
“It's been almost ten months,” She giggled, still riding on the high their pleasures had induced. “I think we were both a bit more enthusiastic than we intended.”
“Still-”
“It's the first time we've let go since finding out I was pregnant. And I'm still in one piece. Besides, they'll be fully healed in a few days,” She rebuked gently, reminding him that the brands he'd given her years ago had imparted more than either of them had anticipated.
She turned onto her back, knowing his eyes would fall to the light cut that ran between her breasts and curved to follow under one. As expected they did, and she took the time to stretch, her arms going over her head as she arched her back.
“I had fun,” She said with a lazy, hooded smile.
He was glaring down at her as if she were intentionally trying to tempt him, which -of course- she was. They had the moment down to a routine, as they should, seeing as how she had delivered their seventh child only two months before.
“I do not think-”
“I do think,” She interrupted.
“Your back-”
“You know how to be gentle,” She teased.
“Our definition of gentle is not that of other peoples,” He growled as he lowered himself, his lips moving to the thin red welt left on her skin.
“Are you saying you want to be like other people?” She giggled as his breath tickled her ribs.
“Never,” He rumbled, nipping her stomach as he moved lower and lower.

Authors Notes: So if you're still here and reading this, I hope you enjoyed it for what it was. A kinky love story. This was my first attempt at writing a fanfiction based around sex. If it was stilted or awkward, I'm sorry. I have this weird wall in my head when it comes to writing another person's characters getting it on.
As to how Kagome got home after being branded, Sesshoumaru embedded his youki beneath her skin. The theory has been that Inu Yasha can travel to her time because of the necklace. I'm going to assume the marks are just as much of a connection. Whether the results were intentional or accidental on Sesshoumaru's part is up to you.
I know one thing about this might bother someone out there (as it would probably bother me), and that's the fact that what I described is really unsafe for people to do without training. Which is why this is fiction. Cuttings, ink rubbings, ash rubbings, branding and piercing all require a great deal of training and practice. I know that, now you know that.
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