He is like the moon--cold, etheral, mercurial; untouchable except for the small, bright girl-child that wished upon a star to remain with him forever. This is a collection of Sess/Rin citrusy oneshots that portrays the darker side of their love.
Disclaimer: The characters of InuYasha are not mine, they are property of Rumiko Takahashi, Shogakukan, Yomiuri TV, Sunrise, and Viz. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Warnings: NC17 Minor, Oral
=#= Frostflower =#=
He is her cold and gentle moon; and she is the frost flower that glazes over his icy, glassy existence.
In the night, in the dark she crawls to him on hands and knees, her large, dark eyes fathomless with mute appeal. With stifled squeals and soundless mews, his hands bare her pale flesh with pinch and play and probe. The sweet harshness of his breath sounds in her ear as she squirms on his lap, unashamed in her feral innocence and unafraid in her perfect trust.
In the night the moon's face is hidden; and only he sees how the frost flower melts.
His claws rake down her back as she licks his salty, sweat slick skin. The sudden sharp, almost bitter tang of his youki tingles along her tongue as his control slips ever so slightly. Her small white hands smooth over his skin with confidence; unafraid and knowing as they tease the soft warm skin of his sacs and tunnel into the dark tight warmth beyond. Clever little fingers press against the perfect spot and clever little tongue swirls to catch the last drop.
Nobody sees the shameful expression on the dark, hidden face of the moon—nobody but a little dark haired girl whose bright smile hides secrets.
Poisonous claws encircle the delicate rise of her breast and dangerous fangs nip oh so gently the tender hollow of her throat. Cruel fingers slide into the most vulnerable of passages and demon strength restrains the most fragile of creatures. Her cries are not of fear; but of passion. Her demands are not of release; but of hunger. And when he sets her above him and lowers her down; when he fills her up and she cries in pain; even then she begs for more. More of his touch. More of his kisses. More of his love.
In the dark of the moon, his frost flower blossoms, its centre a dark and violent red.
Commenting is disabled for guests. Please login to post a comment.