Disclaimer: Because I'm dutiful at preventing my somewhat imminent incarceration for defying the Intellectual Property Law, I disclaim the characters. :D They're all yours, Rumiko. :D
Summary: AU.She was so frightened that she left, and he was too proud to follow. It was all but settled until one of her best friends and his brother decided to get married.
Pairings: Sesshomaru/Rin, Inuyasha/Kagome, Sango/Miroku, Naraku/Kikyo. I'm still thinking over the last pairing. :D
Rating: R for language (Inuyasha's mainly—kidding. :D ) and sexual content. Don't worry, I'll leave warnings. ;D
Author's Note: Another Inuyasha fic! ;P Heehee! ;P I really do love feedback—reviews are appreciated, reviewers are adored! ;P Many thanks to the inspiration for this fic! ;P hug and kiss The characters may seem a bit OOC at first—I hope you don't mind, I took some liberties. :D It's a bit short and not everyone's in this chapter yet, but when I know more about what you think I'll be better with the next chapter. :D That's a promise. ;P Oh yeah, the title should read "Shameful", but quotation marks wouldn't work. :D
Chapter 1
Before
If someone were to peep through the open blinds covering that particular second floor window, she was almost half-certain they would have a strong inclination to shiver. As it was, she knew she looked completely creepy, staring at the computer screen with her mouth halfway open and her tired eyes no longer comprehending what was displayed on it. She was slouching, her face was oily, and her hair was in complete disarray.
Sighing, she pulled herself to her feet and without further thought she pulled the plug from the wall behind the computer, no longer caring if she had saved what miniscule progress she had made on her report. It was 4 am, she hadn't slept in a total of 36 hours, and she was going to submit trash anyway if she didn't get some sleep.
Apart from that, she had a class presentation due on the same day. Her parents were coming over to visit. She hadn't done her laundry. She was packing on pounds from too much fast food, rice, and all manner of edibles. She hadn't studied her French. She hadn't brushed her teeth.
"This is getting bad," she murmured softly, dragging herself up the short flight of stairs to the loft where she slept. The air-conditioning was humming softly, sending blasts of chill her way that made her shiver but did not register to her numbed mind. She stared at her unmade bed resignedly, stripping off her jeans and shirt before climbing in. Vaguely she remembered that their new neighbor had offered to come over more than once, but she'd declined every time. There was a reason, but she was too exhausted to scour her consciousness for it.
Her lips twisted with irony. Perhaps that was why. She was always tired these days. He might as well have gone to bed with a corpse if she'd let him drop by. She pulled the sheets over her. It would have been warm though.
But empty.
The thought came out of nowhere. Or somewhere she didn't want to be. Ruthlessly she quashed it, sending a quick, fleeting prayer to God to let sleep come as quickly as it promised it would. She prayed for her parents, her family, her friends. For her paper and her report. And for forgiveness. For His forgiveness.
Because she couldn't forgive herself.
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A log crashed in the hearth, sending a shower of sparks up into the air. They landed on the cold stone that extended from the leaping flames, mercifully missing the thick carpet that stretched over the length of the spacious, high-ceilinged room. The light from the fire did not touch the ceiling and half the furnishings and the moon's soft beams merely gilded objects with silvery light. A heavy darkness held its ground against both illuminators, almost palpable in its strength.
Partially shrouded in it, a pair of intense, burnished gold eyes stared disinterestedly at the ceiling. He had invested a large amount of money on aesthetics and maintenance, but despite that he could see faint lines already etching the plaster. He considered getting up and digging for his cell phone so he could call his retainer, but merely lying there held its appeal.
Not because he liked it. He took in the scent of the women who lay about him. They were rich, beautiful, and intelligent. They came when he wanted them, gave him what he wanted, and were content. They didn't wish for love, for marriage, for children.
And every time they touched him it was all he could do not to rip them into shreds.
But he liked looking up at the ceiling. At the darkness. It was almost sadistic, how he gloried in the pain that assaulted him whenever he did. He knew that it had meant something at one time, how he had treasured the night and its shroud because it was like a nest that kept her near him and shut the rest of the world out. Now it was a shroud that held himself and a relentless army of memories whose torture he submitted himself to eagerly.
"Come, woman."
And she did. She lay atop him, as she did so many nights before, her chin resting on her hands as she stared down at him, her dark eyes warm.
"The floor, my lord?" she asked, her voice soft, hoarse from crying out. "Surely I deserve better than that?"
"What does it matter where, if you have me?" he murmured. "And since when has it been 'my lord' between us?"
"You are a youkai lord," she answered, pressing her lips against his chest. "I call you so out of respect."
He slid his hand into her hair. "Not love?"
"Respect after love—but I didn't need to say that." She slid her finger lazily over her chin. "Did I?"
"No," he whispered aloud.
The darkness was opposed to the intrusion his voice made on its companion, silence. It thickened somehow, as though attempting to suffocate him, and his vision clouded until even his keen eyes could no longer make out what was above him.
What you needed to say was what was wrong, a part of him continued bitterly. As though it could hear even those thoughts, the darkness swooped down on him in a furious attempt to quell the voice that—despite its smallness—reverberated through his consciousness. What did I do to make you leave? What did I lack that you wouldn't stay?
I don't care.
Another memory lanced into his mind, refreshing the agony as her face swam to the fore.
"No, Lord Sesshomaru. Of course you don't."