Clothing shuffled, blankets were pulled back, flesh against flesh, lips meeting lips, his hand on her hand, her breath against his neck, soft sounds coming from her as two shadows melded together in the night- the room only lit by a single candle. It was different than the time with Touga- that had been slow... loving.. affectionate. It had been a night of love. This, this was... desire, and passion. Hatred blooming into something deeper. Anger being released, and pent up frustration vanishing. Sango hated this man, but... she could not deny that he was... he was like an angel. A dark, corrupted angel. A sinner at their finest hour. He was a forbidden wine of the sweetest kind. A rare French import. He was the strongest saki and a rose at full bloom.
Hours passed until they two settled down onto the mat, heaving deep breaths, panting, soaking up each other's presence. This was... nothing that could be described. She laid upon his chest, spent and worn, sweat on her brow and a lack of expression on her face. Nor a smile or tears would fit how she felt. She was simply... being.
They laid entangled in each other's arms, blanket over her waist, leaving her back exposed, hair brushed to the side, leaving her scars from Kohaku exposed. The silence was nearly unbearable, so she finally cleared her throat and looked up at him, "Naraku..." Her voice was barely a whisper.