Flesh for Fantasy

An InuYasha Fanfiction

Summary:

I've followed that beautiful demon for almost twelve years now. Many things had changed, and several traits of his had shaped themselves into better ones, replacing the old ones with the fresh, new ones like a freshly-transfused blood.

One thing didn't change, though—the time on his face. He was ageless, and his beauty was timeless, as if even the god of time was too embarrassed to alter such demonic beauty of his.

Sesshoumaru-sama, I desire you more than you know; with the most humanly desire from a woman's heart of desires.

Details:

Rin's POV. The story happened twelve years later after the real story in the anime finished.

Warning:

Sensuality and sex. Please mind the rating.

Disclaimer:

InuYasha and all of the characters in it are all courtesy of the makers. The pairing here is unofficial and based on writer's imaginations only.

You're—

Wrapped up in yourself like a spool,

Trawling your dark as owls do.

—SYLVIA PLATH, "YOU'RE" (1960)

Spring came with gentle winds blowing over sakura's pinkish petals to every corner of the green fields, houses' roofs, streets, bridges, even surfaces of water and lake. The sky was the light shade of blue, and looked beautiful because it was cloudless. The sun shone bright in the sky—a giant red-gold flame ball—and despite the fact that its warmth was not too apparent because the season had just started and winter was still dragging its heavy skirts, the exposure was enough to make my imaginations soar high: it was about to descend as one big star on planet earth, causing new lives to blossom, and new loves spread like mushrooms on a rainforest's damp soil.

The grass stroked my skin gently and shyly, like small hands of some faceless organisms with no name—the touches were anonymous, discreet, but those were the traces of morning dew that had impelled the sensation on my skin. My face was facing the warmth of the sun, my eyes closed, and both my arms and legs spread widely, tracing the friendliness of the earth as if it was a part of me. Green, blue, and red glows appeared randomly behind the shut eyelids, they were the shades of fantasy—it was as if I could just stay this way forever; neither alive nor dead, but half-dreaming like this, forever.

My long black hair was still wet because I'd just finished taking a bath in the river nearby. The water was freezing cold but it made my skin felt soothed and refreshed. I felt as if I was reborn, with a baby's skin attached to my body. Wrapping my body was a silk white kimono, that had created even a better calming sensation for my skin.

It didn't take long until the glows in my eyes took the shape of a beautiful man with his silver hair, and that image alone had propelled me to a deep sleep.

"Rin, wake up!"

The rainbow-colored clouds were on their way to clear themselves from the back of my mind, and needles of light were about to pierce their ways through the thickness of my skin when the voice repeated itself again—

"Rin! Wake up!" It was persistent, and loud, and the needles of light were now piercing deeper and deeper, taking me into the state of half-awake. My soul was still somewhere but it didn't take long until the voice called me another time, breaking through the thin layers of consciousness in my brain, cracking like the first dawn in the dark autumn sky—

"RIN! WAKE UP!" Was the voice a tad more louder, I'd be convinced that I was dead instead of alive. I opened my eyes a bit, letting the real rays from the sun sliced through the gap of my eyelids, and they were even brighter than the imaginary needles of light I'd seen before.

"Um?" I made an unremarkable reply. In fact, I didn't know what else to say except a meaningless 'um'.

"It's already ten o'clock in the morning," said a familiar voice, and when I fully opened my eyes, still with half-consciousness, I'd seen that friendly-looking small green-skinned figure in his old burgundy-colored kimono with his temple badly frowned. Even in this state I'd successfully read that expression as 'were you dead?'.

"Um, yes. Sure."

"What sure? Wake up! Sesshoumaru-sama is here. We are leaving soon—" his tone sounded more threatening, although he was still undeniably cute. He tapped his short wooden rod several times on the fresh grasses, and from the corner of my eyes I'd seen those lush grasses bled into a blackish shade, and I started pitying them.

"Don't force us to leave you!"

"Sorry for taking you so long," then came a deep voice following Jaken's high-pitched hoarse one. In such state where lines of reality were still smeared with the lines of dream, the voice felt as if it was coming from the other side—the universe a man could never figure out; a world hidden behind layers of thick black velvet fabrics.

But that was, undoubtably, that voice that had successfully waken me up—to a full-consciousness this time. I was finally myself again.

"Sesshoumaru-sama?" I looked at him as if he was some kind of a moon god. His demure golden eyes were flooded with emotions, and his purplish snow-white skin was caressed with silver strands blown by the morning breeze toward his temple, his jawbones, and chin. "Sorry, I fell asleep. Last night I took a lot of time watching the stars."

Jaken let out a long groan of dissapointment, but that I could easily let pass.

What was hard to let go was Sesshoumaru-sama's kind-of-vague smile—I was not pretty sure that it was truly a smile, though, or just slight widenings in either corners of his lips.

The sun had turned into even a deeper shade of yellow as the afternoon arrived. The blue sky slowly melted into a far-warmer tone of orange-purple, and several almost-translucent clouds were hanging there like souvenirs prepared by the gods.

We landed on a village in the far side of the hill, and was very, very far from the pasture I'd laid on several hours ago. I was starving, but there was no meal to be devoured, and asking Sesshoumaru-sama about meals would mean a death-wish because I was too embarrassed to even face him, and it had been years since the the peculiar feeling started.

The 'click' in my head started in my fifteenth birthday five years ago, and the following days after that 'click' was heard in my head, I started feeling eerie things happening inside my body: my nipples tightening and my skin trembling whenever he got near; sometimes I'd even feel wetness between my thighs. When the latter happened, I could hardly get myself to sleep because whenever I closed my eyes, there were mental images of me and Sesshoumaru-sama having sex, and at times they'd cause me caress myself with my slim fingers, wishing that they would magically turn into Sesshoumaru-sama's organ. After the thing I'd be sweaty and weary all over, as if I'd just ran a thousand li, and I hate how that feeling of pleasure has always been followed by a sensation of disgust in the aftermath: my mind would be as dark, black, and stormy as nimbus clouds, but at the same time another eye would be opened at a random spot in the back of my mind—sort of an enlightenment, like finding another shard of my womanly side.

Anyway, we will depart back to the topic: we had now finally landed near the entrance of the village, and my stomach screamed in agony. Jaken showed a worse hunger than I was, though, but it was until the time I finally traded my embarrassment with a foolish confession that Sesshoumaru-sama started noticing us both, and suggested that we should find a place to eat soon.

The villagers welcomed us very well, as if a major lord of the land had just arrived—Sesshoumaru-sama, I mean—because he'd defeated a wild demon once for the sake of the village's enduring peace, and they were deeply thankful for that they'd even promised to make a bronze statue of him to be located in the centermost of the village. In response to the abundant warmness, Sesshoumaru-sama looked as reserved as he always was: he didn't even show any apparent smile or made even a single wave of hand. They understood, though, because Sesshoumaru-sama was someone very introverted—with himself as his own glass jar trapping his soul so deep it was almost like a sunken ship at the bottom of the ocean—so there was no prejudice thrown at him that time.

As we traced the path to the village chief's wooden house, I enjoyed the smell of the slightly-damp woods mixed with the scent of the lush earth beneath our feet: it had a slight metal-like aroma attached to it, and was kind of addictive. The afternoon sun was moderate to our eyes: not too bright, but not too dim—seen that way, it was almost like an ideal setting of a stage inside a performing house—and had painted Sesshoumaru-sama's silver hair in the shade of a lake's placid surface in the sunset, without the touch of crimson, of course.

"That's not fair," Jaken protested along the way. Not so long after he'd finished the sentence, I'd heard his stomach groaned. I held a laughter.

"What's not fair?"

"Sesshoumaru-sama's attention's only for you," he continued, "he doesn't even care whether I am hungry, starving, or about to die—he only cares about you!"

My heart raced into trails of a thousand lights where the beats didn't feel so apparent anymore, because they were already running too fast. I still managed to show a tad of composure, though, and a smile for the displeased Jaken, "Don't think that way. He may look very cold, but he's very warm inside. I know he cares a lot about you—about us."

Jaken rolled his eyes and looked away. His green skin had turned a tad reddish on the cheeks, because he was holding back his anger. That was the moment when his figure looked most humanly, "Don't start talking as if you know him better than I am. I don't like that." The reply he made was loud, and Sesshoumaru-sama would've turned his head already was he not someone so kept, "no, no, I know it's not fair." Jaken insisted, and his small jaws tightened. His wide eyes were like two glass balls under the illumination of the afternoon sun.

I didn't know what else to say. I wished Jaken was right, though, and if that was true, I'd be more than happy. The feeling would be close to flying in the dream.

Night had came with its army of darkness, like layers of dense dark-purple fabrics laced across the sky. As I gazed toward it, I'd recalled how the light-blue tone of the morning sky had melted into the orangish shade of the afternoon sky, and now the deepest shade of blue of the night sky. The moon was still in its half-circle shape, and the light it emanated was smoothly spread along its side, like a small light bulb hidden underneath a thin cotton layer. The stars were burning nails piercing holes in the thick indigo-colored air.

We were sheltered inside the chief's simple, but wide house. He'd prepared one room for each of us, with only a simple futon, a low table, and a table light as the decorations. Each room was separated from the other using a tatami, but the papers were thin so even the dim light had enabled me to glimpse what the person on the other side of the blind was doing.

The tall grass outside stroked against each other, with the strong gusts of wind as the orchestrator of the symphony in the night. Nocturnal creatures had came out of their shells, as if to challenge the beauty of the moon. Groups of birds leaving the branches of a tree, and the powerful movements of their wings could easily be detected in the silence. It was very quiet that I could hear my ears rang, the sound of my breaths racing, and the beats of my heart resembling the stomps made by hunters in the night.

In my restlessness I lolled to the right side.

Behind the tatami could be seen a silhouette of a tall, slender man with his upper body bared and his long hair tracing the sides of his body the way small streams of water crawling down the rocks.

The image had prevented me from falling asleep. I tossed, turned, and twisted restlessly on the futon while trying to shake the thoughts out of my head. I'd seen those sexual mental images of us together again: embracing me, he pressed me to the floor; my long, long hair was spread evenly on the surfaces nearby as the back of my body imprinted on the wooden floor; he started kissing my lips, my nose, my eyelids, and finally the rest of my face, wetting me with his sweet-smelling saliva— that way alone had caused the spot between my thighs wet and my sex tightened, almost in a too-painful manner. It was as if something blunt with a wide surface was forced to get through its protective seal and set to hurt most of the inner parts of the dark-pink flesh.

I turned to look at Sesshoumaru-sama's silhouette again, and he was putting on a clean, loose yukata for him to take a rest in—although he never slept, but it was merely an act of formality, since he'd learned how to look a tad humanly since two years ago; I'd also seen those slim, although muscular arms raised and twisted as he put it on, finally settled almost too severely beside his waist as he tightened the lace of the yukata's front side.

In my mind we were already down on the floor, my flesh reddened, and my breaths racing. My legs were spread widely, and he was already a step away from entering me…

That feeling of disgust had came again, so I forced myself to stop conjuring up the images.

Dawn was on its way, and the deep shade of indigo was about to melt into the light-blue shade one more time, but before the twilight had arrived to part the distant sky, I was awake in shock.

I had a bad dream. In my dream I was running through a deep forest, which entrance was bright but as I walked deeper and deeper it got darker and darker, until a total darkness came to engulf me completely in its core. It was strange because I wouldn't stop running although I knew that I was heading toward a grave danger; and I'd realized that I was split into two: with that soul of mine on the other side crossing the forest and throwing herself into the darkness.

I tried to reach out to her, but in front of me was a thick glass that had silenced even my loudest screams. The me on the other side keep running, and the forest got darker and darker, slowly morphed into the shape of a demon's arms. Strangely enough, the other me wasn't afraid, instead, she kept running as if darkness was her world, and being in there was the thing she wanted her whole life.

I screamed louder and hit the glass, making loud thuds on its surface; at some point trying to break it, but nothing worked—

Nothing worked, and I realized in that dream that I was alone, totally alone.

As if my mind was also his, Sesshoumaru-sama suddenly appeared in front of my room with a candle in hand. His body was wrapped with that yukata he'd put on the night before, and it was still almost in its perfect shape: only very few lines were apparent there. Overall, it was as if the yukata had never been worn, and the wrinkles were only caused by careless folding.

I stood up to slide the door open and greet him. When I finally did, I'd seen his silver hair glowing in an ethereal glow of white-blue and silverish-yellow because of the lights emanated from the still-bright moon which lights were filtering through the thin paper windows in the corridor.

"You were screaming," he said in a low tone. His expression was, as always, almost completely frozen, as if no muscle there willing to move even an inch to conjure up an expression—even a half-lively one, "is everything alright?" he asked, very nicely. Everytime he said such thing, my mind automatically dated back to his coldest moments, those years when I was as an eight, nine, ten-year-old girl who knew nothing of his feud against his own younger hanyou brother, Inuyasha—those moments where hearing such thing from him was close to the world's one of biggest wonders.

"Um. Yes," I answered, and my cheeks were burning in the sight of him. I realized that it was pathetic, but like a woman's period's arrival, I couldn't prevent it from happening. It was as if the flow of blood inside my body had instantly changed directions and flowed reversedly to my head, only to cause me shame.

Sesshoumaru-sama's face was still, like a lake's placid surface, but his eyes were like a small stone thrown into the lake, and those eyes alone had caused a slight hint of waves on the surface, "You look afraid." His voice was flat, and the hand that gripped the candle had shown several small muscles jutting from its back—the only prove that he'd tightened the grip because he was somehow worried.

"I'm fine, I think. That was just a bad dream, nothing should be taken too seriously about it," I affirmed, although I wanted him to stay. The strange thing was when I desired his presence the most, a part of me would automatically come up with words that most of the time would end up expelling him, and causing my dissapointment after his departure. Like what I'd seen in the dream: it was as if I was split into two, with the dark side of me as 'Rin of the other side'.

I was expecting him to turn around and leave silently, just like what he'd always done whenever I said that I was actually fine, but I didn't see it coming. He stood still with his reserved face. I'd just realized that with the warm tone exuded by the candle, his silk-like skin appeared glowing, like a ceramic doll's skin—he was so beautiful that my heart almost stopped; that was the kind of beauty that I've always wanted to preserve in a glass, and even eternity should be shameful to wolf it down when Sesshoumaru-sama's seemingly endless time had reached its end.

Please stay, I wanted to say, and please come into my room, I wanted to continue. But neither was said, and I ended up stupefied under his spell: I've followed that beautiful demon for almost twelve years now. Many things had changed, and several traits of his had shaped themselves into better ones, replacing the old ones with the fresh, new ones like a freshly transfused blood.

"I'm really glad you are here," that was the best thing that I finally unloaded. It was not even half as powerful as what I'd intended, but at least it worked out just fine—almost.

"I wish the dream has nothing to do with my real life."

"What was the dream about?" Sesshoumaru-sama's golden eyes pierced my soul as strongly as a shot from Kikyo's arrow, and that way alone my soul would've already scattered into pieces like the Shikon no Tama.

"That was me… splitted into two," I was hesitant to tell him at first, because it sounded absurd. But since his eyes looked eager enough, I had no choice but to continue, so I told him everything about the dark forest and the Rin of the other side.

"Something is missing from your soul," out of my expectation, Sesshoumaru-sama answered, and the temperature of my body'd raised up again—I was almost sweating so I tied my hair up in a ponytail to prevent the beads of sweat from showing unless I wanted to know that he'd caused such extreme nervousness in me.

"Probably. Without that piece I'll eventually split into two one day in the real life, missing the real me," I continued his statement, showing agreement. After all, he'd answered the best part; so what was left for me was to elaborate.

Twilight arrived with its touch of warm colors, forming a line in the eastern sky—the brightness contrasted against the dark backdrop. The night sky was either hesitant, or too lazy too move: when the first warm-colored rays occurred the indigo slowly break itself into laces of light-blue, and mint-green colors, as if preparing to move the army of darkness and welcoming the knights of light. When the morning finally arrived with its grandiosity, the indigo sky had legally melt into a much lighter shade of blue—the time had came back to its neutrality again, and the world went back in order.

I didn't remember when did I go back to sleep last night; all I remembered was my last talk with Sesshoumaru-sama about the world inside the dream and the last sentence I stated was that I hated the other side: I simply didn't want dreams to exist anymore because most of them are unreal, and like a selfish lover, it leaves a lingering—sometimes too agonizing—sensations when the beautiful ones reach the void.

Those needles of light pierced my eyelids again, but this time I woke up easily because of the chirping birds in the background and the rays of morning lights filtering through the thin tatami papers. My body was light, and my hair fell down, submitting their feather-lightness into the force of gravity, like a flow of dark river flowing down my head. My eyes were clear already: the dream had thoroughly ended, and I'd be set for another long journey today, seeing a whole new territory to conquer and make friends with.

I got up, changed into a fresh, sakura-patterned handpainted kimono with a fine blue silk as the base fabric, and walked toward Sesshoumaru-sama room.

He'd already left, but when I opened the door, I'd smelled his distinctive—somewhat otherwordly, magical—aroma greeted my nose as smoothly as a streak of summer breeze.

I was left loitering in that scent alone. Those fantasies of me and him together had came into my head again: I just wanted to be forever engulfed in that sea of flame.

When I reached the village's center, I realized that I was late. People were already gathering there, with their most beautiful clothes and made-up hairs. The elderly village chief wore a pleasant-looking jade-green yukata, and his wife wore the most beautiful kimono I'd seen my whole life: hand-painted just like mine, but with more sweeps of colors: gold, purple, dark blue, crimson, orange, and that kimono alone had made her look like an emperor's wife.

"Ohayou gozaimasu," the chief greeted me, and his wife nodded respectingly. I nodded back edgily, and my eyes were already on Sesshoumaru-sama again.

He stood there like a nocturnal creature lost somewhere in the kingdom of light: he has his usual outfit on, but armors off. That way he looked like a stranded prince coming from he outer world. His golden eyes remained as placid as a lake's surface, but somehow I'd seen raging emotions raging as their undercurrents: unlikely, but he looked a tad more lively that way. His silver hair looked enchanting, and the daylight had exposed its unlikely glow—perhaps because demons would never experience a bad hair day just like ordinary men.

"Ohayou, Sesshoumaru-sama," I walked toward his side, as if to thank him for last night. He didn't talk much, but his views and short statements were like a call to calm a storm in the middle of the sea: short, meaningful, mind-opening. He could have been a poet and a remarkable philosopher with those words alone.

Sesshoumaru-sama, to my surprise, showed a hesitant smile. The muscles of his face were moving gracefully, like the movements of little fishes under a pool's calm surface as he did so. He was very handsome, and that elegance of him was almost too deadly for a human's touch. "Ohayou." He replied calmly.

"You're always late," all of a sudden, Jaken halted his answer. The old Sesshoumaru-sama would've slit his throat and revive him back with Tenseiga after several hours, but the new one remained calm, as if he didn't hear anything disturbing, "are you always this lazy?"

I gave him a smile, "Probably. There are things in the world that don't need explanations, alright?"

Jaken clucked his split-tongue, looked away, and tapped the wooden rod almost too forcefully on the floor. His small body shook a bit as he did so, "You're good at making excuses. It's hard to believe that you used to be a stupid kid with your brain the size of a pea twelve years ago—now you're a smart young woman already. Life's a strange, strange thing," Jaken turned his head facing me, and his big round eyes met mine. His expression was strangely peaceful, and I realized that he wasn't really angry all along, "but I'm glad about this change."

It was hard to swallow because he was usually a tad standoffish from time to time, but this morning he'd said a whole new different thing—almost too positive for my hearing; so I asked him back in curiousity, "What?"—"Don't fish for praises," he replied, his green cheeks blushed.

"It's rare coming out from you, it really is," I smiled and looked away, to leave him feeling easier. I knew saying such thing was never easy for him, who'd led a harsh life even from the days where he hadn't met Sesshoumaru-sama yet.

"Some things just don't need explanations," Jaken replied, his voice was very low even the cold spring breeze could easily blow every word away, perhaps even render them into pieces on the way.

"You're right," I said, "perfectly right."

I was thinking about Sesshoumaru-sama again, while looking at his strong figure, standing so sturdily as if he was challenging the flow of wind, and making questions in his head about the brazenness of the mountains surrounding the village.

When a streak of breeze blew his silver strands again, I knew I wanted to be that wind.

I watched those flying silver strands with a desire in my heart, burning like a fireplace that could paint even the pitch-black night sky red.

Afternoon near the lake.

The sky's color was almost white, and snow-white clouds were hanging on it, covering the rays from reaching the earth completely, acting as a giant filter that rendered the piercing warm rays into glows of smooth illuminations on the ground.

We were surrounded by a thick forest, just like the one I'd seen in the dream last night. The ground was covered in dry leaves, and the size of trees were different, as well as the colors of the leaves. The air there was fresh; for a moment it was hard to believe that we had not yet crossed a gate to another world. Low trees surrounded the lake as if they were bowing toward the translucent water—the water was unbelievably clear that you could see whatever down there; the rocks at the bottom of the lake was emerald-green, with slight hints of deep blue, covered in deep-water moss, and the light that went through the surface was biased into seven colors of the rainbow, landing on random places, painting the underwated beauty like a geisha's expensive kimono.

Sesshoumaru-sama and Jaken were taking a rest somewhere near the lake, but they were not close enough from where I was, and although it wouldn't matter if Sesshoumaru-sama could see my nakedness—I took off my silk kimono and slowly plunging myself into the cold water. It turned out to be a bit salty: the flavour of earth's minerals, that subtle saltiness that would make your skin tremble in joy.

When my flesh was completely soaked in the cold water, I fell asleep one more time, afloat on the surface of the shallow lake.

If you see the scene from the air, you'd see something like a painting: a girl's yellowish-pink flesh flushing in happiness, and her long, long black strands sprawled across the surface with some of them sunken to the water, but either the ones on the surface or the ones that had sunken framed her nude body perfectly. The background was the green rocks at the borrom of the lake, and elaborating the whole scene were the familiar shadows made by the dense leaves belonged to the surrounding trees. You'd probably title the painting Virgin In The Water.

I woke up to Sesshoumaru-sama's voice calling my name.

Probably we are about to leave this place, I thought, but when I jerked my body into waking up; half in embarrassment, half in shock, I realized that my thought wasn't true.

Without trying to cover my nakedness I swam toward the lake's side, the direction from where I'd entered it the first time. I let my water-soaked hair fell on the either sides of my body, with several wet strands on the shoulder and on the collarbones. My lips were red because of the refreshing bath, and as I stepped closer to him my nipples started tightening slowly—I could only wish that he didn't notice that.

Indeed, he didn't. He was staring into my eyes, and that politeness of his made me want to bow and bite his toenails, and tell him how much of a lord he was for me, the way a faithful servant to her master. Still feeling a bit sleepy, I saw those eyes as two blurred spots of golden spheres, like two pieces of rare, old jewels that had just been excavated from a Shogun's burial site, "Please, stay." I muttered the two words, and wondering whether that was really me who spoke that. when I finished the sentence I'd seen the edges of Sesshoumaru-sama's lips tigtened a bit, as if he was about to say something.

"Please, stay." I repeated the sentence and once again, it didn't sound like my own voice. That was another woman with a wholly different grace, I thought, but although you know that the woman was still a part of me, it was even harder for me to accept. Like in the dream, I'd felt my own spirit, my body had been divided into two, with the other one (apparently the real me) trapped behind a thick glass.

The other me kept walking closer and closer, until the front part of my body had been wholly pressed on Sesshoumaru-sama's fully clothed figure. I let my fingers trace his muscular build and feel every single bones as I caressed him slowly. To my surprise, he didn't even refuse. Where I'd expected him to step back or look away in disgust, he remained still, placid like a jewel among souvenirs.

I wrapped his head using my fingers and pulled his lips closer to mine. My wet hands left marks of dampness on his silver strands, his jawbones, and his silk white yukata.

She was still the other me.

Our lips tangled into one, but his was still immobile, although not soulless.

His sharp-nailed fingers were caressing my back, pulling me closer as if he was about to dry me of my soul. Leaning against his skin was like sleeping on a pile of fine silk fabrics, or riding a fast train toward a fantasy world. As I closed my eyes, I could see colorful rays again—probably because of the bright sun—and that way I could feel the movements of the heat better.

I undressed him slowly, letting the soft fabric slid gracefully down his shoulders, his waist, and finally, his thighs. My hands were among the silver strands now, wetting them as they shimmered on my face everytime a gentle breeze soothed us like a mother's consoling embrace.

The sensation of his hair imprinted on my skin was unchangeable, and that sensation alone had caused a spot in my sex wet again, but this time without the feeling of disgust. I could feel my body temperature rising, and how my flesh desired more and more pieces of the youkai's soul.

I held him tighter, willing to melt into one with him if I could, but I reached out and kissed his long neck instead. It didn't take long until he ran his hands on either sides of my face, cupped it, and kissed my lips repeatedly. It was only a short while but we already exchanged sides: he was now the one hungrily biting my neck. His teeth was sharp, but strangely enough his bites were comfortable, like tickles on a baby's skin. His breath possessed a metal-like scent to it, and combined altogether with the scent of his manly sweat the aroma could've equaled the word 'addiction'.

When his hands traced the contours of my breasts, I couldn't help but submitting myself into the warmth as he slowly pushed me to the floor—just like in my fantasies about him, although I had no clue that the real one tasted much, much better than the mental images.

I spread my legs as if someone had just commanded me to do so, and at times I'd let my hands trace his toned arms and chest over and over again. It was painful when he entered me, and I screamed, but in that demonic lust of his and our trances mixed together, the pain was almost like fading dandelion in the storm—and in seven moments the pain and the blood shed had merely turned into a missing spot somewhere in the air: evaporating like a drop of water on a burning hot iron.

It was only a short moment frozen in time because I was not strong enough to contain his strength, and when we'd finished we both plunged ourselves into the lake again, embracing and taking a bath together. After a while, Sesshoumaru-sama took me in his embrace, pushed me gently into the water, and engulfed by the cold, crystal-like translucent water, our lips met in a faithful solace. In my eyes were now smeared white rays, and several colorful spots running fastly behind my closed eyelids, slowly taking shape of a small moon god.

The missing piece of me was already found, and there in the strange solitude I'd realized that I was, finally, one again, and the thick glass was now nonexistent.

It didn't matter how long it'd take me—a day or a day in eternity—and when the time had arrived that my carcass should be rendered into dust, I would be ready because the time had already marked a glowing spot in the center of my flesh.

To me, it doesn't matter anymore whether Sesshoumaru-sama will live a hundred years, or even a hundred thousand years later because I'd already hail a melody across the seas to bring him back to me.

THE END

Bali; September 11,2010

Author's Note:

I've been reading too much Murakami and Sylvia Plath during the writing process. Reading poetry is fun, really, and how the beautiful words nourish your brain like a summer rain feels like a spot somewhere near heaven.

Talking about InuYasha, this anime is not even one of my favorites, but since Rumiko Takahashi is so capriciously romantic she loves to pair this character and that character, the story is very nice for the tweaking. To me, Sesshoumaru and Rin is a potential couple—probably many of you think so, too.

Being a twenty-year-old virgin around a beautiful demon who'd revived you twelve years ago… how will one able to say that things will not get irresistible as she grows older? After all, they'd went through long journeys and he'd protected her thousand of time already, and his beauty remained still like a diamond sealed inside a glass box: unchanged regardless the flowing time.

Thank you for reading, and have a nice day to all of you!