Salome 10/08
Author's Note: Dark little oneshot written for LJ comm Inumadmusing's "Bite" prompt. I wanted to do something more than just show lemony biting fetish. This took first place.
Cure
When did it start, Inuyasha? When did I begin to use you to fill the rage and despair I could not let anyone else see? Why did you let me? Why do you still?
I look down at your body, watch its miraculous healing as I run my fingers over the marks in your flesh that mirror the edges of my teeth. Little deep grooves that bruise then heal over so perfectly that no one knows what it is you give me and how desperately I need it. I mark your thigh, your chest, your shoulder, your ass. Sometimes I make you bleed. Not often. I am not claiming you, my Inuyasha. We both know that. But your cock is always hard. And I am wet and panting when I am done.
So generous, you stifle your cries so no one else will hear as I sink my teeth into you. We do not want to taint our companions with my disease. You are my treatment, my relief, my remedy.
When did the fetish begin? Grinding my teeth was the heart of it. How often did I clench my jaw in frustration? It was always about watching: watching Naraku escape, watching villagers slaughtered, watching your body being bruised and broken, again and again, watching the way you watched Kikyou. I felt such impotence, such rage. I woke more and more often from haunted dreams with a throbbing headache that a dentist in my time told me with certainty was caused by grinding my teeth in my sleep. Soon, meals only satisfied when they consisted of raw vegetables to crunch, thick meat to gnaw. My Inuyasha, you watched with concern but without understanding for long months. I could tell you wanted to help, even as I snuck off to rip bark from the trees to slip between my teeth. How I needed to feel my jaws work. It brought me something other than helpless and increasingly dead inside.
Then you offered yourself to me. "Let me, Kagome," you said, pressing your forearm to my lips. I understood immediately the language you were speaking. And I was weak enough to accept your offer. My need grew, and you met it without hesitation. All of your body is mine, Inuyasha. I know this. I am grateful. Truly.
My gratitude is sincere; I prove it by trying, daily, to resist. I am trying so hard to give you back your body, a body that does not ache everywhere from the increasing power and fury of my bites. And yet I see no sign that you would have me stop. In our nightly ritual, we share the rage, Inuyasha, and perhaps the cure.