Eh, I've had this on the computer since last year, and no more tweaking can be done, I suppose, so here goes.
Title: Bloodlust
Fandom: Basilisk
Pairing: OC/Okoi, Okoi/OC, implied Saemon/Okoi.
Rating: R
Word Count: 521
Summary/Description: Besides the line between lust and bloodlust, there are other lines that cannot be crossed.
Warning/Spoilers: No spoilers. A bit pornish. Some yuri. Implied incest.
A/N: I can't really see Okoi having a relationship with any of the Kouga ninja, so I made up some characters. Takes place pre-series.
Disclaimer: I do not own Basilisk.
For Okoi, there has always been a discernible line between lust and bloodlust.
Her lovers never have cause to complain. Okoi always gives as good as she gets, using her body not only as a receptacle for pleasure, but a medium through which it can be given. There is something about hearing a lust-streaked growl, or a sultry moan, that drives her wild. Conversely, her enemies are shown little mercy, little pity. She draws out the feeding for as long as possible, not stopping until her victim has nothing more to give. The line clearly shows her where pleasure stops and pain begins; the difference between the bed and the battlefield.
Sometimes, however, when Okoi is tired and needy and burning for it (whatever it has the occasion to be), that line is blurred.
As in the case of Honda, the Kouga sentry with long dark blond hair and eyes of obsidian. She liked him because he was tough, didn't take shit, and didn't give it. And because he didn't mind a little pain upon occasion. She discovered that he liked her to sip lightly at his neck while he pounded into her, or suck a little at his thigh while she brought him off. She never took too much, just enough to make him gasp and writhe.
Then after him, there was Toushirou; sweet, timid Toushirou. He was tall, thin and terribly shy, with close-cropped black hair and amber eyes fringed by thick lashes. It was a challenge to coax him to her, but that only made the victory so much sweeter. They were both surprised when, one night, a hickey she was marking on his neck yielded more than sweat and the taste of his skin. He took it in stride, though, gasping and telling her not to stop. It was just as well; she doesn't think she would have been able to.
Or that Hanjabi ninja who tried to infiltrate the Kouga compound a few months back. She should have dispensed with the woman immediately upon finding her, but when she had ripped away the woman's top to get at her skin, she had been distracted by smooth skin, dark breasts and darker nipples. She licked her lips, and grasped the twin mounds, kneading flesh even as she withered it. Her mouth found purchase against the woman's; biting and suckling, tasting and draining. The kunoichi died with a moan.
Okoi frequently toes the line, from either side. Even though she respects its boundaries, she cannot help but toy with it when lust and bloodlust meld into one indiscernible mass.
However, there is another line, perpendicular to this one, laced with taboo and fear. It is thick, daunting and formidable, and she knows that this is one that she cannot cross. Prudence might not be one of her strong points, but she retains the greater part of her morals. And they all scream at her that what she wants is unnatural, wrong and unattainable.
So she learns to control her lust and her bloodlust, and satisfy herself with thoughts of how Saemon would taste, how his blood would taste.
A/N: Okay, maybe it's time to admit that I have a thing for Saemon/Okoi.