All "InuYasha" characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi and associated copyright holders. No money is being made from this fan fiction. No infringement is intended. Nor do I make claim to the song, "She Makes Me (Stormtroopers in Stilettos)", that honor goes to the band Queen.
My love.
She makes me…
I hear the sonar echo of your heels as they ring in your stalking stride across the pitted floorboards in this dark room. Like a spike of your servile wind into my waiting, twitching ear, I inwardly flinch at your slow approach. You know what I need…
I could never be terrified of you, woman – but somehow, I feel like your hands are already clenched in a tight fist around my soul and it makes the short silver hairs on the back of my bare neck stand tall. My heart follows in a low, hard throb.
Were I not laying here in this silken cocoon on my stomach, another part of me would be tall and proud too – but the vulgarity doesn't suit me. You come to me in darkness and you will try to seduce me… in my cool mind, I see your limber white body, tipped in those decadent blood-red stilettos; gleaming like your hungry, exquisite eyes, dangerous as your small fangs. I want nothing right now so very much as I want to flip myself over on this silken bed, grab my aching cock and command you come here now and ride me like the bitch you are… oh, little demoness, you make me…
You make me need you, need your deceptive indifference and your constant challenge to my ego – I fight against you and my hot wench, every time, you win!
My mind goes up in flames when your form materializes out of the inky blackness before my burning eyes and I know I will do whatever you want of me; I'll fuck you, I'll suck you, I'll worship you and I'll love you because you make me need it. You make me need you.
You make me…
But right now, my long hands folded under my leonine head, I try to resist the avatar of Desire that only you can be, for as long as I am able. Panting heavily in the darkness with my heroic effort to remain cool, indifferent, haughty – I know these are all the things about me that drive you to hunt me as you are now. You make me need…
You slyly cock a thin hip at my self-imposed agony and the silver bells of your satisfied laughter mak the jade drops in your elfin ears coquettishly laugh at me too. The slick sounds you make as you twist your hips and lick at those sardonic lips makes lightening shoot down my spine. Clenching my deadly claws in reflex, I kid myself that you miss me vainly pumping my need into the silken sheets in the face of such temptation, but of course you miss nothing and laugh again at my self-imposed misery. How I want to do just as you silently command and fuck you senseless, woman!
I am a deadly force of Nature and I have laid armies low with less than a glance – and yet, I hesitate to engage you on this field of lust and desire; I am afraid I will lose and you will dominate me utterly, making me a helpless captive to your devilish little heart.
I fear that even as I burn for it, woman! Evil little bitch, I am so jealous of this power you lord over me and the vision that rises in my flaming mind; your long black hair held fast in my claws, your perfect red lips swallowing my cock in well-practiced ecstasy, your sharp cries as I put your wind-washed body to hard, delicious use. All these push me to make the first move, so I do.
Pushing up on my knees I lunge at your perfectly hard body, intent on capture, intent on mastering you, my irresistible mistress.
I never see the fan flick out from your perfect crimson claws and the gust that I allow to blow me backwards is a silent testament to my love for you, my wind witch.
I see your slim weapon only as you tuck it closed, back into your gorgeous hair, behind the pristine feathers which sway in your conquering wake as you mount my suddenly supine form and drive me home within your wet, licking heat. Finally, you have made me submit and gods, does it feel so fucking good…!
My last conscious thought before the fire takes me completely is the feel of your tight thighs gripping my hips as you rise and fall upon my lap and the sound of that oh-so-satisfying moan you allow me when I pull you too hard, too deep by the devious spikes of your irresistible stilettos. My wicked, wicked love.
She is my love.
She is my love.
And if I'm very slow, she makes me so.
"She Makes Me (Stormtroopers in Stilettos)
Sheer Heart Attack
Queen, 1974