I have seen you many, many times before this, Sesshomaru – but never like this. There is an odd, out-of-place chill to the air, and I can feel my shiver in my bones. My eyes cannot hold your gaze but for a moment, and I constantly have to look away from you. So pure… So beautiful… You are like the devil, if the devil could be made of light instead of darkness.
When the others are gone, it is only you and I here, on this field covered with youkai blood and entrails; the corpses surrounding us are at least a day old, and they are beginning to rot. Yet you do not move, and neither can I. As the stink of death fills my nostrils, you finally speak.
"Monk."
It is a simple word, but one that could have me on my knees, shivering and naked, in barely a second when spoken in just the right way. Your tone betrays your power, Lord Sesshomaru, and I am secretly in awe of you – your strength, your fluidity, your sheer masculinity that screams and sings in response to my own.
Somehow, I hold my ground, staying on my feet.
"My Lord?"
Your eyes – why do they narrow? I crave such knowledge that is probably unfit for someone like me, someone that can only hope to ever have enough of your attention to be worth something to you.
Nothing changes, not even the wind. All that hints at your movement is the rush of stink that forces me to gag as it enters my nostrils once more, and you are suddenly before me, your face mere inches from my own.
Even as startled as I am, my eyes are quick – they take in what they can of your appearance so close up, and they save them in my memory. It is surely one that I will keep until the day I die. Copied by my mind's eye is creamy skin, soft hair, and disturbingly alive golden eyes. All of this time, everyone in our group thought you to be cold-hearted, to hold such a frigid lack of expression in your eyes…
But that was never the case, I decide as you grasp my arm in your hand and spin me around. Dizzy, I am unable to remain on my feet any longer, and it takes a tiny push from your hand against my back to bring me to my knees. No longer can I keep track of your movement, Sesshomaru – all I know is that the feel of your hot breath against my ear is the truest thing I have ever known.
With skillful hands, you rob me of my modesty; within seconds, I am as nude in that field as I had ever dreamt of becoming. Slowly, you ease me forward, your forearm against my upper back. Reaching out unconsciously, my hand splays across dewy, blood-soaked grass, my fingertips brushing a ripped organ of some sort. Bile rises quickly in my throat, and it rushes out to join the gore and stink of what amounts to our life. Your hand does not move to comfort me, nor does it move to hurt me – yet. Though I know that must be on its way.
There will be no going back now.
Finally, your hand does move – upward, sharp claws scraping lightly against the back of my neck. I cannot hold back the gasp that escapes me as your palm settles against the back of my head. It is not near as hot as the look in your eye. I can feel your fingers knotting in my hair as your lips press lightly against the nape of my neck; goosebumps and shivers run along my spine, spreading throughout my entire body, and I am tense.
I close my eyes, taking deep breaths through my open mouth – it makes it easier to endure our disgusting environment. Your lips press harder against my neck, moving just a little; after another second, all I can feel is your hot breath, and then a sharp pain stabs its way through my skin. The sensation rips its way down my spine and around my collar, spreading until my whole body is numb with fiery agony. It takes me mere moments to realize that I have been marked – claimed. No longer am I a free man, able to do what I will with my love and my body.
It all belongs to you now.
The night air is cold and distant – when did the sun fade away? – and there is the sinking feeling that my illusion is about to come to an abrupt end.
Using your knee, you spread my weakened legs, and I can feel the cool palm of your hand rubbing against my lower back and hip. Wordlessly, you enter me, swiftly and without warning. It is impossible for me to quiet myself, and the cry escapes my lips while my brain is overcome with aching need. Arching my back just a little, it takes me a moment to come fully back to myself, and I realize that I am reacting much too strongly for your taste. The burning expansion your cock prompts in my as of yet unmarred entrance sweeps through me, and I never dreamt that having you could hurt so wonderfully.
Moving within me, I can barely make out your slight grunts and growls, covered as they may be by the wind roaring through the plains. As your pace quickens, your claws dig deeply into the smooth flesh of my back, running downward to leave puckering and raggedly bleeding trails down the skin.
A part of me hopes it scars.
I throw my head back, earning an angry growl of protest from you as you buck into my especially hard. A moan frees itself from my throat – another wrong move in your opinion, and you buck harder once more. It hurts so much, but it feels so good that I cannot stop. My insubordination, I am sure, will drive your beast absolutely wild, and it will proceed to take me as violently as possible. Wriggling my hips and pushing back against your pelvis lightly, your deep-throated growl rises up in volume, becoming an infuriated roar. Your patience has worn far too thin, Sesshomaru, and it will take one more move from your rebellious pet to force your true nature into the open.
A smirk that you cannot see has taken residence on my lips, and I lick them slowly, still smirking, as I cry out loudly, my voice ragged, "Sesshomaru!"
That does the trick – your roaring is all that fills my ears as your claws tear at my hip before latching into my shoulder; you shove me down, burying my face in the disgusting dirt. Blood has coagulated, transforming the ground into metallic-smelling mud, and bile rises up my throat again as my brain switches off. My desire is now completely run by the intensity of the angle with which you fuck me now, and as my body tightens and releases, your own doing the same, I cannot help but want more from you.
My vomit and seed mix and mingle in the dewy, red-soaked grass, and it takes me a few minutes for my head to clear. When it does, I am alone in this gore-laced field, and my right arm is bruised and burning. It may be broken, but it was well worth it, I think as I pick up my torn and dirty clothes, dressing slowly – satisfied.
