I was frantic. Lost inside my own mind. Terrified of what I might do if I let my guard down.

I ran through the elegant mansion as tears rolled down my face and my hair flew behind me. Sesshomaru had rejected me the night before, and I couldn't handle it. All the death I had seen, all of Inuyasha's constant want for that dead, walking corpse left me a corpse myself.

Where do I go from here?

The rhetorical question echoed inside of my desolate mind, eerily similar to the echoing of my bare feet on the marble that I ran on. Why wasn't he following me? Sesshomaru. Why wasn't he following me? It's only been a few days since I followed him here back to his home, hell-bent on making him, if not that, forcing him, to love me. I was broken inside, you see.

Desperation.
Desperation?
Desperate..

The words! Those cursed words! My dreams were their only way in which they could haunt me and remind me of what I had become:

A desperate shell of my former self.

I continued running. Running, running, never knowing where exactly I would end up. I passed eloquent baths, a beautiful garden, and many, many beautiful bedrooms I briefly wished I could kill myself in. I wanted to dirty something of his even if it wasn't he I would be dirtying. I would splatter my blood across the many paintings and antiques in the grandest room in this prison.

I didn't expect him to flat out reject me four days after I followed him like the hopeless puppy dog I am. In fact, I should have expected such.

Right?

I should have expected him to never want me; to never want to touch this dirtied body; to never, ever try and heal me. No, never.

But, fuck. I expected him to. I wanted him to. I should have gave up the prospect of hope the day I followed him.

But I didn't. And shit like this is what gives karma her infamous repertoire, no?

Still running was I. Finally, I stopped at a bedroom that was, for the most part, bare of anything beautiful, save for the large canopy bed near the left-hand side of the room. By entering, I would simply add to the lack of beauty that had become its theme.

A sigh left my nearly dry lips as I sat on the bed and put my head into the palms of my hands. If I had to explain the amount of horrific pain that I felt, I couldn't tell you in words.

It's been said that silence speaks volumes. Didn't someone else say that as well..?

-Flashback-
"Sesshomaru-sama, I'm not—"
"Silence speaks volumes when words cannot."

-End flashback-

As much as I wanted to curse him in this moment, I had to admit that Sesshomaru was right. When words were not available to the human mind, silence is always on the backburner. Maybe my silence will tell him more than my voice ever could, perhaps?

Perhaps.

I can't tell you how many hours or minutes passed while I sat in that room. But it must have been a lot of hours, considering that the sun had set and nightfall was afoot. I thought I had fallen asleep. Maybe I had, maybe I hadn't, I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure of much of anything as of late. My head was swimming in an abyssal amount of nothingness and colorless pain. For some reason, labeling it as "pain" felt like a terrible, terrible understatement.

Foot steps. Soft and graceful, deadly and stealth. I heard Sesshomaru round a corner far from this room, and I knew that I had to hide myself somehow. Either that, or disappear completely. I felt mortified at the words I had spoken to Sesshomaru. Maybe that smile was a smile not of some form of happiness, but a smile that knew it would be difficult to succeed in my task? Then again, that might have been a form of happiness for Sesshomaru, only Kami-sama knows.

Closer and closer. So close. They stopped at the closed door and I curled into myself, remembering something a teacher had told my class about making yourself smaller or something to that effect. I never noticed the door had opened, and Sesshomaru had entered the room. A true hunter, he is. He neared closer to me and I shut my eyes tightly, praying to every God in the sky to make me invisible, make me disappear, something that would take me away from this God-awful place.

"I found you, Kagome~"

I shivered, and I knew he saw. This was like a sick game of cat and mouse, only the cat just so happened to be a youkai, and the mouse just so happened to be a human. Sesshomaru ran an elegant lethal claw down my back. I resisted the urge to arch into the claw no matter how nice it felt. But rejection didn't feel nice. And I knew he didn't want to touch me willingly, so I flinched away from the claw and scooted toward the wall that the bed touched.

I have no idea how many minutes passed by before I felt the weight of the bed shift, and that same clawed hand run its talons down my back. This time, I arched into his touch. But not so much so that he would be encouraged to do it again. However, I believe I might have arched into him a bit too much, as he did it again.

And I bit my lip so hard. So hard that the skin broke and a tiny rivulet of blood began running the corner of my mouth.

Sesshomaru smelled the blood and leaned over my trembling body, and licked it away, flicking his tongue over the self-wound to close it. My eyes, which were shut so tightly, had opened a smidge and it looked as if my eyes were half-lidded in lust.

Maybe they were, maybe they weren't, who knows? I didn't. I'm sure Sesshomaru did, however, as the tongue that had healed my wound moved to the center of my throat. His lips latched onto an expanse of skin, and my body went rigid.

All I felt was exquisite pleasure. It was so foreign to me, as Inuyasha, even when he decided me worthy enough to be given a limited amount of pleasure, had never been so gentle with me.

So badly did I want to give in; to give myself to this pleasure-pain that tortured my weak mind. And in my momentary musings, I did. Even if rejection wasn't the greatest feeling, I was still desperate enough for even a bit of attention from him.

And he gave me so much of it that every time his skin broke contact with my own, I nearly moaned in protest. Sesshomaru's mouth never left the area in the center of my throat, but his hands, those beautiful, dangerous hands, were doing something to the middle-most and lower-most part of me simultaneously.

The hands softly, softly crawled their way under the silk nightgown that I had changed into the previous night and hadn't changed out of since. My body trembled—with what, I was not entirely positive—for something more.. something more.. what? His eyes glanced upward at me and I swore to myself that those magnificently golden irises smirked at me, as his mouth was currently busy devouring my throat.

My fingers twitched with an aching to run themselves through his hair. And they did. For a moment, I was jealous that his hair was far silkier than mine was. But my hands never left the mane of silver.

Sesshomaru's fingers, however, were busily teasing and taunting my aching body. I could smell the scent of sex—my sex, I suppose—in the air and that caused a slow, quiet moan to leave my lips. A single claw alternated between flicking against my erect nipples. Electricity burned my spine and I began trembling against him once more. I don't think I had really stopped in the first place.

My body had somehow found its way beneath Sesshomaru's massive one, and the hands in his hair found themselves eagerly tearing away at the annoying clothing that stopped my skin from fully coming in contact with his.

Behind the lids of my eyes, I saw red—the color of blood. The color of passion.

Sesshomaru pressed himself against me, allowing me to feel that he was just as excited as I was. Instead of me getting his clothes off, he simply tore mine from my body. I lay there, naked as the day I was born. His eyes flicked from golden to red for a single second, and it terrified me as well as excited me more, if humanly possible.

I would have liked to describe Sesshomaru, the great Taiyoukai of the west, as being desperate right now. Or rather, desperate-with-grace. To answer your inquiry, of course it's possible. This is Sesshomaru, you know.

He stripped himself of his own clothing and planted his hands on either side of my head so as to hold his weight and not completely crush me. Our hips rocked together in delicious ecstasy and our moans filled the room. The room that had once lacked beauty was now, to me, the most beautiful room in Sesshomaru's home, even if it didn't possess any paintings, antiques or furniture (save the bed) of impeccable grandeur.

"Kagome.."

I heard him, but the sound was so far from my passion-clouded mind. All I could feel, all I knew was him touching me everything, burning every stretch of skin that his fingers touched. I wanted to be sated. I wanted to be sated.

Desperately.

I could barely register him slipping into me, slowly pushing. My arms immediately embraced his neck and I pushed myself onto his aching member.

"Nn.. Kagome.."

My mind answered him, but I did not. I didn't trust my voice at this time, as I figured that the only answer he would get would be an incoherent flood of moans and words.

We build a rhythm gradually, gradually before he began thrusting furiously into me as if he had pent up anger than he needed to release.

But I needed release. Kami-sama knows I needed it badly. I could see in his face that he needed it, as well.

Suddenly, he pulled himself and my body up at the same time. If I didn't know a damn thing about beauty or elegance in sex, I would say that Sesshomaru would be the epitome of it right now. His hair was slightly—only slightly—disheveled; some if it was settled on his shoulder and some of it behind. The muscles in his perfectly structured legs were flexing continually in his position, which had him on his knees and leaning back against his thighs.

The eroticism of our current position was nearly unfathomable to me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and bounced atop of him, whimpering and calling out of his name. His thrusts became faster, and I guessed he had put a bit of his preternatural speed into his thrusts.

"A-Ah! S-Sesshomaru-sama..! Ngh.."

He looked at me and smirked and his thrusts became so fast that if he hadn't been holding me about the waist, I might have hit the wall behind me. I buried my face in his hair and inhaled the musky, masculine scent that the sweat had given it. His claws were digging into my sides, and I didn't care. As a child, I had been somewhat of a masochist, anyway.

So close.. so close..

I was approaching my climax and by the grunts that came from Sesshomaru, he was, too. The claws dug into my sides more, and I knew he had broken skin. I didn't care. I wanted my blood and our juices to mix on this bed. I wanted to be marked by him and only him. No longer did my mind think of the pain he had caused, but it only thought of the pleasure he gave me.

"Sesshomaru!" I whimpered onto the night air. I vaguely heard his baritone voice answer with my name as we released, I onto him, and him into me. The room smelled so much of sex and cum, and I almost got excited again. He let go of me, allowing me to fall back onto the bed, and into the small puddle of blood that had accumulated while we fucked.

The silken sheets were stained with blood, with our juices and our scents were engraved in it. Sesshomaru pulled out and lied next to me, staring into my eyes. No words were needed nor were they necessary, as it would only serve to ruin the afterglow.

My fingers curled themselves in his hair as I curled up against him. Strangely, I felt no regrets, no nothing, really, save for the need of more skin-to-skin contact with Sesshomaru. My eyes were heavy, and without protesting of any sort, I closed them, giving into the inevitable sleep.

Inside my mind, I heard a whisper. A tiny whisper. It spoke:

If this is what Sesshomaru's rejection is, then I wouldn't mind being rejected by him all the time.

I chuckled softly at the silliness of it, and whispered quietly onto the night air:

"I couldn't agree more."

~Owari.