Slowly, the tension melts away, and sometime after midnight, she pushes up on his chest to look down at him.

"This was exhausting."

Sesshoumaru can only nod, the exhaustion she speaks of making his eyelids heavier than he'd like. But exhausting is too flimsy a word for the emotional weight bearing down on them.

She lifts her fingertips to trace his markings, and he leans into her touch, eyes locking on her face. Her own as well as her lips are swollen from crying, her cheeks streaked with salt.

Raw, honest.

Beautiful.

He brushes her skin, silently lamenting lost time.