Disclaimer (as if I need one!) I don't own it, and no, I've neither seen nor read the entire thing. Still working on that.
Free
He'd thought she was Kikyo, the first time he'd ever seen her. And then he'd gotten a good whiff, and realized the scent was wrong. Inu-Yasha plucked at the beads around his neck. Again, they didn't come off.
She'd been so insulted when he had said Kikyo was much cuter. Then the demon had crushed her against him, and for the first time in fifty years, he'd felt a woman's body against his own. Her hips, drug along his own, her breasts, as the centipede pulled her down until her face had rested intimately against him, her hand fisted next to him. And he'd asked her to free him, too confused at the rush of sensation, and too angry with the centipede, to think she wouldn't be able to release him.
And then the throbbing ecstasy of release, as the geas was broken, and his power and strength returned to him, with his freedom.
A freedom he had lost only minutes later.
For all his strength and power, his speed and ability to fight, he'd been transformed into little more than a slave. He'd fought it bitterly, trying everything he could think of to break this new spell that bound him, to no avail. To be so close to the jewel, to achieving his life's dream, and never be able to realize it. And then it had been shattered.
She was eighteen now, and the jewel had only a few shards missing. They had recovered most of them. The beads rustled against his kimono when he shifted to look down where she slept. Three years now. Three years of traveling together. Three years in which he'd learned what it meant to have friends, to have someone care about him. Three years in which he'd protected her and the others. Three years of carrying her, her long legs locked around his waist, her breath warm against his neck. In those three years, he'd grown to love her.
She never once offered to release him.
She'd cried for him. Wrapped her arms around him, been worried about him, cared about him.
But she wouldn't release him.
He was a half-demon, and she was the keeper of the Shikon Jewel, the only thing that could make him a full demon.
The beads still bound him.
Inu-Yasha sat up with a strangled cry, and raced through the trees.
He huddled against the tree, knees pulled to his chest, dark head buried in his arms. Tonight was his last chance. He had to do it, and he had to do it right. If not, he would never make her believe. Not that it mattered.
His head came up slowly, looking for the sword he'd brought. An old sword, not very sharp, but all he had. Trembling hands pulled it from the sheath. He wasn't a coward! He wasn't! This was the only thing he could think of to prove.
To prove he could be trusted.
He laughed as he braced the sword, wrapping his hands around the blade. It wasn't sharp, but it cut him. Slowly, he adjusted it. He could do this. He had to. The point was just under his chin now. The point, scratching a thin line of blood as he moved it back, until it pressed just above his throat.
She would know that she could trust him.
He swallowed, clenched the blade tighter, thrust as hard as he could.
"Ka...go...me." Violet eyes widened in agony as he forced the blade to twist as he pulled it free. He slumped, blood pouring from the wound.
Silver hair waved in the gentle breeze, a red sleeve fluttering. Golden eyes opened slowly, clawed hands feeling for a wound that wasn't there. The sword lay next to him, bloodied. The white shirt he wore was red with blood. He'd done it, and he'd failed. The silver head drooped. He'd failed. The tears he'd refused to release forced their way past tightly closed lids. He bit his lip to keep the sobs muffled, since he couldn't stop them.
He'd failed.
They were calling him. She was calling him. He was a good dog. He went back to his mistress.
The throbbing exhilaration when he'd been freed, the rush of power and strength. He remembered it, felt it.
The beads fell to the ground.
He was free.
Violet eyes met gold ones. He tried to speak, couldn't.
"You're welcome," his brother told him.
Free
He'd thought she was Kikyo, the first time he'd ever seen her. And then he'd gotten a good whiff, and realized the scent was wrong. Inu-Yasha plucked at the beads around his neck. Again, they didn't come off.
She'd been so insulted when he had said Kikyo was much cuter. Then the demon had crushed her against him, and for the first time in fifty years, he'd felt a woman's body against his own. Her hips, drug along his own, her breasts, as the centipede pulled her down until her face had rested intimately against him, her hand fisted next to him. And he'd asked her to free him, too confused at the rush of sensation, and too angry with the centipede, to think she wouldn't be able to release him.
And then the throbbing ecstasy of release, as the geas was broken, and his power and strength returned to him, with his freedom.
A freedom he had lost only minutes later.
For all his strength and power, his speed and ability to fight, he'd been transformed into little more than a slave. He'd fought it bitterly, trying everything he could think of to break this new spell that bound him, to no avail. To be so close to the jewel, to achieving his life's dream, and never be able to realize it. And then it had been shattered.
She was eighteen now, and the jewel had only a few shards missing. They had recovered most of them. The beads rustled against his kimono when he shifted to look down where she slept. Three years now. Three years of traveling together. Three years in which he'd learned what it meant to have friends, to have someone care about him. Three years in which he'd protected her and the others. Three years of carrying her, her long legs locked around his waist, her breath warm against his neck. In those three years, he'd grown to love her.
She never once offered to release him.
She'd cried for him. Wrapped her arms around him, been worried about him, cared about him.
But she wouldn't release him.
He was a half-demon, and she was the keeper of the Shikon Jewel, the only thing that could make him a full demon.
The beads still bound him.
Inu-Yasha sat up with a strangled cry, and raced through the trees.
He huddled against the tree, knees pulled to his chest, dark head buried in his arms. Tonight was his last chance. He had to do it, and he had to do it right. If not, he would never make her believe. Not that it mattered.
His head came up slowly, looking for the sword he'd brought. An old sword, not very sharp, but all he had. Trembling hands pulled it from the sheath. He wasn't a coward! He wasn't! This was the only thing he could think of to prove.
To prove he could be trusted.
He laughed as he braced the sword, wrapping his hands around the blade. It wasn't sharp, but it cut him. Slowly, he adjusted it. He could do this. He had to. The point was just under his chin now. The point, scratching a thin line of blood as he moved it back, until it pressed just above his throat.
She would know that she could trust him.
He swallowed, clenched the blade tighter, thrust as hard as he could.
"Ka...go...me." Violet eyes widened in agony as he forced the blade to twist as he pulled it free. He slumped, blood pouring from the wound.
Silver hair waved in the gentle breeze, a red sleeve fluttering. Golden eyes opened slowly, clawed hands feeling for a wound that wasn't there. The sword lay next to him, bloodied. The white shirt he wore was red with blood. He'd done it, and he'd failed. The silver head drooped. He'd failed. The tears he'd refused to release forced their way past tightly closed lids. He bit his lip to keep the sobs muffled, since he couldn't stop them.
He'd failed.
They were calling him. She was calling him. He was a good dog. He went back to his mistress.
The throbbing exhilaration when he'd been freed, the rush of power and strength. He remembered it, felt it.
The beads fell to the ground.
He was free.
Violet eyes met gold ones. He tried to speak, couldn't.
"You're welcome," his brother told him.