The heels of his palms press into his eyes, the counselor's instructions blaring in his memory.
Share a vulnerability.
This isn't what he had in mind, and apparently neither did the miko.
His eyes and lungs burn, breath refusing to come as he tries to control the disaster tearing through him, and he smells her panic before he hears it.
"Oh, gods, Sesshoumaru?"
Her weight crashes into his lap.
He tilts his head back against the lounger, palms still pressed tight as small hands begin to pull at his.
"Sesshoumaru?" she chokes. "Sesshoumaru, please…"
He's going to kill the counselor.
