LUST
That pulsing red thing, brutally held in Naraku's palm, is nothing more to her than a lure on a string, a premonition of what could be instead of what is. The only thing she knows of the heart she does not have is pain, only aware of it when it is squeezed, crushed in the hands of a monster.
It does not flutter, does not softly ache in her breast, she cannot feel its pulse, there is no thunder of a heartbeat when she gets flustered, hot and bothered, when her thoughts wander…
Her heart, just like her freedom, are intangible, silent, tasteless on her tongue save for the promise they hold. She has no basis to imagine, no reference point for anything besides pain―what they must feel like, she doesn't know.
In the meantime, she can try to guess.
The night begins like a hundred others. A clouded sky that blots out the stars, a full moon only seen in glimpses beyond the thick sheet of fog, and Kagura, unattended and hopefully unsupervised, with only the slim details of one of the baby's schemes as a bargaining tool…
It's a stupid thing, and she only goes because she has little else to lose, her pride already battered and bruised. It hardly matters if she injures it a little more. Her feather drifts, heavy on the stagnant winds of a calm night, and finds him marching through an abandoned human village, strangely alone.
Inhabitants long gone, the place is desolate, even the rats have moved on, and she briefly wonders if he's scavenging, but thinks better of it. Such a thing would be below him.
He notices her before she lands, stops when her feet touch the ground and only offers her a glance as a greeting. Curious, but not ready to ask what she wants. She's become used to this by now.
"Yo, what you up to?"
He turns his head, his eyes a somber sort of grey in the darkness, but he doesn't return her pleasantries. Instead he just raises his brow, asking what she wants, what she's come for. She sees no point in playing coy, so with a sigh, she tells him.
She moves as she talks, flicking her fan and spinning it in her palm. She doesn't look at him, knowing she would just find apathy if she were to chance a glance… With a final flick she returns her fan to hanging limply from her wrist and stops speaking, crosses her arms and throws her shoulder against the wall of the nearest abandoned hut. She's moved in a little closer, but she knows better than to step within arms reach of him, they may be something like allies―and even that is a fragile assertion to make―but without the girl there to temper his actions, she isn't sure where she stands.
She looks up at him, and is surprised to find him staring―unnerving, it's harder to read him without the light to reflect in his eyes.
"Is that it?"
She shrugs. "You know they don't trust me with more than that."
"Stop trying," he says, his voice low, "it's foolish."
Stop trying to keep up the hope that he might change his mind? Or stop trying to sabotage Naraku's machinations? It doesn't matter, they've had this conversation before, and she can't pretend as if the reprimand doesn't smart, but she doesn't plan to snap at him for repetition either.
Instead, she snorts. "Why? Still too cowardly to put my advice to use?"
She says it as a joke, lighthearted, the barest breath carrying her words, a soft chuckle to accompany them. But there is still the chance―that this will be the time she oversteps her bounds, that alone, she'll insult him to the point of fury. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. She has a bloody fate before her, at least this one she might look forward to, if only to steal the inevitable from Naraku's hands.
But nothing happens, at first, he just stares at her, as if he's thinking.
"You'll die," he says, and before the insult can catch up with her, he continues: "Does your life mean so little to you?"
"It ain't like it means much to anyone right now," she hisses, and pushes herself away from the wall. "What the hell does it matter what I do?"
A mistake, because when she steps forward she puts herself within his reach. It would hardly matter, she's seen how quickly he can move, but his proximity is a threat all its own.
"...A waste."
She doesn't understand his meaning, but her first thought is that he's referring to her or her attempts, which sets a scorching heat trickling down her spine. Rage curls her lip, she snarls.
Sesshoumaru just steps forward, crowding her against the wall, and he's too close―
"You misunderstand me."
Her fingers pinch her fan, ready to swing, but when he raises his hand it is not to rip his claws through her throat, instead his hand goes to her jaw, tilting her head so that she has to look up at him, and despite the degrading position she finds the fury dripping away, his hand is warm and his eyes flicker down to her lips and―Oh.
It happens very quickly then, everything such a blur that she hardly hears the thunder of the building when she pushes him away and his back collides with the one opposite, crashing through the wall. He's on his back in the next second as she reaches for the ties around his waist, pulling them away quicker than he could with only one hand. The swords fall to the side and she tosses his armor away, loosening her own robes as she crawls onto his lap and sinks onto him.
There's a sharp pinch, a burn between her legs, but despite the pain riding him is the most alive she's ever felt. Heat builds, scorching hot and burning wherever his hand falls, her hip, her thigh, a breast, her spine... there is only the sound of their breathing, heavy panting that fogs in the cool air―Kagura sets her own rhythm, frantic, she rolls her hips against him with his hand gripping her thigh. He stares up at her, all golden eyed with his pupils blown out wide―the most flustered she's ever seen him―as she takes her pleasure, her palm flat on his chest and nails digging into his skin…
She comes quickly, unravels around him with a choked sob, but when she falters his hand moves to her hip, moving her to a different pace, a different type of motion until he follows soon after, and it takes nearly all her strength not to succumb and collapse against his chest.
But Sesshoumaru stays inside her, catching his breath, and she can feel him, still pulsing, a dull throb, a trembling heartbeat, and she thinks―
This must be what freedom feels like.
…