Kagome’s voice wavered as she gazed up at Sesshoumaru. “I-I was…I really m-meant to. I—”

She broke off as his claws skimmed down the line of her jaw. The pad of his thumb traced damply between the seam of her lips. Fresh tears burned in her eyes at the arousal that panged within her.

“Why…” she whimpered out, as his other hand rose to the mark on her neck before trailing down her front. “…Why are you doing this…?”

“Do you not like it?” he asked lowly.

The point of his nail caught lightly against the hardened nipple cresting through her bra and dress. Kagome shivered at the sensation. The strap of her backpack fell from her bloodless hand as she clasped weakly at his wrist instead. His grip tightened beneath her touch. His sharp thumb dipped into her mouth just barely.

“…I wanted to be a good wife,” she said tearfully around him. Reflexively she arched into the other set of fingers curving over her breast. “I really, really did…”

Drawing closer to her, Sesshoumaru slid both his hands to her waist. Reaching around her, he made short work of the loose, twisted obi holding her yukata closed. Kagome’s stomach fluttered and tensed. The freed folds of cotton whispered over the faint swell of her mound as he pulled her hanging dress apart and lowered his mouth to her throat. Even with the most forbidden part of her revealed to him, Sesshoumaru’s voice was sincere.

“I know.”

Tears streamed from Kagome’s eyes. Her fingers curled into the silk at his shoulders. As his palms smoothed over the bones of her hips, he descended. Her faint sobs stilted when his warm lips skirted her womb.

“You can blame me, if you wish,” he murmured against her. Bending her left leg at the knee, he raised it and settled it onto his shoulder. “For this mistake, and all that follow.”

Displaced, Kagome’s hand clutched shakily at his lustrous hair. Her fallen tears spotted it darkly as he moved between the gap in her thighs. When the tip of his nose nudged her outer folds, her cries choked in her throat. When his mouth slanted open against her sex, her lungs threatened to capsize altogether.

She could feel herself crumbling—all that she was, all that she had worked so hard to be, splintering beneath the heat of his breath. Higurashi Kagome—the selfless Shikon Miko, the dutiful daughter, the devoted wife—all reduced to rubble. To ash.

Yet still, here she stood.

Who was she? Who was this person—this stranger standing in her skin?

As his lips prised apart her own, as his fiery tongue wedged between them, she inhaled sharply in exhilaration—in terror at the thought that maybe, deep down, this was the real her, after all.

“Se-Sesshoumaru,” she stammered out in fear.

Her clammy palms planted to either side of his face. His lips glistened as he drew briefly back. His molten eyes narrowed up at her. Kagome’s plea caught in her throat when he spread her thighs apart from behind and crushed her fully to his mouth.

“Ah!” she cried out as her head snapped back, his claws biting into her in response.

Glazed shut from their earlier encounter, her inner folds peeled sluggishly open beneath the slow, savoring rasp of his tongue. A heady growl rumbled up through her core. As he laved leisurely at her sticky flesh, Kagome’s stomach coiled at the sound, at the sensation. At the dirty pleasure he stirred up within her.

It was filthy—he was filthy, for doing this. For wanting this.

Her fingers buried in his fine, flowing hair. Her nails scraped hard against his scalp as he licked her clean and made her filthy all over again. Her whole sex slickened from the damp, sweltering path of his tongue, from the liquid desire that was dripping out of her and into his mouth below. Her lower half began to shake when he chased her wetness to the source, thrusting that insidious muscle into her tight, pulsing heat.

Kagome groaned like a wounded animal as she rocked back against him. One hand left his tousled hair to fasten to the wall behind them. With the added leverage, she sank down upon his mouth and tongue. Sweat trickled along the plane of her stomach as she impaled herself repeatedly upon him. Her swollen nub crashed against his sculpted upper lip. Her back bowed with guilty pleasure as he met her thrust for thrust. His clawed hands snaked up her spine to urge her more forcefully down.

“…Sesshoumaru,” she gasped brokenly as she hunched over from the strain, from the sheer, staggering bliss that was surging through her.

Growling again, he hoisted her other leg up onto his shoulder. Both her hands flew to the wall for support as he seated her fully over his open mouth. His tongue continued to fuck her mercilessly as she leaned forward, riding his face like the whore she was. Her stomach drew tight as a bowstring as she teetered on the brink of her inexorable release. She was nothing more than a slave to the pleasure of the moment, a slave to the will of the demon beneath her. Gripping her hips in his claws, he brought her brutally down onto him in an unceasing circuit—until her breath fled and her whole body contracted in a rush of unstoppable need.

“No!” she screamed out again as the pleasure overtook her, ravaging her to the very fiber of her being. “Sesshoumaru—no!”

He ignored her fruitless pleas. His fangs stabbed into her soft inner thighs as he held her to him and drove his tortuous tongue into her still. Her walls clenched frantically around him. Her voice left her in a supplicating whine as she seized against him.

“Please, Sesshoumaru—please…I can’t—”

As his pillaging tongue pulled out of her at last, Kagome’s breath drew short again. His lips seared against her stomach as he lifted her off the wall and lowered her against him. Her weak knees buckled as her feet touched to the floor. Her hands clutched at his arms in desperation as he rose to his full towering height above her.

Her breath left her in short, frightened bursts when he pushed her back to reach for his haori. Her eyes flitted to his muscled chest as the layers of silk fell from him, his claws descending to his hakama in quick succession. Kagome diverted her gaze in shame, before a firm grip to her nape focused her attention down toward his waist.

“Look,” he ordered her.

Kagome looked. Her eyes went wide as they fell first to the stark cut of his abs—where a single slash of red streaked down from his lower left side. The provocative asymmetry of it sent a jolt of arousal spiking through her. Her mouth went dry. Her fingers clutched at nothing as she followed the direction of that pointed mark down to the scarily prominent jut of his sex.

Pale and rigid and slightly veined, his erection rose before her. A rearing shaft of marble that left her in a state of shock as she surveyed its length and girth—knowing dimly that this was the same inhuman hardness that had been inside her so many times before. This was the instrument of Sesshoumaru’s desire—the virile demonic organ he’d used to penetrate her and plant her with his seed.

He was forcing her to face the evidence of his lust for her—the profound, vulgar proof that somehow even now was growing beneath her eyes. But it was when his claws angled her face upward again that she truly saw it. This fire that burned undisguised in his gaze—more raw and naked and terrifying than anything she had ever witnessed before.

She wanted to run from it. She wanted to hide from it. But all she could do was stand there arrested by the sight as he moved forward and slid her yukata from her shoulders. Distantly, she felt the sullied fabric gather at her feet. His fingertips ghosted over the thin cups of lace shielding her heavy breasts before he cut them free as well, leaving her finally and totally exposed.

Mortified, frightened, Kagome turned her face away. Yet she could still feel his gaze searing over every inch of her uncovered skin. A hooked claw beneath her chin guided her wide, watery eyes back to his.

“I am going to lie with you now, Kagome,” he stated to her with calm assurance, as if this were an indisputable and inescapable fact she must accept.

The cool composure in his voice jarred her—so at odds with the blazing heat in his eyes, with the torrid, raging protrusion of his flesh. Kagome’s hands shook in irrepressible distress. Her nipples peaked. Her thighs clamped together in trepidation. His words hung over her like Fate itself, flooding her with a terrible ecstasy of dread.

How many times had they slept together—how many times had she and Inuyasha slept together? Yet Kagome had never felt like this, not even on her wedding night.

At his touch, the scales of the years fell away. As he unbound her hair and guided her to the floor, she was a young girl again—devoid of her experiences and expectations, stripped of her defenses. A bare slate, ready to be remade as he laid her beneath him and cast the last golden piece of her armor away, sending it pinging off into the shadows.

---

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi

Revised 8/17/22

Series Navigation

<< SessKag Series: The Pact, Part 20SessKag Series: The Pact, Part 22 (Explicit) >>