Disclaimer: The anime/manga Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi. I, Aubrey Simone, make no money from the writing or posting of this fic.
Into the Ocean
When she was five years old, Kagome nearly drowned, and she still remembers, twenty years later, what it felt like—wet and dark and suffocating.
Sort of like what this…thing feels like now, this tiring, all-consuming thing that squeezes around her heart tighter and tighter every day. As she buttons her shirt, her fingers tremble, and she takes a deep breath, settling her nerves and her stomach and her mind all at once.
“No more,” she says, and she doesn’t turn around, because she knows that if she does, she’s going to go back on the words. And she can’t do that. Not this time.
A footstep, and then another, and then there are hands smoothing around her waist, strong fingers dipping between her thighs, pressing into her mound through her skirt. Breath at her ear, lips at her throat, and then words, echoing in her ears. “Tomorrow.”
She shakes her head, fumbling with the collar of her once-crisp blouse. “I can’t,” she whispers, and it’s almost like she’s begging. She hates it when she sounds like that.
A broad chest presses boldly into her back, and the bulge against her ass flexes in a smooth, purposeful motion. “Tonight.” The deep voice has dropped to a whisper now, a rumble of arousal and persuasion.
Kagome swallows. “N-no.”
And then, suddenly, the fingers pressing in tight little circles at the very top of her mons are dipping lower, lower, until her skirt is bunched around her hips and there’s a nail scratching lightly around her engorged nub through her already damp underwear. “Now.”
And she whimpers and gives up, gives in, to the persuasion.
Her back arches, and the sound of his belt hissing out of its loops pulls a moan from her throat. She’s already wet—dripping, it feels like—but he drops to his knees behind her nonetheless, hands circling around her thighs and face pressing between her legs. He groans at her taste, and she whimpers in reply, lifting her ass higher as he tongues her folds.
“Please, please…stop teasing me, please…”
But he won’t stop until she comes, and she cries out when she does, toes curling in the shoes she wore just for him.
He’s gasping when he stands, murmuring things to her as he pushes her toward the nearest wall, and when he bends her over, she’s got half-a-mind to tell him to get a condom, but then he’s inside of her and she’s seeing stars and she’s positive that he’s going to break something if he thrusts into her any harder.
“Shit, you feel so damn good,” he whispers, the fingers around her hips tightening until she’s sure there will be bruises. The sound of their flesh slapping reminds her of the sound she remembers from flailing in the water all those years ago—smack, smack, smack—and then he’s moving so fast that she isn’t thinking about drowning anymore; so quickly that she can only register the fact that she’s coming, coming, coming hard and fast and over and over again.
His mouth is at her ear, and over the wails that are tearing from her throat, she hears, “Say my name, Kagome. Say my fucking name when I come in you, do you hear me?”
And then he’s coming, hot spurts that splash against her insides and send another orgasm thundering through her system, and she’s saying his name—screaming his name—as he bites her shoulder, muffling his shout in her skin.
When she comes down, he’s still inside of her, half-hard, and he’s kissing her shoulder, one hand massaging her breast through her shirt. “Shit,” he breathes, and his free hand has moved to her hip, his fingers running over her sweaty skin.
She pulls shakily away before her legs have stopped trembling, and turns to press her back against the wall for support, pushing her bangs away from her face as she regards him. Standing there, with his softening dick hanging out of his pants, he’s nothing like what she should want, who she should want, and still, desire stirs slowly in her belly. She sighs.
“Bankotsu…”
But he shakes his head, and she falls silent, hating herself for the way she stretches up for the kiss he steps close to give her.
He doesn’t say anything when he lets her out, and as she drives home, Kagome slowly recollects herself, worrying her lip and tapping her fingers against the steering wheel.
The house is dark, but it’s just before midnight, and she knows that the kids have gone to sleep, so she is as quiet as she can be when she slips inside, setting her keys in the basket by the door.
On the couch in the living room, there is a set of socked feet hanging over the edge; when she rounds the furniture, her husband is laying there, hands behind his head. He’s awake, and she knows that when he looks at her, he sees. He turns away, and she wavers there, staring down at him and willing him to yell at her, hit her, hate her, but he does nothing.
Hands trembling, Kagome tugs her shirt open, shrugging it off of her shoulders. As it falls to the floor, she unzips her skirt and toes off her shoes, and her ripped stockings follow, as well as her underwear and her bra; gathering it all up, she goes into the kitchen and dumps it all into the trashcan, and then walks back into the living room and kneels beside the couch.
“No more,” she whispers, and when he doesn’t respond, she leans forward and presses her lips to his temple; he moves away, and she whispers again, “no more, Sesshomaru.”
Still, he is silent, and Kagome gains her feet.
It’s time, she decides, to reach out toward the hand that will help her get out of the water; time to stop drowning.
In the shower, she tilts her face toward the spray, eyes closed, and cries until her legs tremble. She bathes until her skin is red, and when the bathroom door opens and closes, when Sesshomaru slips into the shower behind her, she weeps like a child, because she knows that he won’t leave her, that he trusts her to follow through with her decision.
That night, Sesshomaru does not comfort her; he punishes her.
He takes her again and again, leaving angry bruises against her hips and shoulders and ass and wrists. He bites her throat until pain and pleasure get crossed in her brain, pounds into her until each movement hurts, until she knows that she won’t be able to move, much less walk, in the morning.
And Kagome welcomes it with all her heart, because she knows that this time, she’ll be faithful.
This time, she’s done drowning.
::::::::::
Author’s Note: I bet you all thought the first guy was Sesshomaru, didn't you?
This was just a oneshot with a fairly open ending, but here are a few things for you to think about: Does Kagome cheat again? Does Sesshomaru eventually leave her? What do you think happens?
At any rate, thanks for reading, and please don't forget to review!
Also, if you all wouldn’t mind, please go to my FF.Net page and take a look at my newest (randomly updated) story, titled Vulnerability. It’s a Kagome/Kagura fic, and is forming in my head as something a little on the darker side. I’d really love to know what you all think about it, as it is a new pairing for me.
Thanks if you do; I greatly appreciate it!
~Aubrey