((Um, this is my Naraku/Kagura/Sesshomaru fanfic. Writer’s block has been driving me nutters lately, and I needed a weird, off the wall couple to drag me out of it. Nothing cute. Nothing fluffy. So, why not some nice wholesome rape? Yes! It worked pretty well too. XD Thank you to my Beta Reader: ravendream from Gaia))

—Poisonous Night, Beautiful Moon —

She hated him. He was vile and repulsive, possessive and obsessive. That damnable thing of a man had trapped her here, and she wanted nothing more than to be rid of him once and for all. But she couldn’t escape his grasp, or his eyes always watching her. She could never escape.

She would bring him tea reluctantly, choking back her hatred and his gaze would follow her closely, undressing her with his eyes. She was a woman, and he wanted her. Whether she liked it or not, he meant to have her. And she hated it.

All too often, he would slip into her room at night, laying beside her with that superior smirk on his face and run his cold hands over her skin. His hands were always cold as they very lightly traced the curves of her legs, as if the slightest bit of pressure would break her. Biting back her disgust, she endured his touch as he felt her breasts, cradling them in his icy hands, his eyes radiating lust.

It would always start gently, lightly caressing her like a fragile doll. If she protested, or pulled away he would hit her, beat her, and chain her up. For days she would hang, have undressed and bleeding in the dungeon, arms in chains. She hated those damned shackles, as icy as his fingers, as they bit into her wrists, so she stayed quiet as he nuzzled into her neck, smelling her scent. He drank up her essence, leaving her soul bare. His every touch was poison.

All too soon he would peel back her kimono, eyeing her greedily. Suckling on her breasts, fingering her thighs, threatening to part her legs further, she was all his. Her mind screamed for him to stop, bile rising in the back on her throat. When he was tired of licking and caressing, he would always carry it further. Inside her, he was rough, no longer wary to break or bruise. With no regard to her pleasure, he selfishly sought out his own, always painful with muffled tears and bloody lips. He was a monster.

At the very least, she wished he would leave afterward, leaving her to cry herself to sleep alone and safe. But he never did. When he was done, his grip would hold her firmly against him, smothering her in his terrible scent. Cradling her head in his cold icy hands, he would slumber, and she would plot his demise. She would kill him, and send his soul into the eternal darkness of hell as he sent hers into eternal darkness in life. She wasn’t even free to sleep in safety, but that would all change soon. He would never touch her again once she damned him to hell.

He never trusted her enough to give her the liberty of opportunity for the kill though. She hated that too. She hated that he knew her so damn well. He knew when she was suffocating in that castle, and so sent her off on a mission. He knew when she was simply outraged at him, as opposed to her normal malice, and he would smile with that false sweetness, leaving a small rose outside her bedroom door and leaving her in peace for the night. He knew every curve of her body, and every corner of her mind, and she hated it.

He was pure darkness to her, filling her lungs with its inky abyss, threatening to over flow, flooding the world, drowning anything that breathed. Every time he nipped the weak spot on her neck, she felt her chest retch. Each time he gazed into her eyes, she wanted to rip her own out until all she could she was blood and pain instead of his face. Every time he breathed her name, she wanted to rip off her own ears.

“Kagura...” The sound of her own name filling the emptiness of forever, ripping her heart into shreds. Naraku the named echoed in her mind, a silent reply. He often, oh so often, told her that he loved her. She knew it was a lie. That man could love nothing but his own darkness. Nothing that evil can love. She didn’t want to be loved. Not by him. She wanted to be free of that awful man. She never wanted him to love her.

Sitting alone in her room, she would ponder his demise. He would never touch her again, he would never say he loved her again, he would never smile at her with that look in his eyes again. Stewing in her dark thoughts, she would allow herself to cry and cry until Kanna arrived with a cup of soothing honey tea for her sister. It seldom worked to comfort her.

Her world had become night, dark and bleak and awful. Yet a moon appeared, rising in the horizon. Sesshomaru. He was the moon to her. Her life was dark and bleak, yet he glowed faintly, lighting her way. Yes, he was distant, too distant to ever reach. She could never have him, but at least he was there. His silvery beautiful long hair like the very moon light itself. His deep pretty eyes that so coldly and apathetically brushed her off. The moon cares nothing for mortals.

Unlike Naraku, he cared nothing for her body. Half naked, cold and wet she had crawled out of that river and faced him. He never even looked twice. Her body meant nothing to him. The moon lusts for no one.

Naraku’s dark tangled witch’s wig was nothing compared to this lion’s mane. Naraku’s hair was disgusting, oily and unbrushed. It chocked her, wrapping around her face while she tried to sleep. But Sesshomaru’s was light and straight, shimmering and glimmering, like spun silver. She wanted to brush it, comb it, to make the wind flutter it in the breeze.

He gave her hope. One day, she would kill Naraku. Maybe Sesshomaru would love her. Maybe he would never even say he did, because saying it ruined it. Putting that sacred emotion on display for the whole world to see, and tainting it. Maybe she would never say she loved him either, but she would know and he would know and she would be free and happy in the moon’s light forever with their unspoken love.

But even he could not save her from Naraku’s poison. In the end, she didn’t get to kill Naraku. Instead he killed her. Death is ironic that way. But she won in the end, didn’t she? She was free. She was the wind. He never touched her again. She was nothing more than a gentle breeze, wrapping itself around the moon as it hung high in the sky, happily forever.

((This turned out very, very short. But I didn’t want to drag it out needlessly. I hope you enjoyed the read. Be sure to leave a review.))