InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Hedonism ❯ Fire: I Am The Burning In Your Saddle ( Chapter 31 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: abraxas_ren 
(cowboy x Indian) [yaoi] S: A book about Inuyasha is the basis of a strange relationship between a cowboy and an Indian.
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 01.06.2009 | Pages: 1 | Words: 653 | Visits: 565 | Status: Completed
(cowboy x Indian) [yaoi] S: A book about Inuyasha is the basis of a strange relationship between a cowboy and an Indian.
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 01.06.2009 | Pages: 1 | Words: 653 | Visits: 565 | Status: Completed
"Fire: I Am the Burning in Your Saddle" by Abraxas (2008-12-25)
I chase the Indian tonight. Like every other night. It's what we do. Our own little ceremony. Koga, sneaking into the camp. I, following into the wilderness.
It started years and years ago. He stole a horse. I chased. It was a thrill, that hunt, with us replaying the act of survival - prey to predator - with roles zigzagging, switching, as we penetrated into territory I failed but the pattern was established and, then, refined. Soon it was settled. The rendezvous were secret, hidden affairs. Unspoken of. Away from the world it was just two men sharing the struggle of Nature. Just him. Just me.
I wondered -
What did he want? What did I want? Did we need it? These trysts -
Though we didn't speak, didn't meet face-to-face, we shared a relationship. A bond was understood. And, so, I felt intimacy with the Indian that I couldn't sense with any other of my race.
One day he will be my captive again - like that night!
Strange that he didn't fight - was it part of the ceremony? - he sat, wrists and ankles tied, while I thought.
It was a cold, night so I started a fire. We sat together, unafraid, as if it were nothing to be close like that. Sky blue eyes met my gaze. My arm brushed warm, smooth skin. Smiles. Sighs. Moments of awkwardness.
I captured the Indian but I didn't know what to do -
"Open it."
"Koga?"
"Open it."
I took the Indian's sack and spilt its content - trinkets, like leaves of autumn, splattered across the earth.
My attention was caught by a book. A well-read crumpled pulp, a kind I wasn't aware existed, it was a mix of pictures with dialogue. Clearly, by detail that couldn't be obscured, it was a product of East Asian industry.
Titled, 'Hedonism', it related the adventures of a human-demon spirit named, 'Inuyasha', and friends. And enemies. Toward the middle of the book Inuyasha was rummaging through Kagome's sack. He discovers a strange book of poetry. The cover of that book, revealed by a panel of art, showed it to be about cowboys and Indians.
"Us."
I shook.
"How can that be...you and me...us...how?"
What a curious sort of contrivance. Like a plot-device of a pulp, unexpected and sudden. Almost too good to be true.
Asking what it meant, I turned toward the Indian and discovered that situation by the fire was changed. He was free - fragments of rope collected about his feet - yet he didn't run away. Instead he jumped me and held me against the earth. Face to face. Lips to lips. His wetness mixed with my wetness. Hands then fingers explored bodies -
"We meet again - soon - "
"Wait, Koga," I pled. He turned back and smiled. Then, without a word, he melted into night.
All that remained of the encounter, outlasting my stained and ripped clothes and the taste of flesh, hot and forbidden, across my lips, was that book. With Inuyasha and his cowboys and Indians. I memorized its pages night after night enslaved by the memory it invokes. Oh, what we shared, our little ritual -
My Indian! How do we endure this torment? One always running. One always chasing. We know it will not be forever - it cannot be forever - this separation. Love beyond reach. Let us break this distance between us. Again. Let us climax, body next to body, as the stars and the moon watch above. Maybe...maybe tonight...these urges will be consummated....
(600)
I chase the Indian tonight. Like every other night. It's what we do. Our own little ceremony. Koga, sneaking into the camp. I, following into the wilderness.
It started years and years ago. He stole a horse. I chased. It was a thrill, that hunt, with us replaying the act of survival - prey to predator - with roles zigzagging, switching, as we penetrated into territory I failed but the pattern was established and, then, refined. Soon it was settled. The rendezvous were secret, hidden affairs. Unspoken of. Away from the world it was just two men sharing the struggle of Nature. Just him. Just me.
I wondered -
What did he want? What did I want? Did we need it? These trysts -
Though we didn't speak, didn't meet face-to-face, we shared a relationship. A bond was understood. And, so, I felt intimacy with the Indian that I couldn't sense with any other of my race.
One day he will be my captive again - like that night!
Strange that he didn't fight - was it part of the ceremony? - he sat, wrists and ankles tied, while I thought.
It was a cold, night so I started a fire. We sat together, unafraid, as if it were nothing to be close like that. Sky blue eyes met my gaze. My arm brushed warm, smooth skin. Smiles. Sighs. Moments of awkwardness.
I captured the Indian but I didn't know what to do -
"Open it."
"Koga?"
"Open it."
I took the Indian's sack and spilt its content - trinkets, like leaves of autumn, splattered across the earth.
My attention was caught by a book. A well-read crumpled pulp, a kind I wasn't aware existed, it was a mix of pictures with dialogue. Clearly, by detail that couldn't be obscured, it was a product of East Asian industry.
Titled, 'Hedonism', it related the adventures of a human-demon spirit named, 'Inuyasha', and friends. And enemies. Toward the middle of the book Inuyasha was rummaging through Kagome's sack. He discovers a strange book of poetry. The cover of that book, revealed by a panel of art, showed it to be about cowboys and Indians.
"Us."
I shook.
"How can that be...you and me...us...how?"
What a curious sort of contrivance. Like a plot-device of a pulp, unexpected and sudden. Almost too good to be true.
Asking what it meant, I turned toward the Indian and discovered that situation by the fire was changed. He was free - fragments of rope collected about his feet - yet he didn't run away. Instead he jumped me and held me against the earth. Face to face. Lips to lips. His wetness mixed with my wetness. Hands then fingers explored bodies -
"We meet again - soon - "
"Wait, Koga," I pled. He turned back and smiled. Then, without a word, he melted into night.
All that remained of the encounter, outlasting my stained and ripped clothes and the taste of flesh, hot and forbidden, across my lips, was that book. With Inuyasha and his cowboys and Indians. I memorized its pages night after night enslaved by the memory it invokes. Oh, what we shared, our little ritual -
My Indian! How do we endure this torment? One always running. One always chasing. We know it will not be forever - it cannot be forever - this separation. Love beyond reach. Let us break this distance between us. Again. Let us climax, body next to body, as the stars and the moon watch above. Maybe...maybe tonight...these urges will be consummated....
(600)