InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Moonlight's Shadow ❯ Ch 1 White Lie ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: The characters of InuYasha are not mine, they are property of Rumiko Takahashi, Shogakukan, Yomiuri TV, Sunrise, and Viz. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Disclaimer: Don’t own Inuyasha or characters. Just perverted them for my own twisted amusement.
Rating: NC17!!
Warnings: Sex. Pretty much non-consensual on Kagome’s part. Humiliation. Again, it happens to Kagome. Torture? Dunno yet, but just to be safe. Oh yeah, there is strong language too, although, if the other stuff doesn’t offend you enough for you stop reading this, I don’t imagine why a few four letter words would, but, well, again, just to be safe.
You were warned.
[A/N] So yeah, this fic strays from my usual writing style. Usually, I like to see a happy ending for the characters and if I am addicted to angst, it’s with the firm understanding that it will make the final triumph all the sweeter. This fic has no happy ending for Kagome. Dark, angst, twisted. I asked myself, “How would a lemon between Naraku and Kagome really play out?” and this is what my muse answered with.
I in no way condone this sort of behavior in real life. This is fiction.
I’ve tried to keep the characters “in character” for the most part. This is the first chapter, and I’m thinking this story is going to be three to four chapters max.
Enjoy.
Ch 1 Broken
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A stray shaft of moonlight fell across Kagome’s face, turning the insides of her eyelids from black to veined red as the light shone through them. A shadow passed across the light, and she opened her eyes to take in the dim, barren room. Her shoulders hurt from where she hung against the wall, and with wakening alarm; Kagome took in the fact that she was bound, hand and foot, against the stone wall. She caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye and turned her head in that direction, her pulse and breathing picking up as adrenaline flooded her system.
“Who’s there?” she challenged.
Naraku stepped out of the shadows, a limp Kikyo in his arms. He was dressed casually in a robe of some dark color, the dark waves of his hair lost against the fabric. Draped over his shoulders was the hide of a white baboon. Against the night, the whiteness of the fur framed his angular, oval, pale face. The young man whose form Naraku now wore had been an attractive man with an elegant, standard handsomeness that spoke of his noble birth. On Naraku, the same features had a cold, sinister beauty like light reflected off of a katana’s blade. He moved with evident ease, at home in his stolen skin, and with a lightness of step that belied the heaviness of his burden.
Kikyo, limp and lifeless, hung from his arms like a rag doll. In the moonlight, her deathly pale skin looked ghostly, her hair like spilled ink. Her miko outfit was mussed, as if someone else had redressed her. Kagome winced at the sight of proud, cold Kikyo so helpless, and spared a moment of pity for the dead miko.
“Poor little miko,” Naraku soothed as he approached Kagome. Kagome eyed him warily, wrinkling her nose at his earthen, slightly rotten, too sweet, musky smell. She couldn’t tell if the ‘poor little miko’ was for her or Kikyo, but the words instantly pricked her temper.
“What do you want, Naraku?” Kagome demanded with a hint of anger.
“You,” Naraku said with a secretive smile, his cool, cruel tone a direct contrast to her hot one.
“What?” she exclaimed in surprise, caught off guard. That was not what she had expected from him.
Naraku knelt at Kagome’s feet, stretching Kikyo out on the floor. He contemplated the unconscious girl for a moment, then ghosted his hand over Kikyo’s lax face.
“Is it so hard to understand little miko, why someone would want you? You are a powerful priestess, keeper of the Shikon no Tama,” he parried, settling himself cross legged next to Kikyo.
“But I don’t have the Shikon no Tama,” Kagome pointed out.
“No, you don’t, because I have it,” Naraku said, satisfaction staining his words. He shifted Kikyo, pulling her head into his lap. His fingers descended to tangle in her hair, and Kagome watched distractedly as those long, thin digits began to comb through Kikyo’s unbound hair.
“Then why do you need me?” Kagome wondered out loud. “You have Kikyo, and she’s been more than willing to help you in the past,” she continued with a trace of sourness.
“Kikyo has proven to be…unreliable,” he stated. His fingers trailed through Kikyo’s hair, down along her hairline, past her temple, then along her jawline, to come to rest on her throat. There his hand flexed and relaxed as his fingertips stroked the soft skin there. In the slanted moonlight, the pale skin of his hand blended with the pale skin of Kikyo’s throat except for the stark shadow his hand made. To Kagome, the silhouette looked eerily like that of a stalking spider, crouching over Kikyo’s vulnerable neck.
Kagome caught herself staring, and looked away. Naraku’s eyes flickered with amusement, his smile deepening slightly. He turned his attention to Kikyo, and his smile morphed into a smirk of indulgent ownership, blatant lust darkening his eyes.
“She has no heartbeat,” he murmured, as if talking to himself, but Kagome knew he meant for her to hear his words.
“All that remains of her pure heart is a hate so deep, so strong, that her soul cannot rest in peace,” Naraku paused and looked up. His narrowed, assured gaze met her widening eyes. He cocked his head a little, one corner of his mobile mouth quirking up in a mocking gesture. His lips, there was something about their beauty that made Kagome’s gaze catch and linger. Nothing about them was exceptional; they could have been any other man’s lips. Rather, it was their lack of any flaw, any immediately noticed defect; that made them so perfect. Yet, even then they were not worth a second glance. Perhaps, it was how expressive they were that had caught her attention.
“But, that would be your soul, wouldn’t it, reincarnation of Kikyo?” he continued.
Kagome snapped out of her trance, her soft lips thinning into a small, unhappy frown as she looked at him sharply. Her initial temper subsided to a steady burn as she exercised self control. She regarded him warily, choosing to stay quiet.
Going on as if she had agreed with him, he continued, “But your half breed mutt will never see it that way, will he? Despite the fact that Kikyo is animated by a piece of your soul, Inuyasha would blame you should anything happen to her.”
“I’m not Kikyo’s keeper,” Kagome gritted out, at last nettled into retorting.
“Aren’t you?” Naraku mocked her. “Without you here, she never would have become a bone and clay doll. She would still be resting peacefully beneath her shrine, oblivious to this world.”
“I don’t think she was resting peacefully,” Kagome commented impulsively, knowing with some sixth sense that she should have stayed quiet. “Because of the way she died. Because you killed her.”
“Because of you, Kikyo exists. That makes you responsible for her. Should something happen to her, you’re the one to blame,” he retorted with some heat to his voice.
“I had no say in the matter! If I--” Kagome caught herself mid exclamation, horrified with what she had been thinking. She had been thinking that she never would have chosen to given Kikyo part of her soul, never would have chosen to give Kikyo life, never would have chosen to share Inuyasha’s love.
“If you had, then Kikyo wouldn’t be here,” he finished for her. He gave an abrupt, deep chuckle, then fell silent as if he had never expressed any mirth. Even horrified at herself, Kagome stared transfixed at him, because, for a moment, the laugher had smoothed away his perpetual scowl, made his dark eyes dance, and shown a tantalizing flash of white, straight teeth. Had that good natured charm she had glimpsed once belonged to the man before Naraku?
“You see,” he told her, missing her reaction. “That is what makes it so believable; because your jealousy of Kikyo is the single darkness that mars your otherwise flawlessly pure soul.”
“I would never kill Kikyo,” Kagome stated with affronted conviction.
Naraku’s dark eyes studied her, his self assured attitude clearly portraying the fact that he knew he was right. The silence stretched between them, neither one of them giving in. Then he leaned back marginally, relaxing his shoulders.
“I will make it easy for you, little miko. I will offer you a choice,” he said smoothly, his voice languid and cajoling.
Eyes narrowed in suspicion, she studied him. “What kind of choice?” she asked warily.
He eased his posture somehow, making himself appear less threatening. A deceptively bright smile contorted his lips, but didn’t reach his eyes. In the moonlight, his eyes were as black as any beast’s; deep and soulless and alien. If she remembered right, they actually were a dull, dark crimson, the color of old blood.
“The easiest one of all; the choice of doing nothing.”
His smile twisted, tightened into a true expression that was derogatory, lazily indulgent, and speculative.
“Just watch, little miko, as I do whatever I please with your soul kin. No one will blame you; after all, you were bound to the wall. What could you have done?” he mocked her with his voice and his eyes. He gave Kikyo a sudden, violent shove off his lab as if she were no more than a thing. He stood, uncoiling from the floor like a snake, and stalked towards Kagome with a slow, sensual glide to his step.
As he came near, she felt herself start to sweat as dread overwhelmed her. One bead of moisture at her temple grew too heavy, and with distracting sluggishness, rolled down her cheek. He reached for her, his long fingered hand glowing faintly in the moonlight as it ascended towards her face. Her breath caught in her throat; she could feel her racing heartbeat pounding through her skull. Poised in that moment, she awaited his touch like one awaits the cruel kiss of a blade.
Something of her fear must have shown, for his lips quirked with satisfaction. Faint as gossamer wings his fingertips skimmed down the tender, sweet skin of her neck. With each brush of his touch, her nerve endings came alive with eerie, slightly creepy, yet disturbingly arousing sensation.
“Just remember, little miko,” he whispered huskily into her ear, his breath caressing her ear. “At any time, if it becomes too much for you to bear, I will allow you to take her place.”
His fingers dropped away, leaving her throat feeling naked and cold. He shifted back, his dark eyes meeting hers. He smiled his secretive, smug smile and ghosted his hand over her cheek before brushing sweat dampened bangs out of her face. Anger and the beginnings of fear made her brown eyes glitter spectacularly, and a sharp pang of lust shot through Naraku. His throat constricted, making his compulsive swallow painful. Hidden beneath his robe, a muscle in his groin twitched. Before his momentary lapse could show on his face, he turned away. By the time Kagome could see his face again, it was as cool and composed as before.
Sinister, elegant, he knelt beside the bone and clay Kikyo. He placed both of his long, slender white hands on either side of the drawstring that held up Kikyo’s red pants. With gentle persuasion, the knot came free, and Naraku slipped his hand down under the high waistline.
“What are you doing?!” Kagome demanded with an edge of panic.
“Tangling my fingers in her curls,” he interpreted his movements.
Kagome blanched, turning alternately white with shocked dismay and red with affronted innocence.
“Don’t!!” she instantly commanded. “You can’t!!”
“Trailing my fingers all the way down to–” he ignored her protests, cutting off his comment as a lewd grin contorted his face. His eyes held Kagome’s, mocking her, tempting her, daring her.
“Stop!!” Kagome shrieked with growing alarm.
Something evil and hungry passed through Naraku’s pupils. She blinked, and his eyes were back to normal. He withdrew his hand, rubbing his first and middle finger pads against his thumb pad. A false, thoughtful frown masked his face.
“Cool, and dry,” he said puzzlingly. Slowly, an expression of evil glee curled his expressive lips. Delight, a malicious, predatory light, made his eyes gleam.
Kagome opened her mouth in outrage, but nothing came out, and grudgingly she shut it again. Fear, sick and slimy, wallowed in her abdomen. Distaste turned her stomach. Yet, she could not tear her eyes from Naraku.
Unhurriedly, he began to undress the dead miko, stripping her as if she were no more than a toy doll. Through it all, Kikyo lay limp and uncaring. With unfurling urgency, Kagome began to comprehend what Naraku was about.
“You can’t!” she demanded, her voice expectant and confident despite her fear. Even as she watched, the threat as of yet, was not really real to her.
“You wouldn’t!” she repeatedly protested, half of her skeptical, half of her believing.
“I will,” Naraku hissed menacingly, the courtliness gone from his tone. “I will have her.”
“Inuyasha will stop you.” Kagome’s voice was firm, unwavering as her belief in her statement.
Naraku snorted eloquently. “Inuyasha is still out chasing my decoys. Without a scent to follow–thanks to my barrier–your half breed mutt will never find this place. Give it up little miko. You are completely at my mercy.”
“You won’t get away with this,” she warned righteously.
“How cliché. Of course I will. Just watch me.”
Naraku reached into his sleeve and withdrew a stiletto, which shone sharp and white in the pale moonlight. Then he brought the blade down, kissing the dark tip against the susceptible flesh just under Kikyo’s chin.
“What do you think?” he queried softly. “Do you think she’ll bleed?”
He pressed down, the knife breaking the skin, dragging it down in a steady movement all the way to Kikyo’s collarbones. On any other person, blood would have filled and over flown the cut immediately. On Kikyo, the flesh darkened to an angry red, the color of raw meat, but not a drop of life’s blood poured from her.
Kagome’s gasp was audible.
Like a lover’s touch, he traced the slit with his middle finger. Back and forth, back and forth, like a bow over violin strings, then suddenly, he plunged the tip of his finger into the wound, probing strongly. Above him, Kagome made a wet, choked sound as she inhaled too quickly. Satisfaction lit his face, right before he withdrew his finger. There in the moonlight, it glistened darkly with blood. His eyes regarded her anticipatorily, and with excruciating enjoyment, he licked it off of his finger. In the dark, as a shadow fell over his face, she could have sworn his eyes burned red for a moment.
She shivered in revulsion and fear, her skin pricking with goose bumps. Heat, the flicker of her anger, and ice, the coldness of her dread, rolled through her like a storm front.
Distract him, the inspiration arrowed through her brain.
“Why do you want me?” she asked into the still silence. “You have the Shikon no Tama.”
Naraku stopped, and when he looked at her, his eyes were inhuman, untouchable as a wild animal. It was like peering straight into the dark hollowness of Naraku’s soul, and finding something staring back.
“Destruction,” he whispered softly, with the spider’s voice. “You are the key to Kikyo’s and Inuyasha’s destruction.”
“Me?!” she exclaimed in surprise.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “You appeared, out of no where, and suddenly, Inuyasha is unsealed, the Shikon no Tama shows up, and Kikyo is resurrected. They all are connected, and they point back to you. Who are you, reincarnation of Kikyo?”
Naraku gave her a searching look, and suddenly was himself again. He placed his hand lightly in between Kikyo’s naked breasts.
“Regardless, I will not suffer you to live unless you are mine. Remember that well, little miko.”
“I will never be yours,” she declared as she lifted her chin haughtily.
Again, he matched her show of temper with cool arrogance.
“Won’t you?” he asked mildly. With his bloody finger, he smeared a red, wet line down Kikyo’s abdomen. Kagome’s eyes widened and her breath caught as she watched him cup Kikyo intimately.
“Don’t you dare!” she yelled. “Stop it right now!!”
He gave her an unreadable look, rage shadowing his dark eyes. With the blade still in one hand, he casually swiped a long shallow gash down Kikyo’s cheek.
“I will do as I please!” he snapped belligerently.
Kagome fell silent, clenching her teeth against the flurry of words that threatened to erupt from her. Any further argument from her would only incite Naraku, and Kikyo would be hurt more. She suffered mutely all of a minute as he slid his hand further between Kikyo’s legs.
“Stop!” she urged, her voice low but intense.
Naraku smiled an evil smile, one that reached his eyes. “You have but to say the word.”
“No!” she shouted in reaction, instantly recoiling from the idea of being at Naraku’s mercy.
The smile flashed off of his face at her denial. His eyes turned a hard, flinty black.
“Perhaps,” he hissed. “I will take you anyways, once I am finished here.”
A malicious snarl twisted his lips, and he plunged his bloody finger inside of Kikyo, forcing it in as the tender flesh there resisted.
Kagome stared, her eyes wide with horror and disbelief. So many of Naraku’s threats were harmless; she had fallen into Naraku’s clutches and been rescued so many times; done battle with him and his clones so many times; that until that moment, until he had actually dared touch Kikyo like that, a part of her had not taken him seriously. Suddenly, like a bubble bursting, it was real and stark and ugly. Here, now Naraku was going to rape Kikyo before her very eyes! And then–she shuddered with the realization–he said he was going to do the same thing to her!!
Fear socked her low and hard in the gut.
“You can’t be serious,” she whispered, within a hair’s breath of losing her composure.
He smirked; dragging the blade down Kikyo’s chest, following the red smear of her blood. Like butter under a hot knife, Kikyo’s flesh gave way easily, as if eager to fall open at the stiletto’s touch. Again, the bleeding was sluggish, surreal, oozing out of the sliced skin reluctantly. Dark and sticky, Kikyo’s blood stained the sleek perfection of the blade in the moonlight.
He’s serious!! she thought dazedly. Cold anticipation and dread rose within her like a wave. She felt herself go unnaturally still, the instinctive freeze of a small animal under a predator’s gaze. To her, her heartbeat sounded like a stampeding horse, thundering in her ears. She was aware of her breathing, the way it seem to catch in her throat, then whistle out between her teeth. Consciously, she dragged in deep breaths, forcing herself to stay calm.
It’ll be alright, she reminded herself. Inuyasha is sure to rescue us.
“Why are you doing this?” Kagome asked, her voice soft, without its previously haughty note.
Naraku’s face lost its smirk. Something passed through his eyes, something pensive, lonely, and unstable. When he answered, Kagome could imagine them being Onigumo’s words.
“Kikyo was perfect. Untouched; pure. When I opened my eyes and saw her for the first time, I knew she was meant to be mine. Mine to take, mine to destroy. But then that fucking bastard Inuyasha tried to take her away from me! I had to do something! And so I did. But you came along, messing up everything. I’m going to have to punish you,” he babbled.
“If I’m the one you want, then leave Kikyo alone,” Kagome blurted. She hated being bound, hated feeling helpless, hated watching someone suffer, even if it was Kikyo. She was strong and capable, thanks to all the journeying through the feudal era. All she had to do was stall for time and wait for the rest of the gang to come rescue her. With Kikyo here with her, Inuyasha would be doubly determined to find them. All she had to do was occupy Naraku long enough for that to happen.
Simple.
Kagome swallowed. As far as plans went, it wasn’t a very good one, but it was the best she had.
Something in Naraku shifted; his stance changing minutely, his eyes becoming guarded and blank, his lips firming into a troubled frown. The being that might have been Onigumo vanished, and that which was Naraku returned. His eyes sharpened, boring into Kagome. A slick, ugly smile lit on his lips.
“How selfless you pretend to be,” he mocked her. “What makes you think I would give up Kikyo for you?”
“You said yourself that you would take me in Kikyo’s place!” Kagome protested.
“Ah yes, I did offer that, didn’t I? But then, you’ve always been Kikyo’s replacement, haven’t you?”
“I AM NOT Kikyo’s replacement,” Kagome growled.
“You are,” he said bluntly. “Poor one at that. Be a good little miko and I promise not to neglect you.”
“Leave Kikyo alone,” Kagome warned as he started to resume his attentions.
“You are in no position to make demands,” he snapped.
They glared at each other, their gazed locked.
“You said you wanted me,” Kagome argued.
“And I will have you,” he pointed out arrogantly.
“Not willingly,” she shot back, then wished she’d bit her tongue.
Anticipatory hunger lit up his eyes, warming them to a softly glowing cherry red. A shiver of foreboding shot down Kagome’s spine. He cocked an eyebrow at her.
“Are you offering yourself to me willingly?” he purred silkily.
Kagome’s stomach gave a quick leap of terror.
It will be okay, she firmly told herself. I believe in Inuyasha.
“Yes,” she lied.
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