InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Pain Is So Close To Pleasure ❯ Pain Is So Close To Pleasure ( One-Shot )

Warnings: Mild S&M, a little bondage and some naughty tentacles. Sounds like a good Sunday night to me! :)

A/N: This piece was inspired by jojo_kun's Rapture (which actually has Kagome in it, but instead invoked Kikyou for me) and is dedicated to her. Yet another Queen song titled work. Go Queen! Yes, I defiled them again! Ku ku ku...

Pain Is So Close To Pleasure

Is this what you wanted, Naraku? We'll trade pain for pain. It's a game at which you and I can never win.

My soul collectors are happy to serve me, even in the most depraved of aims. You are drawn and I'm tempted to have you quartered… but where would be the fun in that? It would leave me unsatisfied, yet more empty, though I don't know how much more empty a soulless wretch such as I could be.

Where do you want the first one, my precious Onigumo? The point of my arrowhead scrapes across your reddening skin, nicking your elbow as my spiritual energy flows through it from its shaft to your poisonous hide. I sigh at the tiny dewdrops of scarlet I see seeping from your flesh. Comprised from bones and graveyard soil, I don't bleed from the lashing you rained upon me before relinquishing yourself to my hate; begging with pleading pathetic eyes for my love. But I can still get wet seeing the suffering in those carmine orbs of yours. You don't suffer from the weeping wounds on your body, blood spurting from one anew as I pierce your flesh with the arrow clutched tight in my pale fingers, but from the ache undoubtedly seizing your nether regions as I lean over you, the sweep of my beautiful bosom brushing against your chest.

I welcome the sight of your erection as it protrudes, hungry and loathing, from betwixt your well-muscled thighs. Smiling, I plunge yet another arrow into your forearm, the groan erupting from your tightened throat confirming my success in causing pain so close to pleasure. I'll slope down your body and pose myself between your opened legs, but not before I thrust a few more well-placed arrows into your stunning musculature. Trailing the last of which down your stiffening corpus, I'll leave it jutting from the hairless valley that stalks from your hip to your genitals.

Does it define necrophilia for us both as I mouth the tip of your cock? I am of the undead, but what term delineates one whose once human being is wrought from a collection of demon parts? You seem live enough, the warmth and pulsing of your ever growing manhood crying salt laden, viscous tears over my thickening tongue. It disgusts me to taste you this way, but I was always a glutton for punishment and I will continue to beg you for more. More degradation, humiliation… immolation.

I'll take the length of you to the point at which a living creature might choke, but I lack the ability to gag, an attribute of which I can tell you're quite fond. I lick and I slurp as if hungry for your essence, but that's not good enough is it? You grab me by my raven hair and shove my head down onto your cock, your tentacles slithering over me. How does it feel, Naraku? Watching me work in such a position of complete servitude?

If I had a modicum of self-decency, I wouldn't be so achingly wet for you. But, alas, I am. It is, after all, why anyone does the kinds of things I am so obligingly doing to you.

“Take me,” you murmur, licking your already spittle burdened lips. My body wills me to comply before my mind can say otherwise. I'm astride you on my knees, lowering myself onto the monolith of flesh that obtrudes from you. A tentacle gains entrance to my ass, the combined fuck sending tingles of trepidation, of hating and, slowly, forgetting, like bugs skittering over my skin. Forgetting what you are, forgetting myself and all my supposed sense of duty as priestess. I cannot rue what I no longer know.

The rise and fall of your lean hips races the undulating force of my own and I forget to breathe, too. I detest myself for loving the swell of your cock inside me for, though I know my need for it was derived from the pleasure I drew causing you pain, I know you too delighted in that pain, as much as you delight in the pain you cause others. Above all, me.

I ride every thrust, drawing nearer with chills inching over my skin to the ultimate loss of cognizance. I shudder with sick indulgence, constricting you in the quintessential lover's embrace. I feel your molten release as you stretch me to breathlessness. I clamp my hand around one of the arrows protruding from your body and you gasp, both in ecstasy and in anguish. Using it as leverage, I lift myself from your figure, my legs so wobbly I nearly collapse over you.

We will languish here until our game begins again. Ceaseless, eternally uneven. The pain trade never satiating for long. We will indubitably play again.