InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Suffer ❯ Suffer ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. Right now, after this fic, I'm not even upset about that. Wow, I screwed them up…

 

Rating: NC-17
Codes: Mir/San, Mir/Sess
Genre: non-con, angst, sadism, dominance, vengeance
Feedback: is the main reason I continue writing…

 

Note: Yes, Sesshomaru is a little OOC. But he's been driven there by months of inner conflict that did not suit this story to go into deeply.

 

Suffer

 

Miroku had thought long and hard about proposing to Sango. He had seen the way she looked at him when he flirted. He had tried flirting with her, but she rejected him. He was confused by her mixed signals and needed an answer. So he got her away from everyone else and asked her the question that had been on his mind for months now. When she said yes, it was the happiest moment of his life. Suddenly, the grey sky was blue and the grass and trees were green with life.

 

He knew Naraku wasn't far off and for the first time in his life he had hope that everything was going to work out. He knew that they would defeat Naraku and he would have children with Sango and everything would be good and happy. His heart was filled with joy. There was a pleasant breeze, blowing soft scents of flowers. He wrapped his hands around Sango and kissed her head, feeling content and happy.

 

A red rage filled Sesshomaru as he looked down on the picturesque scene. He had been haunted these past few months. It was the filthy curse of his father. The one he had believed he would never succumb to. Seeing the dark head of hair he had come to fantasize about disappear behind the other in an intimate embrace, he snapped. He waited until she walked away and then he sprang. Soft flesh was in his fingers and he flew into the forest, slamming his prey into a tree before it knew what had hit it.

 

“I will get this out of my system,” Sesshomaru hissed. “You will be nothing beneath my claws.” Dark eyes widened in fear.

 

“Sesshomaru?” the mortal whispered. Sesshomaru silenced the human with his lips. He felt like he was crawling out of his skin at the contact, so desperate to sink into this human who had unwittingly tormented him. He tore at the clothing separating them, ignoring the muffled cries against his mouth. The human's strength was nothing to him and he pulled at the tie to his armor, releasing it.

 

Miroku couldn't believe this was happening. Everything had been perfect, only minutes before. He didn't understand why Sesshomaru was pulling at his clothes or kissing him. He had thought they had a truce, that they were allies, at least temporarily, in the fight against Naraku. He had come to respect the demon lord and even begun to like his sense of humor. He tried to fight the hand on him, but couldn't. It was like trying to fight a mountain.

 

Sesshomaru pulled Miroku to the ground, biting into his shoulder to hold him still as he removed his pants. Miroku cried out, clawing at the earth beneath his hands. Sesshomaru hated it, this wasn't how he wanted it, but he had to have it. He grabbed Miroku around the waist and pulled him back, stopping for a moment to lick the blood away from his neck and kissed his spine lightly, almost an apology. He licked at the back of the mortal neck, thinking how fragile it was as he moved his fingers lower on Miroku's front.

 

Miroku was shocked to feel the soft, hot tongue soothing his wounds. He was terrified until that moment. He knew what was going to happen knew it was going to hurt, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. He had tried begging and that's when Sesshomaru had bit him. Even still, when he felt the calloused fingers wrap around him in a place that no one else had ever touched, he begged again for the youkai to stop. The feelings beginning to grow at the strokes of tongue and finger were not painful, but the damage they were doing was irreparable.

 

Sesshomaru released Miroku once he was hard and ready and leaned back to his knees. Miroku stayed there long enough for Sesshomaru to position himself and grab his shoulder, shoving himself inside violently. Miroku screamed beneath him and Sesshomaru stroked his back, not sure if he was trying to comfort the human or himself. He pulled out and ignored the scent of blood on the air. He leaned forward and reached around Miroku again, keeping himself positioned to enter, but not inside. It took much longer to work Miroku hard this time.

 

Miroku felt like someone was trying to tear him in half. He dug his fingers into the ground, feeling the tears as they fell from his eyes and hit his hands. Then Sesshomaru was working him again, stroking him until the pain was gone. `Why?' Miroku thought. `Why is this happening to me?' Then Sesshomaru was moving inside him again, hurting him in so many ways…

 

Sesshomaru had finally relaxed, was even enjoying himself now. Miroku had stopped crying, stopped fighting and was even moving in his hand and pushing back into him. His body felt the pleasure he had denied it for so long, his control destroyed and abandoned, just for this moment. Miroku began making sound again and Sesshomaru started to tense before he realized that he was moaning. The sound drove Sesshomaru over the edge and he came, feeling something hot and sticky coat his hand at the same time.

 

He collapsed to the ground, letting Miroku go. The monk didn't try to run away, he fell to the ground next to him, breathing heavily. Sesshomaru looked at his face and saw the trails of tears drying there. He pulled a cloth from his sleeve and cleaned himself off, throwing the soiled cloth off into the forest, detesting the smell of blood now. Miroku was watching him and glaring with a world of hurt in his eyes.

 

“I wouldn't have…” Miroku stopped, closing his eyes for a moment. He rolled to his hands and knees. “I would have… been… willing,” he whispered, crawling to his clothing and pulling it on. Sesshomaru's eyes widened and his mouth opened in shock. Pain lanced through his heart and he closed his eyes against it. When he next opened them, Miroku was gone.

 

Miroku fought the next several days to pretend that nothing had happened. InuYasha had smelled his blood when he returned to the group, but Miroku just snapped at him that he was fine. He couldn't deal with it. The concern in the gold eyes that looked so much like the ones that had hurt him. He couldn't look at InuYasha, with his silver hair, looking just like the curtain that had surrounded him in his personal hell. When Sango tried to ask him what was wrong, he had laughed it off, forcing the sound that ached in his chest and throat as he uttered it. It was all so false now. He was becoming as fake as everyone had accused him of being.

 

InuYasha knew something was wrong and tried to confront Miroku when they were alone, but Miroku panicked the moment he realized they were alone, the memories overwhelming him. He backed away in fear, unable to look away from the gold eyes that widened in confusion.

 

“Are you… afraid of me? InuYasha asked, horrified.

 

“Please,” Miroku whispered, looking away. “It's nothing you've done. I just don't… I don't want to be alone with you right now.”

 

“I don't understand. What's happened? Don't you trust me anymore?” InuYasha had stepped back. Suddenly, his expression grew dark. “Feh. Like I care. Do whatever you want.” InuYasha turned and ran off into the dark, leaving Miroku to curl against a tree and dig his hands painfully into the bark.

 

“I'm sorry, InuYasha,” Miroku whispered. “I can't stay here, like this, anymore…” Miroku said good-bye in his head to everyone he loved, and then went to find Sesshomaru. It took him three days, but he tracked down the youkai. Sesshomaru turned to him and he pulled the ofuda he had prepared in his sleeve, hitting the youkai with three of them. Sesshomaru stepped back, his face twisting in pain and Miroku stepped forward, swinging his staff into the taiyoukai's face as hard as he could. Sesshomaru hit the ground and Miroku kicked him in the throat.

 

Sesshomaru started to move and Miroku slapped another ofuda on his chest and slammed his staff down into it. Sesshomaru hissed beneath this assault and Miroku felt his lips curve into the first real smile he had given since the attack. Miroku spied Toukijin and leaned down, grasping the evil sword and pulled. Sesshomaru's eyes widened as the jyaki of the sword began to gather. But Miroku didn't give it a chance to possess him, he turned it around, down and slammed it into Sesshomaru's only hand, throwing all his weight behind it, so that it went into the earth to the hilt, pinning the youkai.

 

“You destroyed my life,” Miroku hissed, pulling the armor off the wounded dog. Sesshomaru's face had gone blank and unreadable. Miroku threw the heavy armor as hard as he could, getting tangled in the fur as it trailed behind and almost knocked over. He untangled it from his wrist and pulled Sesshomaru's haori open. Then he pulled down his hakama roughly, leaving them around his ankles and pushed Sesshomaru's knees apart with his own. He opened the kimono last, baring Sesshomaru to the day.

 

“Do you expect me to break as easily as you did?” Sesshomaru sneered. Miroku shook his head.

 

“No, I expect you to die,” he answered. “But first, I want you to suffer.” Miroku pulled out another ofuda and slapped it onto Sesshomaru's chest, where it burned him, but aside from lines appearing around his eyes, he showed no pain. Miroku didn't care if he showed it, though; he knew he felt it. He pulled himself out of his pants and glared down at Sesshomaru, who was, much to his anger, excited. Sesshomaru smiled at him coldly and Miroku shoved himself in. He pulled out and shoved back in and the feeling was such the opposite of his emotions that he froze.

 

Miroku had never even considered raping anyone before. Two of Sesshomaru's fingers had convulsed around the blade impaling them and he had blinked hard at Miroku's violent entrance. Miroku met the gold eyes and felt sick. He buried his hands in fistfuls of the long silver hair and pressed his forehead to Sesshomaru's chest, just a few centimeters from the burned area. `Why?' he thought again. “Why didn't you just ask?” Miroku had spoken the words before he could think.

 

“I did not want it,” Sesshomaru answered. “To admit to desiring a mortal… I disgust myself.”

 

“So it was better to rape me,” Miroku asked, his voice breaking, “then take me willingly?”

 

“You had just agreed to marry with that woman,” Sesshomaru said. “I had no reason to believe you had any interest in me.”

 

“I have desired you for longer than we have been allies,” Miroku hissed. “I wanted you from the first time I saw your beauty standing against us.” Miroku looked up at the eyes he now hated, after longing to look into like this for so long. “And now, I will purge you from me,” he said coldly. Miroku gave into the urge to move, pinning Sesshomaru with his hatred. It took a few thrusts before he was fully erect again and he was having trouble, since his heart was rebelling against what he was doing with every fiber of his being.

 

“Give me your mouth,” Sesshomaru said softly. Miroku looked down at him in confusion, but there was no expression on the youkai's face. He leaned down and kissed Sesshomaru, immediately feeling the pain in his heart recede.

 

“Why help me?” Miroku whispered against Sesshomaru's lips.

 

“What a youkai can feel for a mortal is a mere mockery of love,” Sesshomaru responded. “So let us mimic the thing entirely.” Miroku closed his eyes and gave into what he craved, moving inside Sesshomaru, pleasure finally building in him from the soft tongue against his to the place he thrust into the youkai. His hand moved over Sesshomaru's body, sliding down the ruined arm to the end, feeling the stump, which moved under his hand. The climax grew nearer and Miroku pushed himself away from Sesshomaru's hot skin, bracing himself.

 

Last time, Sesshomaru's arm had acted as his brace, both holding him up and preventing him from escaping and his hand had given him a perversion of the same pleasure he took. Miroku didn't offer the same to Sesshomaru, but he saw the youkai's eyes roll back, knew he was close as well, just from the friction he built rubbing between the press of their bodies. Miroku was overcome with desperation as he felt the end approaching and increased his pace and intensity. The orgasm hit him like a wave crashing to shore and he cried out, pushing into Sesshomaru twice more, and then held himself there as he felt the last of the liquid leave his body.

 

He collapsed on Sesshomaru, unable to move in that moment. He felt the slippery mess between them and knew Sesshomaru had finished with him again. The heat from the closeness of their bodies was almost unbearable, but Miroku didn't want to leave it. Now that he was spent, he had no more rage. He no longer wanted to kill Sesshomaru. But when he looked into the youkai's face, he knew that he had no option. He forced himself to his feet and looked down at the proud demon, in such a humiliating position and he took pity on him.

 

Miroku dressed Sesshomaru in everything but his armor, then lifted his staff and turned it, razor edge down. No words were exchanged and their eyes never parted, even when the blade sank through Sesshomaru's neck, jolted when it hit bone and kept going, sending an ache into Miroku's shoulders. The gold eyes found his even as they glazed over and Sesshomaru's reign as the Lord of the Western Lands came to an end.

 

Miroku lifted his staff, looking at the blood on it. It didn't seem real, somehow. He felt like the ground was jerked out from under him and he was falling. But he didn't ever reach the ground. He bent over and took Tenseiga from the sash, holding it in his left hand and said a short prayer for Sesshomaru, as meaningless as it probably was. That was when Rin stepped out into the clearing.

 

“Sesshomaru-sama?” she whispered. Miroku looked at her in horror, taking a step back. The child took a tentative step forward, then another until she was kneeling at the youkai's side. She reached out and lifted a bloodstained strand of severed silver hair and looked up at Miroku, holding it out in front of her. Her hand was shaking, the tremors growing as their eyes locked. “Why?” she whispered. “Why did you take my lord from me?”

 

“He was… he was a monster,” Miroku answered, choking on his own words. His body felt cold and distant; not a part of him at all. It was as if his soul was trying to escape it. Rin looked down, clutching the hair tightly.

 

“WHY?” she screamed. She stood and ran at him, swinging her fists, beating them helplessly against the arm he held out to ward her off. “You killed my Sesshomaru-sama! You murderer! You bastard!” The word from the child's lips broke Miroku's detachment and he fell to his knees, grabbing her and holding her close to his chest.

 

“I'm sorry,” he said, the grief warping his voice. Rin took a deep breath and screamed again, but this time, it was more of a keening wail. At the end, her voice wavered and she sucked air, a sob escaping her.

 

“Bring him back!” she cried, gripping his hair and pulling. “Give me back my lord! Bring him back!” She clutched at him, fighting and embracing him at the same time. “I… want… Sess—Sesshomaru-sama… I want… my… Sesshomaru!” The tears Rin had never shown poured down her face and she pulled back, ripping Tenseiga from Miroku's hand. He watched her struggle with the sheath, finally pulling the blade out. She twisted her hand around the hilt, dropped the sheath and brought her other hand to join the first. She looked down at his body, concentrating. After a minute, she just started swinging the blade with all her might.

 

Nothing happened.

 

“No!” she screamed, slashing the blade over and over. She finally let it swing to her side, then respectfully lifted the scabbard and put the blade back in it, fumbling through her tears. She threw the useless sword at Miroku and flung her body across Sesshomaru's torso. “Sesshomaru-sama! Sesshomaru-sama! Don't leave Rin! Don't go where Rin can't follow!” She clutched his haori in her little hand. “Please, my lord, please, please come back!” She screamed and cried and pleaded, but Sesshomaru didn't move. Miroku stood and walked away. Of course he didn't move—he was dead. But still, Miroku had almost hoped the child would bring him back.

 

He looked at the sword in his hand and then back at Sesshomaru. He watched Rin grieving and felt that he couldn't just leave her there. But he knew she would never go with him, so he began the trek back to his friends, vowing to return for her. While he had traveled three days in search of the youkai, it only took him a day to return to his companions. He stepped into their line of sight, knowing he must have looked a frightful sight. There was blood on his clothing, in his hair, where he had pushed it back from his face and dried on his staff. He couldn't bring himself to clean it.

 

“Miroku?” Sango asked, running to him. He had trouble focusing on her face and the words she spoke seemed far away and wouldn't stay in his head. He had killed many youkai before… Why did Sesshomaru's death bother him so much? `Because it was personal,' he thought, answering his own question. Miroku held out Tenseiga to InuYasha as he approached.

 

“What—” InuYasha began, then stilled. “Why do you have Tenseiga?” he asked, taking the sword.

 

“Because I killed Sesshomaru,” Miroku answered.

 

“Why?” Sango asked. “I thought he was our ally!”

 

“He turned on me,” Miroku answered. “It was him or me.” InuYasha looked up at Miroku and the monk didn't flinch into his eyes this time. Understanding crossed the hanyo's features. “I'm sorry,” Miroku told InuYasha, “That I killed the last of your family.” InuYasha's gaze slid over to Kagome.

 

“Not the last of it,” he argued. Kagome smiled at him. “Let's go.” Miroku nodded and they turned and resumed their quest. Miroku never forgot Sesshomaru. They returned to his place of death, but there was no body and no child for Miroku to collect. He dismissed it as being for the best and tried to move on with his life. He never was able to quell that place of unease in his body and in his dreams, he suffered. From that day, until the day he died, there was a scar on Miroku's heart and deep within his soul. A scar for Sesshomaru.

 

The end.