It's been a while since I have written anything on the site, so I decided to adapt one of my original stories into a fanfiction featuring one of my favorite OTPs Kagome and Sesshomaru. When I reread and edited, I thought this would be a perfect story for the two of them. I may adapt more of my original stories into fanfiction, but for now, you can check out my original stories on my Figment account. Look for Denise Farron on the Figment website (link on my profile) . Thank you for the support and happy reading!
Call me masochistic. I stare into hell's eyes every night, knowing I should resist, but cannot. He calls himself "Oni," a suitable name for a dark, desirable creature. His aura commands attention and his soul screams for satisfaction. Silver hair reminiscent of moonlight hides honey eyes: the same eyes that make me want to sin repeatedly. I would give my soul to Akuma himself, just to spend but a moment with this man. My heart stops and time is no longer a factor as I shiver under my predator's gaze. He is the source of my masochistic ways, my only true sin, and my overwhelming addiction.
I remember when this sickness began.
It was just another day. I carried out my routine as I always have, counting down the hours until my day ended and I knew I would be in quiet solitude once again, the one thing I looked forward to. Once home, I checked the latest idiocy in the realm of Facebook. I had a friend request. What the hell? I clicked the link. Retrospectively, I think that was my first mistake. What awaited me was everything I would have ever imagined a god to be. Of course, his amber eyes caught my attention first. Instead of bearinghissoul to me, his eyes bore into my own, leaving me naked with my secrets fully exposed and my imagination to run wild. That level of vulnerability scared me shitless while at the same time I shivered in utter excitement.
I couldn't look away.
I agreed to meet him after spending weeks talking to him on Facebook. He lived in the next town, going to school for Criminology. I figured weeks of talking earned him a meeting. However, I'm no fool. I chose somewhere public. I laughed as I remembered the stupid classes they made the girls take the first semester of college—Rape Prevention 101. Who knew I would actually use it? He called my name, breaking my thoughts. As I inspected him, I found his pictures did him no justice. If I thought his eyes were seeing through me in pictures, nothing compared to the burning I felt under his gaze in person
Was it bad that I wanted to burn alive?
Presently, those eyes are stripping me piece by piece as he circles me, a devilish smirk playing on his full lips. I pray my eyes do not betray me and show what he does to me. He feeds off vulnerability, cutting the strongest women down with his charm and sex appeal. He lets me know how I gained his interest by resisting his art. I remain still until his scrutiny ends and he stands directly in front of me. "My my, seems as though fate played on my side…you are absolutely delectable," his voice reminds me of a gun wrapped in fine silk with a hair trigger. I want more, but do not make a sound. To do so is dangerous.
Danger is sexy.
I sigh. Masochist with a twist of a schoolgirl infatuated with her first crush. All I can think about is that smile that tests my control, and how he teases me and I give in. But, more than anything, it's those eyes… I wonder why no one else seems to see the same swirling miasma I do in his eyes.
We meet several more times over a six-month period, chatting effortlessly and enjoying each other's company. That's just in public. "Oni" has another side, hence the name. Sensual words combine with more sensual movements cut and burn me as he pushes my limits. It is an addiction as dangerous Russian roulette, yet stopping is never an option.
I want him to destroy me.
Fingertips ghost my skin leaving goose bumps in their wake. "Do you enjoy our meetings?" I nod as his smoky voice reverberates in my ear. I do not trust what he may hear in my voice because of his proximity. I don't need to look to know he is smirking. A sharp twist and his lips are on mine: the intensity melts my skin as my body naturally responds. Who am I to deny him anything? Passion, lust, and—dare I say— love are there. I search deeper with my lips as he molds me into his body: devotion, want, need… I smother myself in him. He's burning me, entrapping me, killing me. More, more, more…
Then I feel it, tugging my heart. Please! Just a little longer! I cling to him, but I know it is useless. I cannot fight the inevitable. He smiles anyway. "Tomorrow."
I open my eyes and groan. Reality is definitely a bitch. The new cuts and bruises on my arms, however, make me smile.
"Oni" has become my favorite little secret, real in every way, yet mythical according to humans. He is an incubus who exists outside my dreams as well. I look forward to falling asleep to meet again in our own world. The psychic link combined with our imagination leaves our rendezvous open to endless plays created solely for us. His eyes cut me and his touch burns me, I mean that in the most literal sense. That delicious pain delights me, however, I hate when reality pulls me away from him. I smile. "Next time will be more beautiful."
I can't wait to burn.