Cold
by Eleventy Nine
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended by the writing or online sharing of this story. On my behalf, I do not claim to own and/or be connected to Inu Yasha in any way, shape, or form. I only draw inspiration from its characters, setting, and storyline.
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As he pulls her to him, he notices how cold her body is. Her lips, though soft and pink, are like ice against his skin.
He's not surprised. She is, afterall, a re-animated corpse, with only a scrap of her original soul.
Her lips find his and he smiles, kissing back. Death has changed her. She is submissive now, receptive to his will. He strokes her breast and she arches up beneath him, never breaking their kiss.
He enters her slowly, savoring the way her flesh grips him. He thrusts, and his eyes glaze over, the sensation overpowering. Again, and his bruise colored lids almost close. She is much colder inside, he thinks as he quickens their pace. Colder than he had expected.
He doesn't mind. He's always loved the cold, always admired the way snowstorms could induce such suffering.
The priestess gasps, and tightens her hold on him. All thoughts leave him as he shudders, spilling his seed inside her.
He watches as she sleeps beside him. Her soul gatherers twist gracefully through the air above them, sending their glowing victims to her. She opens her eyes as she absorbs them, her body warming briefly.
When she sinks back into sleep, he touches her neck, relieved to find it still cold.
He likes her so much better dead.
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fin.