Disclaimer: Sure as hell ain't mine.
Necessary Backstory:
Higurashi Kagome had had a lot of time to think as she wandered the Japanese countryside. Between fighting for her life, dealing with a disturbing love triangle between her, an emotional fuckwit, and a hateful undead priestess, the schoolgirl had found she needed an escape from reality. She began to concoct elaborate stories. Of course, between trying not to die, emotional meltdowns, and cramming, she hadn't the time to actually finish any of those stories. Hell, she had been lucky to take a bath every few weeks or so. It's hard to feel inspired to write about a girl going dewy-eyed over a chivalrous knight after bouncing around on a moody half-demon's back, having your own pungent aroma waft back at you.
Relevance:
Kagome sat in her candle-lit apartment and stared at her computer screen. The last chapter of her epic romance stared back at her. All she had to do was hammer out one. More. Chapter. The hero had just suffered the crushing loss of his beloved, yet still there remained a glimmer of hope. A real cliff-hanger. Readers were anxiously awaiting resolution. 'Begging pathetically' would be a more accurate term. Yet Kagome was at a complete loss. She stood and began to pad across the room to get a glass of wine. A figure detached itself from the darkness behind her. Just as she reached for the bottle, strong arms wrapped around her waist and a warm, wet mouth latched onto her neck.
"Nhhmm. When are you coming to bed?" A naked, sleep-tousled half demon murmured in between gentle bites to her neck. Kagome arched back into his muscled form and sighed. The computer beckoned, but the insistent ridge of flesh pressing against her cotton pajamas was quickly rearranging her priorities.
But tonight was the night she was going to finally finish the damn thing! Now she had the time. Now she had a computer. Hell, now she had the real-life experience for the sex scenes! The clever ending was all laid out…
Just then, Inuyasha emitted a sexy grumble and ran his teeth across the nape of her neck.
To hell with it. I'm off to get laid.
Moral:
Sex trumps fiction.