A/N: This spawns from my sadistic love fo Nar/Kag horrors.
She used to wonder why this happened. How what she has turned to what she had. But slowly, surely… she stopped caring. This place wasn't hers, and she often felt herself fighting down the bile that rose in her throat at what she was going to do that night, and the next night, and every night after that. But more frequently, she found herself lying on a bed, a mattress, a rock, a tree, with her fingers fumbling with her own panties, trying to give herself the same pleasure he did every night.
She was so sick. Once a night just wasn't enough for her body's needs. So she pushed her fingers into herself rough- just like how he did it- and moaned wantonly. Adding another finger to join the others, v-ing her slick vaginal walls.
And she slowly realized that what they had, what she was capable of doing, would never be enough.
♣▪♪○۞ڿ×ÖǾЖ۩•Ω☼♦♫♣◦ڿ♣▪♪○۞ڿ×ÖǾЖ۩•Ω☼♦♫♣◦ڿ♣▪♪○۞ڿ×ÖǾЖ۩•Ω☼♦♫♣◦ڿ♣▪♪○۞ڿ×
She used to lay on top of his body after their fucking; panting and sweating and satiated. When she thought they were done with having sex for the night, even if she could still feel his member poking into her stomach, hard and erect… and still wanting more. And she ignored him when his hands wandered up and down the contours of her body, finally stopping on her breasts and playing with her nipples with his large, slightly calloused thumbs.
She ignored the pleasurable vibrations that raced through her body at the contact, because she had told him at the beginning that if he wanted this, then he'd have to abide by her rules. He never agreed aloud.
And it took her awhile to realize the reason why was because this man, this being, had no rules.
♣▪♪○۞ڿ×ÖǾЖ۩•Ω☼♦♫♣◦ڿ♣▪♪○۞ڿ×ÖǾЖ۩•Ω☼♦♫♣◦ڿ♣▪♪○۞ڿ×ÖǾЖ۩•Ω☼♦♫♣◦ڿ♣▪♪○۞ڿ×
She used to wonder if she loved him. But every time that thought pushed its way so slyly into her brain, she would quickly squash the thought with millions of reasons why she couldn't.
He's evil.
He's a murderer.
He's using me.
I hate him.
Now she realizes that it's all just business. He wanted her body, and she wanted to protect everyone. She thought this would make everyone she loved safe; even if she was sacrificing she had been told her entire life to keep sacred.
And after so many months (or maybe years—it had been so long since she stopped counting the moments) of doing this with him, she suddenly saw that it wasn't her virginity that her mother was talking about, but her heart. And now, finally, she could discern between the two.
♣▪♪○۞ڿ×ÖǾЖ۩•Ω☼♦♫♣◦ڿ♣▪♪○۞ڿ×ÖǾЖ۩•Ω☼♦♫♣◦ڿ♣▪♪○۞ڿ×ÖǾЖ۩•Ω☼♦♫♣◦ڿ♣▪♪○۞ڿ×
So now she watches as he spears a tentacle into InuYasha's heart, and wonders why she even tried. She isn't running or screaming or crying, and try as she might, she isn't regretting. The corpses of her friends and allies lay scattered over the battle field, and she can't find herself even caring enough to pretend to loathe herself for what she's done and caused; for what she's killed.
But he looked back at her with half of his beautiful face coated in her friend's blood and a twisted smile curling at his lips, and she knew that whatever they had during the fight for that accursed, damnable jewel would continue now after the jewel was completed. Because he demanded it. Because he would never let her escape the pretty little spider web he had woven around her. Because he still lusted for her.
And because for her, it would never be enough.
The end... or maybe not.