Nocturne

© Salome Wilde, 2008

Nocturne

I am certain she thinks it was a dream. And that is acceptable, perhaps best for now.

She dreams a lot, I know. I have often watched her sleep—eyelids fluttering, a moan or sometimes a tiny squeal in her throat. I do not wake her: there is nothing I can do. Dreaming, this human malady, is something from which I do not suffer. But she does. She tells Jaken the details. I listen. Sometimes it is the wolf pack, again, tearing her child flesh. Sometimes there is fire all around her and she cannot see or reach me. She has awakened screaming more than once. But, of course, there is more than one kind of suffering. Sometimes she holds my hand and flies with me through the night sky, only to wake and be earthbound. And, occasionally, she relives that night when I marked her as mine. She shakes, sweats, twitches. She cries.

I was weak. I failed her. Yet I could do no other than I did. And I have told her that. It was not easy to do so—the son of the Great Dog Demon confessing weakness to a human that is little more than a child. But she is bound to me, and I am bound to her. Unlikely and unwise as our bond may be, I must protect her, and she must trust me.

She does not tell Jaken about that dream. That is one way I know it is of me and that night that she dreams. I also know because when she wakes from it she curls onto her side and wraps her arms around herself, whispering, “I forgive you, Sesshomaru-sama,” over and over. I can hear her; I can smell her sweat and her tears.

Last night, though, she did not wake quickly. The dream did not end, and she was wracked with it. I saw what I had done to her in her sleeping body’s struggles, and I could stand no more of it. Though we must all walk our own paths, we must also take responsibility for our actions. I went to her, sat before her, and called her name softly. She calmed, quieted, woke. It was dark, a moonless night. She could not see me, but she knew me in an instant. As I know her by scent, so she now knows me. And her need and her scent called to me.

“Sesshomaru-sama,” she whispered. The aroma of fear dissipated, borne away on the night wind, and was replaced by that of desire. I breathed it in. She shivered. Yes, I vowed I would never again take her as I had done that night, but she was mine. I would have her. Her scent had always attracted me, but as a leader is drawn to his pack. Since the night she had touched her lips to mine, though, her scent had changed. And since I had claimed and marked her, I did not want to control myself. Such is it with inuyokai. A rash choice and action. I should have been stronger. But I was not, and I do not live in the past. I rose and crouched over her body, my senses intoxicated. She tensed.

Immediately, I drew back. I sat on my heels at her feet, looking down at her. No, I would not frighten her again. I would not be the cause of additional nightmares. If I was to claim her body again, I knew, it was my obligation first to put her at ease, to lead and inspire her to follow, to submit, to give herself freely to me.

Gently, I reached my hand between her legs and spread them. I could sense tension but no fear. There was curiosity, too. And always her need for me. Had that not been so strong in her, I would have sent her away after that night, marked or not. I brought my mouth to nestle where her thighs met. The heady aroma overwhelmed me, made me stiff and ravenous. Determined not to harm her, I moved slowly, pressing my face to her and gently parting her with my nose and mouth. Careful of my fangs, I lapped at the soft wetness of her. Long strokes brought gentle moans from her, and soon she was raising her hips to urge me on. I controlled my desire to exchange my cock for my tongue, and continued to please her. She whispered my name and arched into my mouth’s embrace. I thrust my tongue inside her and she rode it. She wanted me inside her as much as I wanted to be there. But I knew she was not truly ready. Instead, I brought first one then two fingers in place of my tongue, and stroked inside her, while I lapped again where she swelled and opened to me. I reveled in her body’s need. As she peaked, her small frame shook with the power of her release, and I devoured her rich essence—her taste and smell and feel. I did not release her for many long moments and her pleasure expanded and extended at my touch.

When at last I withdrew my fingers and mouth, she let out a long, soft sigh. “Dream peacefully now, Rin,” I told her, and soon she was again asleep.

I took to the sky and settled on a rock that jutted out from the mountainside on which we camped. I centered my mind and calmed my overwrought senses. Her scent was everywhere in the night air, and I breathed it in gratefully while she rested. I was strong again, and I would stay strong.

Yes. Rin is mine and I will claim her truly, when she is ready.

- - - - - - - -

Note: I experimented here with Sesshomaru’s POV, with some trepidation. I think it is risky to write from his perspective, as much of his power and magnetism comes from his mystique and psychological impenetrability. Please let me know whether this works for you as a reader.