Clash of Alphas by sarhea

Kagome - Second Person POV

AN: This chapter is an experiment in tense and POV. It was much harder than I thought it would be. I’m not even sure if I got it completely right (true Second Person POV). Submitting this for r0o’s 1st GM Challenge 2012 also, if she decides to host it. For all of you guys who left reviews waiting... Enjoy!

Warnings:  Smut, Erotica, Sexual intimacy ahead. Most definitely rated MA. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

~ooO Second Person – Kagome Ooo~

You cannot look away. You do not protest as he rips your clothes to shreds without raising a welt. You make a token protest as he pushes you up against tree trunk, pinning you against the rough surface with his heavier torso while his hand wandered down towards your hip and then between your legs.

You shudder when he thrusts claw-tipped fingers into the wet slit between your thighs. You cannot deny the small erotic thrill when those strong fingers slip between your nether lips, sliding up and down through the slippery flesh, sharp claw tips gliding oh so delicately over swollen, wet, sensitized flesh.

You gasp. His fingers are inside you now, pushing and searching for that special place. Muscles inside your belly and cunt quiver as he strokes that rough spot. Just when you think you are about to climax he pulls his fingers out. You cry out in protest. You can feel more juices leaking from your stretched hole. You squirm, shifting your thighs, trying to sate the ache, the need thrumming through your lower body. He is holding his hand in front of your face. His fingers are shiny and wet and you feel shame. You know the wetness is you, your juices, evidence of your desire for him.

He thrusts those shiny-wet fingers towards your mouth. “Lick,” he orders.

You hesitate. Images flash through your mind. Those fingers are tipped with dangerously sharp claws and they can generate energy whips and poison-acid. In the past he had tried to kill you with those lethal claws. You are afraid but you also need. Need wins. You lean forward and wrap your lips around those slim strong fingers, enveloping them in your mouth. You run your tongue over them, cleaning your juices off their length and the webbed skin at the base of his fingers. Before you can grip his hand, to clean his palm as well, he pulls away. His fingers are still shiny and wet but from your saliva.

His eyes are still red and feral. His beast is still in control. Primal self-preservation urge you to run but you don’t want to, you can’t, not when you’ve finally admitted to yourself that you really want him. You desire Sesshoumaru, Killing Perfection, the Western Lord, not InuYasha. That self-knowledge gives you the courage to meet his eyes fearlessly. His primal-self smirks and strokes your cheek, leaving a trail of saliva as he traces a path towards your chest. You cannot entirely stifle the small gasp that escapes when he cups one breast and begins playing with the hard, painfully sensitive, tip.

“Tell me little bitch, are you honourable? Will you keep your vows?”

There were so many ways you could answer that. Don’t be stupid, common sense screams, Don’t let your pride rule you. So you bow your head and voice the only sensible one. “I said I would submit and I will.”

He cocks his head. The action makes his hair swing drawing your attention. If you had just a little more courage you would reach out and stroke it, to confirm if it is really as silky and strong as it looks.

“You seem ready to fight me, to break your vows to submit.”

“I won’t fight,” you whisper.

He eyes lance your nude body and you shiver in reaction. “You will obey me,” he snarls.

You shudder but it’s from arousal, not from fear. “I… I will… I will obey,” you finally say.

He orders you to kneel and you comply. The grass is soft and not stiff and prickly. He paces around you like a wild animal, the beautiful feral beast he is. Then he pushes you forward. You would have fallen on your face if you hadn’t reacted fast enough and put out a hand. Then he is kneeling behind you, above you, almost caging you between his limbs and torso, leaving you trapped beneath his much larger, harder frame.

He thrusts his hips gently against your ass. You feel something thick and hard gliding between your legs, along your wet slit. His cock. Then he shifts minutely and thrusts forward. The head of his cock lodges in your opening, gliding into you not along your slit. You force yourself to relax and unclench tense muscles. There was only a small sting, your body stretching to accommodate his flesh. You moan when the thick solidness pushes deeper into you, stretching places you didn’t know could stretch.

“Too big!” you gasp and lean forward trying to pull away from him.

He snarls and thrusts harder. You whimper and squirm feeling like a spitted bird impaled upon him. He presses against your spine between your shoulder blades, forcing you to your elbows, face almost to the ground. The new angle gives him greater access to you and you feel him thrust even deeper. You can’t help the tears that escape by the time his pelvis is flush against your bum. It’s too much. You beg him to stop. He doesn’t.

And then everything changes. Your body adjusts, stretches, wets, and softens… to bear his attentions. The pain fades and your arousal begins. It is twisting in your belly, tighter and tighter like a coil. The muscles in your thighs are trembling until it reaches a point you cannot control yourself.

You scream as you come hard around him. Your nails claw into the grass and dirt, clenching and ripping them in a vain attempt to anchor yourself. You want him to stop. To never stop. He only snarls and thrusts harder. You can feel that hard veined shaft driving into your core again and again, stretching swollen, blood-rich, sensitized tissue to give way before him.

He is a demanding lover, intent on wrenching every response from your body. You come repeatedly on him, around him, under him. Your muscles are quivering and limp from the experience. He is still rock-hard and intent on pounding into you. You wonder if you will last the night. You doubt it. You are only human and he is a youkai with inhuman stamina. You are too tired to respond when your muscles convulse in yet another climax. This time he is coming with you. You can feel the warm wetness flooding your body. You are a modern girl and well aware of the risk of pregnancy but you are too tired and sore to care. Besides it isn’t like there is a clinic and drugstore around the corner to get the Morning After Pill. If you do get pregnant you’ll manage. You always do.

You don’t bother trying to control your body when your endurance finally gives and you collapse from exhaustion. His hand is gripping one shoulder, gently lowering your torso to the grass such that your body is in the Childs-Pose, face pressed against the grass. It is uncomfortable, feeling his thick flesh slip out of you so quickly. You feel fluids spill out and running down your thighs, his cum and yours.

You are tired and confused. Uncertain of exactly why you hadn’t fought him hard. Logic whispers you should have denied him. Instincts tell you it was the right thing to do, to submit to him. Because he is Alpha.

“You have done well little bitch,” he tells you in a soothing rumble. And this pleases you. Because he is not one to lie to make anyone feel better.

You are barely aware of his hand brushing away your hair, pulling it back and to one side. Something cool and silky slid against your neck, the front of your throat. Wearily you turn your head and look. Long silky silver-white tresses float to the ground pooling on the grass around you. You reach out and touch one lock. Your theories are confirmed. His hair is as silky and strong as you had suspected.

“Sleep, there is time enough for questions later.”

He is right. You have many questions and concerns but you cannot stay awake long enough to voice them. You are too tired. You are vaguely aware of something soft, fluffy and warm settling over your shoulders and back just as he lies down himself pressing close against your back. His semi-hard cock nestles against your bottom.

“Sesshoumaru?” you ask hesitantly because you know you aren’t up for another round.

He strokes the front of your throat with those dangerous clawed fingertips. “Rest little bitch. Your body needs to recover and heal.”

He is right. Sleep comes very quickly on the heels of exhaustion.

Just before you pass out, you glimpse a strand of red silk flowing from under your chin between the inner curves of your breasts. The silky feeling around your throat is this ribbon, not his hair. You want to ask him about the ribbon but you are too tired. You make a mental note to do so tomorrow, along with all the other questions and concerns you have… about the situation and exactly what he is expecting from you.

TBC...