Change in Perspective by SunsetMiko

Change in Perspective

I do not own Inuyasha and Company, no matter how happy it would make me. Rumiko Takahashi does. I do not profit financially from these fics.

Written for LiveJournal’s Ebony_Silks Community.

Prompt: Picture

Genre: Romance

Rating: R

Warnings: Suggestive and mushy too.

Universe: Canon

Cold, pale skin cut through with slashes of magenta on cheeks and wrists.

Crescent moon rests over his brow, royal blue declaring his aristocratic status, that he is above all others.

Eyes of ice freeze me where I stand, paralyzing me while he passes his judgment.

Nose so powerful he can smell my fear whether I cower in the distance or tremble at his feet.

Lips barely move, only quirking up in a smirk or down in a frown, both of which forebode death.

Ears tipped by points, proudly displaying his inhumanity, and alerting him to everything and anything in his surroundings.

Hair shines silver, harshly straight, never daring to tangle.

Body draped in the finest silks, shielded by heavy ancient bone armor he carries as if weightless.

A length of white fur hangs across his shoulder, making him look even colder and impassive.

Swords of untold power hang at his waist, ready in an instant to end any life he deems unworthy of survival.

Standing tall and proud, cold and cruel, he is a demon in every sense of the word.

-

Oh, how quickly things can change.

-

Soft, pale, milky skin stretches tightly over hard rippling muscles, shining with a light sheen of sweat.

Magenta stripes stand out proudly on cheeks, wrists, hips, and thighs, flashing jagged in the heights of his passion.

Royal blue crescent moon rests over his brow, declaring his family line and pride in his ancestors.

Eyes can freeze me where I stand but can burn me with their intense golden heat in the same glance.

Nose so powerful he can smell my every shift in emotion, can know me better than I know myself.

Lips barely move as words pass over them in his deep promising tone before they are pressed to mine.

Ears tipped by points, signs of his heritage, alert him to every panting breath, every gasp and moan he draws from me.

Hair shines silver, perfectly straight, flowing strands of moonbeams that block out the rest of the world but him, as if I am inside a waterfall.

The finest silks and ancient bone armor lay in a pile on the ground beside us; his long white length of fur forms a bed beneath us.

Swords of untold power rest nearby, ready in an instant to protect those he cares for and even to return their lives if stolen away.

Lying relaxed and fully sated, holding me tightly against his chest with his nose buried in my hair and a soothing rumbling growl escaping him, he is my demon in every sense of the word.