InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Bluechat and Blood Ties ❯ Twisted Lives ( Chapter 1 )

Bluechat and Blood Ties

 

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Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha and I make no money with this story.

Summary: Fate decides to keep their paths apart, yet it takes one night at a pub and bluechat for them to connect. But what if happiness isn't supposed to come about?

Opening Warning: Incest - this is going to be developed later in the story. If you can't handle it, don't read.

 

Chapter Warning: Coarse language and sexual situations.

 

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The old alarm clock went off on the nightstand and promptly met its death at the hands of the highly disturbed girl who rubbed her eyes sleepily. Opening one tentatively, she all but sneered at the rays of sunshine peering through the white horizontal blinds as if mocking her so early in the morning. Once again, she felt like in a hospital room, thousands of eyes glued to her body, trying to undress her, the knowledge that everyone was curious and enchanted making her skin crawl. She remembered that feeling.

 

Higurashi Kagome was not a morning person.

 

She was not in a hospital, either, and the only other person in the room was her boyfriend, Miroku, who was facing away from her, sleeping soundly. She could never understand how he always missed the blasted noise that signaled the beginning of a new day. Miroku was a heavy sleeper, but a sexy one. She smirked sensually and raked her long, blood red nails over his naked spine, making him arch his back unconsciously. His heavy breathing told her he was aroused, even if he was asleep. She loved to wake him up in a `special way'.

 

Licking the trail of her nails, she let her nose brush against his skin, knowing it tickled him. As predicted, the young eighteen year old opened his eyes groggily, scrunching his nose to betray his distaste at being woken up so unexpectedly. His lips parted when he felt his morning erection and only then did he realize that his girlfriend had been stimulating him in his sleep and was still not done. Intent on enjoying her talented ministrations more, Miroku closed his eyes back and let his little vixen lick him more.

 

“Just like that, baby,” he whispered and felt her smirk against his skin, continuing her wonderful, tasty torture. Instinctively, Miroku started rubbing his bare crotch against the sheets, needing that brilliant friction that made him see stars, combined with his girlfriend's skilled tongue.

 

He gasped loudly and shook Kagome off when she bit his back painfully hard; his erection was completely gone.

 

“What the fuck, `Gome?” he yelled, his eyebrows scrunched together to show his anger. “You're crazy, did you know that?” She was perhaps a bit S&M in bed, but he'd told her he didn't do that kind of sex. Domination - yes; light punishments - hell, yeah; toys - of course, but not hardcore stuff. Never things that could end up with him either mangled or dead, because with Kagome's instable behavior you could never know.

 

“You've told me that before,” she mumbled with a scowl, disappointed that she could never get him to enjoy it when she felt like acting… wilder. “Okay, I was out of line,” she admitted with a nod and a furtive roll of her eyes when he wasn't looking. His expression became clouded, pensive.

 

“Look,” she started. “I know you don't like it, but don't you want to at least try it? Just once?” Her deep eyes were so mesmerizing that he felt the need to gulp dryly.

 

“Have you done this before? With another guy?”

 

She looked at him without replying and pointed at her left side, where there was an obvious scar that he'd missed. That covered the answer, and he bet she had done it more than just once. He'd always known she was a nutcase, but she was an amazing lay and a great girl inside. Her generosity knew no bounds, and if you were one of her loved ones, she would stop at nothing to defend you. Her well-known affinity was for orphans, because she felt like one.

 

Her mother was still alive, but she had been `odd' almost ever since Kagome and her younger brother, Souta, knew her. Sometimes she seemed normal, sometimes she even took her pills, but most of the time she just sat on her armchair they'd placed in the kitchen, watching the kitchen knives that were stacked in a corner. Izayoi was merely the shadow of the great woman she'd once been.

 

Kagome had taken care of her brother from a young age, and in return, Souta helped her keep her temper. They were close in a way no one could understand, and some of the meaner people accused them of having an indecent relationship, which revolted both siblings. They would never, ever be anything more than brother and sister. Kagome could never imagine loving her brother in a carnal way; the thought of it was simply too sickening.

 

Miroku watched his girlfriend, who looked as if she hadn't eaten for days. Her eyes were dark - was it exhaustion or smoking? He didn't know. So he watched her frown, watched her reach into the pocket of his jeans that she'd thrown on the floor in a passionate rush the previous night. With trembling fingers, she pulled out two cigarettes and the lighter. One of the deadly sticks she held between two fingers, the other she offered to him. Wordlessly, he shook his head, she shrugged, and put it back inside the pack. Kagome carried the vice inside her blood, he noticed, as she lit the cigarette and inhaled the toxic smoke deeply, as if it brought her the utmost pleasure.

 

“I can't stand this,” he whispered with a shake of his head.

 

She snorted, rolling her eyes before taking another drag.

 

“I don't know what more you want,” Kagome told him, honesty coating her words in the most obvious way. “I brought you home to live with me even knowing that my mother would flip and everyone was going to think I'm a slut; I feed you, I give you everything you fucking want. I just don't understand what the fuck your problem is.”

 

Pursing his lips and frowning, he spat out, “You are.”

 

She wasn't impressed. Even the cigarette was more creative and fresh than he.

 

“Oh, really?” She walked across the room, a hand hugging her body under her breasts, supporting the one with the cigarette. Squinting as she inhaled the smoke, Kagome laughed humorlessly. “Sometimes I wonder why I put up with you - you've never even cared for me.”

 

“That's not true,” he protested, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her lithe body, licking her neck hungrily. His erection pressed against her backside made her pupils dilate and her heart rate accelerate crazily.

 

She loved this sexual rush.

 

“I love you,” he lied, and she knew it, because she lied whenever she said it, as well. They had a mutual agreement, although it had never been spoken aloud, that this relationship of theirs was based more on the physical side. It worked for both of them, because they didn't need anyone else to satisfy their libido.

 

She could feel him harden even more, but today she felt like being ruthless. Stepping away from him, she threw the cigarette through the window and got dressed in one of her big T-shirts, teasing him with her long, creamy legs, yet punishing him all the same.

 

“I just can't believe you!” he snapped, once again irritated that he'd lost yet another opportunity to get laid. If there was one thing Miroku loved doing, it was sex. He was notorious for it.

 

Eighteen and with a seventeen year old girlfriend, he was still one of the most desired guys in high school. If Kagome refused him, he'd find another.

 

“Whatever,” the girl said, jumping on the bed and assuming the lotus position, peacefully closing her eyes. Whenever she was like this, there was no reasoning with her, and Miroku sighed, not even bothering. Kagome was the strangest person he'd ever encountered, excluding her brother, who resembled her in all senses. After all, she had raised him, and naturally, Souta looked up to her and learned from her everything he could.

 

Picking up his clothes and scowling at the picture on the nightstand that showed the both of them kissing fervently, Miroku left the room.

 

Kagome remained on the bed, never moving, barely breathing. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess, but she couldn't concentrate on anything, because the resounding sound inside her mind kept still. She didn't want to think about her traumatized mother, about her missing father, she didn't even want to think about Miroku. Fuck him, anyway.

 

Why the fuck was everything so fucking hard to manage?

 

Half an hour later, Souta barged into the room unannounced, just like he always did. He was half dressed, his top missing completely, and his baggy jeans low enough to show off a few dark pubic hairs. He'd just fucked someone, Kagome was sure, although she hadn't heard any noise recently.

 

“Honey,” he said with a hoarse voice that contradicted his sweet words. “Can you go kick out the bitch in my bedroom? She's one of those who can't take a hint.”

 

Kagome smiled - Souta was so damn cute when he was scowling. Jumping off the bed, she kissed his lips brotherly then walked past him to his room. A girl she thought she recognized lay on the bed, her hair tousled. She seemed to be waiting for Souta and Kagome had to frown. This girl really did look like one of those who got starry-eyed whenever they saw her `baby' brother passing them.

 

“Sorry honey, game's over,” Kagome announced.

 

The startled girl pulled the sheets to her chest, looking up at the seventeen year old in confusion.

 

“You fucked, you had your fun, now's the time to get out,” Kagome explained, all of this seeming more like a routine to her. She was used to it - the tears, the begging, the works.

 

The girl eventually - after much persuasion - left, and Souta thanked his sister once again; she was his savior, as always. They ate in the kitchen awkwardly like every morning, with their mother staring off into space and sighing from time to time.

 

“Mom?” Kagome asked, gentleness evident in her tone. “Won't you eat?” The woman nodded, but didn't even look at the food. Feeling as helpless as he did every morning, Souta sighed, hating the father he'd never met an ounce more.

 

It was his fault their mother was like this. The two children didn't know the whole story, but they did know that Izayoi was terrified of that man coming to take her children away. At the beginning she'd been fine, just really paranoid, but her condition had deteriorated over the years. Gradually, she had begun to behave irrationally then had stopped behaving altogether. There were days when she didn't move from her armchair, but there were also shiny days when she was their mother again, the kind, loving woman they vaguely remembered.

 

Kagome smiled, feeling playful all of a sudden.

 

“I have red lipstick,” she declared with a wink. Souta smirked.

 

“I've got some eyeliner,” he challenged, enjoying her grin.

 

“Net stockings,” she said. “Black bodysuit with a sweetheart neckline. Ample view,” she added with a subtle wink. She giggled when he groaned at the visual - it was just so great to know her brother was aware of how sensual she could be.

 

“Low jeans,” he whispered slowly. “No shirt. That spiked leather collar you gave me. Aqua di Gio,” he ranted, perfectly aware of Kagome's passion for the classic fragrance he always wore.

 

“Low jeans, just like now?” she asked teasingly, looking at her unresponsive mother from the corner of her eyes.

 

“Lower,” he warned and she nodded.

 

“Red nails,” she showed him and he smiled.

 

Let's do it.

 

Outrunning him, Kagome reached her bedroom and changed into the outfit she'd described, applying the crimson lipstick that looked so sexy on her. She couldn't wait to see Souta with eyeliner. He knew how much she loved seeing him like that, the sly snake.

 

Smiling, she entered his room, catching him exactly when he was changing jeans. Realizing once more that he wasn't a child anymore - he was fifteen and a half - Kagome sighed. She knew they were more mature than most other kids their age; after all, they had been through so much together. They received a monthly allowance from their grandfather that was too far away to come and take care of them, and fortunately it covered the bills. The rest of the money came from Kagome's job and occasional errands Souta ran for people who were willing to pay a lot to have their problems solved promptly.

 

The siblings never kept the money they had to spare. Instead, they donated it to orphanages. Whenever they visited the orphans, they saw the kids clinging to each other, whispering to each other, comforting each other. They knew how that was like - very, extremely sad.

 

When Souta was done, he held out the eyeliner for Kagome to take, but she shook her head. She wanted her eyes to look natural this time. Smiling, he pulled her wrist, grabbed the camera, and threw her on the bed. Swiftly, before she recovered, he took a few snapshots like he loved to. Kagome looked best when she was caught by surprise. She frowned, she cursed, she raised an eyebrow, she reached for the camera, fought to get it, kicked and laughed, threw her head back.

 

All these were immortalized and Souta loved to be the one in charge.

 

But she kicked him in the back of the knee, making him stumble and fall. Climbing on top of her brother with a victorious, toothy grin, Kagome grabbed the camera from his hand and photographed his shocked face. She absolutely loved it when he tried to be tough but failed.

 

Hours later, they had hundreds of photos taken, none of them showing anything else than two happy siblings enjoying their time together. A conservative person would frown upon looking at them, but then again, Kagome had always been an eccentric person, and Souta followed her steps closely, happy to have his sister as a model.

 

When they went out for a drink though, Kagome's world crumbled once again. Shock and stress were assassins to her health, but she was blessed with them all the time. She saw her boyfriend, the man she lived with, dear, sweet, sexy Miroku kissing another girl passionately, his tongue deep down her throat. Frowning, Kagome wondered if it was just something fleeting, something like a joke, but when the young man sneaked his hand down the other girl's pants, Kagome snapped.

 

But when Kagome was angry, she raged.

 

“Fuck you,” she spat, getting close enough to the twosome for them to hear her. Immediately, Miroku ceased his intimate behavior and turned to look at his angry girlfriend. “So when I don't give it to you, you seek it in another bitch, eh?”

 

The girl gasped and frowned, but Kagome didn't care. Miroku was speechless, even after Kagome threw a shoe at him.

 

“You know what? I want you out of my house by noon.”

 

“Out of her house?” the other girl asked indignantly.

 

“Yeah Sango, I live with the bitch,” Miroku grumbled and threw the shoe back at Kagome somewhat politely. He knew when to act civil around her.

 

“You fucking asshole. Fucking cheat,” Kagome whispered and Souta noticed she was about to break down. Grabbing her hand, the younger brother pulled her away, glaring at Miroku in a way that could only be described as ominously.

 

Livid and hurt, Kagome shouted over her shoulder to the so-called `Sango': “When you find him too tame for your taste, don't say I didn't tell you he's a retard.”

 

“I already fucked him,” that girl shouted back angrily, but Kagome didn't even care anymore. It was over. This chapter of her life was closed, so when she reached home, she hauled all of Miroku's clothes from the wardrobe and his stuff from the nightstand and threw them out the window. Their picture was already broken.

 

Soon she found herself on a wide bridge, hundreds of cars passing her by, the sound of the water flowing still overwhelming. She loved the smell there, loved the feeling of being so blissfully lonely. Her sense of fashion was clearly flawless even if she didn't have a lot of money - she wore a simple black outfit that complimented her supple body and a short, red scarf. It matched her mood.

 

Higurashi Kagome was done caring.

 

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“Shut up,” he whispered harshly, slapping his palm against the woman's mouth to silence her. His eyes rolled back into his head when he pushed his crotch against her scorching panties, enjoying the way her legs hugged his waist hungrily.

 

But they had to be careful. His father was looking for him.

 

Inuyasha smirked, liking the adrenaline more than anything, and when Yura massaged his scalp sensually - she had a thing for hair, especially as lovely as his - he almost creamed his pants.

 

“Shit, baby, let me get inside you first,” he whispered, his hand still covering her mouth even though she didn't make a noise. When he was inside her, thrusting, grunting, cursing silently, he could hear his father's voice and felt like screaming in elation. If the old man were to find him like this, oh, that'd be the joy! Still, the seventeen year old didn't want to have his ecstasy moment interrupted, so he increased his pace, forgetting about Yura, forgetting her pleasure, her comfort. It was a stroke of luck that she cummed at the same time he did, a total fluke that he remembered to moan her name.

 

He'd skipped classes again; it was his last year and he couldn't care less, but his father seemed determined to make him finish high school and college, and then force him to take over the company, since his older half brother, Sesshomaru, had his own business, like the independent dog he was.

 

So Inuyasha had resorted to take Yura for a `walk' that had ended in a corner, between two walls, with them getting horny. The young man knew his father would be made aware that his son was skipping classes again and would come to retrieve him, but Inuyasha kept rebelling.

 

He hated his father. So much.

 

“Let's split,” he whispered in Yura's ear, but it was too late, because before he managed to zip his jeans he felt a strong hand on his shoulder. For a moment he had the urge to chuckle like a naughty adolescent, but he realized his father was probably pissed, judging by Yura's terrified eyes as she straightened her short uniform skirt.

 

“I'm still on school grounds,” Inuyasha declared without bothering to turn around. Instead, he buttoned his shirt and watched Yura as she fled away from the twosome.

 

“Sexy, ain't she?” the youngster asked with a chuckle, but his father wasn't amused.

 

“You are going to return to classes,” the elder man declared, making Inuyasha frown in irritation.

 

“No, I will not. I'm not in the mood.”

 

“You will be,” his father warned when Inuyasha turned to look at him. “And you will cease your improper sexual habits at once!”

 

“Oh, look who's telling me what to do! I don't even know who my mother is! Could be some whore you gathered off the streets for all I know. Who are you to tell me not to fuck whomever I want?” Inuyasha scolded, annoyed that his father thought of himself moral enough to give such orders. He had no right. He'd lost any such rights the moment he'd conceived his second son with someone Inuyasha didn't even know.

 

Inuyasha had no choice but to obey his father's command though, grumbling all the way to the high school door.

 

“Right over there,” his father said, smirking and gesturing towards the much hated building. Right over there was thirty meters closer to Inuyasha's personal hell.

 

He managed to stay still through the rest of his classes, ignoring the glares he received from his teachers, who were already annoyed with his constant skipping. His classmates were jealous that his father was influential enough to keep him from being expelled, so he didn't receive much sympathy from them, either.

 

But none of them understood. Not one of his classmates knew why he was such a rebel, why he wanted to be so different from the others. It was because he was different. He'd been raised out of need, not with love, and it had darkened his entire childhood. His step mother, a cold woman, she'd barely ever spoken to him, and his brother that was older by twenty years had never liked him much. His father, a rakish man, didn't care that he was too old to be cheating on his wife; he still did it. It was the kind of role model Inuyasha had.

 

It was natural for him to want to escape, but it was so hard.

 

After classes, he headed towards the park by crossing a bridge, one of his favorite places to hide. Sometimes he looked at the water and wondered what the others would do if he jumped. Would anyone miss him? Perhaps the whores he fucked. There were days when the urge was so powerful that he nearly climbed the railing, but the burning looks of the people passing him by - as if they could read his intent - always drew him back.

 

So he settled for watching people. Inuyasha liked observing them, criticizing their dressing style, judging if they were hurt or happy, trying to read their minds, to see if he could attune to their moods. It was fascinating and he knew there was nothing more he'd like than to work in a domain that involved talking to people, offering advice, greedily drinking in their lives.

 

He was lonely. He was eighteen and very lonely.

 

Letting out a deep breath, he continued walking. A woman, young, a dog pressed to her chest as she walked. An old man, sad, probably missing his wife - he kept glancing longingly at his silver wedding band from time to time. A child, his mother following after him. A deep pair of eyes stole his attention for a second when he noticed a girl impeccably dressed in black and with a blood red scarf hanging tightly around her neck. The features that Inuyasha observed first about women were the eyes and the lips, and this girl was perfect in both of them. She seemed miserable, though proud enough to hide it well. The blisters on her heart were surely rare.

 

And all this he noticed in the span of time it took for her to pass him by. Focusing his attention on another girl, a cute one, then on an old woman, then another, and another, he just walked ahead.