InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Dominance ❯ Dominance ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

I decided to post this in two parts, as Emo-yasha will NOT SHUT UP...it was getting pretty legnthy. So...first person, unbeta'd, mentions of puppy abuse, sexual and otherwise. As the title says, this fic is all about dominance. Period. So...I'd rate it NC-17 with a few X's, though the good sex don't start until the second part.

Pairings Sess/Inu, mentions of Kagome/Inu, sorta, Kikyu/Inu, and Miroku/Inu if you squint real hard.

So, yaoi, definitely.

Thus far I have managed to keep the little viral brat out of this universe. Don't mention his name, you'll let him in.

Also I have taken more than a couple of liberties with the fandom. I am rather a snob when it comes to fandom, and prefer the origanal Japanese (subbed because I just don't speak Japanese) to the more American-ized version that seems to be most popular in this fandom. Please to be excusing my bad fangirl Japanese, though I don't overdo it I think.

Always for Dasia…who I have taken a few ideas from, and for Liz too.

Dominance

by Talon

I lead because they follow me. Or rather, they follow Kagome, who is indeed, a natural leader. I am not a follower, nor am I a leader. I am a lone dog, not a wolf, not an alpha nor an omega. I have no real pack to run with.

Our group is made of individuals. Of leaders mostly. Perhaps one or two followers, but mostly strong, alpha type leaders. Miroku does not follow. Sango does not follow. They choose to travel with us, but they are leaders. Shippo is a follower though. Occasionally Kagome is a follower.

It galls me when this stupid necklace and Kagome force me to stop against my will. It annoys me when they look to me for leadership. I am not a leader; I have never been a leader. I will never be a leader. But I submit to no one's leadership. No one's dominance of my own will.

Except…his.

I know this much about myself. You cannot force a follower to be a leader, and you cannot force a leader to submit to following a lesser. He taught me about myself. I still remember my first lesson.

As brothers go, mine was particularly dominant. And as brothers go, I was particularly annoying. A half-breed and favored by our father, my mere existence annoyed the fur from my brother's tail. I was barely a toddler when I broke some delicate trinket in his room. I thought it was funny, because the shards that remained were lovelier than the whole had been, in my opinion.

My brother did not see it that way. I vaguely remember the pain of his first smack across my face as his nails dragged lines of blood from my skin. But it was the prick of his teeth in my neck, and the startling sensation of all my muscles going entirely limp that stays with me. He picked me up, by my throat, with his mouth and shook me like the bad puppy I was. And like a frightened, shamed, dominated, submissive puppy, pissed myself. When he dropped me and kicked me into the hallway, it was many minutes before I could summon the use of my muscles to even crawl away from his wrath. For weeks afterwards, I cowed in his presence.

That was my first lesson.

There were other lessons of the like; rarely a week went by that I did not do something on purpose or otherwise to anger my elder brother. But it was months before the lesson changed.

This time I had stolen his food. From under his nose, at our fathers table, I stole his food. There was silence, and then my brother's angry snarl. He was not then like he is today. Then he was an angry teenager with an annoying puppy brother, not a cold, aloof, noble youkai.

I expected the pain of his fist when it came, and I was not quick enough to duck, or to run to my mother for protection. He shoved me to the floor, and I could hear my mother's gasp as he shredded my clothing and forced his hips against me, dry mounting me.

This sensation…it startled me, and I yipped my distress, whining and crying, though he did not penetrate me. Not then. His hips thrust against my ass over and over again and his hand, with the claws poking the thin skin of my neck held my face to the floor, his body pressed against mine, covering mine. And when he was done humping me I was properly contrite, writhing around on the floor, showing him my belly and neck and groveling for his forgiveness. For his acceptance. His dominance.

He ignored me. I had not pleased him enough. But when I tried to rejoin the meal, all it took was a glance and a narrowing of his eyes and I nearly fell to the floor, so fast was my retreat from my chair. I remained, despite my mother's soft voiced protests and coaxing, on the floor for the rest of that meal.

He did not always disrobe me, or his own male parts. He did not always become erect. It was never about sex, but dominance, status and submission. Power. He had it, and I submitted to it.

The first time he penetrated me, I cried like the pup I was. I was far too young for such a thing, but that did not concern my brother at all. He mounted me like a misbehaving bitch and fucked me hard. I sobbed and begged and bled until he finished and shoved me away. Then I came crawling back, rolling around at his feet and groveling until he allowed me to redeem myself somewhat by cleaning my mess from his cock.

Incredible, is it not? You would not suspect that I would be so cowed by my brother by the way I act around him now. Now that we are both adults and on more even ground in terms of power.

Power I discovered has little to do with dominance. Or perhaps power is everything to do with dominance.

I wield our father's fang. I took my brother's arm. I shout horrible insulting things to him as we battle. We hate each other. Of course we do.

What people see between us is show. A carefully crafted dance that happens when we come together in “public”. Our battles are real, true battles. The wounds are real. The blood is real. But the hatred…could be considered suspect.

Does my brother hate me? I suspect it is likely he does. But I do not know. I cannot presume to know my brother's mind. Do I hate my brother? No. Never. Did I mean to take his arm when I did? No, I meant to kill him. Our relationship is complicated.

The first time he mounted me during the dark of the new moon was the only time I remember hearing our father chastise him. In my fully human form, my ability to withstand my brother's lessons was severely diminished. The pain was worse than anything I can remember, even my deflowering was nothing compared to this pain.

For the first time I could not beg for his forgiveness, for his acceptance. I could not properly submit myself to his dominance. I could not move. My breath came in ragged gasps, and my ass bled with human blood and youkai seed.

I don't remember much of my healing. I was told I was feverish for a few days, so it must be the result of that fever that the memory of my brother's hands, gentle for the first and only on my body exists. It must be a fever-dream memory, because not even our father's displeasure stopped him from fucking my mouth while I recovered to force my submission over some trifle.

Miroku is not as straight as he appears to be. I have scented as many males on his body as females. Also, he is a talkative drunk. Lecherous monk. Still, because of his loose tongue, I learned that he finds the taste of human seed disgusting. I never found my brother's seed disgusting. Strong tasting, yes, but disgusting? Not the flavor. But the texture is far too much like snot for my liking. Still, it's quicker and easier to swallow than it is to hold it in ones mouth and spit; which apparently is what Miroku does. I mentioned it seems wasteful to me but apparently no seed is wasted if it is coaxed from a body by Miroku.

It never occurred to me to spit my brother's ejaculate out. When I was small, it was like a gift. It was a way he accepted my submission and showed he was no longer angry with me. Or at the very least, was less angry. I cannot count the numbers of times he shoved my face to his crotch, forcing my submission then and there without regard to clothing or surroundings. It was very nearly as effective as teeth to my throat, or the ultimate dominance of mounting me, whether or not he penetrated.

If I close my eyes, I can smell the heavily musky scent of his groin. Fragrance pools there, and demon musk is strong. It triggers memories as well as instinctive reactions even now. His very aroma is more than a little touched with musk. Moonlight silver and clean lines. I love my brother's smell. It makes my ears stand straight up, and these days it makes other things stand straight up too.

His control over me was never in question when we were growing. He was a full demon, and I only half. These days, we are much closer in terms of pure power and strength. But that doesn't really change our relationship. It means that now, when I antagonize him there will be a fight. A real, bloody fight, with rending flesh and white hot ki. And should I somehow get the better of him in our battle, it won't be long before I seek him out, alone, to beg for his forgiveness, his dominance.

They don't know; none of them know, can ever know where I go when I vanish for days on end. I always come back of course; I have my own life and my own reasons apart from my brother. And we are at odds now over the jewel and our father's gifts to us. I wield my Tetsusaiga, the sword my brother craves. The power he desires. What they don't know…Kagome, Shippo, that disgusting monk is that if my brother demanded my sword, my fang, in the way he demands my submission, I would give it to him.

And he knows it.

Sesshoumaru <i>KNOWS</i> I would give him this sword. He knows how to take it from me. That he doesn't means he wants something else. Yes, he wants the power of my Tetsusaiga, but he cannot wield it, just as he cannot wield the Staff of Heads. That is one reason he keeps Jaken around. There are others, one of them being that Jaken is as submissive as I am to my brother, only in a different way. And there is more to the little imp than meets even my eyes. But it is not my place to question my brother. Even something as simple as his choice of body servant is nothing I would presume to question him about.

Again, no one would believe me. They only see what everyone else sees when they look at my brother and me. They see the Lord of the Western Lands, and the disgraced hanyou. They see that he left me for fifty years, pinned to a tree with a fucking arrow. They see his disdain, his abuse, my hatred, our fights. They don't see fifty years as being a literal drop in the bucket in the life of a youkai, or even a hanyou like me. Fifty years might as well be days to the way our lives go. He had his reasons. I have mine.

They don't see what I don't want them to see. My brother is the only person who sees the whole of me. And perhaps I am the only person who allows my brother to be the whole of himself. He does not dominate me because he “needs to”, and I do not submit myself to him because I crave his “dominance” or his approval. I submit to my brother simply because he IS dominant, and he dominates me because I am submissive and he is dominant.

And I don't mean dominance and submission in the way Miroku thinks. I'm not a pansy assed little mincing puppy dog. I don't submit to those who are not properly dominant. Kikyo might have, had she trusted herself, trusted ME. Kagome could ALMOST dominate me. Perhaps in a decade or two, she might grow into her natural dominance. It is very annoying to constantly be FORCED to submit. Osuwari this, osuwari that, and this stupid necklace that forces me down. I can't take it off either. Don't think I haven't tried. And I am not the only one either. It angers my brother, this symbol of my constant submission to someone else. Someone he considers unworthy. Even his hands cannot remove it.

There are times he teaches me in other forms. He has many…a plethora of dominance, each one with a distinct personality. Some are giant, like the form I took his arm from. Some are human-like. The one everyone else sees most is the humanest, weakest form he possesses. But there are others in between the great youkai demon dog I fought, and the cold, quiet, noble Sesshoumaru, Lord of the Western Lands.

I don't have a goddamned tail. At ALL. It is a fine source of irritation for me, I can tell you. My brother's tails can be SO demonstrative, so expressive, and so beautiful. But none of my forms give me that gift. I worship his tails, when he allows me to. Grooming and stroking and rubbing my face along them. When I was little, I'd beg him to show me a new face, a new form, a new tail. If he wasn't in a pissy mood, sometimes he would. And sometimes he would chase me, with me shrieking happily. Wait, did I just have a happy childhood memory? Shit, yeah I did. I DO have them. My puppyhood wasn't all angst and blood. Sure Sesshoumaru hated my mother, and hated our father for producing me. And yeah, sometimes he took it out on me. The thing is, Sesshoumaru, my brother is dominant. I think I might have mentioned that. But he is not a bully.

They wouldn't believe that even if I told them, my companions. But Kagome and Kikiyo both are and were bullies to an extent. That, I think is what prevents them from being true dominants. It's kind of a problem for me. I call them on it, now and again, Sango too. They don't understand. Of course my brother is a bully youkai, I am a bully hanyou. Sigh. Of all of them, I think Miroku understands best. Sex-driven, filthy minded monk that he is, he IS an actual monk. And he has seen things, and learned things…I see it in his movements sometimes, in the set of his mouth. In the way he chooses his words.

I seek my brother constantly, even if I am not consciously looking for him. In the dead of night I leave my tree because I can tell he is close by. Other times I leave the group for days and nights, traveling the way only I can, at the speed of myself, to the Shiro no Taiyoukai.

to be continued...

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