InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Dominance ❯ Dominance part 2 ( Chapter 2 )

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

Inuyasha reflects on what makes his brother dominant, and himself submissive.

First person, and my first Inuyasaha fic.

Also I have no idea why it's all bolded.

O_O It's not, I promise!!!

Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Drama / Supernatural / Angst / Shounen | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 12.31.2007 | Updated On: 12.31.2007 | Pages: 2 | Words: 6.5K | Visits: 1.3K | Status: Completed

Here is the second and final part of my first Inuyasha fic Dominance.

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 RITE NAO.

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

So, yaoi, definitely. (also SEMXORZ in this part!!!)

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. (Specifically the origin and definition of Seshoumaru's "moko-moko" or stole. I know what it is, but I reject that reality and subsitute my own, which actually Cleodasia thunk up and I borrowed from her. I wouldn't advise it. I can because I'm SPECIAL!!!) I am rather a snob when it comes to fandom, and prefer the original 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.

For Cleodasia as always...

But also this time for Liz

Dominance Part 2

By Talon

It is still my home, the palace I teethed in and had my first lessons in. My room is still as I like it; and it gets cleaned on a regular basis. My brother is still firmly ensconced in our father's rooms. When I go there the guards don't stop me, and I immediately go to my rooms. I take off my clothes and fold them carefully. I lay my sword on my bed. No one will disturb it. I pull on a plain, cotton robe that reaches to just above my knees. It is soft and clean and simple. When we meet outside, under the moon, there are no such luxuries. Rarely will he take me to his camp to teach me, to dominate me. These nights I savor the roof over my head, and the walls around me. The scrubbed clean floor beneath my bare feet, and the familiar smells all about. It is only for a night, but for this night I am again in my family's home, but now my brother is also my Lord.

I do not think anyone taught my brother to be as he is, though our great father was indeed dominant as Sesshoumaru is. My feet pad against the stone floors as I make my way to my lord's chambers.

My lord. They'd stare at me and laugh nervously if I said that out loud to them. Still, I don't always think of him that way. Our fights and battles are very real. Even when I begged his forgiveness over taking his arm, he knew, and not just because I had told him, that I had meant to kill him. Our goals are at odds just now. They were not always, and they will not always be. That is how time works. That is how the universe turns in on itself. One day, I will rejoin my brother, and he will rejoin me, and together we will rule the Western Lands…and perhaps more. There is no rush. Now we are content where we are and what we are doing. Our lives are too long to expect us to not clash. But even as we clash over transient things, we cannot deny ourselves. Our true selves.

If he is in his rooms, I can't see him, or hear him. I smell him everywhere, him and Jaken. Very rarely is my brother without his body servant. I haven't had one in years…not since before my mother died. I found them annoying, but Jaken has served Sesshoumaru since he was born. And the little imp will likely serve my brother until one of them dies. And because I am an annoying pup tonight, I snoop through his things. His toiletries on the dressing table with the huge mirror in front of it, the fur trimmed edges, the opulence of combs and brushes and creams, powders oils, all of which I am certain Jaken has insisted upon using on my brother. He needs nothing, truly to be as magnificent as he is. But I know the little imp loves to fuss over my brother, our lord, and that there are times when Sesshoumaru indulges his body servant. If I did not know better…

I gasp at the sudden claws at my throat and hot breath at my neck as teeth just barely graze the skin beneath my hair. FUCK he was fast. I had not even seen him appear in the mirror in front of me, though I see him now…tall and elegant and stunning, with poison talons pressed against me, though not drawing blood. Not yet.

I don't submit at once, though I am tempted to, but I do go very very still. When I speak, my voice is quiet, respectful. It does NOT crack, thank you so much, and anyone who says it did is lying. “M…my Lord, oniisama?” He already knows why I am here, my garb is obvious enough. But incase there was any question; the way I address him clinches it. And I do feel him relax, just a little; a moment later, and I go entirely limp as he takes the back of my neck in his jaws. There are rather more teeth all of a sudden, and I can tell that he has shifted slightly, to a form more canine than human. My feet tuck up as he lifts me effortlessly from the floor in front of his dressing table and carries me, tossing me onto the large bed that was our fathers. When I turn, quickly to look at him though, he has shifted back…already. No tail. Unfair.

But then…he is in charge here. Not me. Never, ever me.

Outside the windows, and the vast balcony the moon peeps only a sliver of her lovely, silver face through her veil of clouds. In another few nights, I will lose all of my youkai traits, my hair will darken, my puppy ears vanish, my claws, my strength…gone. But all that means is tonight my body can handle anything my brother decides to grace it with.

In the past, I would often seek him out on the night of the new moon. Since that first, disastrous instance where he nearly killed me, he has treated that time guardedly. I can only wonder what our father said to him, but he never gives more than I can handle, and I feel safer during my time of vulnerability with my brother than anywhere else. Now it is more difficult, as Kagome thinks it is her duty and right to ride those nights out with me, and she has enlisted the others to help as well, when she is not here. How to explain to them why I would seek out he who appears to be my mortal enemy when I am so vulnerable, I have not yet figured out. Perhaps in a few days…but my lord demands my attention now.

I watch openly as he slowly removes his vast, beautiful stole and folds it with careful fingers. It's a constant source of guessing, that fur, around our fire. Every so often, someone will bring it up, and begin a very earnest discussion of what it could be, and how he manages to wear it and never ever sully it.

They never come close to guessing though. And I never tell them. I will never tell them. The stole…that beautiful fur is his mother's pelt. She was slain as a warning to our great father and her pelt was presented to him. He did not take it well, the Taiyoukai…

Sesshoumaru…well, how would you like YOUR mother's skin to bleed all over the floor of your father's throne room? It was awful. The ones who delivered the message did not survive the hour. The ones who had killed his first wife did not survive until moonrise. The ones who had ordered the slaying did not live to see the sun rise the next morning. Our father did not take threats; nor did he make them. Our father had many words, but those were for us. When it came to others his power and strength spoke for him.

Even in battle I never cross that line. I never lay hands on his mother's pelt, not without express permission. Only once, and that was to lift it from the dirt for him during a fight. Not with me, with another youkai. I held it, reeking with my brother's blood until the fight was over, and when he took it from me and backhanded me, I understood why, and cried out as I fell to the floor, though in truth, his strike had barely stung me.

He undresses, ignoring me as I whine for his attention. With casual elegance, and due deliberation he slips into an ornate silk robe, tied around his waist. The bed is the definition of luxury and grace. Furs, silks, the softest and most ornate, and simple, and the smell…gods, the smell of my brother and our father and me…all mingle together and I don't bother to stop myself as I roll around in the lovely stink.

I can feel his eyes on me, and when I pause to look up at him, a fur clutched between my teeth as I shake it slightly, I puff up slightly and shake it harder. A challenge to his dominance. It's real enough, even if I know he WILL force my submission. But I want to have some fun, and I want to feel it. Everything. Tonight there is nothing I need beg his forgiveness for, save my very existance. But I exist, and there is nothing either of us can, or really want to do about that anymore anyway. He may detest humans, but perhaps he does not detest me.

I am corrected at once as he backhands me hard enough to knock the fur from my teeth and I pout as I roll back to my hands and knees. I can feel the bruise forming and swelling, and I shake my head slightly to make my vision come into true. But before it has, my face is shoved into his crotch and I struggle and whimper. His grip tightens around my head, he holds me effortlessly, one handed, not gripped in my hair, but around the back of my skull. Fuck, he smells so good, and there is only thin silk between my face and his skin. My body responds without my permission though, my muscles going limp and submissive, and my dick stirring interestedly.

He's not hard yet though. He has much better control than I do. He smells aroused, but his cock obeys him. Mine has a brain of its own. Or rather no brain at all, because once it gets a whiff of my dominant big brother, it's up for anything. Ever since I morphed into sexual maturity, it's been hot for Sesshoumaru. It really doesn't care that he mounted us before I was old enough to really understand, or that it was him and his damned cock that put us in the healers for more than a week during my moon time.

Okay, so I agree with my dick. What, you want me to argue with the voice of reason? Sesshoumaru gives us…fuck, I can't even describe it. I won't try.

But he's pleased with my response, I can tell he is because his claws run through my hair, and pause at my ears. He likes them. Everyone does, but I only let him pet and fondle them. It makes me shiver all over when he runs his claws through the fur to the sensitive flesh of them. They stand straight up for him too. Just like my cock.

I rub my nose against the silks as he scritches my ears, as much as he'll let me. I want that scent everywhere, all over me. I want to be able to smell it for days and days.

His voice is quiet as I hear his body servant stir in his small bed, nearby, telling him to go back to sleep, everything is fine. Jaken obeys, without question, though I see a jaundiced eye pointed at me before they close again. Jaken doesn't like me when he thinks I've upset his pup. I think he might not have forgiven me for the whole cutting off his arm thing. It would not surprise me. Jaken is fiercely protective of Sesshoumaru. It's funny really, the way he mothers him, and the way Sesshoumaru allows it. It's also funny to see him bury the imp in the nearest wall, which happens often enough as well.

I can feel it when he turns his whole attention back on me. It's like being in direct sunlight, concentrated. No. It's not so bright. Not so yellow. It's more silver than sunlight. Starlight. But stronger. It's stupid, it doesn't matter, what matters is he's focused on me now, and his fingers have stopped playing with my ears. I suppose it would be brainless to say I miss his other hand.

My breath catches in my chest as his nails run down my face. Death lives there, inside his talons. I can smell it, but instead of pulling away I lick his palm. He doesn't shove me away. Hmm. He tilts my chin up and forces me to meet his eyes. They match my own, and so close to me, they glint in the lamp light. He's studying me. Reading me, like no one else can or will. I only hold his gaze for a few heartbeats before lowering mine. It makes me uncomfortable, and my head turns of its own volition.

That response pleases him, though it isn't one I thought out for his pleasure. I just…had to look away. Down. And again, he presses down on my head, forcing it to his groin. But this time, by his design, not mine, the robe parts, and I feel his flesh on my face. Gods…it's so soft. Maybe the only part of him that IS soft. And it smells SO FUCKING GOOD. One hand strokes my own very interested cock and he smacks me away. That was bad of me, and I cower, my ears flattened. I don't want him to be displeased with me right now. I'm submitting, see? I'm sorry, look, here's my belly.

He lets me grovel for a few minutes before relenting. It's amazing how he's adapted to using just one arm now. I've seen him with ugly demon arms attached to him at other times, but they don't last long. Right now, he's perfect. He will always be perfect, and I remain on my back as he unties my robe and pushes it aside. I can't help my wriggle, but I bite back the whine that wants out. I'm so hard. I can see my cock, and I can't help the panting gasps as he touches my belly, just above where the root of my dick nestles.

“Oniisama…please. Please oniisama…please…” I'm just getting started with the begging, but a glance from him shuts me up. With ease less grace, my robe vanishes. When I blink, his is gone as well, and I want to clamber to him and lick and whine and show again just how sorry I am for what I did to his beautiful arm. But that is done, and I have been forgiven for that. My brother is the most beautiful being…

He kneels on the bed. How he manages to tower above me like that, I'll never know, and I roll over, creeping on my belly towards him, pausing every few moments to make sure this is all right. When my nose touches his thigh, I startle like I've been shocked, and glance up. He allows it, and so I begin to nuzzle, hesitantly along that fragrant thigh, licking each stripe and mark as I come to it reverently. Heaven. I don't cringe when he runs his hand down my back; I don't pull away, because I trust him, and submit to his touch. If he wanted to dig his claws into my back, release the poison, I would not try to stop him. At some point during this, during every encounter of this nature, my body ceases to belong to me, and becomes his. When that happens depends entirely upon our moods. I may be in an obstinate, naughty, bad dog mood. He may be in a particularly fierce, lord-of-the-manor dominant mood. I may be there to beg absolution for something (gods, his arm…his hand…). He may be in the mood for a long, drawn out encounter whereby I worship him from the soles of his feet up. Each meeting differs in the timing, the dance… the instance when that transfer occurs.

This occasion, this time, this occurrence, that shift is now.

I whimper softly as his hand moves me. I moan when his arm lifts my belly up from the bed. When his nails drag across my ass I make a very interesting moan/yowl/yelping sound. He doesn't need to push my face into the furs, but he does anyway, and when his hips press against mine he's erect.

Goody. That just increased the likelihood that I'll get fucked tonight.

Like I said before. He has incredible control. He's left me high and dry many times, not fucked me even when I begged hard. He knows I want it, but I don't know if he wants me to gag for it, to beg, or if he will give it to me freely, as he has my abject submission already tonight.

I love the slidey feeling his cock makes against my rump. His nails against my scalp and down my back make the gooseflesh rise all over me. I don't make the mistake of reaching for my own leaking cock again, but I do beg. “Oniisama, PLEASE, I beg you…please…please let me satisfy you. My lord and brother, please…”

He doesn't laugh at my begging by the way. He never does. He never shows or exudes any sort of amusement. When I beg, it's either sincere, from whatever inside makes me submissive to him, or goading him. And he responds appropriately in either circumstance. If I am goading him, he will show me the error of my ways, and discipline me, in the way I clearly need. If I am begging for true…well then…whatever it is inside him that makes him dominant will decide.

The whisper of his hair falls over my shoulder as he leans down against me, the heat of his body flush against my skin. I love it when he covers my body with his, and his cock slips under mine, between my thighs to bump against my balls and belly. I love that too. His thighs press against mine, his hand moves from my scalp to my chest, scratching at a nipple, then raking gently down my belly. Fuck…that makes me whine and press back against him shamelessly, without regard to his possible response.

Lucky for me, my brother is in a more indulging mood tonight. I lift my ass further, spreading my legs openly, whining in my throat, begging him wordlessly. He stills my wanton movements with his hand; not by hitting me but by merely laying it on my rump. That's all it takes. His hand is warm, and I am completely motionless beneath it. “Yes please oniisama, please take me, teach me own me. I do my best to keep holding still, because that's how he wants me, but it's hard.

It gets harder when he pulls back away from me, and I whine loudly. Very loudly, but I can't help myself. I thought…I hoped…but he doesn't tell me to leave or indicate I should be doing anything different. And when I do move, his voice is a bare whisper, a command, and I put myself back where I was; ass high in the air, face in the furs, arms stretched out behind me. My arms move, from being folded under my head, to stretching them in front, bending one behind, but they stop when the bed shifts again. He could draw this out all night and still never fuck me, never touch me. Sometimes that's as good as getting fucked because it's him. Dominating me. Owning me.

When he mounts me again, this time it's for real. Real penetration anyway. He never mounts me falsely anyhow. Which is kind of stupid to even think, but it doesn't matter because I all I can focus on is his heat over and on me, and the burn of his cock sliding into me. He's oiled himself, and that means that this is for pleasure. His and mine, as well as dominance. If he were mounting me purely for dominance's sake, he very rarely uses anything to smooth the way. And blood is NOT a good lubricant. Trust me. Spit is much better, but blood sucks.

There's no blood this time though, not from my ass anyway as he begins to ride me. There's no pause to allow me time to adjust, no consideration for the pain of penetration, just pure oniisama. And I love it. Every thrust reverberates through me, filling me, heating me inside and out. His hand grips my hip, then moves, curving around my throat again, and I lift my chin, stretching out my neck, my head resting against his shoulder. I bare my neck for him, and only him.

In other forms he has more teeth, more fur, tails as I might have mentioned, and very different phalluses. I love them all. He is thick and big, and for lack of a better description, very human right now. But the further he moves from his rest form, the more canine his phallus becomes. I love it when that happens, when the thickness is traded for the longer, thinner dick that stabs me deep and strikes that spot in me with unerring precision. I love when he knots inside me. I remember once my father catching us as my brother had knotted in me for the first time. I'd peed on his bed (on purpose mind you) and he was so furious that he'd shifted as he was pinning me down and mounting me. When that knot formed I thought I was being torn apart from the inside, and my shrieks and screams brought our father running. And as I remember, he'd thrown his head back and laughed. Laughed so hard he had to lean against the doorway as my brother growled over me, my neck in his teeth, and I shrieked and sobbed and struggled against him.

I suppose it was pretty funny. He was very insistent we be left to work out our problems ourselves, and he wouldn't let anyone interfere with us. I only know of one time he interfered himself, that first new moon penetration. My mother was terrified for me, but our father must have known something. After all, look at us now.

He doesn't grunt, or make undignified noises. That's okay; I do enough of that for both. With my begging, and grunting and yipping, the sound echoes all around the chamber. I can't see anything, it's too much. I don't know if my eyes are closed, or there's fur covering them, or what, but I can't see anything. I can only feel. The stretch of my neck, the smoothness of his skin, the thickness of his cock, and then, the teeth in my ear, and the real begging starts.

“Please, PLEASE oniisama!! My lord, please let me come, PLEASE I beg you!!” I just don't have the same control he does, and fuck, I'm almost sobbing with the intense sensations as it is. His talons prick my neck, and his voice murmurs in my ear that it is not enough yet.

I haven't been paying attention to any of HIS needs, and I squirm slightly, clenching muscles, panting, forcing my eyes to see, though I can't move from where my head rests against his shoulder, but I turn and snuffle in his neck and hair. Fuck, he smells amazing. Clean and sweaty and HOT. “Please my lord!!” My voice is slightly strained as I fight to control it. My own leaking cock bobs in the firelight, the lamplight while his slams into me, over and over again. “Please, please let me, please allow me…please…I beg…”

His teeth, sharp points of perfection draw blood from my ear. I can smell it first, before I feel the hot fluid well from the wound. And then my brother's tongue licks it up, and that completely undoes me. I have no idea what I'm saying, shrieking, begging, but I hear his permission unmistakably, the quiet, clear command.

“You may.”

I remember nothing later from that point on, and when I regain my senses, I'm sprawled in the bed, sore, sticky, and bleeding from more than just my ear. Also I am entirely content. My brother sits beside me, sheets draped over his lap, sipping elegantly from a glass. Wine. Blood wine. And I smile a bit. My blood. He knows when I wake, and he raises a brow at me. I move, gathering my limbs together to kneel beside him, and he tilts my head slightly, pressing the glass to my lips and allowing me to drink. I'm parched, I discover, and he is generous. The glass is large, and I nearly drain it before he takes it away.

I've only got two more things to beg for, and the question always is, which one should I beg for first? Which one is more important to me right now? This time it's an easy decision, and I roll over and show him my belly and neck again before I start.

“Please can I have a kiss oniisama? Please? Please? Please will you kiss me? Just once, please? I was good, wasn't I? Lookit, see how I'm being good? Please?” If I had a tail, I'd tuck it between my legs and thump it on the furs by turns. I want a kiss. I want to taste him, or more properly, I want him to taste me. He rarely kisses me of his own volition. It's just something I like. Love actually. Must have. Sometimes he does, sometimes he doesn't. There really is no telling before hand. Even if he's in the best mood possible, and I've done everything right, he may refuse me. And there have been times when I've been a sullen puppy, and goaded him and kicked and struggled and had to be forced to submit, not once, but many times, and he'll kiss me on my first please.

Tonight, I watch him consider my request, and me. He listens to my begging, with an impassive face, but eventually he puts his hand to my lips.

“Enough, Inuyasha.” Fuck, his voice makes me want to hump his leg. “Come.” Yes please, and I follow his hand, his claws flirting with breaking the skin of my chin until I'm straddled on his lap. He strokes my hair, then slides his hand under it to grasp the back of my neck. He could break it, quite easily, and the thought makes me shiver, but in a very nice way. I don't get too eager, instead I follow his lead and lean up as he guides me, and lowers his mouth to mine.

Have I mentioned how hot he is? In terms of sheer heat, a full blooded youkai will scald you. Well, maybe not, but my brother does. His tongue is everywhere in my mouth, and our teeth clash a bit. I am VERY careful, because if I draw his blood without his express permission, I could very well be punished, and I am not after that right now. But tongue as far as it will go into my throat, he pulls back and slices my lip with his own fangs, and I don't dare swallow. He lets it pool in my mouth, spill over my lips before he claims them again, and I utterly melt against his hand. He likes my blood. All youkai love blood, but you gotta understand. My brother thinks humans are filth. He hates them. He hated my mother, and he hates that I'm half human. But he likes my blood. My half-human blood. Every time he bleeds me, even a little I'm afraid he'll spit it out in disgust.

But he never has, not yet.

When he releases me, my lip has ceased to bleed, and I'm breathless. It takes me a little bit to get my brains back together, but when I do, I immediately beseech him for my final request. “Please, can I stay with you tonight? Please? Please oniisama?” This time I wriggle and give him very big eyes. I used to beg to sleep with him all the time when I was little, and more often than not he'd literally kick me out of the bed. With his foot. Luckily I tended to bounce off hard surfaces, but still. He doesn't make me beg as long this time before giving me his permission, and I immediately snuggle down in the bed, the fire at my back. By inches I move over until I'm curled up against his body, then I tentatively move my head to his chest. He allows it, and even pets me, fondling my ears as he does.

Utter bliss. The lanterns go out with a word from Sesshoumaru, a quiet spell banks the fire. Jaken breathes noisily from his nearby cot, and my brother's claws comb through my hair. In the morning, I will wake before he does, and watch him sleep for a few moments. I will kneel respectfully before leaving, dressing in my room, and retrieving my sword, that indeed has not been disturbed. I'll think of everything I DIDN'T get to do…I didn't get to suck his cock, for example, or clean his come, or…any number of things, but I'll smell myself, and pat my sore ass, and it'll be enough for now. And I'll take my time rejoining my friends, because I want to savor the still throbbing bite on my ear, the swollen spot in my mouth, the fact that I'm still a bit swampy from being fucked, and the night of deep, contented, safe sleep in my brother's arm.

They'll wonder where I was of course, the fox-brat will be annoying, Kagome disapproving and worried by turns, and Miroku will make a comment about little Inuyasha's peppering the countryside in my wake. That will make Sango laugh, even more so when I growl and attack him, and Kagome will yell OSUWARI and it will send me hard onto my still sore and drippy ass, and I'll complain, but really it makes me shiver for once as it triggers the memory of my brother's dominance.

I can't wait until next time.

Owari