AN: This was inspired by the novel Memoirs of a Geisha, though extraordinarily loosely so. This is a darkfic so if you're offended by any of the mentioned themes in the listed trigger warnings, please do not continue past that point. R&R, constructive criticism is welcome.
1.) Please, please, please adhere to all trigger warnings listed below!
2.) This story was actually really cute and nauseatingly fluffy when I planned it out, hand on the bible.
3.) Do not expect historic accuracy when pertaining to actual geisha. You will not find it here.
4.) This work gets hardcore about halfway down. 0 to 100, real quick. Real quick, whole squad on that real shit.
5.) There will be two parts.
TRIGGER WARNINGS:
+Rape/Non-Con +Referenced Child Abuse +Violence +Underage +Blood/Bruise Fetishism +Explicit Sexual Content
The teahouse's sticky warm temperature had mirrored the humidity of the outside and magnified the smells of crowded bodies and liquored breaths. The silk of his evening kimono stuck to the underside of his arms and to the skin of his chest, everything and everyone was loud enough for the noise to melt into one screeching blurb of sound, and Sesshomaru was not happy.
The young prince found himself tucked away within a short hall a little ways from the main rooms, the awkward angles of his pubescent body wound tight as he sat, waiting to be sent for. It had been hours that felt like days since they'd arrived and Sesshomaru vowed never again would he succumb to such a punishment as this teahouse. The remaining licks of sun came streaking down unto him from a small window high against the ceiling, making the frown lines creasing the youth of his face all the more visible.
This is the day he had first come into contact with Inuyasha. The young hanyou had burst in as tornado of jittering limbs and showcasing a crooked grin too large for his face.
He was clumsy as he held tight to his stomach, cradling something concealed under the folds of his hakama and taking no notice of the small prince already occupying the area. A smell, tangy and sweet, wafted from him, stronger than the scents of sweat and sake that rung prevalent as well. When first coming into contact with someone in a dark hall, generally the first response would be to freeze; analyze. He stumbled to the floor instead, eyes meeting Sesshomaru's only once he'd settled where he'd landed, his grin widening enough to showcase a few empty spaces and a slice of watermelon the size of his forearm tumbling out from under the fabric of his shirt. It had been very. . . odd.
Sesshomaru was easily repulsed. His eyes roamed the small boys dress, a linen robe of burgundy, plain but neat upon his frame and with the thin obi tight but tied in the back.
The pale ribbons of his hair sat braided and coiled into two neat buns at the crown of his skull, drawing the attention straight to his hanyou birthright - that being the pinked ears of a canine, oversized and fidgeting within the locs of his hair. He was a bit smaller than Sesshomaru, with baby fat still filling his cheeks and rounding his torso. Clawed fingers glistened with the sticky juices of the melon he held cradled and barely contained within the crest of his hand and Sesshomaru watched without interest as he lifted it to his mouth and took a bite larger than he was able to comfortably chew. His groan was that of extreme appreciation once the flesh of the fruit first hit his tongue, his excitement apparent.
"Inuyasha," he gurgled, hardly coherent and swallowing what he could, "It's Inuyasha."
Sesshomaru remained silent, his features relaxed into no one expression and his eyes soaking in what they could. He'd never met one so close to himself in age - a geisha-boy - and perhaps it was the extreme disinterest Sesshomaru had felt for the night thus far but he was beginning to find himself curious, if only for the moment. He wondered if this dwelling was where the geisha-boy's chambers were, or if he even had a specific region of the teahouse that was deemed only his. Sesshomaru would gander not. Likeliest was he shared a floor space packed tight with whomever else; other little burgundy geisha-boys this teahouse harbored.
"What's yours?"
Sesshomaru glanced upwards, taken from his thoughts. The hanyou sat watching him, licking the evidence from his fingers, "Your name," he clarified, snorting a laugh deep from his throat. The melon's shell sat discarded in his lap, stripped down to the white and empty. Sesshomaru looked to it blankly.
"Young lord." he responded.
The hanyou laughed again, childlike, "No, I mean your real name."
Sesshomaru stared to him, blinking. No one called him by his given name but his mother. The silence stretched, the small prince looking to the messy hanyou who met the prince's stare evenly, his hand coming up to pick some leftovers from the meetings of his teeth as he did.
"Sesshomaru."
The hanyou's expression wasn't riddled by the confession, his hand moving to the panels of the floor and his eyes following suit, "You're a prince." he concluded, picking at the floorings distractedly. Inuyasha's lashes were spiked with sweat and black against his skin, clashing with the fairness of the hair held at his scalp. Sesshomaru was intrigued.
"So whatcha doin' out here?" he asked, looking back to Sesshomaru with his fingers still moving absently against the wood.
"I don't like it in there."
He snorted, "So why'dja come?"
Sesshomaru flexed his jaw. He didn't answer - He didn't have to, before the door slides open with force, shuttering against it's sheath. They both turned, attention held by the demoness positioned in the door's framed, mildly surprised and looking to them as they looked to her.
The noise of the inside poured in from behind her, a scene of white that showcased her as a single shadow against it. She grinned down suddenly, remembering herself, teeth a perfect row of pale fangs, face painted a ghostly white and lips painted a wine red. The teahouse mother. Sesshomaru's eyes returned to the geisha.
Inuyasha had gone white, his movements abrupt - trying his hardest the make his stained fingers disappear under his sleeves, to make the watermelon's shell go unnoticed between his knees.
The wood of her shoes thumped a beat as she walked towards them and Inuyasha's frame shrunk smaller into itself the closer she got. He sank into a bow. She paid him no attention.
"His highness has sent for my prince."
Sesshomaru stared forward, frowning. Silence fell amongst them, Inuyasha concealed behind the mother's knees, with no doubt his bowed position still held. Sesshomaru's frown only deepened as he stood, leaving the hall.
He couldn't have taken more than five steps into the main rooms before the resounding sound of her hand against the hanyou's skin reached his ears. Sesshomaru's steps didn't falter.
Things had quieted to a soft muttering of words from the remaining guests, some stumbling out while some clung to older, made up geisha-boy's who giggled into their fans and rolled their eyes in merriment, their obi's tied against their ribcages. The event was clearly dying and Sesshomaru floated past the leftover's until he reached the entrance of the teahouse, climbing into the carriage next to his drunken father as he'd done so many times before. Sesshomaru did not look back. The sound of her slaps echoed within his skull anyway.
!i
His mother had laughed when he'd told her, seated at her vanity and looking to him through the mirror, her reflection amused, "A geisha-boy," she'd hummed, returning her attention to the skin of her neck, her shoulders, her wrists. Sesshomaru looked to the fine cream she spread, milky and vanilla against her skin.
"Was he pretty?" she mocked.
Sesshomaru thought to the dark of his lashes, the fairness of his hair. He didn't answer.
"He ate as though starved." he said instead, remembering.
"Was he fat?"
Sesshomaru frowned, "He was growing."
She giggled, sighing out a sung breath, "Oh, yes," she began, eyes held upon herself, "Teahouse mothers have to be strict, if they want to grow pretty boys who pay their debts. I was broad, too, as a child. Your grandmother, rest her soul, had a time with me as well."
Sesshomaru remained passive, "You were breed a lady."
She grunted, moving her fingers from one potion to the next, "Look harder, my Sesshomaru," she suggested, "There is little difference between he and I."
He found himself reflecting well into the day, the question of their differences drifting through his mind as he stalked the halls, as he ignored his lessons, as he lay against the cool sheets of his bedding. There was obvious difference. His mother was the most powerful woman of this land, matched by no one, equal to no one but her king. The geisha-boy was bought, he was owned, he was punished in dark halls, he was slapped, starved. There was truly no comparison.
His tutor laughed when he'd told him, his expression reflective, dark eyes looking past their surroundings as he thought, "My first love was a geisha." he began, smile turning crooked; darker, "I was her first everything."
Sesshomaru frowned, his gaze drifting to the glare of the windows, the color in the trees.
"Mother says geisha and those of her own standing share common experience."
The bear demon rumbled, thoughtful.
"It is possible that our queen can. . . recognize some of the more common geisha practices."
Sesshoamru's attention returned to the elder demon, eyes narrowing, "I do not understand."
"Geisha are breed to attract, my young prince, as are high-blooded ladies," he started, shifting his stance so that he could lounge more comfortably within the chair, "I'm sure our queen knows of what it takes to train the young."
There was a breath of silence. Sesshomaru could feel his lips thinning.
"They were starving him."
The elder demon nodded, solemn in his mannerism, "Hai. They do what they will."
!i
The next time he's brought to the teahouse, he comes armed with the weight of several meat-pies warming his hands through a linen sack clutched to his middle. It'd been a full moon cycle since his last visit, but when he'd found the geisha-boy again, he was crouched in the same hall.
Sesshomaru caught him with his head bowed, clawed fingers tracing the path of a little black beetle as it scattered against the wood. When he looked up, his eyes went not to Sesshomaru, but to the royal blue of the sack, nose twitching, jaw going slack. Sesshomaru approached steadily, lowering to rest on bended knees. He sat the food between them, untying the twine so that the breads fell uncovered, their smell amplifying. The boy remained mesmerized, attention never leaving them. Sesshomaru watched the beetle scurry away until it stopped, pausing against the far wall. Inuyasha was the same; frozen where he sat.
"They're for you." Sesshomaru confirmed. The boy bit his lip, claws rolling into his palm. Sesshomaru remained, blinking, "Do you eat?"
He tore his eyes away, "Sometimes," a pause, "Not... that."
"You don't like them?"
His fists balled harder, "Mother wouldn't ... She wouldn't want me to."
"Why not?"
'Because food makes you heavy." Inuyasha looked to him then, eyes the same honeyed color as the sun light that lay in panels across the floor. Sesshomaru remained silent, studying his counterpart - they way his hair was now braided in a single halo against his skull, the way his bones jutted a bit too sharply against his collar.
"Eat it." he commanded.
Inuyasha set his jaw.
"I am the young lord of these lands, only son of your Lord InuTashio, the heir to the palace - and your future ruler - now, I demand you to eat it."
Inuyasha glared, holding the prince's stare for a pregnant pause. His lip quivered, shoulders stiff under his robe before his sharp hands thrusted forward and stuffed the palm sized bun between his own teeth.
Sesshomaru made a point to bring him meat-pie's every time he returned.
!i
Sesshoamru eyed him on the third visit as he walked to where the hanyou sat, "Why do you so often find yourself in this hall?"
"Because you're always here."
Sesshomaru remained passive, watching the inu's ears bend and flutter with each breath he took.
"You're my friend." Inuyasha clarified.
Sesshomaru blinked down at him, contemplative. He sat after a moment, humming a noncommittal noise before retrieving the sack of food from the breast of his kimono.
!i
His mother's taunting question had rung in the back of Sesshomaru's head the first time he'd witnessed the geisha-boy cry. Inuyasha had been crouched, wiping stubbornly at the skin of his face with stiff limbs, his movements careful; cautious of bothering the sensitive areas under his robe. Sesshomaru sat across from him, watching, "What was her purpose in beating you?"
He gritted his teeth, huffing through his nostrils and turning his face towards the white of the walls, "I - I didn't -" he growled, frustrated, "It was an accident,"
Sesshomaru's gaze went to the shadows under the inu's robe. He was losing interest in 'how' rather quickly. He wondered the extent; to what degree would she have gone to break the geisha into tears. Sesshomaru wondered how it felt to be the one to punish another. He remembered the sound of her hand against the inu's skin. His eyes evened.
"Show me."
Inuyasha turned back to him, confused before his face twisted in understanding, "No!" he responded, his hands twisting into the panels of his robe, tightening it against himself, "Just - Just because you're some kind of royal princess doesn't mean you can just -"
"Remove your coverings or I will do it for you."
They both fell still, watching the other, silent but for the sounds of celebration within the main rooms fighting against the doors enclosing them. Inuyasha's face was blotched in red, cheeks still wet and lips pouted. His lashes were dark and spiking with moisture against his skin, rimming watery eyes that stared to Sesshomaru wide and pointed, young, challenging even in the pathetic state he resided in.
He jumped, bolting, his movements towards the exit, fast in his actions but clumsy; stumbling before he could attempt to get upright and stiff from his injuries. Sesshomaru was entertained. Sesshomaru was quicker.
He'd grabbed him with one hand gripping his wrist - pulling him down - and the other at the back of the inu's neck - forcing the geisha-boy flat to the floor. Sesshomaru pounced, landing his weight onto the back of Inuasha's knees and keeping his hand pressed strong, gripped into tanned skin. A wisp of hair fell from the cross bun at the nape of the hanyou's hair line, whispering against the back of Sesshomaru's hand; soft and white. Sesshomaru ignored it, releasing the inu's wrist so that he was able to grasp the collar of Inuyasha's robe and force it downward - to the waist.
Inuyasha struggled, bucking against the weight pinning him and clawing the floor under them. Sesshomaru was a still, immovable weight on top. His eye's traced Inuyasha, trailing the colors bursting across the landscape of his back. Bruises of midnight blues and plum purples lay in inky strips across him, painful and beautiful against his sandy skin, nearly glowing in the evening's fading light. Sesshomaru could see Inuyasha's form expand when he breathed, could see the markings rise with each inhale. He could picture it now, the blunt end of a bamboo stick, the fiery lashing against Inuyasha's middle.
He was warm between Sesshomaru's thighs, radiating heat through the cotton of his robe. Inuyasha's spine was prominent, jutting out in ridges down his back but his ribs were fleshy and his sides ran smooth, almost giving away the impression of health. He felt tiny under Sesshomaru, his shoulders retracted inwards, a shaking mass of anger beneath him.
Sesshomaru was curious, bringing his free hand out to run down the expanse of Inuyasha's skin, hotter than the skin of his neck and soft against Sesshoomaru's fingertips. Sesshomaru felt like he could break him if he tried, Inuyasha's bones feeling almost hollow against his palm; birdlike. Inuyasha shuddered, a pain filled gasp shuttering from his mouth before he continued to struggle. Seshsomaru hadn't remembered him stopping. He blinked, feeling the excitement in his groin against the sticky silk of his undergarments.
Was he pretty?
Well. This was unexpected.
!i
Sesshomaru had killed his first man when he was thirteen summers. It'd been a prisoner; a traitor marked for death, thrust out onto the training field three days before his sentence was to be carried out. The purpose had been to help teach the young prince the strength it would take when battling a grown body. Sesshomaru had driven the sword through the center of his chest and out between his shoulder blades.
The man fell to his knees with his eyes wide and his lips stuttering broken gasps. Sesshomaru never forgot the color of his blood against the grey burlap of his garb as it ran dark, soaking a spot of black to his stomach. He remembers the smell of urine, of sweat, of raw flesh. He remembers the sound of the man's weight as it collapsed against the dirt, Sesshomaru's sword remaining jutted awkwardly out from his torso.
Sesshomaru watched. He stomped a foot to the man's shoulder before unsheathing his sword from the body. His trainer was somewhere nearby, shouting, ordering about. Seshsomaru ignored him. The prisoners eyes were rolling, his blood still streaming, Sesshomaru's foot still heavy atop his shoulder. He could feel the smile stretching his lips and his fingers tightening their grip on the sword he held, tilted against the ground. Sesshomaru will never forget the prisoner's last exhale.
Killing people was … pleasing.
!i
Sesshomaru was forced to hunt down the hanyou on his next visit. When he'd finally spotted the familiar scalp of white hair, it was tangled within the dewy grasses behind the teahouse. The air was cooling in the evening, the skies turning an ashy blue and the shadows widening across the ground. Their eyes met. Inuyasha's face soured.
"Are we no longer friends?" Sesshomaru taunted, amused.
The inu scowled, turning his face away. He sat curled in on himself, nose reddening in the mild weather and bare feet spread out in front of him. Sesshomaru eyed the patch of earth next to Inuyasha once he came to it, taking a cautious seat amongst the soil after a breathes hesitation. The blades of grass stood tall, tickling the underside of his wrists.
A pause, a gentle breeze through the air, silence. Sesshomaru unfolding a cloth of honeyed bread for the geisha to see. Inuyasha glancing, his expression remaining cross but his hand coming out almost immediately to snatch one up.
Sesshomaru's eyes wondered, going to the developing angles of Inuyasha's jaw, the curve of his neck, the balls of his shoulders. He remembered how hot Inuyasha's skin felt against the face of Seshomaru's hand and how the length of his back had seemed endless, how the dimples of his spine disappeared under his robe, how it reminded Sesshomaru of the rest of Inuyasha he hadn't seen. Sesshomaru remembered his excitement, the feeling of being on top of him, his hand wrapped around his neck - pinning him, weighing him down - skin on skin, bruises exploding across his back. Pain. The length of a blade sticking from the middle of a prisoner, running through and through; a dead weight of the ground. Sesshomaru blinked.
"I killed a man last daybreak." he told, nose in the air, features strong.
Inuyasha paused, hesitant. He chewed slowly, eyes downcast, stubborn, wanting fiercely to hold onto his anger.
"Who?" he said, eventually. Sesshomaru never forgot how easily Inuyasha gave his forgiveness. He smirked.
!i
There was once, when Inuyasha had been too much of a mule and too little of a geisha to perform a proper dance. Sesshomru had listened, watching the hanyou pout as he tried to explain his reality, of how the balance of a person was just not aligned with the tricks of the dance.
"Show me," Sesshomaru had said, and Inuyasha'd scoffed, refused, gave in. He stood with his cheeks darkening and his eyes shying away. He began with his back crooked and his footwork excessive. His elbows were placed awkwardly every which way and his face was a mask of everything wrong. Sesshomaru snorted, standing, putting his hands to the inu's middle and maneuvering his body to somewhat of an attractive form.
"Truly horrid." Sesshomaru muttered, swaying. Inuyasha followed as best he could but it was a loss, he stumbled, he jerked, he grew too easily frustrated to even give himself a chance - but that wasn't what had caught Sesshomaru's attention. Sesshomaru could nearly feel the meeting of his own fingertips at the center of the inu's back. He frowned, stilling, fanning his fingers under Inuyasha's arms and against his ribcage, thumbing the slight bloom of his waist. Sesshomaru was quite sure that if he flexed his grip, Inuyasha would crumble right between his fingers. He was underfed with limbs stretched to dance instead of trained to fight. Inuyasha was weak.
"I would have you taken away from this teahouse."
Sesshomaru could feel Inuyasha's breath go still in his belly. He began to shift, shrugging out of Sesshomaru's grip, barely getting an arm's distance away before the prince's claws were twisted in his robes, forcing him back - eye to eye, chest to chest. Sesshomaru's features were passive, even as his form remained twisted tight, his posture heated.
"You will stay where I have placed you." he stated, slowing his breath, calming.
Sesshomaru could almost smell Inuyasha's fury then, feel it in Inuyasha's palm as he attempted to shove the full-blood away, his face twisted into a rage. But Inuyasha's rage was a matchstick to Sesshomaru's hell's fire. The hanyou snarled, scratched, yanked, stronger than Sesshomaru would have guessed. Not nearly strong enough.
Sesshomaru's backhand knocked Inuyasha to the ground in less time than it took to breathe.
The hanyou landed crumpled, wheezing out whined breaths against his will, clasping his fingers against his face and balling his remaining hand tight against the ground. Sesshomaru stood above him unapologetically.
He could smell the blood. He wanted to see it.
He'd grabbed the inu both by the collar and an iron grasp to the jaw, bringing Inuyasha up to his own height, forcing him onto his toes. Inuyasha's hand came up to anchor onto Sesshomaru's wrist, printing the sleeve rum red. Even then he struggled, his nose bent into an unnatural angle, eyes wide and angry, glaring unashamed into Sesshomaru's stare, tears unshed.
Blood against his hands, blood across his face, running steadily from his nostrils - bright against the mild tone of his skin. Sesshomaru did adore the sight of fresh blood. He followed it as it ran, creasing between the meet of Inuyasha's snarling lips. He could feel a pleased smile stretching the skin of his own. He was mesmerized.
!i
When Sesshomaru had first asked his tutor about sex, the bear demon was anything but unforthcoming. He'd angled his body so that he could face Sesshomaru, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and a slimy grin making its way across his face. He told of his own first time, details to which Sesshomaru was less than vaguely interested in. The bear demon was lost in it as he spoke, describing the wild hair on her head and the warm smell of her sweat, the folds of her groin.
"It doesn't always happen that sweet," he said, reflective, barking a curt laugh, "Some are willing and some ain't, by nature. Shy. Scared. Both." he took a moment to breathe, to think, choosing his next statement rather than letting his words fall gracelessly, "We chase by nature. Our bodies allow us to force, by nature, if need be." He grinned, "You see, young lord, your body will wet itself - right at the tip of your cock - enough to make it easy, whether or not your bitch wants it." He leaned back, locking his fingers behind his head and watching the ceiling. Sesshomaru remained.
"Each way has its pleasures. But when they struggle . . ." he'd continued, another backwards grin, "It's primal. It's power's purest form."
!i
Sesshomaru's father died on the third day of winter; killed in a war begrudgingly and pathetically lost. Seshomaru was crowned, suddenly, numbly, at the age of fifteen summers. The royal rooms were stripped clean and renovated for the new king. His mother was placed in an entirely different wing, her temperament hardened with grief. She spoke to no one. Every face was turned to Sesshomaru, an entire kingdom dependent on his rule and his alone.
Everything changed.
!i
The next time he'd come to Inuyasha, fourteen moons had passed. The ride to the teahouse was heavier without his father's weight in the next seat. Sesshomaru turned the other way. It was pathetic, truly.
Inuyasha had been there, seated, his posture unsure - as if he'd been there through out the prince's absence, waiting in that same hall. There was a beat of silence as when there eyes met before Inuyasha caught up, giving a lopsided grin, leaning back onto his hands, limbs longer than Sesshomaru remembered and eyes sadder than his temperament let on, "My king." he teased, mocking.
Sesshomaru blinked down at him, sinking to a seated position and watching the inu with a blank expression. It felt odd, sitting there across the wood floorings again. The surface of it was cool, winter against the thin of Sesshomaru's pants. Inuyasha's smile weakened in the silence. Sesshomaru was oddly comforted by it. His stare upon Inuyasha never faltered.
Sesshomaru remembered the fury in Inuyasha's eyes last they'd met.
Inuyasha was far too easy to forgive.
He had grown. Sesshoamru could see it in his face, the way his teeth seemed to fit comfortably now, his jaw angling towards the way of a man. Subtle changes that were weakened by the dressing of his hair, held high and wrapped tight and braided into itself - changes that were weakened by the wide set of his eyes and the dark of his lashes, the erratic twitching of his ears that sat oversized and thick with fur at the peak of his skull. All attributes he'd never out grow. His skin was still tanned a healthy bronze and Sessshomaru's stare followed it, tracing the curve of his neck and the expanse of his shoulders, the way his torso was beginning to V downwards, like that of a warrior's.
"I -" Inuyasha started, his tone cracking with that one syllable. He wasn't looking at Sesshomaru, his eyes cast side ways, "Miss my ma' a lot." he'd concluded, "She -died. Too. Long time ago, but -" he stopped, hunching forward, watching his hands. He was reddening, his fingers fidgeting against one another.
Sesshomaru should have laughed. How insignificant Inuyasha was next to Sesshoaru. How unmentionably feeble his swine mother's death was in comparison to the king's downfall. Sesshomaru should have laughed. But he didn't. He watched Inuyasha, who's mannerism was so shy at this point, who's eyes darted to him and away again. He watched Inuyasha who was then attempting to somehow consolidate Sesshomaru, a task no one had even considered before this moment. He watched Inuyasha and felt his stomach heat.
He remembered the impact of his hand against Inuyasha's face. The heat of his skin. The way it felt to have the inu underneath Sesshomaru, pinning him, caging him against the floor, between Sesshomaru's thighs. Inuyasha felt good. Sesshomaru was hungry for it.
He reached out, wrapping his fingers around the nape of Inuyasha's neck and letting his thumb come around to dip into the ridge of his collar bone. Inuyasha went stiff, hardly letting the breath past his lips - wide eyed, uncertain. Sesshomaru could feel the muscles tighten under Inuyasha's skin. He didn't care. He let his fingers trace upwards, feather light touches across the column of the inu's neck.
Sesshomaru was hard. His undergarments were wrapped too tightly against his groin, the fabric getting wetter against his skin and Sesshomaru's consciousness being all too aware. He watched Inuyasha's skin jump under the pad of his own finger tips as he continued to touch, tracing the fragility of a single vain, chasing the Inu's pulse point before letting his fingers tense against Inuyasha's skin, letting his claws rasp against him; four angry red lines of different degrees, beads of wine colored blood fading into existence - Inuyasha, tearing himself away, clasping his hand where Sesshomaru's had been and nearly falling unto his back trying to distance them. Sesshomaru was quicker.
He grabbed for him, fisting his robes, clutching his wrist, ripping him back, closer, so close they were breathing the same air and Sesshomaru felt his mouth water, felt his heart beat through his fingertips, through the thick of his cock. Inuyasha was snarling at him, all teeth, white fear in his movements and at that point Sesshomaru couldn't help his actions, didn't care to stop himself from seeing him, tearing away at his robes, slicing through his undergarments like they were made from tissue paper. It was messy and Sesshomaru couldn't remove enough of it in one place, the garment knotted against itself and Inuyasha was beginning to panic, was beginning to claw, to twist away, limbs all moving in jerking actions; intent to harm. Sesshomaru hardly noticed.
Inuyasha was tan all over with skin that reminded Sesshomaru of the skin of an oak stripped of its bark. He smelled like the freshness in the grass, like nature but sharper, like the gut of a teabag and the more Sesshomaru revealed of him, the more Inuyasha's scent wafted, swimming through the air like something animate.
Sesshomaru flipped them, twisting Inuyasha so easily, and they were against a wall and Inuyasha was trying reverently, desperately now and it made Sesshomaru positively ache for him, blindly, wanting something his body had never known before this moment and it hurt like the boil of a bath to tired flesh. He kicked up the hem of Iuyasha's robe, what was left of it, yanking the tattered garb upward until it was slid over the inu's hips and Inuyasha was bucking now, pushing himself against the white of the walls, trying his hardest but Sesshomaru was so much bigger, so much stronger, so much heavier and trained a regime fit for a king.
Sesshomaru was so heated, his blood like fire under his skin and his hand tangled in Inuyasha's hair, holding him where he was while his eyes went southward, roaming the flesh of Inuyasha's cheeks, palming him open one-handedly, wondering how all of what Sesshomaru had was going to fit into something so tiny. There was a pause, the hall filling with the sounds of Inuyasha's ragged breath, the sound of his claws breaking against the cement behind the walls, and then the whisper of Sesshomaru's hakama as he revealed himself.
Sesshomaru was leaking a stream of fluid, his cock erect and curving upwards and Sesshomaru grasped himself, his muscles jumping in pleasure form his own touch and his fingers tightening against the snowy white locs of hair he still had twisted in his clutches.
Sesshomaru's body was almost completely against the geisha's now, pinning him against the walls with the length of himself, feeling the thunder of Inuyasha's heart against his back and the pathetic shutterings he gave at Sesshomaru's first touch, could feel the vibrations of the inu's growled out cry when Sesshomaru kneed his thighs open.
Inuyasha was hot against the head of it, almost doughy as Sesshomaru breached him, pushed in with a slickness that had Inuyasha's breath strangled from him, his body tensing to an impossible degree, tight, so tight around his king and Sesshomaru relished in it, didn't stop until there was nothing left to push in. Sesshomaru felt his lips part, felt his own breath come out silently between his teeth, felt himself get wetter inside the inu, branding him even fuller with Sesshomaru - everything Inuyasha was was Sesshomaru now and the lord felt that with a rage.
He fucked him, placing his hands at either side of Inuasha's hips to hold him steady, nosing the skin of his neck before letting his teeth sink into the curve of his shoulder and Inuyasha was sobbing now, Sesshomaru could hear it, could smell the bitterness of his tears and he retracted his jaw so that he could sink down again, this time high onto the muscle of his neck.
This wasn't enough - Sesshomaru wanted to see him, to watch his eyes as the staff of Sesshomaru's cock invaded him, fucking him so completely - Seshsomaru needed to see the clench in his jaw as he was humiliated by the tears that ran down his cheeks, as he cursed the weakness of his own body, the weakness that allowed him to be claimed, to be used like a lowly bitch to be breed.
Sesshomaru came with his claws digging deep against Inuyasha's hipbones, with his seed thick and bursting in globs from Inuyasha's rim, with Inuyasha's skin between his teeth, Inuyasha's blood weak against his tongue. It wasn't enough.