Introduction: If you've read any of my collection "SessKouga: The Teen Years" (right here on FFnet), you know I have a fondness for a playful and very sexual relationship between Sesshoumaru and Kouga. They are both arguably longlived youkai, so perhaps there is a complex pre-canon story of star-crossed youkai canine royalty. And though in the canon timeline they have no relationship, who knows if apathy is a clever disguise for late-night rendezvous within a secret alliance between the Mountain Wolf Tribe and the Western Lands ("Perfect Dance," below). And what of the future, far beyond canon, when the mortals they know and even the hanyou are gone (see Chapter 2, "Last Request")? I offer this collection (that will grow as inspiration strikes) as a thought experiment in SessKouga What If.
Perfect Dance
Author's Note: Written for LJ Comm Iyhedonism's prompt "captivate."
I never would have believed that one day the mangy wolf I enjoy calling "Skirtboy" would be equally known as a skirt-chaser. We are entirely bonded and entirely dissimilar. I keep myself to myself and always have, except of course where he's concerned. I say little about it, but then, I'm not given to words. Giving commands with a toneless calm is nearly all anyone hears from my lips, and I prefer it so. If anything lays me bare, it's the child who exposes my underbelly more than a history of mounting and being mounted by a beautiful black-maned wolf ever could. And oh how that wolf enjoys reminding me of such weakness, just as I taunt him remorselessly—in my quiet, arrogant way—about that jewel shard-sniffing miko bitch. "How the mighty have fallen," I say, and his riposte is quick and sharp: "And how's the little mortal girl, Daddy-sama?"
He and I both know well it was not his pack who drove me to use Tenseiga and give over a little part of my soul to Rin. On the contrary, he was the first to come to me in the dark of night while she slept on my fur and let me know he'd killed the rogues who posed as his tribefolk to divide us. And I would not hinder him from his addiction to those shards. The bond of the Mountain Wolf Tribe and the Western Lands is as strong as it ever was, back to the era when his father and mine were allies and, from all accounts, no less boisterous of lovers as we are. Though we have become experts at feigning apathy to fit the times in which we live, we are in truth bound in ways no other can match nor ever will. We are secret allies and midnight lovers, fellows in protectiveness and possession. No request is too small, no taunt too great. We share our longevity, our far-sightedness, and our love of male canine youkai flesh. Each others' flesh.
Perhaps our only true difference of opinion is the depth of our scorn for my bastard brother. Kouga takes pleasure in taunting him (largely on my behalf, though he does crave those shards), while my antipathy is more genuine. No matter: even were our disagreements of a more bloodthirsty, claw-and-fang variety, Prince Kouga and Lord Sesshoumaru would relish them as part of our long-lived, perfect dance. Wherever life takes us, he is my wolf and I am his dog.
