From across the long hall, Hirokin met Kagome’s baleful eye. In the most perverse turn of events, the frigid stalemate between them had broken. The brief glance they shared was edged as ever, but a simmering heat now underscored it instead of the frost from before.

It seemed she could not forget any more than he could, the unhallowed soldering of their flesh and spirit. That sordid union which should never have been. For all Hirokin’s lust for torment, he would never have dared it on his own. But Sesshoumaru had thrust them together, had pitched Hirokin headfirst into that tunneling inferno.

To touch her had felt to Hirokin like touching the sun. Damning and forbidden. But he had done it anyway. He had laid hands upon her, the goddess of his suffering. He had tasted her fire, and now he craved for nothing but to feel the scald of it again.

He could only pray that she would suffer him in turn.

He waited for his chance. After Sesshoumaru had left her, he took it. Whether his lord would permit what he sought or not was beyond his concern. Sesshoumaru could flay him afterward, and Hirokin would submit to it gladly. Gods willing, she would leave nothing left of him but an insensate wreck anyway.

Phasing into the glimmering mists that wreathed her tower abode, Hirokin slipped into Kagome’s bedchamber. Her aura was flaring long before he materialized before her. But apart from peering menacingly toward the spot where he stood, she made no move to stir from her languorous recline, nor to otherwise exorcise him.

Hirokin took this as an encouraging sign.

Shifting the pup in her arms, Kagome gave the flimsy excuse for a robe she was wearing a brusque wrench which did nothing to conceal her further. Hirokin could see through the gap in its sheer folds the better part of her engorged, bitten breasts, and the dark wet gleam of the sex-slicked curls between her thighs. Her blue-black hair fell down her shoulders in tousled waves. Her thin silk sheath clung to her damp, splotchy skin. Her eyes glowed with smoldering challenge, like prodded embers. For a female not in season, she cut a carnal image all the same. Her voice dripped with scorn as she spoke.

“Somehow I just knew you’d slither your way in here.”

Hirokin smiled, unable to stop himself from retorting, “Is that why you’ve yet to bathe, my lady?”

Kagome glared at him. “I’ve been tending to my son, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Hirokin looked to the boy, whose golden eyes were peeping inquisitively back at him. “So I see.”

“He needs rest, and you’re disturbing him,” Kagome said hotly as Hirokin glided toward them. “You’re disturbing us both. Go away.”

Tired-out as she was, if she truly wanted to drive him out, she would do more than just tell him to go. Knowing this, it was all Hirokin could do to keep his smile from broadening in dark relish. The game, he realized, was on.

”Let me see him,” he urged softly as he came to a stop before her, kneeling at the foot of her rumpled bed. “I’ve yet to get a good look at your boy.”

Kagome clutched the wriggling pup to her chest. “I don’t want you to touch him.”

Hirokin shook his head. ”I ask only to look.”

Eyeing him critically a moment more, Kagome obliged. Her arms relaxed around the boy. Dusky and wet, her nipple popped from his little fanged mouth. Hirokin peered down. Though his cheek stripes and crescent mark were darker, a deep red-violet shade, Saitou was Sesshoumaru’s double in every discernible way. As Hirokin looked at him, he felt surreally as though he were looking into the past.

“I fear he resembles you not at all, my lady.”

Kagome’s look was withering. “Thanks for stating the obvious. Well now that you’ve seen him you can be on your way.”

In a flutter of silk, she swept off toward the ornate screen at the opposite end of the room, and the crib which must lay beyond it. As she put the babe to bed, Hirokin remained where he was. When she returned and settled back down into the strewn sheets with a huff, he remained kneeling there beside her still.

“Why haven’t you left?” Kagome snapped.

“I didn’t come here to see your boy.”

”No shit,” she grumbled, sitting up with her silk robe still gaping down the middle. Her voice darkened softly, dangerously, as she demanded, “Why, then?”

“To prostrate myself before you, my lady. Why else?” Kagome flushed, but before she could explode belligerently at this, his eyes fell from her face. Deliberately and intently, his gaze trailed down the naked swathe of her breasts, her belly, as he murmured, “To beg your pardon with a kiss.”

“…A kiss?” He felt her reiki bristle like raining sparks. Her voice lowered, savagely so. “You really are shameless, aren’t you?”

”Yes, my lady.”

Harshly, she laughed, but Hirokin paid it little mind. His fevered gaze was trained upon the gleaming, dark-thatched seam of her thighs—thighs which were twitching apart before his hungry eyes.

“On your belly then, you fucking snake.”

Her voice was pure scathing vitriol, but Hirokin didn’t heed this either. He stripped himself bare in a rush. Strangely enough, he did note the slightest hitch in her roiling reiki as he did so. Dropping down, he wedged himself between the narrow gap of her legs. At once, however, Hirokin’s brow furrowed. As he frowned, Kagome scoffed.

“What,” she said, “not seeing what you expected to find?”

With two splayed fingers, she spread herself open from the top of her furred mound. The red nub that had just been peeking through the dark fringe under his eye now jutted forth proudly and cleanly as the rest of her glistening pink folds. Not a speck of Sesshoumaru’s seed was on them.

“I’ve been draining his balls since the sun went down,” Kagome said, a dark note of gloating her tone. “You asked me why I haven’t bathed? That’s because we already did. Afterwards though, he ploughed me again, and I kept that last load of his locked up deep inside. So tell me, Hirokin, do you still want to kiss me now?”

His gaze flicked up the lithe span of her body, catching her own. For a beat he held it, considering. An invisible thread of tension drew taut and simmering between them, before he pressed his fingers to hers and parted her wider still. Her cunt was a flesh-curtained chaos. It fascinated and reviled him in equal measure, those mazelike folds of pink silken tissue. It was like a dewy flower whose crushed petals held only the vaguest semblance of pattern. An arrangement grotesquely artful to behold.

He didn’t know where to begin with it, and he didn’t care to conjecture. He crushed his lips to hers like it was a mouth in truth. His tongue slicked over the insides of those smooth, fleshy curves with all the deftness he’d ever applied to skating over his lover’s sack. It was the closest comparison Hirokin had. He’d never before devoured a female. From the lusty cry that tore from Kagome’s throat, it seemed a fair approximation, however. Emboldened, he continued along on this tack, drawing the silky clump of her inner flesh into his mouth with all the gusto he’d ever sucked down the head of a cock.

Kagome arched like flaming coals had been shoved under her spine. “Fuck!”

The word broke from her somewhere between a choke and a shout. It was a curse and a challenge both. Invective and dark invitation. No doubt Hirokin was far from the first to kiss her in this way. But he doubted another had treated her quite like this. Not like a female to be stroked into soft, shuddering climax, but like a male to be siphoned of his blood-stiffened surge.

Hirokin made no apologies for it. Kagome knew what he was, what he preferred. From the way she’d bent her knees, dug in her heels and otherwise braced herself to thrust into him, it seemed they were beyond such scruples as to who should give and who should receive. She liked to fuck. Clearly, she did. She might like to fuck even more than she liked to be fucked.

Beyond the ornamented screen, her infant son began to wail. Heatedly, Kagome ignored it. Hirokin might have chuckled if his mouth wasn’t full of her nether flesh.

A pity she was born a woman. By the gods she was terrible at it. But what a man she might have made…

The thought aroused him. Even if the parts she possessed held little savor for him, he could imagine the peak his tongue was fondling over was a stiff little cock in full. That he needed to squeeze and suck it to its explosive finish. Then he would receive his due reward.

Man or woman made no real difference. The act of holding himself open to his partner’s driving hips was debasement enough. Hirokin was as hard for her as he’d ever been for Kou. For Sesshoumaru, even.

Not that he’d had that particular pleasure.

“Keep taking it,” Kagome growled at him, bucking into his prone mouth wilder than ever, “don’t stop. You want to make it up to me, don’t you? Then you’d better suck that clit like your life depends on it, you wretch.”

She was speaking a bunch of lust-addled nonsense, but Hirokin hummed in slavish assent anyway. Don’t stop—as if he would. A ‘clit’, she called it? How vulgar. Hirokin would’ve shaken his head if he could. But the vise of her thighs prevented it. Instead, he shifted his restless hips against the bedding and felt the hot glaze of his precum slicking the sheets. His balls were heavy and aching as he skimmed his tongue along the underside of that throbbing nub, as lustily as he’d ever teased it along the sensitive seam of Kou’s shaft and glans.

Vainly and absurdly, Hirokin thought he might be the best cocksucker who’d ever lived. Whether this was true or not, he was beyond the point of questioning his own self-indulgence. He was beyond the point of anything but wanton revelry. So was Kagome. Like a savage beast, she thrashed against him. Her breathing became one long snarling intake of air, and then she seized like she’d been dealt a killing blow.

All coherent thought left Hirokin then. Like a beast himself, he mashed his face into her spasming, dripping cunt, lapping greedily at the trapped seed that gushed forth from her as if it were her own. He tasted the heady, potent sear of Sesshoumaru’s youki in it. It was the most exquisite thing that had ever met his tongue. His eyes rolled back flashing as he devoured her with his youki flaring fit to turn. But Kagome quashed this. His tapered nails returned to their trim shortness, his fangs lost their wicked, envenomed furl. His silver scales receded from where they’d begun to rush over his alabaster skin.

Rarely did Hirokin abandon himself to his draconic form. His mother had been no dragon, after all. Glad for Kagome’s interference, he raised himself up, duly abashed. Her cum and Sesshoumaru’s still smeared his face. Her blue eyes narrowed upon him. Her chest heaved as she spoke.

“I thought you didn’t like women.”

“I don’t,” Hirokin said, panting back.

Not bothering to wipe himself clean, he sank down to rest against her sweat-shimmered chest. Her full breast pillowed beneath him. This was the part of rutting a female he’d always truly enjoyed. The soft comfort of a breast, after.

From its faint jiggling, Hirokin could tell that she was shaking her head. “I don’t understand you.”

“You seemed to understand me well enough, a minute ago,” he murmured, closing his eyes.

Against the twisted sheets, his hard cock twitched with the pain of long-suffering denial. Hirokin relished that pang. He always had, since he was a boy. When pleasure came, it was like a lightning strike. Over and done with in a flash. It was the anticipation that brought lasting gratification. Especially during those long centuries where he’d had only the stroke of his own hand to bring him any real shred of satisfaction.

Being with Kou had changed all that.

But being with Kou wasn’t everything. Or else why would he be here with her now?

As if sensing where his thoughts were straying, Kagome said, “Your boyfriend, tell me more about him.”

“He is no one of note, and far from here besides.”

“Who is he?” she pressed.

“A cousin of mine,” Hirokin lied easily, guarded as ever when it came to Kou.

Kagome seemed to accept this. “Is he as pretty as you?”

“‘Pretty’ is not the word I’d use for him.”

“So he’s the rugged type?”

“I suppose,” Hirokin drawled, “if you consider anyone more martial than me to be rugged.”

Kagome tisked. “I’m more martial than you are.”

“Exactly, my lady,” Hirokin replied, his lips curving into the moist, supple arc of her flesh. “Your breasts are grown enormous.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” she asked him narrowly.

“Merely an observation,” Hirokin said blithely. “Your son must be feasting to his heart’s content.”

At the mention of Saitou, Kagome tensed, as though she’d only just now recalled that he’d been crying for her before. But from across the large room, there was only sleepy silence. Kagome relaxed.

“…He can feast for as long as he likes,” she muttered.

“Not for much longer, I think,” Hirokin observed, matching her candor with his own. “Sesshoumaru-sama will take him from you at the first opportunity. Already he resents the boy for the hold he has upon your womb.”

“Fuck that,” Kagome said, with a viciousness that scalded Hirokin as fiercely as any haze of reiki. “I can’t bear going through that hell again.”

“What hell, my lady?”

“The hell of bearing his child,” Kagome answered woodenly. “It nearly killed me. Next time, it just might.”

“What choice do you have? You cannot nurse the boy forever, even if Sesshoumaru-sama would let you.”

“Shut up,” she said sharply. “I don’t want to think about it.” Her voice pitched lower as she said, “You’ve gotten a bit too bold, Hirokin. We’ll have to fix that.”

Hirokin’s cock gave a languid pulse at the implication. Perhaps not all was mended between them, but the worst had been patched over, it seemed. Enough for them to resume their play, at least. With the treacheries of the past as mere fodder to the flame.

What more could he ask?

“Yes, my lady,” he murmured into her clammy breast.

He tasted salt on his tongue. Salt, and the musk of her feminine flesh. It took him back in some ways. Back to the days of his earliest youth, now all but obscured. It was a dreamlike memory, the taste of his mother Haname. Faithful image or not, he basked in its phantom echo all the same. He must have been a greedy whelp for her, oh yes.

In a memory etched with pain, he recalled such a scene. In it were his little sister Hanako, his baby sister Himamori, freshly born, nursing from their beautiful mother while she slept, dozing on soft, shimmering bands of sea-foam. Stewing with jealously, Hirokin had crept up close. He had pushed Hanako away and fit his mouth to his mother’s breast instead. Longing to feel her skin to skin, longing to feel her love flow into him as once it had. But she had woken at the unseemly latch of him. She’d woken and shaken him off, scolding him sharply—for he was a big boy who should know better, shouldn’t he?

In the periphery of Hirokin’s vision, Kagome’s nipple was lightly weeping. It was nothing but incidental for his tongue to graze across that sheening trail, to sample the foretaste of her mother’s milk. How sweetly inviting it was. Hirokin eased up onto his elbows. Kagome did nothing to prevent him as he latched to her, save softly to moan.

Her breasts were as heavy and primed to spill as his teeming balls were. Suckling at her, Hirokin thought of cocks again. It was a defect it him, he reckoned. But for all her nipple’s quintessential femininity, it was a more apt substitute than her clit had been. Already he could feel the warm spurt of her on his tongue, decadently sweet and yet irresistibly salted by her skin. Sliding up his hand from her waist, he fit his fingers to her and milked her proper, making her writhe and groan as she spilled for him. Heavy cream on his tongue. He moved to her other breast and gorged himself on her there, too.

“Just like Sesshoumaru,” she grit out when he was done, and Hirokin warmed at the remark like it was praise.

It wasn’t often he was compared to his liege lord, after all. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he gazed down at her. For a woman, he supposed she was beautiful. But Hirokin didn’t see her altogether as a woman. He saw her as something other, and it was this quality in her which had enticed him from the start. Looking into the lights of her eyes, he saw the shimmer of that pale fire in her that burned eternal, eons older than even the flame that burned in him.

She was female, yes, but she intrigued him. He had told Sesshoumaru this, though the full impact of the revelation was one he was still puzzling through. She was a mystery to him, in more ways than one.

“Come here,” she said to him, and he came.

When he lowered his lips to hers, he felt the boundaries of that mystery blur ten-fold. He opened his mouth to her, yielding to her advance unbidden. He felt her blunt tongue press into him, trailing heedless over the sharp serrations in his teeth. He tasted her blood like wine, acrid and cloying. A stinging torment, as she tasted him in turn. There was no impulse to ribbon his tongue around hers. Instinctively, he lay flat for her and let her plunder him freely. Their saliva melded, trickling down her cheeks. Heedless of this, she ventured in and out of his mouth in a circuit so leisurely Hirokin thought he might come just from the prolonged, inane torture of it all.

But then, without warning, she broke from him and turned her face away. “That’s enough of that.”

“Would you like me to leave?” he asked.

Kagome shrugged.

This careless dismissal made him harder than ever. It was all he could do to keep his hips from grinding into the sheets like a horny adolescent’s. Gods, but she was perfect.

And she knew it, he was sure.

“There are some things I’ve been wanting to tell you, my lady,” he said as he remained above her, daring to brush his lips to her cool, silken cheek. “Would you like to hear them?”

“Not really,” Kagome said, her lashes drifting shut.

Hirokin was inflamed. He wanted to tell her that he was mad for her, even though she was the wrong sex. That he worshipped her from her coarse human head to her clumsy human foot. But he composed himself, blessedly.

“I hated you,” he said, letting his head rest beside hers on the pillow, “when I realized Sesshoumaru-sama was in love with you. I was in love with him myself, if you can imagine.”

“I don’t need to imagine it,” she said with a sigh. “Nothing could have been more obvious.”

“To you, perhaps. You intuit emotion as powerfully as any creature I have seen. It is one of your several talents.”

“…Thanks,” she said gruffly, her eyes still shut.

Hirokin smiled, bringing his wayward hips nearer to hers. If she felt his erection grate against her thigh, she didn’t acknowledge it.

“I hated you,” he said again, “but that has changed. Surely you see this as well.”

“To be honest, Hirokin, I don’t care whether you hate me or not. I don’t think you care whether I do either, so long as I keep playing into your debauched fantasies.”

“To be honest, Kagome-sama, I’ve been more honest with you than anyone else.”

Kagome shook her head. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“It means precisely what it seems. Coming from me, it amounts to a great deal.” Hirokin hugged her around the waist. Despite her prodigious spiritual power, she was so dainty in frame. “When I was a boy, just learning that I loved cock, I stole my eldest brother’s sword and fucked myself with its hilt. Fine dragonhide grip, supple as sin beneath that pommel of pearl. That was the first time I came from within.”

Kagome’s breath, caught in her chest, belatedly exhaled. Hirokin’s smile deepened as he nestled into the cradle of her hips. The head of his sex nudged her sodden entrance, pressing into her heat almost incidentally. It was as good a place for him to rest his cock as any, and she didn’t seem to mind it.

“Do you forgive me, Kagome-sama?”

He embraced her as he asked this, whispering the question into her ear. She didn’t embrace him back, not with her arms at least. Urging his hips forward, he felt the slick, taut rim of her wrap around the head of his cock. So warm and tight and wet, this internal hug of hers.

“No,” she said, even as she clung to him with the faintest suction. “You made me a slave.”

“Is that how you see it?”

“How else is there to see it?” she shot back, her peaked nipples leaking afresh as he sank into her another voluptuous fraction. “You betrayed me. You sold me out to him.”

“You love him.”

“That’s beside the point!” Kagome hissed, her walls clenching around his partly-buried shaft. Hirokin strove not to chuckle at how soft her grip was for all its vehemence. “Love doesn’t count for much. You taught me that.”

“Please, Kagome-sama,” Hirokin murmured, settling into her warm depths like sinking into a dense and balmy sea, “even for you that is too cruel. You call it slavery, but you must know I meant only to spare you. You were on a path of assured destruction. To secure you, there was no other way.”

“To secure me to you, that is. All you’ve done is extend your chains to me.”

“Yes,” he ground out as he gave a sinuous flex, rolling into her like a wave. She stretched around him, lush and rippling. “How else could I have you forever, but to give you to him? There is nothing I have which is not his.”

Even Kou, after all, was Sesshoumaru’s half-brother…

“You’re pathetic. Fucking pathetic.” She seized him as a shiver ran through him, her blunt nails digging into the backs of his shoulders. It wasn’t quite an embrace, but he would take it. “I hate you, Hirokin. I’d kill you if I could…”

So Sesshoumaru had forbidden her from it, then. How considerate. Not to Hirokin so much as to her. Sesshoumaru had relieved her of the burden of inaction on that front, though Hirokin doubted she appreciated it, as she never did seem to appreciate Sesshoumaru’s acts of benevolence toward her. But nevertheless, Hirokin would very well stake his life that Kagome wouldn’t kill him, even if she could. She’d had plenty of chances, after all. Before serving her up to Sesshoumaru on a platter of her own choosing, he’d committed plenty of offenses to which she was aware.

No, this was simply not her way, whether she’d admit it or not. Kagome preferred damnation to death. Punishment to the pyre. Hers was the path of perdition.

And Hirokin would have her no other way.

“It’s yourself that you hate,” he said, sealing his fate even as he sealed them together at the seams. “You made this bed, Kagome-sama. You chose Sesshoumaru-sama when you laid down your arms against him. You chose me when you grabbed me by the balls in that spring. You knew what we both were, and you reached for us anyway. If anyone has enslaved you, it is you yourself.”

Reiki seared white-hot into him, threatening to unmake him. Hirokin relished the specter of its devastation with a pleasured groan. Fueled by lust and anguish both, she clung to him as one condemned to burn might cling to the very pillar they’d been lashed. Her blazing nails bit into his back. Her keen little teeth sank into his collar, drawing blood from him which was like cool water against the tears that boiled down her cheeks.

Unlike his mother, Hirokin had no particular talent for divination. Yet in a flash of startling, perfect clarity, an image appeared to him, as if from afar. Not the heat shimmer of some fantastical mirage, but a vision in truth. On that distant horizon, Hirokin saw his own death, and beholding it, he laughed.

“…You’re insane,” Kagome rasped, but warily so. Her reiki quelled, as if his strange touch of premonition had infected her in turn. Perhaps his cock was something of a divining rod in her, or at the very least an implement of sedation. Indolently, she was seeking him now, in little questing motions of her hips, as though realizing belatedly that what was burrowed in her flesh might have something yet to offer her. “Are you really trying to fuck me?”

A mad question, considering he’d been wallowing in her cunt for some time now. But no less mad than the rest of it, Hirokin supposed. He shrugged, and a bark of laughter broke from her, clipped and unhinged.

“Tell me something else,” she said lowly, hooking her heels into the backs of his legs and prising them apart a crack. “Didn’t you say you had all these things to tell me?”

A sliver of cool air hit the rear of his balls, the cleft in his cheeks. At the exposure, he rooted in her deeper, making her breath saw out of her when he nosed at the springy gate of her womb. Sesshoumaru’s power stood sentinel there. It was his youki in her blood which checked Hirokin, riling at the threat of a signature not its own. Nothing more than a chafe on Hirokin’s cock, but whatever seed he might spill in her would be dissolved at the pass, the spark of its fledgling youki snuffed out like a cinder. In this way, a demon ensured the paternity of his mate’s offspring to a fault.

Kagome would never bear him a child. She could not. So much, Hirokin thought derisively, for his father’s professions about finding a female that would suit him. Against all odds, here she was, and she was as useless to him in that regard as if she had an actual cock. Hirokin wondered sourly why this perturbed him now, when he’d paid no mind to such things before. Perhaps it was simply the fact that Sesshoumaru had a son now by Kagome, and Hirokin had not even the prospect of one.

If he wished for an heir, he would have to find some other way to contrive it.

“I hated them too,” Hirokin murmured, undulating into her, making her soft thighs and breasts quiver under his hard, scale-studded skin. “The ones Sesshoumaru-sama would fuck to death. Not just the women, but the demonesses too.” He felt her belly cinch, could almost feel her insides squirm and twist as he knifed into the hot wet gulf of her. “Oh there were many of them, Kagome-sama—too many to reckon upon. Mangled corpses, but how I envied them. At least before they met their bloody end they got to taste what I have never felt to this day, the sublime devastation of being hollowed-out by that godlike cock of his.” Kagome sucked in a shallow breath at the way he pulsed rhythmically inside her, and Hirokin sliced a smile against her cheek. “But I digress. It was my job to dispose of the corpses, after. Sesshoumaru-sama abhorred the slightest trace of his indiscretions to remain.”

“Tell me,” Kagome said hoarsely, the faintest quaver in her voice, “tell me you didn’t rape their corpses…”

Hirokin considered, before putting the choice to her. “Would you like the truth, my lady, or a version of it?”

He withdrew from her as he asked this, the better to see her reaction. Beneath him she paled, though her cunt was as sultry and slick as ever when he re-sheathed himself partway into its pliant channel. He pumped her idly while he waited for her to decide. There was such ardent suspicion in her eyes for him that it seemed almost like true passion.

“Your version of the truth,” she answered at last.

Hirokin smiled down at her, pleased by the choice. “No, my lady,” he said, “I didn’t rape their corpses. However,” he added, just as the iron tension in her began to subside, “there were occasions when some were less mauled than others, when there was more than just a bloody cratering between the bitches’ legs. On these rare occasions, I could see that Sesshoumaru-sama had used both holes indiscriminately. More likely than not, in the grips of his bestial lust, he couldn’t discriminate. But you can suppose, I’m sure, how the evidence of such sodomy aroused me. To the point where I had to take myself in hand. If I splashed their ruined bodies, it was only incidental. But there was not a trace of my cum left on them either, when all was said and done. The river washes all such stains away, one and the same.”

Kagome’s jaw was locked tight. Even her cunt seemed locked tight as he seated himself within her, the squishy bundle at her apex crushing to the plane of his groin. She didn’t seem even to be breathing underneath him. She lay there with rictus stiffness as he began languidly to move, rotating his shaft inside her on some errant whim. It was this cock trick which brought her around with a shuddering start.

“Gods,” she spat out. “That’s the vilest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Hirokin cleaved to her, his hips jarring into hers at the vicious censure. He tried to kiss her, but she denied him, turning her face away. He kissed the side of her face instead, from the edge of her flickering dark lashes to the taut stubborn line of her jaw. He kept his legs spread for her, though her hooked heels weren’t digging into him at the moment. She was punishing him with her disinterest, and he writhed at being spurned for a cretin. He, one of the most powerful lords in all the land!

Her scorn fucked him raw. It made his blood boil so hot it steamed through his skin. Her reiki-laden pulse was as blistering as his. He could feel the heated rush of it, liquid fire coursing through the delicate casing of her veins.

“Your corpse was not mauled, only bruised and cut,” he breathed into her ear. “I ferried you to safety, Kagome-sama. Even when I hated you, I delivered you. Does this not redeem me in your eyes? How much more devoted do you think I am to you now?”

Her glance cut to him. “Sesshoumaru saved me, not you.”

“He resurrected you, my lady. But the one who rescued you was me. If not, your bones would be moldering in the deep as we speak.”

“Liar,” she seethed, but now she was gripping him back. Now she was surging into him back. “Take it back. Now.”

“Very well,” he relented with a raspy laugh. “Very well, my lady, I take it back.”

He would have taken back his own name at this point, if she’d asked it of him. Her stormy expression lightened a fraction, though her savage grip on him didn’t ease. If anything, she fucked him harder at the concession.

“What do you think Sesshoumaru would do,” she asked darkly, “if he caught us like this now?”

“I don’t know,” Hirokin said truthfully.

“I’ll tell you, Hirokin. I’ll tell you what he’d do.” Her heels snared at him, urging his bent knees to split. Gripping his cheeks, she splayed him wide so that his puckered opening gaped and flinched, and he rumbled gratingly into her throat. “He’d mount you like a common bitch, that’s what he’d do. And I’d hold you open for him all the while. He’d ream your ass out like the slimy cunt that you are. He’d use you like a tool to fuck me. He’d use you bloody, and it would be him fucking me, not you. Your cock would be his, and I wouldn’t feel you, Hirokin. I’d just feel him. And you’d just feel him. You wouldn’t even feel yourself, because you are nothing. Insignificant. Just some worm that crawled into my bed.”

“Yes,” he gasped out. His eyes squeezed shut, his balls drawing high and tight at the precipice. “Yes, Kagome, yes…”

“You’d feel him swelling in your ass,” she gasped back, her voice breaking as her walls began to spasm. “You’d feel him growing in you…but that hard knot’s not for you…it was never for you…when he cums in you…when he fills you up—”

As Kagome cried out, Hirokin swore. His release swept over him in a torrent, yet as he was reeling from this, a second shot hammered down his shaft, distending it to the point of pain. His vision briefly blanked in the thundering course of it. It was a chained orgasm. He’d never experienced its like before. But instinctively he knew what it signified, even before his sight returned and he saw the slice he’d carved into Kagome’s left cheek.

Blood spilled down her face, thin and bright, blotting the pale silk bedding like drops of scarlet ink. Her chest was heaving, her eyes dilated with shock and pleasure both. It would have been comical, if she didn’t look so alarmed. Hirokin could guess what was unnerving her the most. When he drew out of her, she scrambled back with her knees askew, staring down in bleary distress at her swollen wet sex. Her breasts were dripping milk like clouded tears. Her flat stomach clenched and unclenched in some vain effort of expulsion.

“There—there’s something in me,” she stammered. A fresh flush mottled her skin as she bit her lip and groaned on the wave of some inward assault. When it had passed, her eyes caught his in a fluster of misty accusation. From the other end of the room, Saitou was caterwauling. “What is it?—what did you do?”

Vaguely mortified, Hirokin told her, “…It’s a mating plug, my lady.”

“A what?”

Hirokin thought how best to explain without upsetting her further. “A thick secretion, to keep the seed near the womb. You should deliver it shortly.”

Kagome glowered, though she seemed somewhat mollified. “So it’s some weird dragon thing? Kind of like knotting for inuyoukai?”

“Yes,” Hirokin admitted.

“It’s…” She bit off, reddening somehow further as she eyed her throbbing sex. “It keeps pulsing in me.”

“That is to make you more…receptive.”

“I see.” Her eyes shut again as she swallowed, doubtless experiencing another titillating pulse. Though she’d yet to expel anything, her slit wept freely onto the sheets. “Mm…I think I need to…but Saitou—he’s crying…”

“Not so much anymore. Lie down, my lady, I’ll see to him.”

As expected, the boy had all but tired himself out by the time Hirokin approached his crib. With a faint, cranky scowl on his face, he glared up at the naked demon looming above him. Cool youki soothed over the boy’s splotched cheeks. After a moment, he broke off glaring, curled over onto his side and went back to sleep.

Kagome was lying in a senseless sprawl when Hirokin returned to her bed. She looked almost drunk, adrift on the waves of repeated orgasm. Red spots stood out on her fair cheeks. Her glittering legs were akimbo, and she was playing with her nub, tweaking it in time with one of her sheening nipples. Hirokin knelt down and added his fingers to hers. Coaxing in and out of her channel, he teased at the slick of youki-limned mucus that was beginning to eke out.

“I’m already mated,” she said petulantly. “So don’t scratch my face anymore.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“You can ‘plug’ me again though, I like that.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“But no more lewd stories about corpses.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Kagome tossed her head back with a huff. The last of the plug oozed from her, and Hirokin’s seed trickled after. Though he knew he should leave, he lingered beside her instead. Lazily, she brushed his white-gold hair from her mouth.

“I always did want to fuck you. Mainly because I figured you’d hate it. Now I don’t know what to think.”

“Does that mean you’ve forgiven me?”

Kagome’s lip curled. “Not on your life.”

Hirokin smiled back.

---

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi

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