On the eve of the omiai, Himamori was in hysterics. Not only had she refused to dress for the occasion, she’d refused to leave her silken bed altogether. When the harried servants had tried to cajole her to the purpose, she’d shrilled at them and started hurling things. This was when Hirokin had been forced to arrive on the scene.

Annoyed, he stood in the midst of the tumult. Oh, his little sister had been ecstatic enough to be summoned to the Western Palace. Only the day before, she’d still been blissfully drunk on all the fawning praise, exotic delicacies and rich diversions court could provide. For a spoiled princess such as herself, it was heaven.

But of course, when it came time for her to perform the very duty for which she’d been summoned here in the first place, Himamori chose to throw a tantrum instead.

“Ani-ue, please!” she wailed up at Hirokin from the luxury she’d been wallowing in. Plaintively, she clutched at his sleeve, wrinkling the pristine silk. “Please do not make me go!—please, not today!”

Breaking her hold, Hirokin said coolly, “Your intended is already here, awaiting your presence. I will not bid him come another day. He is the Lord of the Eastern Lands. It is an honor he waits upon you at all.”

Himamori’s blotchy face screwed up in a petulant twist. “I don’t care that he’s waiting, I don’t care who he is! I don’t want to meet him. I want to go home!”

“No,” Hirokin said, with such icy finality Himamori visibly quailed.

It was not a word she was accustomed to hearing, not with any real force behind it. But nothing in Hirokin’s tone or manner brooked anything except an expectation of absolute obedience. Still, Himamori insisted on squirming beneath his heel. From tearfully upset, her mood shifted quickly to sullen, angry defiance. In her ocean-blue eyes, her pupils shrank to narrow slits. Her flushed face darkened as she coiled down in her lush nest and hissed back at him.

“You can’t force me to marry him. If you drag me to that omiai, I’ll throw a screaming fit. He won’t want me then, and you’ll be shamed and blamed for it all! Sesshoumaru-sama will be wroth with you. He’ll punish you badly, and I’ll be sent home anyway!”

Victoriously, she smirked, smug with this bit of supposed cleverness. A true triumph for her, no doubt. Hirokin wanted to throttle her, but with all the patience he could muster, he turned away from her with a wistful sigh.

“Sweet sister,” he said mildly, regretfully, “I have no wish to force you.” As the hostility in Himamori’s aura ebbed in surprise, he turned back to her with a winsome smile, extending his hand. “Come here, princess,” he said silkily. “Come to your dear elder brother.”

Haltingly, Himamori unwound herself from her defensive coil and approached him. As she did so, Hirokin circled behind her. When he took her lightly by the waist, she gasped. Hirokin smiled. Gently, he urged her forward, to stand before an ornate looking-glass of mirrored crystal.

Shamelessly, Himamori admired their shared reflection. They made for a pretty picture, Hirokin supposed. They appeared more to be twins than mere siblings. Together they shared the same sapphire eyes, the same white-gold hair, the same pearlescent complexion. But this was where the resemblance ended.

If Himamori did not know this, soon she would learn.

“Precious sister,” he murmured, his eyes locking with hers in the glass. “Favored sister.”

Himamori preened at the empty praise. Hirokin had only the two sisters after all, and being better than Hanako was hardly a compliment. But he graced Himamori with an indulgent smile nonetheless.

“Such a lovely face.” His cool touch glided along her cheek, banishing the agitated flush that still mottled it. Himamori loved nothing more than to be petted and praised for her beauty. Her lashes dipped as she leaned into his caress, so long coveted by her and so long withheld by him. “Incomparable,” he said to her lowly, sincerely.

It was their mother’s divine face she wore after all, and none was its equal. When he grasped her by the jaw, her silver lashes quivered like moth’s wings, in time with her fluttering pulse. Hirokin’s smile steepened. He lowered his mouth to her fanned ear, grazing his lips along its delicate edge.

“…How I hate to ruin it,” he purred, tightening his grip on her face. When Himamori began to writhe, he crushed her to him, though his silken tone did not change. “But if your beauty cannot be used to forge alliances, it is of no use to me. You are of no use to me.”

Himamori whimpered as he invaded her mind from the points of contact his lancing fingers made with her flesh. Her mental defenses were as meager as he’d expected. Brutally, he pillaged her thoughts, overtook and warped them to his purpose. In the mirror, she beheld her reflection with horror as her beautiful face melted before her eyes. The elegant silver arches of her brows burned away, the long gleaming fringe of her lashes also. Her lush red lips charred and peeled from her serpentine teeth. Her flawless ivory skin sloughed from her bones, dripping down like bloody candlewax from the glaring hollows of her skull.

And all the while as she thrashed and screamed, Hirokin raped her nerves raw with the visceral pain of it all, as he would the bitterest enemy he’d set upon to torture.

When at last she grew faint with shock, he released her with a shove. Himamori crumpled to the tatami like a flung doll. Dazed, she sobbed, her chest heaving with remembered agony. Fearfully, she lifted her fingers to her face, and felt with trembling wonder at her perfect, intact flesh. Her wide eyes strayed to Hirokin in sheening confusion.

“That was only a foretaste,” he said to her without inflection. “I am not our father, to coddle to your vanity and stupidity out of blood affection. I am Lord Tactician of both the East and the West. You are a bargaining chip to me, Himamori, nothing more. A prized cunt to be sold to the highest bidder. There is no going home for you, now or ever. Defy me again, and you’ll get worse than the vision of a ruined face, I assure you.” As though he hadn’t just ravaged her poor feeble mind to the brink of collapse, he said smoothly and mannerly, “Now, little sister, would you like to dress yourself and meet your intended?”

Shallowly, Himamori swallowed. “…Yes, Ani-ue.”

…

The omiai concluded, Hirokin set off to discuss its outcome with Sesshoumaru, as he’d said that he would. With luck, he’d be able to steal away for a few hours afterward via teleportation crystal, and spend them losing himself beneath Kou. It had been a trying evening, indeed. He longed for his lover’s stalwart embrace more acutely than ever.

Sesshoumaru’s youki was so immense it drowned out most others’, unless he troubled himself to suppress it. Rarely he did. And so Hirokin was unprepared when he opened the doors to his liege lord’s private quarters, and saw Kagome there within. Naked as Sesshoumaru, she lounged beside him, sweaty and tousled from some recent bout of rutting that had left the room in utter shambles, as though an errant storm had rolled through it. At her glistening breast, their son was nursing with eyes squeezed shut. Thin rivulets of blood snaked down her chest, as Saitou’s milk fangs lanced her in his suckling greed.

Kagome seemed not to notice. She was too busy glaring daggers at Hirokin instead. Paused in the threshold, Hirokin stared back. He’d yet to grow accustomed to the sight of the boy. This was, in fact, only the second time he’d seen Saitou since his birth. He remembered the day not long ago, when Kagome had emerged at last from her months-long seclusion. He had been among those in attendance as she’d trudged forth from her sealed hideaway, haggard and bloody, with her newborn son bundled up in her arms. Sesshoumaru had scarcely given the boy a glance before he’d started to reach for her. Prudently, his mother had stepped between them, steering Kagome and the babe away with a cooing, “There now, my dear, you must be exhausted.”

Yet already Sesshoumaru had wrested her back. At this rate, they’d have another brat on their hands in record time, Hirokin thought snidely. As if reading his mind, Kagome’s eyes narrowed at him further. It seemed the onset of motherhood had done little to soften her sentiments toward him. Though Hirokin had gifted her with an emperor’s ransom, she’d yet to overlook his bit of strategic deception toward her. A pity. Hirokin missed their play. The thought had more than once crossed his mind to infiltrate her bedchamber, but uncertain of just how murderous she felt toward him, and whether he still had Sesshoumaru’s tacit approval to engage her, he’d refrained.

And so the tension between them remained as frigid and unbroken as ever. Sensing his mother’s agitation, the pup broke away from her breast and began to squall.

“Put the boy to bed,” Sesshoumaru said.

Kagome’s glare slid from Hirokin to him, but she rose to do as she was told. The door to an adjacent room slammed open and shut behind her. Sesshoumaru’s gaze flicked to Hirokin.

“What are you doing, still hovering in the doorway?”

“I thought I ought to withdraw, my lord,” Hirokin said, smiling at a slant. “It seems a bad time.”

“It’s not,” Sesshoumaru said with a wave. “Come here.”

Hirokin approached. It was difficult for him not to gawk at the flushed, sated sprawl of Sesshoumaru’s body. Even in repose, his spent cock was a sight to behold. Soft and slick, it draped over his muscled thigh, glazed with Kagome’s essence and his own. It was the latter that drew Hirokin’s eye, of course, those cloudy dewdrops beaded at the slit of that flared, ruddy crown.

“The omiai,” Sesshoumaru prompted, his voice jolting Hirokin back from his ogling like a whip-crack, “how did it go?”

After the debacle with Himamori and the gross delays that had resulted from it, the Eastern Lord’s displeasure had been pronounced. Hirokin had hoped his little sister’s beauty would make up for it, when at last she appeared in her jewels and silks, and a meekness more becoming still—

Fortunately, it had.

“Well,” Hirokin replied. “He is quite taken with her.”

“Good,” Sesshoumaru said. “I will speak with him on the morrow.”

Hirokin inclined his head. In truth, the Lord of the Eastern Lands was yet another of Sesshoumaru’s vassals, elevated to the rank through demonstrated loyalty and distant kinship with the Eastern clans. Still, it was wise to keep this proxy lord secured through blood allegiance. Since Sesshoumaru had no sisters of his own, Hirokin’s had been the next best option. Fairer in looks and disposition both, Himamori had seemed most suitable to the task.

With Sesshoumaru’s curiosity satisfied, Hirokin prepared to take his leave. It was at this moment that the door to the adjoining room slid open, and Kagome reappeared, naked and mussed as she had been before. Hirokin couldn’t help but notice the shining trail of seed that snaked down the inside of her thigh. Seeing him, she glowered outright, setting her hands on her hips.

“What are you still doing here? Get out.”

As Hirokin turned to do just that, Sesshoumaru’s voice arrested him.

“No,” the demon lord said curtly. His golden gaze cut to Kagome. “This one-side feud of yours has grated on my patience long enough.” His eyes glittered with a light that made Hirokin instantly wary, before he said to her, “I’ve half a mind to make you kneel and suck his cock.”

Kagome blanched. Differences aside, she and Hirokin both tensed, sharing the same fraught glance. Neither of them could have wanted anything less. Hirokin felt keenly his own powerlessness in the moment. Fortunately, Kagome recovered herself. With a beguiling smile, she padded over to Sesshoumaru and sank down near his hip. Her voice was softly seductive as she reached for his stiffening cock instead.

“I’d much rather suck yours.”

Well played, Hirokin thought in relief, as she bent to the task. Sesshoumaru shifted onto his knees so that she had better access to him. Much as Hirokin wanted to stay and watch, especially as Sesshoumaru drew her up short to present her with his balls instead, he figured he should take this chance to make a clean retreat. Her little pink tongue was just flicking out to glide along one stony globe when Sesshoumaru’s voice drew him up short.

“Hirokin. Stay.”

Hirokin froze, every fiber of him. Transfixed, he watched as Kagome struggled to shape her mouth around one heavy testicle, let alone two. Thinking briefly of Kou, Hirokin could empathize. It was a struggle for him not to lick his lips as he stared. Catching his eye, Sesshoumaru smirked, giving his huge hard cock a leisurely stroke from root to tip.

“Up on your knees, woman,” he said. “Show my sworn brother that pretty cunt of yours.”

With a muffled huff, Kagome did as Sesshoumaru said. With the angle at which they were kneeling, Hirokin had a clear view of her from behind. Of course, he had seen Kagome naked before. Many times, in fact. But he had never seen her spread like this, cleaved open from back to belly. The twin holes he saw were nothing special; demonesses sported much the same, and they had always held scant appeal to him. Yet around and below the gash of her cunt, Hirokin learned the difference between human female anatomy and demonic—

Whorls of soft folded flesh surrounded her entrance, rosy near the center and darkly furred at the outer fringes. It was bizarre. But nothing was so strange and lurid to him as the tiny red peak that jutted beneath it all, throbbing and swollen like the most miniature of cocks. Hirokin could have laughed. Demonesses didn’t possess such an appendage. The pleasure they felt was from within, as was properly female, yet the sight of that nub of Kagome’s made Hirokin darkly wonder. Truly, it made her masculine tendencies more understandable to him.

All of this he surmised within the fraction of an instant. The sordid novelty of her sex admittedly aroused him, even before he belatedly noticed the pearly trickle of cum that leaked from her prone, gasping entrance. Gods, but Sesshoumaru had flooded her. Hirokin couldn’t help but lick his lips then.

Sesshoumaru’s sharp eyes didn’t miss it. Seizing upon him, they narrowed, searing.

“Come closer, Hirokin,” he said, low and dark, as he broke Kagome’s sucking mouth from his balls and began feeding her his red, thick-veined cock instead. “Let us take her together.”

Kagome went rigid. Her blue eyes flashed. But with her hair in Sesshoumaru’s fist and her lips stretched taut around his girthy shaft she could hardly protest. Equally paralyzed by the suggestion, Hirokin remained where he was.

“My lord, I—”

“Come here,” Sesshoumaru said again, in a tone that brooked no argument, “and fuck my wife.”

With no recourse, Hirokin knelt behind Kagome on the plush bed. She shot him a backward glance as he did so. A glance that spoke death to him in no uncertain terms. Watching the beam of Sesshoumaru’s shaft work wetly in and out of her mouth, Hirokin figured there were worse ways to die, as he reached for the ties of his hakama.

By now, Sesshoumaru’s spent seed had seeped from her cunt to the tip of her swollen red nub. There it hung shivering like a living teardrop of pearl. Hirokin’s cock was shockingly hard and hot in his hand—harder and hotter than it had ever been at the prospect of a ready cunt, at any rate—as he guided the shimmering tip to that fleshly little promontory. For the first time in a life that seemed unendurably long, he felt the sizzling, youki-laden slick of Sesshoumaru’s cum bathe his cockhead.

Hirokin shuddered, releasing an irrepressible groan. Dampened around Sesshoumaru’s cock, Kagome’s plaintive mewling sounded low in her throat. Her hips seemed to shy from Hirokin of their own accord, as though the sensation of him rubbing her there was too much for her to withstand. His narrow suspicion that this part of her was as sensitive as the head of a male’s sex, if not more so, gained ground.

From that throbbing peak, Hirokin chased the trail of Sesshoumaru’s leaking cum upward, gathering it greedily against his tapered flesh so that not a decadent trace was wasted. By the time he reached Kagome’s slit, his purpling cockhead was so palely coated with Sesshoumaru’s seed that it pressed more glazed and gushing to the well of her womb than the weeping pink rim that framed it.

Penetrating her an inch, Hirokin felt his breath catch yet again. Above the glistening span of her spine, his gaze met Sesshoumaru’s in a shock of discovery.

“How does she feel?” his liege lord asked him, smiling darkly.

Hirokin realized then that his mouth was hanging slightly ajar. In truth, he was struggling to frame what he felt with his cock partially sheathed in Kagome. He had no context for it. He’d fucked more demonesses than he cared to recollect, but none had felt like this. A demoness’s cunt was like a smooth, slick tunneling grip. Steely and damply constricting. The feel of Kagome couldn’t be more diametrically opposed to this. Hirokin wasn’t sure whether he liked it or loathed it. Her inner softness enveloped him, a crush of pillowing wetness. It was what he imagined fucking a warm ripe fruit must be like.

And then there was the roil of her reiki. Without her was one thing, but within her…

An electric shock ran through Hirokin’s muscles, as if he were immersing himself in a broth of tempered liquid flame. Hirokin had no small amount of love for his own cock, yet he felt the mad, insatiable urge to submerge himself in her further.

“…Different,” he managed gruffly at last, letting himself sink that much deeper into her balmy depths.

Sesshoumaru’s gaze slanted down to the woman presently choking on his massive cock. “And you, my love?” By his grip in her hair he urged her back until his broad head sprang from the seal of her panting lips. “How does that demon cock feel?” Without waiting for her to answer, without waiting for her to so much as catch her breath, he buried his cock back into her throat. “How do you like being fucked at both ends?—well? Show me.”

Hirokin could see the stubborn twitch of her beleaguered jaw. But at Sesshoumaru’s relentless urging, her hips rolled back into Hirokin’s with a vehemence that surprised him. In that one swift, hungry motion, she swallowed the rest of him to the hilt.

Hirokin’s hands latched to her hips. The act of settling in her was nothing short of jarring. It was a riot of sensation. The smothering softness of her flesh contrasted so sharply with the latent, potent simmer of her reiki. Stifled, Hirokin began to sweat. When he shifted to adjust, he speared into the supple gate of her womb, making her body jerk and her reiki flare. Hirokin’s breath broke off in a bitter curse at the scald of it, piercing like a multitude of hot needles into his hypersensitized cockskin. It was the most exquisite, excruciating pang. His hips rocked forward of their own accord, to stoke and savor her retaliation in feverish succession.

Hirokin could say, in perfect honesty, that this was the first time he’d ever enjoyed fucking a female—

But he didn’t say it. The admission felt too raw, even to him.

Too upending, though it was Kagome’s ass hanging prone in the air, not his. Withdrawing and re-sheathing, he saw the trailing flicker of her clinging pink walls, watched Sesshoumaru’s cum ooze from her as her slim opening gaped around the haft of him. More accustomed to the fluid chaos of her insides, Hirokin could discern, perhaps better than anyone, the shared streams of passion he churned within her. There was Sesshoumaru’s earlier release, of course, and the old remnants of her own. But there was a fresh welling of desire in her, wicking out from her quivering walls to coat his shaft.

And then there was his essence now as well. From the reiki-chafed split in his sex, it teemed, steeping within her along with the rest of this lustful concoction. Freely, his thin pre-release bled into her. Like one possessed, Hirokin gazed across the bowed, spitted arc of her body, skewered by Sesshoumaru’s cock thrusting into her in mesmerizing, accelerating synchrony with his own.

Without any aid from Hirokin, Kagome’s blood was heating. The rhythmic squeeze of her soft walls degenerated progressively into spasms. Rapidly, her breath escaped her nose. Her furious desperate whimpers reverberated through Hirokin and Sesshoumaru both. Hirokin saw how acutely those tremors rocked through his liege lord. Arrested, he watched. His balls boiled at the sight of Sesshoumaru’s graven chest constricting at the onslaught. The thick, raised veins in Sesshoumaru’s cock strained and throbbed that much more as he pounded in and out of the slavering stricture of Kagome’s mouth.

“Not yet,” Sesshoumaru panted to him, even as his own frenzied gaze bled crimson.

Dazedly, Hirokin nodded, or at least he thought that he did. He couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t be sure of anything anymore. As the mounting ecstasy blurred his senses, he felt half in a dream—aware, yet simultaneously disbelieving. Suspended in the hopeless fantasies of his youth, fantasies he’d striven to expunge from his heart and mind altogether. He realized now that he’d only buried them deep. He realized now that they were excavating themselves from the recesses of his being of their own accord. These volcanic passions surged forth, on the verge of an eruption he feared would leave him devastated in their wake.

But he didn’t care, even if they did.

Through the conduit of Kagome’s body, he and Sesshoumaru were finally one flesh.

Gratitude welled in him as strong as the euphoria. Sweeping and all-consuming. Perhaps on some level he had intuited this, that Kagome would be the one to deliver him at last, to help him realize the deepest desires of his heart to the fullest. Not merely his lust for punishment, but his lust for his sworn brother as well.

His fevered mind raced blissfully ahead, as his silks melted from him and he crushed his chest to her back, skin to skin, adhering himself to her. He saw the three of them conjoined together in infinite configurations. As he fucked her, he could almost feel the slide of Sesshoumaru’s cock against his through the wet silken membrane of her channels, or not at all—once they’d worked her open to receive them both to their satisfaction.

Catching the feral gleam in Sesshoumaru’s eye, Hirokin reveled, his tongue slicing open on the serrations of his own distending fangs. His arms banded around Kagome. Compressing her hot heavy breasts, he fondled between her legs for that little red-hot, budding protrusion. All the while, he continued to thrust his hips sinuously into hers from behind. Her raw infuriation blazed into him, promising him recompense, promising him sure suffering for the presumption of defiling her with his touch.

As if such promises would deter him.

Laughing darkly, Hirokin pressed his lips to her flushed, sweat-slicked cheek. His tongue rasped along the taut edge of her lips, and he could taste her and Sesshoumaru both. Between his fingers, her cunt was weeping tears of the same indignation. Her stiff peak slipped wildly, bucking under his touch. She groaned out a ragged curse in her throat, and Sesshoumaru snarled. He was peaking in time with her, and Hirokin could feel it with a sobering shock.

Now Sesshoumaru’s prodigious youki was burning fiendishly into them both. His claws cut into Kagome’s scalp and shoulder where he gripped her. Her delicate skin threaded with glinting strings of red. He was wearied from fucking her earlier, but she was far more flagged than he. Hirokin could feel her spiritual exhaustion, here now on the verge of pleasured collapse. Despite her fury, she was fading. Drawing forth his own youki, Hirokin checked Sesshoumaru, male to male, and it was enough.

Sesshoumaru gasped raggedly, growlsomely. Gold flashed in his eyes. His whole stony body stiffened, slightly bent. His cock pulsed ominously from the root. White-hot against his senses, Hirokin felt the strident flare of Kagome’s reiki. She wanted to rear, to break from the flood that was coming, but Hirokin held her fast as he crushed his mouth to her choked, pillaged throat and felt through her straining flesh the tidal surge of Sesshoumaru’s gushing pleasure.

“…Forgive me,” he rasped against her dewy, stinging skin, as the dam within him broke as well.

Along with her, he rode out Sesshoumaru’s thunderous release against their own. Hirokin had just tasted rapture when Kagome’s pleasure scalded through it like sunbeams through cloud. The most sublime of torments. Thrown down from the pinnacle, Hirokin cried out, still holding to her. Like a living ember, she burned him, as he clung vainly to her in his fall.

As Sesshoumaru’s softened cock slipped from her mouth, she turned to Hirokin at last. Her lips brushed his, though not a drop of seed was on them. She had swallowed down every trace so that there was none left for him. There was nothing except the vapors of what he could not have.

There was nothing for him. Nothing but her cruelty. Languishing in it, Hirokin held to her still.

“Never,” she said.

---

Inuyasha © Rumiko Takahashi

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