Bound by Corruption by BelovedStranger

To Be Free

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Word Count: 4,344

“DOES IT NOT trouble you, your sister copulating with Inuyasha?”

She stiffened at the reminder. As if she needed to be! That was one of the things she couldn’t stop thinking about. She shot Sesshomaru a dirty glare even though she felt her face heat with embarrassment, remembering how he’d forced her to watch. He didn’t even have the decency to look away from her accusing gaze. His too direct stare forced her to look away.

Kami, she couldn’t look at him without remembering how her body—her very mind—had betrayed her. The scenario had been far too similar to her own indiscretion earlier that same day. Heated kisses, intimate touches, thighs parted around lean hips.

Kikyo. With Inuyasha. The visual stimuli had triggered something dangerous in Kagome.

Sensory memories.

She knew she was watching Inuyasha’s clawed hands on Kikyo’s body, witnessed Kikyo’s rapturous responses, but Kagome’s body remembered how it felt to experience those same caresses, to lose herself in pleasure. Somehow, the horror of the situation had altered, rekindling desire. Reality had bent, merging her recent experience with Kikyo’s past.

She’d burned, her core aching with a strange emptiness.

Somehow, Kagome had resisted temptation to not turn to Sesshomaru and beg for his touch. Never before had she experienced such flames, burning hotly within her.

As though hearing her thoughts, he added, voice rough, “You liked it. Watching them together.”

Damning words.

“You’re wrong!”

“You cannot lie. Not to me. There is nothing to be ashamed of in a little voyeurism.”

What they’d witnessed had not been a little thing! “They are our siblings!”

“And?”

Scandalized by his lack of concern, by such depravity, she jerked away from him, but the arms around her held her securely. Trapping her.

“You’re wrong,” she repeated on a shout. “I wasn’t seeing them! Not really.” How was she to explain? To describe the confusion of sensory impulses.

A part of her didn’t want to reveal the truth, to give Sesshomaru that kind of power over her by knowing just how much he affected her. But she couldn’t live with this misunderstanding between them, to allow him the false impression that she enjoyed being a voyeur, to her own sister’s wanton abundance. Just the idea made her feel ill.

“I was remembering earlier today.” She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know how it happened, but I forgot that we were watching…them. I was remembering…what we’d done.” She winced when she turned and saw dawning comprehension lighten his amber eyes.

The sensual chuckle that rumbled against her back skated along her nerves, making her shiver. He felt her response. She knew it. The evidence was in the heat of his gaze, in the way he pulled her ever closer. “Your desire for me is of such magnitude that reality slipped through your grasp. Is that what you are saying?”

Her throat constricted, utterly humiliated to have the depths of her attraction for him out in the open. Her feelings were wrong. Because he was wrong—for her. Instead, she faced forward without a word, but her silence was all the affirmation he needed.

“Kagome.” The way he said her name. Too intimate. Wicked. Addicting. “Taking pleasure where pleasure is to be had is not wrong. Your sister understands this.”

Kagome snorted. “Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing. You’re trying to manipulate me.” His tactic was so obvious as to be offensive.

And yet.

Witnessing Kikyo with her lover had been a revelation. With monumental implications.

“You have it backwards,” he refuted. “If anyone is manipulating you, it is your own ningen society. Miko have restraints placed upon them at birth, regulations that go against the very laws of nature. You told me yourself it was the eldest’s duty to carry on the family line, to procreate. Not only is this denied you, as the second born, to never have a family of your own, you spoke nothing of enjoying the process, only of responsibility.”

He leaned in to whisper next to her ear. “You were aptly named. A bird in a cage. Bound by a miko’s shackles.”

The play on her name made her stiffen—and dredged up a flickering memory of Onigumo, who’d taken up the habit of calling her little bird. But the conversation pulled her attention back. She had a point to make.

“Miko help people,” she said firmly. “We bring aid to the infirm, heal the sick, and ease the hurts of the injured. We protect those who are vulnerable to evil spirits and malicious daemons. Miko are not the only ones shackled to duty, but if I were to choose my cage, I would not change my fate. A miko’s life is honourable, filled with purpose.” Saying so, she ignored a traitorous twinge of regret.

“And shrouded by danger and death,” he added mildly. “A healer is exposed to much of the world’s miseries. Serious injury. Incurable sickness. The cruelty of age. Dually, these menders must, also, play the role of protector, placing themselves at great risk to defend those too weak to save themselves from youkai. But despite all your best efforts, you cannot save everyone, which gives you an intimate understanding of mortality. I imagine it would be a heavy burden. Perhaps even unbearable at times. Or am I mistaken?”

The image Sesshomaru painted was bleak, but she stiffened her spine, resolute. “My shoulders are strong.”

She felt him shrug behind her. “Perhaps the weight is negligible to you, but did you ever stop to consider that Kikyo may wish to feel normal? That she wishes to have the chance to be seen as more than a miko, but aa a woman. With thoughts and feelings, with desires and passions like any other.”

Kagome’s breath caught, the argument breaching her defenses.

“Can you honestly say you do not wish for the same?”

She couldn’t speak, let alone deny it.

How many times had she seen women of her village having suiters call on them, followed by the inevitable wedding feasts for the happy couple? Then the blessing of children. A loving family, forever denied to her.

Unlike Kikyo. At least she was permitted children.

Unlike her.

And yet, Kikyo had chosen a hanyou. Such a pairing was forbidden, not only because Inuyasha possessed daemon blood. Duty demanded Kikyo pass on the power of purification to the next generation. Could a union between a miko and a daemon—even a hanyou—conceive? Kagome had never heard of such an occurrence and doubted it was even possible. Reiki and youki, they were in constant opposition. Nature’s natural enemies.

Sesshomaru was unrelenting. “Tell me this, aijin. By who’s authority are you never to experience what other women take for granted?”

She still could not answer, choked by suppressed feelings, her deepest yearnings.

“Perhaps you spoke truth, and you are content existing inside your gilded cage. Your sister, apparently, is not. She dares to break free and make her own choices. Do you condemn her for it, as your ningen culture undoubtedly would if they knew?”

“No, I could never! I love her. If anyone would understand her, I would.”

Temptation flowed from Sesshomaru like sweet honey. “Life is too short, aijin, to deny yourself happiness just because someone else claims you are not worth having it.”

“Not worth—!” Offended, angry, Kagome stuttered, choking under a wave of hurt.

It was a perspective she’d never considered. An attack she’d never seen coming, and was helpless to shield herself against.

Was it true? Did being a miko somehow make her less in society’s eyes? Was she to give and give without having anything in return? Because she was unworthy? The very idea hit on her every insecurity. If even Kikyo, the most accomplished miko of their time, or so many claimed, was seen as inferior by normal humans, what did that say of her, the less accomplished sister?

By what right—?! “It’s not fair.”

“Life is full of imbalances. Unless we are willing to right the scale ourselves.” The inugami’s voice penetrated deep, saturating every pour, flooding all her senses. “Step free of your cage, Kagome. For once, do what you want, not what you think you have to.”

“I don’t know how…” A tortured whisper.

“Let me show you.” Lips pressed against her temple, ghosting over her ear, moving downwards. He nudged her head aside. Helpless to deny him—or herself—she…allowed it, and was rewarded with a kiss against the side of her throat.

Her pulse jumped at that simple touch.

And she remembered what Sesshomaru had said earlier. Taking pleasure where pleasure is to be had is not wrong.

A potent lure.

Why not follow Kikyo’s example? As Kagome always had before.

Compelled by rebelliousness, by desire, Kagome turned her head of her own free will, knowing even as she did it, there was no turning back. Her gaze met Sesshomaru’s. Locked. Her heart pounded, filled with trepidation. Of what was about to happen, and fearful that it wouldn’t.

Hand shacking, she reached up to cup the side of his face, and Sesshomaru didn’t stop her when she encouraged him down. A kiss. Feather light. Her breath stuttered from her chest at that first contact.

If he was surprised by her swift change in mood, he did not show it. He was gentle, coaxing as he encouraged her mouth open. The moment his tongue touched hers, Kagome caught fire. Every lick, every taste encouraged her, heightening her desire. The feeling of rightness. Until she nicked her tongue against a sharp fang.

She flinched, drawing back. “I don’t—I’m not good at…”

Sesshomaru cupped the back of her head, not allowing her to retreat. His breath was heated, panting heavily. “You will learn, aijin.” Then he was kissing her again, urging her tongue to dance with his. Teaching her how to kiss him. Before forcing his tongue under hers, to graze one of his fangs. Kagome jolted, then gasped as he suckled her stinging flesh. Pain became pleasure. An intoxicating lesson.

A small voice whispered at the back of her mind. Her obaasan, cautioning her to think before reacting. That voice morphed into her sister’s. The hypocrite.

Her conscious settled, Kagome felt emboldened. Liberated. And turned fully in his arms. He helped her so that she was straddling him. Then her arms wound around the back of his neck, holding him closer, pressing herself against him. Memory reawakened, of his wicked hands fondling her. Restless, needy, she rubbed her breasts against his chest.

He seemed to understand because his hands were shoving between them, molding around her aching flesh.

“Yes!”

The cry spilled against his lips. He swallowed the sound, refusing to release her from the kiss. Kagome had no wish to escape. 

 FAR. TOO. EASY.

Sesshomaru felt no remorse manipulating the miko, for taking advantage of Kikyo’s deceptions to gain what he wanted.

Kagome.

His little miko was of an age that she no longer needed her sister to be her keeper. He was doing Kagome a favor by severing that pesky little bond—and the other. The one placed upon her at birth. Only humans would be so arrogant as to control the mating habits of others, he sneered.

But even he had not foreseen what would come next. Kagome’s capitulation. She was encouraging him. Such eagerness. So wildly abandon.

This time, he vowed, there would be no stopping this, no stopping him. He ignored the weakness of his body, refusing to let this moment slip through his fingers.

Impatience made him rough. He pulled on the ties securing her haori and yanked the garment open. Her nagajuban received the same treatment. Without her chest binding, Kagome’s lush breasts spilled into his palms. He squeezed them, testing their firmness, groaning at their softness. The sound she made mirrored his own when he pinched her peaks, her spine arching as he pulled a little harder than was gentle.

For all her humanity and weak flesh, the miko was no delicate flower. There was no cry of pain, no demands for him to stop. Instead, she pressed closer, her blunt nails pressed against his shoulder, spurring him on.

“You take my breath away, aijin,” he rasped, scraping his fangs delicately along her jaw.

She shivered, her arms around his head tightening, drawing him into the crook of her neck. Her scent filled his head, making him dizzy with want. His tongue slid along her pulse, eliciting a shiver from the onna. The same instant he nipped at her neck, he pinched her peaks.

Her cry was beautiful.

His shaft pulsed in answer.

Fuck being slow.

Holding her securely, he lunged. Had he not been so weak, the onna never would have felt the impact. In one movement, he took them just beyond the god tree’s protruding roots, and heard the air whoosh from Kagome’s lungs as her back connected with the ground harder than he’d intended, where he landed on all fours above her.

 “Apologies, aijin,” he panted. Sinking to his elbows, he captured her mouth until they both were breathless.

“Can’t. Breathe!” She panted, struggling weakly against his chest.

Taking pity on her, Sesshomaru placed openmouthed kisses down her neck and over her clavicle. The delicate bone felt the prick of his fangs the same moment he tweaked her peaks. Blood welled beneath his seeking tongue.

Kagome cried out, he groaned.

The hands that had been pushing against his shoulders sank into his hair, holding him to her. But he was stronger, and continued downward until he could take her pink nipple into his mouth. He opened wide, taking in as much of her flesh as possible, allowing his fangs to pierced her the barest centimeter. Then, with the flat of his tongue, he lashed her peak again and again.

Pain. Pleasure. They were intertwined. He would show her. Teach her. Addict her. Kagome’s response was exquisite. With heated cries, she writhed beneath him, causing his cock to swell to the point that he was in pain.

Gentleness was foreign to him. He was youkai, wild. Untamed. Violent. And the miko urged the beast within onward, unafraid.

Her hips lifted, undulated against him. Rubbed against his thickened shaft.

Releasing her breast, his back arched, hips grinding against hers. In the same instant, he snarled, “Fuck!” between clenched teeth.

“I’m—sorry,” she panted without ceasing her maddening gyrating. “Can’t—stop! Please, Sesshomaru! I need…”

“Me,” he growled. “You need me!” He tilted her hips for a better angle for the thrust of his cock. She cried out, he snarled.

The bliss. The agony.

He tugged the ties of her hakama, and yanked the red material down her legs, where they disappeared he cared not where. Her scent hit him, making him shudder. He wanted to bury himself inside her now, and damn further foreplay. Damn her innocence. The only thing that stopped him was her scent. Without her hakama, the full impact of her arousal hit him square in the face, making him salivate. The air left him on a rough exhalation, only to drag in a greedy inhalation, craving the scent of her.

His vision went crimson, his fangs lengthening.

Kagome gasped, drawing his gaze from where that heady scent emanated, hidden by a slim triangle of cloth, to her eyes. Face flushed, her eyes were glazed with passion, and a hint of unease.

“Your eyes…”

His voice was animalistic. Inhuman. “Do not be afraid, aijin.” He ground his thickness against her, feeling her wetness soak into the fabric of his hakama. She could not suppress a moan, nor he his snarl.

“Need you,” he bit out.

The onna had led him on a merry chase, enflaming him, only to deny him time and time again. No longer.

Resolve tightening his features, he regained a semblance of control. Rising on his knees, he towered over the miko as he calmly and decisively removed both his outer and inner haori. Kagome watched him. Lust. Uncertainty. And lust again when his chest was laid bare. Her gaze was like a physical caress, travelling the hard plains of his chest, down to the silver trail at his naval that disappeared into his hakama.

He let her look her fill for a few moments before slowly, oh so slowly, releasing the knot at his hips. His hakama fell down his thighs with a whisper. His fundoshi swiftly following, revealing every pulsating inch of him.

He saw her swallow, felt her nervous tension. “Sesshomaru?”

Her uncertainty reminded him of her innocence, of just how small she was. And how large he was.

“Kagome. Look at me.”

She was looking at him, at that part of him, but her gaze shot up to his face, meeting his heated stare. He knew the whites of his eyes had gone blood red, his irises a bright blue.

He was not a man.

And he would have her would know what took her. Who she gave herself to.

He slowly lowered to all fours over her, pressing his palms to the grass above her dainty shoulders. His eyes never left hers when he pressed a thigh between her legs, parting them. He forced them wide open around both of his. Her breath shuttered out of her. He didn’t bother fully removing his hakama as he settled his pelvic along hers, pressing his shaft against her belly.

Skin on skin, he burned, craved.

She flinched, unnerved.

“Fear not, little innocent.” He thrust against her, making her gasp—in delight. He hooked her knee over his elbow, spreading her wider.

“Sesshomaru!” Her voice was scandalized, fearful. Then her breath ended on a breathy moan when he thrust his engorged shaft against her wet undergarment more fully.

“Yes,” he hissed, thrusting against her again. “Say my name, aijin.”

Her cry—his name—enflamed him. Fear forgotten, she rubbed herself along his shaft, coating him with her essence.

“So wet.” He spoke between gritted fangs. “Do you ache?”

“Yes!” Desperation.

“Do you need more?” Reaching up, he tweaked one of her nipples.

“More!” A pitiful cry, filled with demand.

Her arousal called to him, and Sesshomaru heeded. Leaning down, he scraped his fangs along her ribcage. When his lips reached her abdomen, she squirmed, then shuddered at the graze of fangs against her left hip. Impatient, he used his claw to cut the strip of fabric keeping her from him. Her scent beckoned.

“Need to taste you.”

Kagome’s pelvic shot off the ground at the shock of his mouth on her core. “Sesshomaru!” Hands went into his hair, pulling, but he would not be dislodged.

He licked her, a slow glide from her weeping center to the sensitive tip. When his tongue flicked beneath the hood of her sex, she jolted, her hands spasming in his hair when he did it again. Then she was shoving her hips against his face, seeking more. A firmer pressure, a deeper lick.

So responsive. Shameless.

Sesshomaru didn’t deny her but rewarded her wantonness. Opening his mouth, he kissed her. Consumed her. Her hoarse cries rang around them. Sesshomaru took his shaft in hand, gripping tight. Hurting himself, preventing his seed from spilling at that too erotic sound.

Too sweet. Too addicting. He feasted.

When Kagome gave a particularly hard tug on his hair, he snarled against her folds, the vibration sending her right over the edge. She climaxed on his tongue, coating his face in her sleek essence. He lapped her up without finesse, greedy for every drop she wept—for him. Because of him.

He had to have her.

Patience deserting him, Sesshomaru reared up. Taking himself in hand, he notched the round head against the hot moisture of her center. The first thing she felt inside her wouldn’t be his finger, nor his tongue. He began feeding her his cock, forcing restraint when instinct clamoured at him to ram inside. To take. To make her his.

Kagome stiffened, and like before, panicked at this stage. When it came to his claiming. “Wait, Sesshomaru!” Her hands went to his abdomen, pressing against the taut muscles.

“Relax,” he rasped, holding onto her hips so she couldn’t get away from him. Heart pounding, his chest heaving with each panted breath, he pressed forward, the head gaining entrance into her slick heat.

Hell!

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he gritted between clenched fangs as he slowly entered her, gaining leverage with each inch he forced into her.

Her hands shoved against him more frantically, her cries shrill. “It hurts! You’re too big!”

“We,” he thrust against her resisting flesh, “will,” another lunge forward, “fit!” With a hard shove, he breached her, sinking halfway inside blissful heat. He felt the proof of her innocence give way under his assault, heard her painfilled cry.

Kagome was shoving against his chest, trying to get him off her, even bucked her hips to dislodge him, but only managed to impale herself further. She shrieked. He groaned. The scent of her blood reached him. He wasn’t trying to hurt her, but he was.

“Just this once,” he panted, voice hoarse. “Be wounded by me.” And with one last, powerful lunge, he seated himself inside her. A snarl was ripped from him, half-pleasure, half-pain. Though her hands shoved him away, her flesh pulled him in, squeezed him like a vice.

He forced himself to stillness, his body trembling under the strain as he fought the urge to pull back and push back in. Opening his eyes, he saw that hers were clenched tightly shut, her face turned away. The scent of her tears mixed with the blood of her innocence.

Sesshomaru refused to feel guilty that fate dictated that a woman’s first time was marked in blood. Still, he was not insensitive to her hurt. Keeping a tight rein on himself, he licked at the salt of her tears. Then he grasped her chin, forcing her to turn her head, and kissed her. First her forehead, then both cheeks, the tip of her nose, and finally, her sipped at her lips. He waited for her body to relax, to grow accustomed to his possession, though it damn near killed him to remain still, to ignore the tight clasp squeezing him.

Between kisses, Kagome stopped fighting him, and instead, clung to him. And kissed him back.

Slowly, he rekindled her fire by stroking her breasts, playing with the peaks. Softly. Until she began to shift beneath him with a frustrated mewl. Heeding her voiceless need for more, he rolled her nipples with light pinches, before tugging. Only when she undulated her hips did he grind against her.

Her breath hitched. Rather than push him away, her pelvic pressed against him, insistent.

“You want me?” He had to hear her say it.

When all she did was rub against him, trying to spur him on, he pressed her hips to the ground with his own, forcing her still. Her desperate cry made him smile, a vicious snarl of need.

“Answer me, aijin. Tell me whom it is you desire.”

“You!” A pant. “I want you. Please!”

He pulled back slowly, heard her low moan, before sinking back inside her welcoming heat in that same, controlled glide. She tightened around him, and he had to release her breasts to dig his claws into the dirt on either side of her or hurt her when his body tightened, demanding he pump into her.

Control!

Not yet!

He shuddered, sweat beading his brow at the strain of holding back. It was a new experience for him, but he had to know, to make certain.

“Do you hurt?”

“Yes. No! I don’t—please, don’t stop!” Kagome writhed beneath him, and he saw tears glint in her eyes, along with raw, unbridled lust. Her passion electrified him. He shuddered and thrust against her almost helplessly.

He groaned, low and deep, while the sound she made was high, her hands pulling at him, her pitiful nails trying to dig into him.

Fuck!

Her silken depths squeezed his pulsing cock. Pulling back, he thrust back in, sharper than he’d intended, but her cry didn’t sound like one of pain. He did it again, his nerves dancing along his spine at his continual restraint. Of her own volition, Kagome hugged her knees over his hips and rocked against him. She was killing him! On a hard thrust, Sesshomaru hit the end of her, forcing her to take every inch of him.

She was stretched around him as he filled her completely. Her little whimper undid him. He fucked her, driving into her harder with each new thrust, faster.

“Ah! Sesshomaru!” She clawed at him, pulling him towards her, not away.

“Aijin. So tight. So sweet.”

There was no stopping him, stopping this. He knew he should go slower, be gentler. He could still scent her blood, knew her flesh was tender, but as before, his little miko craved the pain with her pleasure. He felt her heels dig into his buttocks, locking him to her even as she shouted her pleasure. Her head was thrown back, hips arching to meet his thrusts. Groaning, he finally did what he needed.

There was no gentleness in his taking. He rode her, hard and fierce.

With a scream that blasted his eardrums—his name—she climaxed, tightening around him like a fist, making movement damn near impossible. But he couldn’t stop, pistoning inside her, his thighs slapping against her buttocks. The wet sounds of their coupling rang in his ears. It was too much.

Roaring, he pounded through her quivering folds as she came around him a second time—and forced his own.

His seed shot from his balls, up his shaft, and poured into her hot depths. He didn’t slow his brutal pace, growling his release. “You are mine!” Lost in the storm of euphoria, he reacted on instinct. His fang found his mark.

He bit her.

Another pulse of seed left him and into her womb, as he felt her come around him again.

Mine!