Such Sweet Sin
folder
InuYasha › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
2
Views:
3,545
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
InuYasha › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
2
Views:
3,545
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Inuyasha nor do I make any money from writing this piece of fanfiction.
And Inside, She Was Willing To Sin
A/N: This one was originally written for week 37: incest taboo at the LJ iy erotica comm, iyhedonism. I also wrote a loosely linked continuation to this, which is the 'second chapter'. At first I was going to write inucest, the easiest (and often generic) incest in the IY fandom, but then a twisted corner of my brain asked 'What aout Sango?'. And then... I had to write it. I understand that the content of these ficlets is controversial but I'd rather that no-one who wasn't comfortable with reading such material reading this and then proceeding to tell me how sick and twisted I am. Don't. Just... don't, please. This is a fiction, a fantasy, my exploration of Sango's darker side. If you don't feel comfortable with it, just forego reading completely.
WARNING: CONTAINS INCEST!
* * * * * * * * *
She thought it good that he did not even remember her name. It made it all so much easier, helped to quench the disapproving, panicked, cry of her subconscious.
It was better this way.
The hardest part, really, was to keep their meetings secret. Always by chance they were, the siblings drawn together by some in-explorable force. She knew deep down that it was just their shared love as siblings. Yet, it was nothing but that, forbidden and all but siblingly. She wanted him. Having seen how he'd grown up, now at his early teens, she needed a connection.
And because he did not remember and she'd not make him, this was the only way to create such a deep link between them.
But looking at him today, stripped naked by her command, standing proud and erect in front of her in the fading light of the day, she knew it was all lies. She did not need the connection of siblingness through the heightened senses of oblivion, she wanted him for him, nothing else, nothing more. There was no turning back now, either way. The knowledge of his horror when he would remember their blood connection horrified her as she stepped in front of him, her fingers caressing his cheek and her lips turning up in a smile, regardless of her inner turmoil.
Her other hand moved south, grasping firm flesh on her calloused palm. She smiled to him. He smiled back, not flinching, he never flinched anymore. She shuddered to think what must Naraku do to him to induce such docile behaviour when her brother was intimately fondled, touched. Or was it really just her that had made him into this? Brown eyes looked into hers, asking.
“Please?”
“Yes, Kohaku, what is it?” she asked, as always. It seemed this was ritual to their encounters. He always asked.
“Can I kiss you?”
His voice was such a little boys. Eager to please. Yet there was a shadow of a man in it. A youth on his road to adulthood all too fast. She felt so sorry for him to having have grown up too fast. But it exited her, especially since she was showing him the way.
She knelt to accommodate him, he might sound like a grown up at times but was still shorter than her. His lips on hers were feather soft, a simple yet powerful kiss. She was damned to feel moisture pulse in the apex of her thighs by the act.
But she had long ago foregone the shame. The disgust against such an act. They would both be dead sooner or later, so she could at least let them both live a little in between. He could never boast to have such a connection with her with his wandering hands and gaudy lines. This was what she needed, ached for. Her brothers lips on hers and hers on his, a tongue sliding out to meet his as they kissed again.
As he feasted on her bosom, fondling and kissing and suckling at her breasts, like she was the mother both had lost long ago, she did not feel an increment of remorse. This was how it was supposed to be. Her hands wound around his back and held him close, a perverse mother's touch, a way a sister should not be to one's brother as she pushed him down onto the forest floor and swallowed his eagerness deep.
He did not last. His essence was bitter, body only just past the border of youth, at the cusp of his sexuality. She licked him clean gently as his body shuddered with aftershocks, his hands buried in her hair.
A quick shift and tumble sent her down onto her back, his hands spreading her thighs, head going after the moist folds in between. She gasped into his delicate touch. His tasting of her flesh driving her half mad. It was such forbidden ecstasy. Her perverse connection with him cemented as she cried out, reaching her peak.
Gathering him up against her bosom she kissed the crown of his head.
“Good boy Kohaku, good boy...,” she murmured wearily, as he fell asleep.
WARNING: CONTAINS INCEST!
* * * * * * * * *
She thought it good that he did not even remember her name. It made it all so much easier, helped to quench the disapproving, panicked, cry of her subconscious.
It was better this way.
The hardest part, really, was to keep their meetings secret. Always by chance they were, the siblings drawn together by some in-explorable force. She knew deep down that it was just their shared love as siblings. Yet, it was nothing but that, forbidden and all but siblingly. She wanted him. Having seen how he'd grown up, now at his early teens, she needed a connection.
And because he did not remember and she'd not make him, this was the only way to create such a deep link between them.
But looking at him today, stripped naked by her command, standing proud and erect in front of her in the fading light of the day, she knew it was all lies. She did not need the connection of siblingness through the heightened senses of oblivion, she wanted him for him, nothing else, nothing more. There was no turning back now, either way. The knowledge of his horror when he would remember their blood connection horrified her as she stepped in front of him, her fingers caressing his cheek and her lips turning up in a smile, regardless of her inner turmoil.
Her other hand moved south, grasping firm flesh on her calloused palm. She smiled to him. He smiled back, not flinching, he never flinched anymore. She shuddered to think what must Naraku do to him to induce such docile behaviour when her brother was intimately fondled, touched. Or was it really just her that had made him into this? Brown eyes looked into hers, asking.
“Please?”
“Yes, Kohaku, what is it?” she asked, as always. It seemed this was ritual to their encounters. He always asked.
“Can I kiss you?”
His voice was such a little boys. Eager to please. Yet there was a shadow of a man in it. A youth on his road to adulthood all too fast. She felt so sorry for him to having have grown up too fast. But it exited her, especially since she was showing him the way.
She knelt to accommodate him, he might sound like a grown up at times but was still shorter than her. His lips on hers were feather soft, a simple yet powerful kiss. She was damned to feel moisture pulse in the apex of her thighs by the act.
But she had long ago foregone the shame. The disgust against such an act. They would both be dead sooner or later, so she could at least let them both live a little in between. He could never boast to have such a connection with her with his wandering hands and gaudy lines. This was what she needed, ached for. Her brothers lips on hers and hers on his, a tongue sliding out to meet his as they kissed again.
As he feasted on her bosom, fondling and kissing and suckling at her breasts, like she was the mother both had lost long ago, she did not feel an increment of remorse. This was how it was supposed to be. Her hands wound around his back and held him close, a perverse mother's touch, a way a sister should not be to one's brother as she pushed him down onto the forest floor and swallowed his eagerness deep.
He did not last. His essence was bitter, body only just past the border of youth, at the cusp of his sexuality. She licked him clean gently as his body shuddered with aftershocks, his hands buried in her hair.
A quick shift and tumble sent her down onto her back, his hands spreading her thighs, head going after the moist folds in between. She gasped into his delicate touch. His tasting of her flesh driving her half mad. It was such forbidden ecstasy. Her perverse connection with him cemented as she cried out, reaching her peak.
Gathering him up against her bosom she kissed the crown of his head.
“Good boy Kohaku, good boy...,” she murmured wearily, as he fell asleep.