CLAIMING KIN by Salome and Talon

The Hanyou Terror: Ken Appears

By Salome and Talon

Warning: Shota. Smut. Kinks of many varieties. Don’t read it if you don’t want to.

Author’s Note: This story takes place about a month after Kin comes to live with Sesshoumaru.

He barrels through halls, crashing through doors. Traces of his characteristic elegance remain, but servants now unknowingly witness, wide-eyed and aghast, the aftermath of forced diplomatic missions, obligatory pleasantries, and mandatory fucking of worthless noblewomen on the Lord’s firstborn. Of course, even this provocation could not result in the gritted teeth and growling that goads Sesshoumaru to crack his knuckles and clench his fists, longing to take down at least one of the bowing sycophants. If only one would step in his path. But they do not. They treasure their pitiful lives far too much.

"My Lord!! My Lord!! Please!! My Lord!!! Jaken-sama...please we need to speak to Sesshoumaru-sama...that hanyou terror...blood everywhere...the kitchen’s a shambles, and the rafters in the Lesser Hall!!" cried the servants, all at once.

Jaken frowned, then glanced up at his Lord. He had been the Lord's servant since the heir had been whelped, though he rightfully kept himself away from the personal quarters now that he was fully grown. "My Lord, I believe they wish to speak with you concerning your hanyou… responsibility." He never, never allows any sort of scorn or derision to slip into his speech regarding the hanyou. If he had felt any in the beginning, he wisely kept it to himself.

Sesshoumaru rages inwardly. His youkai vassal reigns supreme at declaring the obvious and already-known. Has he not just been hearing the dissonant chorus of shrill demand, yelped query, and overquiet plea to do something about the child? His “hanyou responsibility” indeed. He kicks the toad with great pleasure as has comes to block his path, then halts. “Where is he?” he asks, his voice betraying far less than his body language.

The servant quakes. Without Jaken-sama's ability to be between them... The closest servant bows deeply as the others try to vanish into the background. "He...Kin-san is being…contained in my Lord's offices at present, my Lord."

Jaken rights himself from the wall and returns to his young Lord's side. "Contained? Cannot fully blooded youkai in the service of our great Lord control one small hanyou pup? The child is always well behaved!!! What have you done to my Lord's brother??"

He strides past the servantgirl and longs to kick out at Jaken again, but forbears. He likes the way he defends the pup, even though he must loathe him as much as Sesshoumaru once did. As he swiftly makes his way to his offices, he reflects: had the child not told him, and in recent memory, that what he does while Onii-sama is away is “sit and wait”? True, he had been gone for days, and he cannot care about immature zeal or bored mischief, but the word “blood” gives him pause.

"LET ME UP!! I WILL RIP YOUR THROATS OUT AND PLAY IN YOUR BLOOD!! MOTHERFUCKERS!!!" Kin kicks and struggles, but the adults hold him down. He has a nice purple bruise all along one side of his face that made him grin when it happened...entirely by accident, but he loves the pain, the blood beneath his skin. Kin won't though. He will have to apologize to his other self. He tried to go see Mother, but they stopped him. That sweet almond cream in the kitchen though...he has never ever tasted anything so wonderful!! And there is SO much to see and smell EVERYWHERE!!! "I WILL FUCKING END YOU!!!"

Sesshoumaru hears before he sees. The aggression in that voice. It rouses him. Still a child’s voice, yet more a throaty rasp with a biting edge that does not sound like any word or noise he has yet heard from Kin’s mouth. Neither pleasure nor punishment has brought forth such…power. He needs to see. A few more paces and he is there. He flings the door wide and comes upon a spectacle for which all the pleas and warnings could not have prepared him. Kin, his Kin, is a beast of blood. He is lashing out with red-tipped claws and ruby-fanged mouth. But it his flashing crimson eyes that betray the full truth, a truth that stirs Sesshoumaru to the depths of his soul. Servants clamp down on the frantic child-body with the whole of their weight, and it is clear they will not contain him for much longer. Sesshoumaru speaks, his voice an incontestable command: “Kin.”

He stops at ONCE. He knows that voice, even if it is the first time he's heard it. Deep within him, he can feel his other self stir...confirming...yes...this is Oniisama. He looks up, tongue touching his errant fangs, the ones his mouth will not contain, lilac bloomed across his face in vibrant slashes and he sees...beauty and power and Oniisama. This is what his otherself tried to explain to him. He understands now. "Oniisama. Make them GET OFF OF ME!!!"

The voice has changed now, but it is still not Kin. The eyes are turned upon him, and they seem to see so much further than the golden orbs he knows. He has no fear for himself from the bloodthirsty little devil, but he would like to get the battered servants out in one piece. “Kin, you will not harm them. Do you understand?” he says quietly, firmly.

He glares up, the bruise livid across his small face. "Mother says servants are not prey. I did not harm them until they tried to harm ME."

“Signify your understanding directly and immediately, Kin,” Sesshoumaru replies, the burr in his throat rising to a menacing growl. Knowing the child’s youkai has risen, he will not hesitate to attack him.

He scowls. He glares. And then puts his head down. "Kin will not harm the servants."

Sesshoumaru nods. “Go,” he barks at the servants. They rise, warily, both confident of their master’s speed and agility yet clearly terrorized by the hanyou’s ferocity. He does not watch them go but keeps his dispassionate gaze on the creature before him. “Why have you not told me of this part of you, Kin?” Outrage vies with passionate curiosity at the lack of disclosure when the child clearly knew his youkai could come forth in this manner. He has deliberately kept this from his brother. Word of his bloody exploits will no doubt soon reach his father, if it has not already. Punishment will not solve this. And Sesshoumaru will not allow his brother-pet to be taken from him.

"Keh..." He sits up and shakes himself, licking his claws. Mmm...almond cream. "It did not occur to Kin to tell you. I have been quiet." He stretches and stands up, enjoying the popping of his muscles and joints. He had been held down for hours. "We agreed that I would be away when it came time to meet Papa. We did not wish to get Mother in trouble." He scowls. "Why do you not let us see Mother?"

“And while you ‘quietly’ observed, you have decided you prefer your mother’s company to mine?” He walks slowly toward the feral child, unsure as yet of his specific intentions.

He frowns. "I have not observed. Kin said we were waiting for you to come back. I have never seen you before."

“Then your question need not be answered.” There are things he wishes to know, though the desire to respond to him as he is offers such temptation. Small yet so fierce, he could fuck the child ragged at this moment. He turns his back and steps to a window-casing. “And your irresponsible, disruptive behavior need not be tolerated.” He relaxes into a broadbacked chair. “Come to me.”

He snarls, quiet...almost under his breath. "No."

Foolish creature. Sesshoumaru cannot be taunted by a child. “Very well. I will summon servants and you will be sent back to your puny human mother. And banished from my sight permanently. Be sure Kin knows this, little beast. For I doubt he will forgive you for it.”

"You will not punish Kin for MY actions!! I will not go with servants." He folds his arms and glares, even as Kin clambers inside him. He won't let him out though...not until this is resolved. But he sees quite suddenly what Kin is trying to show him. And it makes him stomp his foot. "You can't just give into him like that...goddamnit...I will NOT roll over..." A very long and impressive string of curse words follow. He only just keeps Kin from regaining control, and only by stomping over to stand before their brother.

In a flash, the childbeast is in his grasp, pinned with both arms bent behind him. That the creature is hurting Kin concerns him. That it will control and terrorize both the child and the castle and result in not only in banishment from his privileged state but in dungeon imprisonment seems plain. Unless Sesshoumaru can reach it, tame it. The challenge excites him.

He yelps...loudly and howls as he struggles. "LET ME GO!! GODDAMNIT!! STOPPIT!!!" He kicks and struggles, but Oniisama is much stronger than the servants. Very much stronger. And he can smell his natural venom...the poison that his vibrant coloring warns about. He snarls and all but barks as he tries to twist in that iron grip.

There will be no more words. If rational discourse with the child is absurd, then any discourse at all with this creature is more so. No, it is bodily that this beast will be tamed. And tamed he will be. As he breathes in the rich, youkai scent, he is supremely confident that the promises far outweigh the risks. Taking both tiny wrists into one strong hand, he passes the other through the familiar tangle of hair. Long, slow passes intended to deny the rage he witnesses, to reject the words he spews forth, to humiliate. He knows they will not calm, though they do help curb the viciousness of Sesshoumaru’s own appetite. For the moment.

What...what is he DOING?? It is familiar...he must pet Kin a lot then. Kin...likes this Oniisama. A lot. Respects him. Of course he knows of him...they all do. Why isn't he hitting him or...or...he can't even budge his wrists from that grip. He makes a confused sound as he tries to pull away. "Stoppit!! You're mad at me... Stop...stop...pretendin'!!!"

The little sound it makes is pleasing. Not precisely Kin’s, but recognizable. He suddenly yanks the head back by a fistful of mane.

"Ahhh!!!" He pauses, then smirks. "Don't hurt."

He smiles to himself. If it were meant to hurt, he muses, it would hurt. He brings his nose to the beast’s face. The mortal-sweet smell is gone, replaced by something more familiar. It compels him differently from Kin’s usual aroma. But it compels. He draws his tongue up the side of his small, plump face. He tastes sweat, fear, the blood of mortals, and sweets. The latter repulses him. How he loathes confection.

He snarls and tries to snap at the tongue going up his skin. "Stoppit!!" Okay, truthfully, he doesn't mind it so much...he rather likes it. It feels...right. But...but...hmph. He doesn't know but what. "Leave my bruise alone," he commands.

He hears the whimper behind the bark, though he would like to hear it more plainly. He lets the head fall forward again, acquiescing to the foolish, pointless demand. “My bruise,” he says so proudly. Sesshoumaru returns to stroking the hair, and tempts fate by releasing the creature’s wrists. Binding is not taming, he well knows from father’s harsher lessons during his adolescence.

He cracks his knuckles, but...he doesn't try to get away this time. Kin...likes...reveres this...their Oniisama. He is starting to understand why. There is something...he cannot quite put his finger on. Something..."Why does Kin stay with you now?"

He searches the bright, savage eyes. How to answer such a question, even if he would…. “Do you know Kin so little that you do not ask him this yourself?” He dislikes knowing the schism is so extreme in the child, but this does not stop his cock from straining in his robes. This merely makes the tension in their relationship even greater for Sesshoumaru. Protectiveness, hunger, curiosity: the presence of the youkai-self brightens the already oversharp hues.

“I know Kin...Kin knows me. We are each other and ourselves. Kin does not know why we stay with you now. He only knows that we met Papa, and from that time we have not seen nor been allowed to be with Mother. He only knows that he is with you now. Not why. Not how.”

“I see,” Sesshoumaru says, nodding. “So you are his braver self, the one that will question me?” He presses the child’s face back to his lap, and rips the tattered clothing from his back in a single pull. He trails his claws slowly, delicately, with tender menace, down the pale, scar-marked flesh. “I will show you ‘how,’ fierce one. The why is not your concern.”

His yelp is muffled into the strong smelling junction of his elder brother's thighs. That scent is...heavy. And he kicks and struggles against the tearing of his clothes, though he stills at the claws trailing down his back. He says something extremely rude and profane, muted by the clothing and engorged flesh behind it. Was this it? The satisfying? The dominance? This was nothing new, except that he never rolled over for the older brothers and sisters. He would fight until he could not fight anymore, or until Mother stepped in. Can he fight this? Does he want to?

Balancing his desire to ravage a creature that can likely take a great deal more…attention…than can his hanyou self with the need to control him is an effort. The connection he has developed in so short a time with his brother is not about sexual gratification…or not entirely about this. He has been carefully attentive to what seems genuine in the pup’s responses versus that which was been learned in order to avoid or survive punishment. His own needs have grown as they have interacted. He cannot deny how much of his time is now spent thinking about the child when they are apart. But this youkai creature is different. Far more a type he is accustomed to dealing with at court in his reckless disrespectfulness, but also vulnerable—and packaged in the tiny body that is comfort, aphrodisiac, and easily digestible meal all in one.

He is still. Completely still as he breathes harshly into his brother's crotch. Did...does he...what does Kin do? What does this Oniisama do? Should he fight? No. Not like that. The smell makes him...strangely content to keep his face right where it is, and the claws on his skin raise gooseflesh, but Kin tells him to be calm. How can Kin be calm...how can they be calm? This is...so different to anything he has ever experienced. He is still, his ears cocked at an odd angle, showing his confusion, his unease, and yet his not-unease. He would not go out of his way to show dominance to another sibling, but he would fight dominance forced on him. Mostly he acted so Mother would not cry. But...he is himself. They are themselves. He breathes in short, hard pants.

He hears the breathing quicken…the reaction is so much of what drives him. What makes the child so calm now, so attentive yet quiet? What makes him smell so...alive? Is it as simple as commanding him to be silent, pressing him into his body? He raises his claws and slips his hand lower, cups the increasingly familiar bottom in his palm and strokes there. Will the youkai permit this without incident? His pulse begins to rise, in preparation for resistance that may indeed never come. His cock rises, thickens, enjoys the warmth of the nearness of the child’s—the youkai child’s—mouth. But no: he does not want the youkai’s mouth on him now. He wants to explore the creature, to explore the ways this creature is and is not his child.

His head jerks at the touch of his bottom. He yelps loudly, but doesn't move other than his head pulling back from that good smelling, dark, warm place. "What...what are you doing?" His voice is demanding, a little growly, but unsure. He has never been in a position like this before...where someone so much stronger than he was...was holding him like this...

When the little face rises, looks up into his eyes, he hears the aggression but sees only vulnerability, and he smells…oh, there are not words for how the child now smells. He is nervous, wanting, afraid, wanting… Is it possible the youkai aches even more than his neglected, bullied other half? He bends forward and wraps an arm around the child’s back and draws him in, offering an embrace that is protective, secure, and sure, even as he bring his other hand from between his legs and slips two fingers into his mouth, where he wets them before sliding them back between those small soft cheeks. Keeping the child pressed to his waist, he caresses the tiny pucker that he knows will soon allow him entrance.

His eyes widen and he squirms, trying to get away from those fingers. "What...hey...what are you...stoppit...I don't...I don't let them top me!!! I don't!!" There had never been penetration of course, but he knew what it was. "Do you do this to Kin?????" He is not...quite as struggly as he could be. The arm around him is...strangely safe. "Why does he like you?" he whispers.

The youkai inspires need in him that is plainly different from the hanyou…from Kin. This is not Kin. He talks too much. He whimpers too little. His heart beats quickly but the smell of fear is in him in ways it has not been in Kin since their first encounter. A kind of fear that rouses youkai dominance and need. He will take this creature because he can and because he is Kin but not Kin. He will take some care not to hurt him, but he will take him. He makes his grip tighter and presses a finger inside. He is silent and calm as he does so, and will remain so as long as the youkai-creature does not fight him.

His breath quickens. "That HURTS!!!" He snarls and struggles in the hold, but it changes nothing. His teeth never fit in his mouth properly, and he is tempted...very tempted to take a chunk of flesh that is so very close to him. He is impulsive. Not stupid. This dominance was not playing...nothing to be bartered within their walled garden with his brothers and sisters. Somewhere inside him Kin tells him to relax. It will hurt less. He has had that finger in him before then. Still he struggles.

The snarl is good. It fills him. Hurting the creature is of so little consequence. He will heal swiftly. And how many has he himself hurt this day. Sesshoumaru knows he is rationalizing even as the thoughts pour from him like the desire he channels into that wet, careful finger moving into the core of the little body. He withdraws to insert another, knowing full well the child cannot have become used to the first yet. And that is good too. Let him hurt the creature. Let him… But suddenly, he cannot finish the thought. And that which stays his mind so too stays his hand. He is no animal, no base creature. And this creature is no animal either. He is Kin. Whatever his smell, he is his brother. The same brother to whom he has fed food from his own fingertips, who has given him focus and pleasure in ways so frail and immature a being should not. He raises the child up by his armpits, as he has many times before, and watches the remainder of his garments fall away. He brings him forward and laps at him as he does Kin. He needs to feel the fear dissipate. He needs Kin.

He stills when Oniisama lifts him up. He stopped. He...he stopped. He stopped hurting him. And Kin retreats, with a self-satisfied smug feeling. And he stares at him with his blood red and blue eyes, and bruise along one side of his face, lilac gashes adorning his cheeks and chest and wrists and belly...and thighs. "You stopped hurting me." He blinks. "That is why Kin likes you." It isn't the only reason. But it was a good one, and he cocks his head to one side, as though the angle change will reveal more about this Oniisama than looking at him straight on.

“You talk too much,” Sesshoumaru murmurs, not wanting to be reminded that he has yielded dominance in order to gain...to gain perhaps an even more important kind of power? How can this child invoke so many contradictory responses within him? He licks the unbruised cheek of the child and tastes…not a raging creature longing for freedom but a defenseless, beautiful wild thing needing…control. Perhaps, he ponders, this is rationalization. But he tires of trying to solve the puzzle of this intricate hanyou sibling of his. A word comes to him: “Ken.” And indeed, the child is this: a tight little fist, balled up and ready to strike as well as a clenched hand, afraid to open.

He shivers at the tasting. He feels it more this time. "You don't answer enough," he says, but his voice shakes, and his fingers clench themselves in the silk of Oniisama's haori. To hold? For safety? For security? In fear? He isn't sure. But his eyes close, and his head tips back...just a little.

The markings that echo his own... It is both difficult and exquisite to look upon them in miniaturized form. He can barely remember being this small anymore, whether because it has been many years or because he long ago chose not to be able to do so he is unsure. But this "Ken" is himself, or a compelling reflection thereof. And he can renew the force of his own life through the life he offers to this other-self. "Little Fist, Kin lives with me because I wish it. Because I have a great deal of power and because I can give him a far better life than he has known or could know with a human mother and a pack of barely tolerated hanyou siblings. I do not wish to share you--him--with that mortal mother, and Kin has not told me he would choose otherwise."

He blinks at him. He calls him...something not Kin. He frowns. "We love our Mother. She cares for us, and is good to us. We have a sister we care for. Others...Kin cannot fight them. They are youkai...he is hanyou. I am youkai. I fight them. You are different. Power yes. Dominance yes. Kin does not like many. He likes you. You smell good. You feel..." He does not know how to describe it. He does not know how exactly to speak to this brother...this Oniisama...what he knows...what Kin knows...what they are together.

Kin likes you. The little fist speaks so plainly, yet so strangely. "Like" is not a word he would use to describe the relationship between him and his brother. No, "like" is no a word that reflects Sesshoumaru's worldview or thought processes. "Want," "need," "demand," "own": these are the words of the firstborn of the Great Dog Demon. But the world of his Kin--and this other Kin--is smaller, "different," as the fierce-precious youkai Kin puts it. "Will you accept a name of your own, little wild one? I would know you, name you, and be able to speak to you when you come forth. I will call you 'Ken,' if you will answer to it, and I will hear--and perhaps even heed--your words when you speak for Kin at times when he is not able to be as fearless as you."

His ears flick...there's an itch, but he can't reach to scratch it, as he is being held. "A...a name? We are one..." he says, but he understands...he is different from Kin even as they are one Kin...one Inuyasha. "We take care of Kin." That doesn’t sound exactly right either, but he is not used to talking to others, who are not Mother, not Hana. He struggles a moment, speaking in a half mumble to his other self, before looking up. "Kin says it is good. You are good. We are inclined to agree." A sudden thought jerks him though, and it has nothing to do with Kin, who has retreated again. "You must be careful of the new moon!! Kin will not think of this!!"

Sesshoumaru grows dizzy listening. He rises and places the pup in the chair, then turns and steps away. He no longer fears the creature will run amok. And if he attempts to do so, there will be no second chance. Indeed: perhaps he would do better to simply fuck the little fist and have done with him. The babble, the twitching, the dual personality, and the wildness--whose aftermath he will still need to address to whatever degree Jaken has not managed to restore confidence and calm--they tire the already overwrought inuyoukai. A week of hideously sensitive negotiations and now this. No, he will not press his nerves to the point of displaying his ire. That will be good for no one. He turns back to face the child, tiny in his oversized chair. "Very well, Ken. We will return you to you to your mother this night. Long before the new moon." Even as he says the words he regrets them. He finds he enjoys indulging the little reflection of himself at this moment, but he has now promised something he does not wish to do.

He...sits utterly still. And he trembles. "You...you don't like me? Kin will cry." His teeth clench. He won't cry. He won't. He doesn't cry. "You would give me a name and send us away? Why?"

The headache gallops forth on the hoofbeats of a thousand wild horses. The child is mad. And his youkai terrorizes servants--perhaps has even committed murder for all he knows. He cannot properly fuck the creature for he is too small. And he complains of missing his pitiful fool of a mother then rails against being returned to her. If he did not already loathe his father’s whim, he would now. He struggles to maintain his composure as a growl hums in his throat.

He folds his arms. "Kin wants to stay." He pauses, then says softly. "Ken wants to stay."

Resorting to the child's tactics is absurd. But he does so anyway. He comes to stand directly before the child and bends to bring his face scant inches away. "Why?" he snaps.

"Because!!" He snaps back, scowling.

Of course. His own absurdity in posing the childish question nets him equal and opposite childishness in return. Enough. He flashes fang and growls with a ferocity that does his heart...and his cock good. The pounding in his head will have to wait its turn to be dealt with (though he suspects that enough blood rushing to his erection will cure it). "Turn that face away from me and hike that willful youkai behind up where I can see it, whelp. Now." He is surprised at just how much he means it. And enjoys meaning it.

He scowls and waits just long enough to prove that he's doing it because he wants to, not because Oniisama says so. Slowly he turns his face away, turning around and getting on his hands and knees. There is a surprisingly ample amount of room on that chair. He's...never done this before. Never submitted.
He lets Ken take the position and stands back to admire it. He does not speak, though there is a low crackling burr in his throat, anticipation and pleasure, youkai-to-youkai heat. The child cannot own it, but he evokes it in his brother—so much larger and stronger yet no more proud or needy. Ken’s need to understand is so raw, so compelling. Oniisama will explain all, bodily. He watches, waiting to see how long the chatty young beast will stay still enough to hear the rumble of arousal in his brother’s chest. He will not rush this…unless he absolutely must.

It's hard to stay still. He can hear Oniisama...feel his heat near...the hotness of his body. He can smell him. And it is so hard to remain faced away. This submissive position is new to him. Difficult. He breathes in short pants, and he can hear his brother...Oniisama...he is growly. That more than anything keeps him facing away, in this position. He rocks, without realizing he is doing so, forward and back, in small, gentle movements.

The panting breath is good to his ears, the small movement, too. It is a child’s movement, and it causes him both arousal and pause. He wants the youkai before him, but he will focus on the best of what his father gave him—for there were experiences that were, indeed, beautiful—and not the worst. He speaks, his voice a throaty rasp intended to rouse and perhaps warn, but not frighten: “Ken, when you submit to me now, you earn the privilege of submitting to no other in this way, ever again.” This is not what he intended to say. But what did he intend? His cock begins to ache. Is what he just said true? Yes. The child—both Kin, who is already his, and now Ken, who will be fully his in mere moments—will obey his commands, including those to obey others; but no one else will claim his body, train it to his will and his needs, own it.

He looks down, between his arms, between his legs. "I NEVER submit to anyone." He pauses, then clarifies. "I have never submitted to anyone else." His voice is only a little trembly and unsure, but he still holds this position. Is he afraid to break it? No. Not...not really. But there is something about this Oniisama...this Eldest Brother…that is so different to anything he has ever felt, or smelt. He is not arguing with Oniisama...far from it. He feels strange...a tight coil of something deep in his belly. He wants to ask Kin about it, but Kin is nowhere to be found right now. And he realizes...this truly is his time. It is just him...and Oniisama.

Sesshoumaru pauses, considers what to say next, if anything. He walks over to a small cabinet that some would say has no place in an office. Inside are ropes, gags, blindfolds, oils, tinctures: the tools of a form of diplomacy in which Sesshoumaru takes particular pleasure. Now, he grabs only a small clay pot containing a richly scented oil that will make Ken’s experience less frightening, less painful, and, he trusts, deliciously memorable. As he turns, he acknowledges that a few more words are necessary. “I wish to claim you, Ken. Do you wish to belong to Oniisama?”

"Belong...like Kin belongs to Oniisama?"

He enjoys so much the way the child questions, bargains with himself, from so vulnerable a position. He does not touch him but instead puts the container down on a table beside the chair, removes its lid, and dips two fingers inside. “Yes. Kin belongs to me. But ownership takes many forms, Ken.” He swirls his fingers through the warm, slippery fluid, inhaling its light scent. “I cannot yet take Kin as I will take you. When he is hanyou, it is too easy to damage him, perhaps greatly. And I would not harm Kin. Neither would I harm you, Ken. Though I will have you, and it will require you to endure—as I know you can, child.”

"I don't understand, Oniisama." His nose twitches at the scent, his ears flick at the sounds of movement, of air, of the whisper of silks and silken silver hair. "Kin is very strong."

He approaches, fingers slick. He places his unoiled hand on Ken’s back and strokes from shoulderblade to tailbone. Hanyou or youkai, he is so small, so beautiful. “A youkai’s body can…withstand much more. Surely you heal more quickly, and I already know you relish combat, little fist.”

He ducks his head down. Yes. Of course. And that hand is so warm...so soft. "What will you do, Oniisama?" There is little fear in his voice, more uncertainty. Oniisama has already said he will not harm him. He believes that. He believes that as he believes Mother loves him.

Sesshoumaru murmurs a soft hushing sound that reverberates in his chest. It is nurturance, desire, and warning…and perhaps more, other messages much less tangible, less clear. He remembers his father making this noise, and how deeply it moved and soothed him. Sesshoumaru wants this so badly, both the surface of him—flushed skin, throbbing cock—and depths—his guts that clench with need to relive the best of his own childhood and banish the worst, to give as well as take pleasure, to be this child’s first. He reaches the oiled hand forward, slipping two fingers gently between the perfect cheeks, and strokes there, firmly, wetly, a soothing but insistent caress.
His breath catches in his chest, and he looks over his shoulder, eyes wide and red. But this time he doesn't protest, or say no...or pull away. His claws rend the cushion of the chair though, and he whimpers softly...uncertain. "They try...to Kin..." he tries to say...but the fingers are much...different than the first time. Slick and warm. And it feels interestingly good to be touched there.

He reaches his other arm around to touch that precious little cock. He wants it hard in his hand, hard for Ken, too, so the rest will hurt less.

His eyes go wide again at the touch. No one ever...his eyes close. The touch...it's amazing. And he...oh gods..."Oniisaaaaamaaaaa..." Is that what the coil in his belly is? The hardness that wants to be...is now being?

He cannot imagine it will not hurt, but he is trying. That he wants to try not to hurt the child is so much of the depth of this. And now, the preciousness of that small object, barely a shaft, barely loose skin shifting around tiny hardness. He salivates, listens to the way the child calls to him as his brother, his protector. He removes his fingers from circling the tiny o and dips them back into the oil. He scoops it then reaches in and slathers it there, working to ease and arouse. He lets his head drop forward to drink in the scent and every tiny movement of the body beneath him, and his hair flows forward and over the child’s back, around his sides. Safe, protected, secret place: he strokes the childcock with infinite patience.

He whines. Loudly. It isn't a sound he makes very often at all. The touch and scent of Oniisama is all around him. He...he thinks he knows what is going to happen. If he's right...it will hurt. But...he can't care about the hurting as he moves his dick against Oniisama's fingers, as other fingers touch and bathe him in oil. It isn't so much of a struggle now, to keep this position...this submission.

Ah, that whine. So like Kin’s: is he a fool to hear a different note there? Something unique—youkai calling to like and offering acknowledgment…and more. It is time to enter him, to begin the journey in earnest. Pressing forward, careful not to catch his claw in the precious childflesh, he pushes past the tiny muscle’s resistance. He holds, a mere inch inside, knowing how overfull the boy must already feel. He strokes the cock gently, rhythmically, with a lull that soothes him as well.

"Nnnnhhh!!!" Oh, that hurts...it DOES hurt!! He buries his head in his arms though, and does not pull away. He breathes and lets the stroking of his self soothe him. And it does. It feels so stiff and good. He's never felt that before, not even when he fought back and humped his brothers or sisters. Their hardness he felt, but not like this. His breath is much harsher now. Oniisama would not do this with Kin? There must be more.

He removes his finger carefully, circles the pucker, finding more oil, and rubs against a second slick finger to take more oil there, then eases the single digit back in. Slightly easier this time, but still so tight, so impossibly tight. He has never felt as patient in his life. The awareness brings a wash of pleasure through him. Oh, child. You will never know what you have brought me. His cock bobs in agreement, and he grins at its feel against his robes, finding an unnamed pleasure in denying its gratification at this moment. His hands are busy. The child must be taken, his mouth free to whimper, whine, and call out to him. His erection must wait.

He whimpers when the finger comes back, further this time. "Is...is this...*gasp* claiming, Oniisama?" His face is pressed into the crease of the back of the chair and the cushion, his fingers rending more material, his bottom higher now than it was before.

“This is you giving Oniisama a gift, Ken,” he says, jaw tight with concentration. “And Oniisama learning you.” He loves the way the child offers himself, suffers for him, learns pleasure from him. The tiny cock is so hard, a little finger, no more, but sweet and hard in his fingertips. And he begins to let his finger slip in and out, angling it to scoop oil from around the edges, reaching in further and aching to fuck the body in earnest. So damn small, so generously given. “Can you feel how special you are to Oniisama, Ken?”

"I...I...special? To Oniisama?" He swallows, whimpering at the movements of the finger inside him. It...feels so strange. And it hurts, yes, burns a bit. But after awhile, the hurt, while still there, is not so unpleasant. Like his bruise.

Throwing his hair back over his shoulder, he rises a bit, and removes his hand from around the pup’s tiny shaft. He takes the oil pot and pours it across the cheeks, down the crack, and onto his fingers. He wipes his hand through it and brings it back to coat the finger-prick and the precious, miniscule balls that have become so familiar a plaything. Almost as sweet as those ears, pressed fully into the back of the chair now. Everything is slick and warm and sweet-smelling now, and he luxuriates in the freedom to touch the child everywhere. The oil that slips down his finger makes entrance into his ass even smoother, more delicious. He fingers him more aggressively now, knowing he is not doing him damage, knowing he will soon need even more. Will the child be able to take a second finger, let alone the glory between his thighs that throbs regularly now, its own heartbeat?

"Aaaahhhnnnnn...Oniiiiiiisaaaaaaaaamaaaaaa..." He feels so hot and flushed all over. The finger inside him is less of an intruder now, and more familiar...as though it has always been there. And his little prick is so stiff...he can feel it bobble when he breathes. His little legs spread more of their own accord, and he feels a breath of air ghost across his balls from somewhere behind and underneath him, even as he's touched and teased.

Yes. That is what he needs. Spread your legs, take me into you. “Yes,” he murmurs aloud, to them both. He begins to pant himself—at both the effort and the beauty of it—and he cannot remember the last time he has done this. Childish reflection of exertion: he remembers-relives the feel of panting now. The memory is somehow untainted by the pain that often went with it then. He is feeling renewed, cleansed. The words are inexact, but they suffice. He withdraws almost entirely and presses his first digit to the one beside it, then presses forward. Take me into you, he thinks again. Accept me. Feel my power to rule you and also to strengthen you. Open to me and grow. Be tamed and be mine.

He throws his head back at the introduction of the second finger, mouth open in silent exclamation. It is several long seconds before the breathless whine makes it out from his chest. It hurts again. Oh it hurts...burns...but...so much more. More that he has no words, no experience for. He whimpers, then whines again, his ears slicking back with the uncertainty, the stretching pain, but also with the immense feeling of his Eldest Brother. He wriggles, but that makes more hurting not less.

He watches the head rise, sees the mouth open in pain-pleasure…it must be pleasure, too. And the treasure of his tiny size becomes even more manifest. He can not only stroke the minute cock and finger the tiny dot that is his anus but he can bend over him and take that mouth in a kiss. He locks his lips and drinks in the whimpers and whines that make him shudder. His cock presses against the child’s hips now, but he rests and does not mock-mount. His fingers only will urge the child open and make him his.

This...is so entirely new to him. But he can't not like it. His eyes close as his brother's mouth closes around his. He tastes and breathes him in, and he whines again, and it is eaten by Oniisama. He can feel...is that...is that Oniisama's cock? Against him? But the fingers move inside him, and around his own cock...and all he can do is feel. More.

He feels how overwhelmed the child is by his presence. He surrounds him now, he knows he is all of the world to the child at this moment. He wants this. He is swaddling blanket and cage and he is experience to the child’s innocence. Tiny mouth with such beautiful fangs. He sucks on them, suckles the tiny tongue. Gods, how he loves having his mouth on his boy. He salivates as he thinks of the taste of his genitals in his mouth. The way it makes him ache for more than his small body can ever give. Visions of his cock shoved inside become less real… How can the child, even the youkai Ken, possibly take him? He envisions the years ahead, as his child grows, becoming ever more his, ever more fully claimed, until he is his near-equal in size and strength. His fingers pump and his panting becomes deeper, more resonant. He longs to pry him open further, tries to remain attentive to signs of how much more he can take.

The pain settles...the ache is sweet, and he pushes his bottom up to the questing fingers. Is this what you wish, Oniisama? I have never given my submission to anyone, anyone except Mother. For Mother's sake. Do you want me? No one wants me...but...you do...don't you? His mouth is greedy, trying to suck and lick and keep Oniisama's mouth where it is.

He becomes more passive with his mouth, more earnest with his hands. The child toys and devours his mouth, and the worship is good. The lapping and his lips encircling and sucking on the tip of his tongue: gods, he needs to fuck. Reaching up a third finger, he tests. The cock will be impossible if one more finger does not go easy.
He yelp-whines into his brother's mouth. Loudly. Louder than the first finger had wrought from him. "Oniiiiii...ONIIIIIII..." He needs to do this...whatever this is. He does. Please...

That urgent voice is forced down his throat as he forces his third finger inside, more roughly than he intends. And as it fits, he knows he must make this happen—for them both. He takes his mouth from the child, and feels the child’s regret, then removes both hands for just a moment. As he does so, he quickly soothes the little fist with words, knowing he must be concerned at the sudden emptiness: “I am here, Ken. And I will give you what we need. Put your hand on your hardness, where Oniisama has been stroking. Make it feel good for Onii.” He coats his own aching cock with the remaining oil from the pot.

He whimpers at the loss of all the touchings, but he is reassured, even as he growls, softly. He reaches between his legs, almost surprised to find it still hard...still there without Oniisama's fingers on it. "What...what will you do to Ken...Oniisama??"
He will answer the noisy child, even now, especially now. “I will do what you have not allowed anyone else to do, Ken,” he says, soberly. His cock is well lubricated now, and he moves forward to nestle it into the crack of the perfect little behind of his child. He rocks forward a little, and feels the cushion of tightness rub him as he begins to softly roll his hips.

He gasps and pulls away, just a little, because the sensation is so different to the fingers. It is blunt and soft-tipped and hard and so big..."What is this...please...Oniisama...what is this?" His voice is a soft whine, but demanding nonetheless.

He recognizes the need. The newness of this makes everything more complex, more intricate, and more meaningful. He nods, though the child cannot see it, and removes his cock, wiping it as clean as he can on the folds of his garment, though he knows the oil is sweet and edible. “Turn around, Ken. Let me…introduce you.” He holds out his cock, stroking its ample length with pleasure.

He is reluctant to turn around and stop the feelings. But he obeys, his eyes going very very wide, as he kneels up.

“I will enter you with myself, Ken. Claim you. And pleasure myself with you.” He tips up the tiny, angelic face, so beautiful with its youkai markings, so fierce with the angry bruise shining up at him. He kisses the sweet O of his mouth. “Kin likes to touch it, to arouse it, and quench it with his lips and tongue. Would you like to touch it now—with your hands or your mouth, Ken?”

He reaches out small, clawed fingers and strokes the tips down its length. "So big...and hard...is it angry? Are you angry? You don't smell angry...why does it look so angry if you don't smell angry Oniisama? Kin likes this? Then I will like it too. We like the same things."

Sesshoumaru resists the shudder that the tiny clawtips bring. Never one to shy from pain in pleasure, he enjoys the curiosity and has no fear of harm. “It is flushed with blood, as your cheeks are now, looking at it. It is not an angry redness, but one of desire. You bring me desire, Ken. I need to share it with you. Touch yourself again for me, little youkai. And touch me, too.”

He sucks his lip, as he does, the way his teeth are never completely contained in his mouth. Touching himself, and touching Oniisama? He is surprised at the similarity...the sameness of their hardness. And yet so different. "Oniisama is so much bigger than Ken is."

If he were one to chuckle, he would. Instead, his pleasure shows only in the corners of his eyes, and in his cock as it swells in anticipation. “Bigger in every way, Ken. His body, his cock, his desire, his power, his control, and his need. But Ken’s need will swell like Oniisama’s over time, and Oniisama will nurture and feed Ken—and Kin. That is what it means to be claimed.”

"Is this why Kin stays with you now? Why Ken wishes to stay with you now? Is this why?" His bottom twitches and he squirms. "Ken feels very stretched out and empty now, Oniisama."

He groans. There is no other word for it. His body aches, burns. He can take no more of the child’s unintentional teasing. “Turn around, and let me fill you. Now, Ken.” His voice is so serious. He relishes its deep resonance as it comes out of him; does not wish to frighten the child but he needs. Now.

He looks, one last time at that huge member, drawing his fingertips along it. He obeys, and turns back around, pressing his chest and head down, and his backside back up. "Like...like this Oniisama?" If his husky, child's voice shakes a little, it concerns no one but himself.

Gods, yes, the way he obeys. Kin obeys naturally, adores openly; Ken obeys because he feels compelled, drawn by the powerful aura of his brother. His cock flinches, releases a spurt of pre-cum as he grips it and presses forward. He rubs it around the too-tiny aperture, this hole that will make way for him and all he offers to this child and to himself. He withdraws and pushes forward again, over and over, pre-cum and oil offering enough to at last feel the head begin to penetrate. Let me in, he says inside his mind, panting and containing most of a growl of desire that would shake the rafters if he released it into the howl it threatens to become.

He howls as the blunt heat stretches him, presses into him...the pain is unlike ANYTHING before, even the fingers are nothing compared to this. Nothing. And yet...even as he wants to pull away, even as he can smell the little bit of blood that comes from the stretching again...he snarls and puts his head back down. Panting breaths tear from him. He does not know to relax, to allow his brother to have an easier passage...to ease it for himself...but his little erection does not flag either.

He feels the muscle clench, hard. The child has no idea how to relax, but he is not helping. This is so damned unknown to him. He curses and relishes it in equal measure. “Breathe deeply,” he urges. “Think about how much you want Oniisama to care for you, to teach you, to be owned…” And he pushes further, his cock nearly strangled by the intense heat, pressure. And the smell of blood. His fangs feel like razors as he bites into his own lip in concentration—bites down just as he saw the child do moments ago. The urge to fuck him, open him, rend him is overwhelming… But he will master and control this, as everything in his life and his world. The child is his to destroy, but he wants so much more than that now. He will give them both terrible pleasure…somehow.

His open-mouthed, tongue-lolling panting helps. It is instinctive, as instinctive as it is to scratch at a flea, and he groans as he does so. "It...it is so...much...Oniisama...so much...please..." Please don't stop because it hurts me. It will hurt more if you stop...I know it. I will feel empty and alone...and...I want this...whatever this is for Ken and Kin...us. We. Oniisama...

At last the swollen head of his cock is through, inside. He doubts more than another inch is possible. He finds that fucking is redefined here: fucking has become rocking the child, cock wedged impossibly tight. The muscle grips him like a child’s hand, like Ken’s desperate words, needy and clinging. He cannot enter further, but this is somehow enough, all-encompassing. His hands caress the flesh before him, he needs to touch as he rocks gently, craves violently.

He whines...loudly...and he rocks back against that hot, impossible hardness, and writhes in Oniisama's touches. "Oh please...please...please..." His little staff strains between his legs, and his skin twitches and shudders, wanting more...so much more...and already too much.

He leans forward, seeing the child’s hand no longer holds his tiny prick. The pain must be excruciating, and he does not relieve it with pleasure. He pushes in, just a little more, and then pulls out a little. He wants to give both of them some semblance of a real fuck…though this is good…. He sweats and pants, though far more slowly than the overwrought child. He continues to stroke and caress his back and hips, then brings lithe fingertips to fondle his little hardness. It is unbelievably perfect in his hand.

That makes him squeak...yes...oh...that is...he squeaks again as Oniisama's fingers stroke him and he pushes against them, and pushes into the pushing...the pushing in his behind. He whines and clutches the cushion with his claws, his ears slick back at the intensity of everything. His skin feels...sparky. "Oniiiiiiiiiii....saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamaaaaaaaaa..."

He gasps as the child fucks both his cock and his hand. It is more than he hoped for, more than he can take. The sight and sound and smell…and now the feel of him. “Overwhelmed” is far too weak a word to describe the way the tension clutches just above his groin, the way his balls tighten with need. At the child’s cry, he knows he is going to cum. Can he? He is certain his climax will be too great for Kin to withstand… But this Kin is not-Kin, and suddenly the child’s desperate little motions are more than he can bear...

He shivers...gods...this is so much...his cock is twitching hard now. It sends jolts of pleasure everywhere, and Oniisama's pushing hurts, but still feels good all the same too. "Please...."

Will the child…can the child peak when he does? He loathes himself for not being able to answer the question, not being able to wait. And he is there: deep in the heart-depths of the child, his child, this perfect bastard hanyou brother with his youkai soul burning through and up his cock and he spits him out – shooting forth seed of himself, liquid soul, he growls – keen-howls –and hopes vaguely and from far away that the child can endure his pleasure…

It makes his head jerk when Oniisama inside him gets even BIGGER...and then...then he really is filled up, and the smell and the hotness is almost more than he can bear. It HURTS!! But there is delight in the pain...he realizes something good happened, even if he can't quite know what it is just now. One hand grips the fingers on his little cock and he rubs...hard, unseeing until something clenches all his muscles and makes a hotness spurt from inside his belly. And...and...with that, he can't hold himself up anymore.

He curses, grabbing the child around the belly, longing to turn him over and lick the cum from cock-fingers-belly-chair… But right now, as his cock barely begins to soften, he must withdraw—carefully. And here he is greedy too. He does not want to let go. Yet, he must be sure he has not hurt him, that he does not now become hanyou and suffer from it. With more patience than he feels, he slowly withdraws, and the audible wet pop gives him far more relief than it probably does the child.

He growls weakly as he's suddenly not so pressure filled anymore, his legs and arms working as he's emptied. He is...only half aware of what is going on around him, or even to him. "Nnnnhhhh..."

He cannot forego the pleasure now: he lifts and turns the child onto his back and kneels before him. His thick, warm tongue laps at him everywhere at once. He is so very small; his tongue can lathe everywhere at once. He tastes his own release, the tang of the child’s ass. He laps over tiny, sticky testicles and miniscule puppycock—precious and barely lickable as it retracts. Oh, the little youkai’s sweet wetness, traces of it on his belly. He closes his eyes and simply indulges in the potent unripe perfection of his body and essences.

He is limp. Very very limp. His eyes flutter at the warm, wet tongue, and he squirms, the smallest bit. His voice is thick and groggy, though he has not been sleeping, when he speaks. "Onii...sama? Did you claim me now?"

He returns from his tonguing reverie, facing the reality that while the child is his to enjoy, he will also continue to make his own unique perspective known. Put otherwise, he will continue to ask annoying questions that keep Sesshoumaru plainly aware that his plaything is very much a child. “How do you feel, little fist?”

"Limp. Sore. Full." He frowns. "Really really tired too. What did Oniisama do? He put his big cock inside Ken, yes? Like mounting?"

The obviousness of the questions and his ability to answer them himself washes over Sesshoumaru like a swarm of tiny insects. The illusion that this child shared an experience with him dissipates and becomes…something he lacks a name for. “It is just as you say, Ken.”

He rubs his eye fretfully and pouts. "Oniisama..." No...words aren't right. He forces his rubbery limbs to work and all but drapes himself over the nearest part of his brother he can reach, limp arms trying in vain to hold his little body against Sesshoumaru's.

He lifts the child into his arms, quickly tucking his sticky cock back into his robes as the fur at his shoulder wraps around them both. He needs clothing and rest. And Sesshoumaru needs to return to the world beyond this irresistible childspace. He needs to know exactly how much havoc the creature has wreaked and how well Jaken is managing it all. He shakes his head, hoping at least that no one has been killed. “Let us bring you to my chambers, little fist. I know you will be good now, for Oniisama.”