Chapter 10: The Morning After
The grip under the water held long after their breathing steadied. It was the first thing Koga registered—not the chill settling into the pool, not the deep, pleasant ache in his muscles, but the anchor of Sesshomaru’s fingers locked with his. He stared at their joined hands, pale and dark against the dark stone, and something in his chest gave a treacherous, painful squeeze.
He pulled his hand away as if burned.
The moment shattered. Sesshomaru’s eyes opened, the brief vulnerability there hardening back into polished amber. He stood in one fluid motion, water sheeting off his body. He did not look at Koga again. He stepped from the pool, seized a robe of black silk from a stand, and wrapped himself in it with the efficiency of sealing armor.
Koga stayed in the water, watching him. The salve had done its work; the sting was a memory, the ache a deep, thorough thing that felt more like ownership than injury. He finally stood, the water dripping from him, and climbed out. His own clothes were a pile of discarded fur and leather by the door. He felt Sesshomaru’s gaze on his back as he walked to them, felt it tracing every mark, every bruise.
“My chambers,” Sesshomaru said, his voice stripped of all nuance. “Now.”
It wasn’t a request. Koga turned, a smirk forcing its way onto his face despite the riot inside him. “Ordering me around already? Didn’t get enough?”
“Dress. Follow.”
Sesshomaru turned and left the bathing chamber. Koga was left standing in the steam, naked and dripping. He dragged his clothes on, the fur of his pelt damp against his skin. The walk through the silent, polished halls of Sesshomaru’s stronghold was a blur. His body hummed. His mind was a cage of wolves, all snarling in different directions.
Sesshomaru’s private chamber was as severe as the man. Black lacquer, obsidian, the ghost of incense. A single lantern painted the room in long, shuddering shadows. Scrolls of strategy lined the walls, maps of territories and bloodlines. A futon lay in the center, pristine and unwelcoming.
Sesshomaru stood by a low table, pouring sake into two cups. He was still in his robe, belted tight. He did not offer a cup to Koga. He drank one himself, then picked up the second and held it out, staring into the middle distance.
Koga took it, their fingers brushing. He downed the liquor, its fire a pale imitation of the one in his gut. “So. What’s this about?”
“You will sleep here tonight.”
The statement hung in the air. Koga barked a laugh. “Think I’m moving in?”
“I think,” Sesshomaru said, finally turning those golden eyes on him, “that you will do as I say. The night is not over.”
“The fuck it’s not. I’m sore as hell, thanks to you.”
“And you will be sorer.” Sesshomaru set his cup down. The click was final. “You claimed a desire to see this through. To break me as I break you. Or have you had your fill?”
It was a challenge, perfectly aimed. Koga felt his pride flare, hot and stupid. He stepped closer, into Sesshomaru’s space. He could smell the clean scent of him, underlaid with the musk of their sex. “I haven’t even started.”
“Prove it.”
Sesshomaru didn’t move, but his energy shifted, a predator coiling. Koga acted on instinct. He closed the last inch, grabbing the front of Sesshomaru’s robe and crushing their mouths together.
It wasn’t a kiss. It was a collision. Teeth, tongue, a furious reclamation. Sesshomaru met him with equal fury, his hands coming up to fist in Koga’s damp hair, pulling him closer, deeper. They stumbled backward toward the futon, a tangled, angry knot of limbs. Sesshomaru’s robe came undone. Koga’s leathers were pushed roughly down his hips.
They fell onto the thin mattress, Sesshomaru beneath him. Koga wasted no time. He spat into his palm, reached between them, and gripped Sesshomaru’s cock. It was already hard, thick and heavy in his hand. He guided it to his entrance, still loose and slick from the bath and salve, and sank down onto it in one brutal, claiming stroke.
The breath left Sesshomaru in a sharp, bitten-off grunt. His claws dug into Koga’s thighs, drawing thin lines of blood. His hips jerked upward, driving himself deeper.
“Yeah,” Koga snarled, bracing his hands on Sesshomaru’s chest. “That’s it. You want it? Take it.”
He began to move, riding him with a savage, punishing rhythm. This was different. This was dominance, a reassertion of the wolf who took what he wanted. Each bounce drove Sesshomaru’s cock into that sweet, devastating spot, forcing ragged groans from both of them. The room filled with the sound of skin slapping skin, of harsh breaths, of the futon’s frame creaking under their violence.
Sesshomaru’s composure dissolved. His aristocratic snarl twisted into something raw. He surged up, wrapping an arm around Koga’s back and rolling them, reversing their positions with terrifying ease. He pinned Koga’s wrists above his head, his weight a delicious prison.
“You forget your place,” he hissed, his thrusts becoming deeper, harder, each one punching a choked sound from Koga’s throat.
“My place is on top of you,” Koga gasped, bucking beneath him.
“Your place,” Sesshomaru said, leaning down to lick a stripe up the column of Koga’s throat, “is beneath me. Spread open. Used.” He punctuated each word with a driving thrust. “Mine.”
Koga’s vision swam. The dual sensation of being utterly controlled and completely filled was unraveling him. His cock, trapped and leaking between their stomachs, throbbed with each inward plunge. “Sesshomaru—”
“Say it.”
“Fuck you—”
Sesshomaru changed his angle, grinding deep, circling his hips. The friction was maddening. A white heat coiled tight in Koga’s belly.
“Say it.”
“Yours,” Koga sobbed, the word torn from him. “I’m yours, damn you!”
The concession unleashed them both. Sesshomaru’s rhythm fractured into something frantic, primal. His mouth found Koga’s, swallowing his cries. Koga came, his orgasm a violent seizure that clamped down on Sesshomaru’s cock, milking him. Sesshomaru followed with a muffled roar, spilling deep inside, his body shuddering through the release.
They collapsed, a mess of sweat and spend and tangled limbs. Sesshomaru’s weight was a solid, grounding warmth. Koga could feel the frantic beat of his heart against his own chest—a rhythm that gradually slowed into something syncopated, shared.
Slowly, Sesshomaru withdrew. He rolled onto his back beside Koga, one arm thrown over his eyes. The silence stretched, but it was no longer hostile. It was saturated, thick with things unsaid.
Pale light eventually began to bleed around the edges of the paper screens. Dawn.
Koga stirred first, the reality of the night settling into his bones. He sat up, every muscle protesting. He could feel Sesshomaru’s gaze on him, heavy and unblinking.
Without a word, Koga began to dress. He pulled on his leathers, fastened his pelt. The morning air was cool on the bite marks on his neck, the scratches on his back. He felt branded.
He stood at the door, hand on the frame. He didn’t look back.
“You’ll be back.” Sesshomaru’s voice was low, rough from use, but utterly certain. It wasn’t a question.
Koga paused. A smirk, real this time, tugged at his sore lips. He glanced over his shoulder. Sesshomaru was watching him, propped on an elbow, the sheet pooled at his waist. The dawn light cut across the planes of his chest, illuminating the marks Koga’s teeth had left.
“You can count on it, you cold bastard.”
He slid the door shut. The click of wood on wood was quieter than a sigh. Alone in the stark chamber, Sesshomaru slowly lay back down. The scent of wolf, of sex, of violent belonging, clung to the sheets, to the air, to his skin.
He stared at the ceiling, one hand resting on the space where Koga had lain, still warm. The ache in his chest was no longer a phantom. It was a precise, terrifying wound. He closed his eyes, but the darkness behind his lids offered no respite, only the memory of amber eyes, half-lidded in ecstasy, saying yours.