Chapter 8: The Taste of Blood
The scent of ozone led him deeper into the western palace, through corridors that drank the moonlight. Koga’s blood still sang from his release, his skin buzzing with the memory of Sesshomaru’s mouth. The triumph of that faint blush was a fire in his chest, but it was a fragile flame. He followed, not like a subordinate, but like a wolf tracking something he had marked, desperate to know if the mark had truly taken.
The balcony was a spear of worn wood thrust over the abyss. Mist curled up from the valley below, swallowing the trees, making the world feel small and close. Sesshomaru stood at the rail, his back to Koga, a pale sentinel against the profound dark. The breeze lifted strands of his hair, silver threads in the night.
Koga halted in the doorway, the warmth of the palace at his back, the cool damp ahead. He said nothing. The challenge was in the set of those narrow shoulders, the absolute stillness.
“You have learned to kneel.” Sesshomaru’s voice was not loud. It was a thing the mist carried. He did not turn. “Adequate. Now learn to serve.”
The words were a deliberate prick, a callback to his own cold assessment in the tea house. Proficient. This was the next lesson. Koga’s jaw tightened. His pride, that old, battered shield, rose up. He had just had this creature on his knees. He had just come down his throat. And now…
And now the memory of that submission, of Sesshomaru’s deliberate, world-ending mouth, made his cock twitch in his still-loose trousers. The need was a hunger, sharper than pride. It wasn’t about dominance or submission. It was about possession, and being possessed in turn. To have something of Sesshomaru inside him, to taste his control.
He crossed the wooden planks. The air was cold on his heated skin. He sank to his knees on the damp boards, the ghost of the mosaic tiles beneath him. He kept his head up, his amber eyes fixed on Sesshomaru’s back.
Finally, Sesshomaru turned. Moonlight carved the planes of his face, glinted in his impassive eyes. He looked down at Koga for a long moment, then his hands went to the sash of his robes. The silence was broken only by the rustle of silk and the distant sigh of wind in the pines. He parted the white fabric, letting it slide from his shoulders, down his arms, to pool at his feet on the weathered wood.
He stood revealed, pale and flawless as carved alabaster. The cool air didn’t seem to touch him. His chest was smooth, his stomach flat, the line of his hips leading down to the thatch of silver hair at his groin. His cock was half-hard, a promise of thick, heavy length.
“Worship me with your mouth, wolf.” The command was soft, absolute. “Show me you understand your place.”
Koga’s breath shuddered out. His place. Was it here on his knees? Or was it the place he’d claimed moments ago, pinning a daiyoukai to a pillar? They were the same. That was the terrifying, exhilarating truth.
He leaned forward, his hands braced on his own thighs. He pressed his lips to the cool skin of Sesshomaru’s lower abdomen, just above the hip bone. A kiss. Chaste, almost. He felt the faintest tensing of muscle beneath his mouth.
He dragged his tongue then, a hot, wet stripe through the fine hairs, following the trail down. The scent here was clean, sharp, uniquely him—river stone and something else, something wilder and older than the forest. Koga nuzzled into the crease of his thigh, inhaling deeply, before turning his head and taking the length of him into his mouth.
Sesshomaru was not quiet. A sharp, bitten-off sound escaped him. His hand flew to Koga’s head, fingers tangling in the wild blue-silver strands, not to push, but to anchor. To feel.
Koga worked him with a desperate, focused hunger. This was not the clinical expertise he’d been shown. This was messy, eager, all wet suction and the flat of his tongue. He sucked the head, swirling his tongue around the crown, tasting the first salty hint of pre-come. He took him deeper, relaxing his throat, until his nose pressed into the cold skin of Sesshomaru’s belly. He swallowed around him, felt the answering jerk in the hip under his hands.
“Yes,” Sesshomaru breathed, the word trembling. His other hand gripped the wooden railing, claws scoring deep grooves in the ancient wood.
Koga pulled off with a filthy, wet sound, his own breathing ragged. He looked up, Sesshomaru’s cock glistening in the moonlight, his own saliva on it. “You want more?” Koga growled, his voice wrecked. “You want me to make you come down my throat like I’m just some hole to use?”
Sesshomaru’s golden eyes were blown dark, his composure shattered. A faint, real flush stained his neck. His control was a fraying thread. “Prove yourself.”
It was all the permission Koga needed. He surged up from his knees, his own erection painful and neglected. He grabbed Sesshomaru by the hips and spun him, shoving him back against the sturdy balustrade. The remaining silk of his robes caught, tore. Koga hooked his hands under Sesshomaru’s thighs and lifted, forcing his legs around his waist. Sesshomaru’s back pressed against the rough wood, his head hanging over the dizzying drop into mist.
There was no preparation, no gentleness. Koga’s own trousers were still shoved down. He spit into his hand, slicked himself roughly, and notched his aching cock at Sesshomaru’s entrance. He met his gaze, saw the wild, unguarded want there, and drove in with one brutal, claiming thrust.
The cry Sesshomaru let out was torn from the core of him—raw, shocked, agonized pleasure. His claws dug into Koga’s shoulders, piercing fabric and skin, drawing blood. Koga didn’t care. The heat, the tight, clenching vice around him was blinding. He was buried to the hilt, sheathed in a pulse of liquid fire.
“Fuck,” Koga choked out. He pulled back and slammed home again, setting a savage, punishing rhythm. The balcony creaked with their force. Each thrust hit deep, the slap of skin on skin a rapid, obscene counterpoint to the night sounds. Koga leaned in, his mouth against Sesshomaru’s ear, his words gusting hot and broken.
“You feel that? That’s me. You’re so fucking tight, like you’re trying to keep me inside you.” He pistoned his hips, the angle ruthless. “I’ll make you forget every cold, lonely night you’ve ever had. I’ll ruin you for anything else. You’re gonna feel me for days, Sesshomaru. Every time you move, you’ll remember my cock splitting you open.”
Sesshomaru could only moan, a continuous, shattered sound. His head thrashed against the rail. His own cock, trapped between their sweat-slicked stomachs, leaked steadily. The aristocratic veneer was gone, replaced by something feral and aching. He was meeting every thrust, his hips rolling, taking him deeper, begging for it without words.
Koga felt the coil snap. Sesshomaru’s body locked, a strangled shout dying in his throat as his orgasm ripped through him. Hot stripes of come painted both their stomachs, his inner muscles clamping around Koga in relentless, fluttering pulses. The sensation was too much. Koga buried his face in the curve of Sesshomaru’s neck, biting down on the juncture of shoulder and throat as his own release tore from him. He pumped his seed deep, flood after hot flood, until he was spent and shaking.
He held them there, braced against the rail, both of them panting, trembling in the cold mist. The smell of sex and sweat and night air was overwhelming. Slowly, carefully, Koga lowered Sesshomaru’s legs, slipping out of him. A muffled sound escaped Sesshomaru at the loss.
Koga turned him, pressing his back to his chest, wrapping his arms around him to anchor them both against the drop. He nuzzled into the long silver hair.
“You’re mine,” Koga growled, his voice scraped raw with emotion and exertion. “And I’ll never let you go.”
Sesshomaru was silent for a long time, his breathing slowly evening. Then his hand came up, covering Koga’s where it rested on his stomach. His fingers were cold. He brought Koga’s blood-smeared hand to his mouth and deliberately licked a stripe across the knuckles, cleaning his own claw marks.
It wasn’t affection. It was a claim in return. A silent, primal acknowledgement. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, hoarse from screaming, but utterly certain.
“See that you do not.”