Inuyasha and all its characters are created by Rumiko Takahashi. I merely occasionally borrow them for my own twisted purposes.

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It is said that scent is the strongest sense, and the most evocative. How much truer must this be for one such as this Sesshoumaru? The scent of the human settlement two leagues off is as clear as that of the sunlight-shriveled blossoms strewn amidst Rin's hair. The rich earth gouged by Ah-un's talons is as pungent as the memory of the turned loam of my vassals' tillage. And then there is him...

I goad him about his scent, how it is tainted by his human mother, and the company he keeps, but that is merely an excuse. I do not despise the scent of humans, they are... interesting. As all the myriad smells of living things are interesting. Something to roll in, something to taste, something to fuck... No, it is not the human in him that infuriates me. Rather, it is that my brother smells exactly like Him.

Father.

The whelp approaches, and the scent of Him demands this Sesshoumaru's submission. It calls to me to prostrate myself, to lie upon my back and bare my throat to this child that smells of Father. It gets inside me, brings me to my knees, tells me to offer myself up to Him, to take His fuck...

This I shall not do. I bow to none, save Father. Not even to this poor imposter who wears His scent like a banner, a clarion call to submit. I must write a new memory over this scent. I must. I will. This Sesshoumaru wills it. It shall be so.

I grab the pup, with his insolent scent and ill-mannered mien, by the scruff of the neck, and I shake him. He growls, but goes limp, as all beta hounds will. With razor claws, I strip him of his garments. He shivers, his scent now sour with fear, now sweet with unwilling desire. He knows this Sesshoumaru will fuck him; he can taste it in the air. And he will submit. He will learn his place.

I bend him before me, and the growl becomes a keening whine, a plea for both mercy and indulgence. He will get neither. It is this Sesshoumaru's right to mount him, and my duty. It is my brother's duty and, whether he understands or no, his privilege to be mounted thus. Yes, he is privileged. He will learn his place because he has been given a place, however grudgingly. He is acknowledged.

And yet, as I pound him into submission, His scent rises around me. It threatens to overwhelm this Sesshoumaru and drown me in memories, weaken my resolve to claim what is mine. And I cannot suppress the twinge of jealousy that plucks at me at times like these: this is yet one more thing you have gifted your half-breed bastard, Father. Your scent. One more thing that should have been mine.