DISCLAIMER - The ownership and general brilliance that is the original Feudal Fairy Tale remains the property of its honored and rightfully revered creator Rumiko Takahashi without whose brilliance, we would not have fodder.
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Edited By The Inimitable WiccanMethusulah of Boundless Energy
Title: This Sesshoumaru Needs Not A Mate
Rating: Mature - Humor/Romance/Hentai
I am taking this opportunity to thank elle6778 for pretty much goading me into doing this lolol. You wicked evil onna! You know not what you did (soft smile and wink)…. then again, perhaps you did quirked brow and wink. Thank you, now and always. You gave me wings.
Part One - This Sesshoumaru Needs Not A Mate...
...so said the mighty Taiyoukai of the Western Lands. Mates, by nature, were a nuisance. They made demands, altered one's household, required copious emotional attention and served no other purpose other than the production of heirs, preferably in a timely fashion and, of course, male.
One did not need a mate for a mindless rut, however pleasurable.
Many a demoness in his past had fulfilled these carnal needs adequately enough, but so would a concubine or two. Still, that would be a far more practical solution, should he decide to engage in some of his more debauched fantasies; some of which were becoming more prevalent of late. He dismissed these musings… there was a time and place for all things after all.
Easily bored, rutting had lost some of its luster for the Taiyoukai after the first few conquests. He knew, in a practical sense, he was desirable: a coveted lord graced with intellect, strength, looks to spare, and breeding. In short, a catch.
He would eventually find a suitable mate, he had plenty of time. He still did not understand how Prince Kouga - albeit a somewhat coarse and untutored youkai yet technically of 'noble' birth - could consider entering a lifelong bond at this particular point. Especially now, when the evil hanyou Naraku was gathering minions for the express purpose of vanquishing all the Lords of the Sengoku Jidai after completing the Jewel of Four Souls.
With much irritation and furrowed brow, the Western Lord thought the vile hanyou was closer to his goal; thanks, in large part, to the undisciplined stupidity of his worthless half-brother and his pathetic little band of well-intentioned ningen.
'Onigumo's demonic incarnation must be dealt with first, or the fate of the world will be inexorably changed, and darkness will befall everything.'
'Iie.' Before he could ever consider giving a demoness the privilege of bearing him an heir to the Western Lands, Naraku MUST be dispensed with. His features were set in stone, his eyes hardly even perceptible beyond cool, gilded slits, at the thought of the impending final battle.
So stood the Mighty Taiyoukai on his balcony, musing on things both ridiculous and profane.
Sesshoumaru felt an unearthly chill run down his spine, heralding portents of change that he could not, as yet, identify. Perhaps it was due to that scroll from the Ookami Prince, inviting him to his mating feast. It had been weeks, and Sesshoumaru still had not deigned to answer.
Turning from thoughts of Prince Kouga's impending debacle, he called forth his youki, expanding it to the east instinctively. Nothing… not even another demon's jyaki, and yet, his beast remained on edge. A low rumble of quiet frustration emanated from his being.
He knew that something was amiss.
The Western Lord did not move from the balcony of his private chambers, still taking in the pleasurable scent of the ocean's breeze. Clad only in a floor length black linen yukata, his heavy silken mane drying in the soft caressing wind, he gracefully tilted his head skyward, flicking a wayward strand over his shoulder with one elegantly tapered finger.
Rays of sunlight, rising from the east, cast an unearthly glow on his pale skin. It still bore traces of moisture from his ritual morning dip in his private hot spring, hidden discreetly at the end of a long, naturally-lit passage just beyond his chambers. There were perks to being the Taiyoukai, after all. The demon lord was fastidious about his person, something the ningen of his era were not – another excellent reason for wishing their early demise as a species.
He was the very embodiment of a mighty feudal lord, his countenance exquisite. Indeed, he was the epitome of masculine perfection with his chiseled aquiline features, those piercing, predatory, sun-kissed, almond-shaped eyes, and the distinctive maroon markings of his familial house. What remained atypical against the austerity of his refined masculinity were his delicate, sensually-curved lips, belying his cold facade.
Kouga's ridiculous invitation once again put from his mind, he scanned the courtyard below for any anomalies in the daily routine of his staff. They went about their usual morning preparations, fully aware of his presence, but never looking up at their lord, in fear of incurring his wrath for disturbing his morning musings.
With a sudden change in the winds direction, a pleasurable scent caught his attention, that of sakura blossoms.
The Western gardens were in bloom and the well-worn stone path was carpeted in petals of white and pink. For a moment, his features softened, remembering his ward, Rin's, blissful expression the first time she had laid eyes on the cherry blossoms in full flower. Sesshoumaru, who took the beauty and delicately scented buds as a matter of course, saw their fragile perfection anew through those big chocolate-brown eyes. Those eyes had seen much in the way of hardship and cruelty, yet little of beauty and gentility. He came to the sudden realization that he missed the little youjin, though he would never admit this, even on pain of death. Her incessant prattle and games of torture with Jaken were a small price to pay for her presence. Jaken would not, of course, agree – but that mattered little, if at all.
Rin was currently visiting with the kitsune Shippou that traveled with his baka half-brother's tachi. He would take Ah-Un and retrieve his ward this very day, with the excuse of patrolling his lands.
His eyes became hooded and his lips quirked upward in wicked glee at the sudden, predatory, prospect of menacing the foul-mouthed hanyou. 'Yes, this Sesshoumaru needs to remind that uncouth pup of his place,' A modicum of injury to Inuyasha's person would do the trick nicely.
The Taiyoukai's pleasurably violent musings were cut short by memories of that irritating, often times indecently-dressed, onna who followed the half-breed like a lovesick puppy.
'Pathetic, these emotionally unstable ningen,' he sniffed in disgust. 'Such a waste of energy; how had they survived as a species until now?' This mystified the Taiyoukai.
His lips formed an angry slit as he continued to envision how she would undoubtedly interfere with his little skirmish, just as she had done countless times before.
How Inuyasha allowed his bitch such privileges astounded the youkai lord. Though a half-demon, he remained – to Sesshoumaru's horror – a Taishou. 'Surely, he knew how to demand proper decorum suitable to her position as the Alpha bitch of the tachi. Her mouth always got the better of her; this Sesshoumaru could think of far better uses for her mouth than impudent commentary to one so far above her station.'
The lord's amber gaze suddenly grew more hooded and a slow, menacing smile graced his lips.
Perhaps he should simply behead her upon their next encounter.
A growl came from somewhere within his chambers, almost startling the youkai. It took a moment for him to realize it had come from... 'this Sesshoumaru?' One delicate brow rose in annoyance… his beast was once again making its unwanted presence felt.
Apparently, the vision was not quite as pleasing a concept to his ja-ku beast.
'Regardless, one of these days, she was going to go too far with her insolent tongue and this Sesshoumaru might just have to show her the proper place of a bitch.' Even if said bitch was a lowly ningen who happened to be his mortal enemy and the de facto mate of the worthless hanyou.
A tentative series of taps on the shoji brought the youkai abruptly from his violent, and somewhat debauched, musings on the proper uses of the Miko's mouth – a current fixation.
"Ohayo gozaimasu Sesshoumaru-sama," came an apologetic little voice beyond the fusuma.
"Enter Jaken," responded the smooth, silky baritone.
The dog demon set his visage in its customary mask of bored reserve, turning partially from the pleasing view of the ocean to face the unwanted intrusion of his obsequious servant. Sesshoumaru ground his teeth in irritation, prepared for the inevitable obeisance and sycophantic drabble of Jaken, which supposedly passed for devotion and servitude.
'Hn…This Sesshoumaru should see just how hard the little kappa youkai could bounce off the cobbled courtyard one of these mornings.' He smiled maliciously.
Sesshoumaru knew what was to greet him. He had uncharacteristically avoided responding to Prince Kouga's invitation for near two weeks now. He had to attend; there was no choice in the matter. This was the mating feast of an important ally, a matter of state. Still, someone had to pay for his displeasure and, on this morning, it would be Jaken.
Jaken gulped audibly on the other side of the sliding door and his eyes, usually comically bulbous, were now doing the impossible - attempting to leave their sockets. The kappa had noted that, of late, his Master had been more irascible and the little toad youkai had no idea why. Thus, he had - out of self preservation - stayed as far away from his lord as protocol would allow for fear of dire reprisals.
On this morning, however, repercussions were inevitable and couldn't be avoided. He had to send the messenger Ginta back to the Eastern lands with a suitably diplomatic response to the Ookami's invitation, or there could be untold consequences to the general peace between the Eastern and Western Lands.
And so, with a fresh scroll and writing implements in hand, Jaken slid back the decorated shoji doors already assuming - as protocol dictated - a crouched position. He removed his geta respectfully, and closed the sliding doors quietly behind him, maintaining his inordinate fascination with the tabi on his tiny little feet.
Never once did Jaken look up at his lord, who still stood ramrod straight on the tokonama off the balcony glaring at his retainer. He did not need to look to feel his lord's youki coming at him in waves of displeasure. This truly was not going to be Jaken's day.
Sending a scroll had not been enough of an invitation to Western Lord. No, the wolf prince had insisted his most trusted messenger and friend remain until he had gotten a reply, if for no other reason than to infuriate the mighty youkai, who could sometimes be mistaken for a recluse.
Sesshoumaru had not only read the missive in Jaken's presence, but watched dispassionately as his dokkasou liquefied the parchment, obliterating the offending kanji to his satisfaction.
"Yes," intoned the youkai lord, "a fitting end to a frivolous missive about an ill-conceived event not worthy of this Sesshoumaru's time."
Jaken's ridiculously large eyes, blinked rapidly in disbelief. He rubbed his tiny clawed hands together nervously and began to speak.
"Should it please my lord, this most humble and unworthy servant, Jaken, could respond to the Wolf Prince's joyous event?"
This, undoubtedly, was not the kappa's best choice of words, as he soon found out.
A menacing growl, protruding fangs, red-rimmed, gilded slits, and the sudden inability to breathe, due to asphyxiation, were his answer.
Sesshoumaru continued to stare at his retainer, turning his head from side to side in predatory fascination. 'It truly was possible for those repulsive, always-pleading orbs to grow larger.'
He reluctantly loosened his hold, allowing one clawed finger to release just enough poison to give Jaken a further reminder of his impudence. The kappa squealed in pain – an added bonus. The Western Lord smirked and unceremoniously dropped the little toad to the tatami, returning his gaze to various blank scrolls set atop the low table. He gracefully sat, brows furrowed.
"Hn." He would respond… in his own time.
The sound of shuffling garments drew his attention to the groveling bundle on the tatami.
"Leave Jaken. See to the messenger's needs… perhaps you can find a suitably dank cave in which he may await this Sesshoumaru's response." With that, he stood effortlessly, heading to his dojo for morning practice without a backward glance.
Jaken remained a google-eyed puddle, staring at the retreating back of his Master in confusion, little-knowing that his lord was waging a yet-unnamed battle within.
For whatever reason, in the last two weeks, Sesshoumaru was plagued - courtesy of his rather warped beast – with constant visions of a certain Miko and Taiyoukai in various compromising positions.
On this day, said vision manifested itself as a set of long, decidedly shapely legs coiled suggestively about his midsection.
Sesshoumaru became uncomfortably aware of the tightening of his hakama and barked a resounding warning to his beast, who seemed to derive sadistic pleasure from this, now daily, torture.
The Taiyoukai was not alone heading in the direction of the dojo. At a discreet distance hobbled the nearly-deaf kitchen servant Shou. At that moment, Shou was attempting to balance - somewhat precariously - various bits of priceless porcelain destined for the dining hall. Unbeknownst to the Taiyoukai, the servants often used his private wing as a shortcut to the hall.
"SWOOOOSH!... CRASH!... SMASH… CLATTER… THUD!"
Jaken quickly gathered himself, running as fast as his stubby little legs could carry him, in the direction of the newest calamity to befall his Master's private wing. He was fully prepared to deal with this underling who dared to disturb the quiet required by his Master for his morning practice in the dojo.
As Jaken rounded the bend, however, two things greeted him… the decapitated, acid-laced statue of a demoness, now laying prone, and the hysterical babblings of Shou, who was surrounded by porcelain debris, some of which he was meticulously picking out of his…
'Yes,' thought Jaken, 'it really would be best to see to the Ookami's messenger.' While he was at it, he should also see about other necessary, humdrum, tasks in the running of the palace. Then, perhaps, he would even engage that wretched child, Rin, in some form of play that did not leave him bound, gagged, maimed, or otherwise festooned in the local flora.
And so it begins…Bows Reverently
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