a/n: for hella's birthday. explicit slash because there's no better present!

a little of you in me

Sesshoumaru tastes like power. It's not something Inuyasha has ever wanted to know.

But he can't stop thinking about it, now that he does. He suspects it's just another way for Sesshoumaru to show off, a means to shove his pureblood youkai bullshit in Inuyasha's face - same as his stripes and pointy ears, because Inuyasha sure as fuck doesn't have dregs of energy clinging to his skin. He tastes perfectly (human) normal, salty with a side of sour, and if he had to gnaw on his arm for a little while to make sure of that, well. What of it?

It's not a big deal, Inuyasha knows it's not. So sparks prickle on his tongue as it traces the curve of muscle; so his nose twitches at the unmistakable smell of ozone, like there's a storm stirring on Seshoumaru's skin. So his stomach clenches up tight and saliva floods his mouth, so it makes him reach for both his sword and cock, so what? No one's making Inuyasha lick the guy.

It's just - they're brothers. For all that they're like night and day, for all that Inuyasha's tainted by human blood and Sesshoumaru by that massive stick up his ass, they're still brothers. Maybe it was just wishful thinking or whatever it's called when you want to feel a fucking connection, but Inuyasha thought there'd be something - anything to tie them together. That maybe if he got close enough he would be able to see what he couldn't over the length of his sword; that hey, they weren't so different after all.

He thought wrong. They are different, almost painfully so, and it's never more obvious than when they're like this, wrapped up in each other, all hands and mouths. Sesshoumaru's breaths are even, long fingers caught in the tangled mess that's Inuyasha's hair-

"Ow, fuck," he yelps as those fingers twist and yank, pain shooting through his scalp. "What the-"

He can't make out Sesshoumaru's expression in the dark, but it's not like the cold bastard ever wears one anyway. The hand in his hair is curled tight and Inuyasha's head is jerked so far back it's straining muscles in his neck, making him grit his teeth. He's seconds away from doing some hair pulling of his own, maybe even a little scratching and biting to spice things up, when Sesshoumaru speaks.

"I am not here to service you." His voice is as flat as ever, but Inuyasha thinks he can see his lips curl around the edge of a snarl.

"Huh?" he manages, which is pretty fucking eloquent considering Sesshoumaru stopped in the middle of a rut to make absolutely no sense.

"You are distracted," Sesshoumaru says, and it would sound like an accusation if it came from anyone but him. Inuyasha valiantly holds back a snort as he tries to picture Sesshoumaru looking petulant, lower lip poking out in a pout. It's like trying to imagine a colour that doesn't exist.

He considers, for a second, telling him just who he was distracted by. Sesshoumaru isn't petty enough to be jealous, but he's a prideful, possessive little fuck, and the thought of Inuyasha being bored enough with the proceedings that he'd get carried away fantasizing about something more exciting must sting. The hand in his hair tightens and Inuyasha grins. Then again, how often does he get a chance to sprinkle salt on the wound?

"Maybe if you planned to do something other than hump me, I wouldn't be."

Silence stretches long enough that Inuyasha starts wondering whether he left his sword within reach. Then there's the wash of hot breath against his throat and the quick, light brush of fangs, a pressure that has his back arching automatically, hips knocking against Sesshoumaru's before he lifts himself up and away. Inuyasha grouses at the tease, wraps his legs around his waist to draw him back in.

"Don't provoke me," Sesshoumaru says darkly.

"Don't make it so easy," Inuyasha counters, grabbing a fistful of silky hair and giving as good as he's got.

Sesshoumaru's mouth is demanding against his, and claws scritch near the base of Inuyasha's ears. He whines into the kiss because he can't not, fuck, that feels good, and it's hard to tell with their mouths open and panting but he's pretty sure his brother is smirking, annoyance evaporated in the face of the heat that's building between their bodies.

It's humid and a little rank in the cave they've found. Sesshoumaru refused to sacrifice mokomoko for the sake of Inuyasha's comfort - stingy bastard, next time they'll see how he likes it with a billion fucking rocks digging into his back - and the rain outside isn't showing any signs of letting up. The occasional breeze traveling in the right direction ends up spraying them with water, and it's too dark to see anything more than vague shapes, the barely there gleam of Sesshoumaru's hair.

It's not the most comfortable Inuyasha's ever been, but he's used to having worse. Sesshoumaru isn't, but he's here anyway, and the thought makes Inuyasha pause, makes him strain for another just outside his reach. It means something but he isn't sure what, and Sesshoumaru isn't giving him time to ponder, uncharacteristically impatient as he turns Inuyasha onto his hands and knees, knocking his thighs apart.

The hot drag of saliva follows a sharp nip to his tailbone and Inuyasha shudders, curses his weakened arms as he drops to his elbows, cheek pressed against the bedrock. He's never liked this position; it leaves him exposed, too vulnerable, and knowing Sesshoumaru has no intention of attacking him doesn't still the ripple of unease that travels down his spine, the instinct bred from years of surviving on his own that says, trapped, you're trapped.

Inuyasha lifts himself back up on his hands, tries to breathe the slow rise of panic away but hair covers his nose, makes it harder. He huffs in hopes of getting it out of his face but it's sodden and wet, too heavy to move by currents of air. He could use his hand but isn't sure one would be enough to hold him up, and he's had plenty of practice face-planting into the dirt but it isn't something he particularly enjoys, especially when Sesshoumaru's licking a neat line down his spine.

Maybe he makes a noise, a low whine in his throat - Inuyasha can't be sure, can't hear anything over the pulse pounding in his ears - because Sesshoumaru stills, and then there's the fine point of a claw against his temple, being dragged across his forehead. Inuyasha's breath hiccups in his throat, because that's his asshole brother brushing the hair out of his face, and it's-fucking weird, is what, confusingly intimate in a way he never thought their relationship could be.

"Sesshoumaru," he says without meaning to, and Sesshoumaru sighs like he's said a lot more.

Breath coasts along the edge of his jaw and all Inuyasha has to do is turn his head a little, strain his neck and meet Sesshoumaru half way. It wouldn't take much to join their mouths together again, but he can't bring himself to move, trapped by his own indecision and the strange tightness in his chest. Their cheeks brush and it's like being told a secret in another language, something he didn't know he wanted being dangled just outside of his reach. Sesshoumaru's taunting him in some new, creative way; he has to be, because if he isn't - no, he has to be - and Inuyasha's tired of playing around in the dark, searching blind.

"Are we gonna fuck or what?"

It comes out harsh like he meant it to, raw like he didn't. There's just the sound of their breathing for a moment, two - his fast and uneven, Sesshoumaru's measured and slow, and they're so fucking different, even in this, in everything - and then Sesshoumaru's gripping him by the hips, sliding in slow, like there's nothing frightening or urgent about this at all. His teeth find the back of Inuyasha's neck and he bites down, staking his claim or keeping him in place, who the fuck knows; there's a hand on his stomach, so close to where he needs it, and another on the ground next to his, claws curled into the unyielding earth.

Every thrust nudges him forward, and his knees are going to be rubbed raw if Sesshoumaru moves any faster. He would complain - hell, he wouldn't be here if it didn't feel so good, if his cock wasn't hard enough to hurt, leaking plaintively against his stomach. A knot of want in his stomach curls tighter with every meeting of their hips, the breath punched out of him every time Sesshoumaru gets the angle just right.

It's starting to smell less like rain and more like sex, and Inuyasha's arms are trembling from the effort of holding him up. Sesshoumaru is relentless and his claws dig painfully into the jut of Inuyasha's hip, draw blood and paint the air with metallic flavour. Inuyasha's hair has fallen into his face again but he doesn't pay it any attention; more important things to notice now, like the feel of Sesshoumaru's hand on his cock, rub of a thumb against the head. There's no slow build of orgasm after that, no sign or warning, just the furious cramping of his stomach as he comes hard and his arms give way.

Inuyasha closes his eyes and tries to remember how to breathe, lets Sesshoumaru ride out his own orgasm and manages to turn over onto his back before he slumps onto him. Sesshoumaru isn't so heavy without his armor but it's hard enough to breathe already, sans the added weight. Inuyasha lifts a weak hand to shove at his shoulder, misses and lands on his neck instead.

For a second he doesn't know what he's feeling; there's movement under his palm, the slow bob of Sesshoumaru's throat as he swallows and a quicker beat near Inuyasha's thumb, one that his sluggish mind recognizes as a pulse. It's fast, nearly frantic, so out of sorts with the rest of his calm, collected body that Inuyasha struggles to make sense of it, this one thing that Sesshoumaru can't control.

He keeps one hand on Sesshoumaru's throat and puts the other on his own, finds another frenzied heart pumping blood. Sesshoumaru lies impassive, as if there's nothing strange about Inuyasha's accidental discovery, but his pulse doesn't slow as it should.

Oh, Inuyasha thinks, oh. You want this as much as I do.

He draws Sesshoumaru down slowly, puts his mouth to his jugular. A spark lights where they touch and the same quick staccato beat in his chest thrums under Sesshoumaru's skin. Inuyasha doesn't bother trying to stifle his laugh. What moment of doubt? He knew it all along.

Not so different after all.

a/n: lawd, i can't believe i'm on ffnet again :x