You Can Be the Boss by Elvis

You Can Be the Boss

A/N: hope you like daddy kink

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He pressed a whistle into her palm: a warm wooden one so polished it reflected the light.  It fit in her hand neatly when she closed her fingers around it.

“Think about it,” he said.

Kagome was caught between choking indignance and breathless exhilaration.  She watched him until the shadows of the trees swallowed him and some moments afterwards.  She felt like she was holding fate in the curl of her fingers; this curious pen for writing in the Devil’s Book.  The danger itself was inviting; like those two yellow eyes had drawn a thread through her chest and was pulling her into him.  She had been over-aware of his claws; how they curved delicately from fingers so long they could likely wrap around her neck completely.

A noise caught in her throat, and she tucked the whistle into her bra-- snug between the underwire and swell of her breast-- and went back to camp.

The her eyes were still raw and reddish from earlier, when she was still full of rage and hurt and sitting Inu Yasha into a six foot deep hole.  She lightly touched at her face, gently pressing at the papery places where it felt like the skin might tear if she was too rough.  She felt curiously empty in her chest – like something that was there had been lifted out and now she could breathe.  And what filled her lungs now was some cooling gas bubbling into her brain and making her dizzy.  She missed the first part of Sango’s question:

“—feeling?”

“I’m okay.”  Sango looked at her all around the face, the hands.  She nodded, slowly.

“I’m going to the hot springs.  You coming?”

Kagome spared a glance at the men—Inu Yasha in his hole, and Miroku by the fire.  Shippo was snoring into Kirara’s fur on the other side.  She envied Miroku's face; the way he smoothed it out so perfectly it looked like porcelain.  It was both inviting and threatening, and he held it still always.

“Yeah, I’m coming.”  The small whistle was digging lightly into her flesh, pressing harder when she bent by her bag to get her bathing things.

-

It was dark that night.  The moon was little more than a sliver, slowly closing like a massive celestial eye.  The whistle was warm in her hand, still soaked in her own body heat.  Some secret, terrible thrill rushed up her spine as she looked around the forest.  She’d found a place some distance from the village they’d taken lodging in; the ground was mossy and soft, the trees in full green from the spring rains.  There was a wide, clear pond nearby where the sparse moonlight glimmered and scattered across her skins.

Something electric, terrible and wonderful all at once shook her lungs and she touched her lips to the mouth of the whistle.  She breathed into it, soft air whispering through with no pitch.  Must be an old-time-y dog whistle, she thought, and she let herself tongue the flat wooden mouthpiece.  The wood tasted smokey and almost like a clove.

“You’re certainly giving me ideas.”  Sesshomaru's voice tickled her over the shoulders like static cling.  She popped the whistle away from her mouth, her bottom lip lightly indented by the edges.  Her face went hot.

“I don’t know if I want to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Give you ideas.”

He grinned slow, a lazy kind of pull on his mouth.  She recognized the irony of her words: it was her that brought them to this scenario from the start.

“Okay, maybe a few ideas.”  She said.  The whistle was still warm in her hands and he stepped towards her and lightly brushed his fingers down the back of her gripping hand, across her wrist and forearm to her elbow.  He pulled her to him; she realized he was in his haori, his formal kimono forgone in favor of this somewhat stripped down, earthy version of him.  His arms were strong but soft-skinned.

“Shall we?”  He said.

She let herself uncoil and, with some amount of daring she hadn’t expected to have, mouthed at the bare patch of chest in front of her.  Her arms slid around his waist and she could feel the pleased sort of noise he made.

His claws slid into her hair, pulling her lightly away from him and angling her face towards his.  She felt his breath across her cheek, humid and hot and raw; he chuckled into her ear as he nuzzled his nose along her jaw.

“Eager, eh?”  He nipped her lobe and her fingers tightened in the fabric she was clinging to.  “Like a good bitch.”

The words shivered down her spine and she made a soft noise into his shoulder.  In a sudden and sharp movement, she was down on the ground, shirt pushed up to her neck and legs pinned between Sesshomaru's.  She watched the roll of his shoulders, the flex of his abdomen as he pulled off his haori.  His hakama hung low on his hips, barely above that place Kagome had never seen in person.  His hips were beautifully square, slim and cut by a clear V of muscle.  She reached up to trace the vein just above his hidden groin with her fingertips when Sesshomaru lightly clasped her hand and held it down above her head.  He did likewise with the other hand and said: “Don’t move them.”

The tone of his voice left her breathless, and she bit her lip; her hips tried to buck upwards but he was too heavy.  She was completely at his mercy, held down by him in every imaginable way.

His hands slid over the curves of her – her belly, her ribs, her breasts.  He sniped the center of her bra and it fell apart off her, and it stirred such a sense of danger in her body that she bucked again, arching upwards into his hands, his mouth; her hands clenched above her head as she took in the things he was whispering into her skin.  In an odd moment of clarity, she thought: so this is what naughty feels like.  It was so bad and so good and she new she was addicted already.

With Sesshomaru's body pressed against all of her, she found herself saying such dirty things that she never thought she’d say.

Her moans formed half-words: “Boss” and “Daddy” and “please give it to me, I wanna taste it.”  His eyes glimmered up at her from his place between her legs – he’d been tracing patterns of kisses, bites and squeezes up her thighs and coming just short of that one place she really wanted him.

“’Boss’ means about the same as ‘Alpha’ and the like, yes?  I like it.  Keep saying it.”

“You’re the Boss, oh, Daddy yeah you’re the Boss and I’m your little breeding bitch.”  More filthy words and phrases like he’d unlocked some strange and hungry thing inside her and it howled.  And each new word seemed to make him kiss harder, press closer.

He growled low and steady and she could hear his smile through it.  “Yes, you are, aren’t you?  My breeding bitch.  You ready for this big cock, bitch?”

“Oh yeah Daddy, I want your big cock.”

Another sudden movement and she was face first in the mossy grass, her hips lifted up and her hands pinned at the wrists.  She had just enough room to lift her self up an inch or two off the ground and press her whole back into him.

“Remember,” his voice was deep and dark in her ear, “no going back.  You’re mine, now, Kagome.”

Her name from his lips sizzled down her neck and her back and when she finally felt that girth pushing into her, the sting was startling.  She cried out, tears pricking at her eyes.  He told her how tight she was as he wiped at her tears; he kissed at every available inch of her as he worked his way in.  Her mind went to fuzz, zinging between distress and ecstasy, pleasure mixing with pain.  She wanted more of it and none of it and she cursed through her whimpers and moans.  He jerked a little with a grunt, a satisfied sound spilling from him right after.

She could barely whimper, between begging him to move and begging him to hold still.  He mouthed at her shoulders, her neck, the dip between her shoulder-blades.

“Does that feel good, baby girl?”

“Yeah, Boss, it’s good.”  And he moved out and in and out and in and she couldn’t see anything but the blurry ground.  “It’s so good, Daddy, it’s so, so good.”

And he was whispering things in her ear, words of praise and degradation that stirred her up and make her feel naughty and yummy and other things she didn’t know she could feel.  She felt his hand – his right hand, maybe? – slip up under her, flat-palmed along her belly and squeezing her breast and then her neck.  He gave her a soft little squeeze, like a pulse in time with his thrusting.

“You like that?”  He said.  She was losing her mind.  She couldn’t even talk anymore; all she could do was nod and gasp and hope he squeezed a little harder the next time.

And when she came it was like her vision opened up again and all the starlight above shot down into her eyes and scattered.  There was some stab of pain in her shoulder; it mixed hard with the pleasure and  the pressure on her neck and she knew it was Sesshomaru’s name on the dotted line next to hers – side by side in the Devil’s Book.  Hands shook and deal made.  No going back, and it felt delicious.

-

And it was some kind of deal with the devil, Kagome thought. It must have been.  Nothing else could explain that wrongness and rightness existing in the same space.  She wanted him to take her over completely, she wanted the taste of him to drown her like a swimming pool full of malt liquor.  The twinge of guilt she should have felt at being so petty never came.  Even when Inu Yasha looked into her with those baleful eyes, somehow hurt despite himself.  He felt so good, she thought, it was killing all of her inhibitions.  Everything that kept her safe from herself was burning away in the heat of his hands, his mouth, his cock.

And she wanted it all.

Sango sidled up to her as they shared a bath in a hot spring.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”  She said, a crease in her brow.  Eyes too old for her body.

Kagome couldn’t lie to her: “No.”  She couldn’t keep the grin off her face either.

-

They all called him ‘Lord,’ or some equivalent.  Only Kagome called him ‘Boss.’  And other times she’d whisper him “Daddy” on the end of some innocent kind of sentence, and like a bell he’d switch on.  He’d pull her away without a word and give her everything.

She wanted him so bad it hurt sometimes.

And she wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, that drew her so violently towards him.  Maybe the danger.  She always seemed to find her way to it, even before she first fell through the well.

Sometimes she wanted him to be rough.  At those times, she’d provoke him with teasing lilts of the tongue, bold grabs at his pecs, his ass.  She’d mouth along the underside of his cock and edge him until he finally gripped her by the hair and forced her up and down.  The tears were always worth it, because he’d come back harder and rougher, and he’d say cruel, dirty things that turned her on so much she thought she’d break into pieces at a touch.

-

When he’d asked her, she’d been blotchy red in the face and watery-eyed, shaking from the knees upwards and all he could think was how gorgeous she was.  He wasn’t ever one to really question the wants he had, any more than anyone else, he guessed.  So he asked, and she didn’t say no.

He’d have settled for a revenge fuck.  It would be enough for him to have any of her, but he’d placed his bets and she didn’t say no.

Every pack was headed up by a breeding pair.  And he was wanting for one himself.  She was perfect, in a way.  Bold and indomitable, strong in her own weakness and so soft.  He’d been on the deadly end of her arrows more than once.  And the heave of her breast, the flush of her neck drew in his desire like opium vapors into lungs.

And whenever he beat her to disciplining Inu Yasha, she’d look at him with a heat in her that shot to his groin so quick it was a miracle they ever made it to privacy.

-

She brought him pornography because she wanted to see how he'd react.  Some were pictures clipped from friends' magazines.  Some were bootlegged and burned to an unmarked disc she could play on her portable DVD player.  They went to some secluded place and, as they consumed it all, Sesshomaru slid his fingers into her and whispered in her ear, letting her writhe around under him as he got more ideas.

They continued to sink deeper and deeper into the darkness, drowning in these new games they were finding.

-

“I guess we both have daddy issues,” she joked, stroking her fingers along the broad planes of his chest.  “They just come out a little different for each of us.”

Sesshomaru snorted, a hot puff of air against her forehead.  He wouldn’t dispute her, but he wouldn’t outright agree with her, either.

“I think,” she continued, “I never really knew my dad.  He died when I was so young.  I only have these pictures of him in my mind, all faded and misty.  I would get too close to the male teachers because I wanted someone so bad.  Maybe that fucked me up.”

She was rambling, but he listened to her anyway.  It was soothing to hear her voice, feel it against his skin.  He thought about how sweet she looked with that mouth on his cock.

-

“Let me make a proposal,” he said.  His eyes were sharp yellow discs in the low afternoon sun.  “Every pack has the same structure: the breeding pair leads, and the rest follow.”

Kagome watched as he approached and, in her mess of emotion, met his eyes and dared.  He slipped something from his sleeve – a small, wooden whistle.  “Maybe what your pack needs,” he crooned, “is some structure.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m proposing.”

She’d stopped crying by then, her fingers still cold and shaky but clenched tight at her sides.  “You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly serious.”

He was right in front of her now, and she had to tilt her chin up to look at his face.  She felt the heat coming off of him and she caught herself leaning into it.

“Right,” she laughed, and it lacked mirth.  “Okay boss.  Whatever you say.”