Work Text:
“Stupid—fucking—thing—” Inuyasha growled, air ripping through his throat. He sliced through the youkai’s corpse again and again and again, sending liquified viscera sailing into the treetops. “You—mother—fucking—son—of—a—bitch—”
His last strike got caught in a chitinous plate and he wrenched Tetsaiga too forcefully out, sending him reeling back to land on his ass, his chest throbbing at the impact, and he yowled, enraged and in pain and, yes, okay, fine, scared, and half out of his mind with the feeling of it running down his chest, his clothes chafing his skin to rash—
“Inuyasha.”
In a wave of youkai Sesshomaru was suddenly there, and how out of it must he have been to not notice his half-brother’s approach? The intent way Sesshomaru was staring at him made his ears flatten back and a feral growl rip out of his throat, though they hadn’t been that way for years now.
In a stride Sesshomaru was upon him, and Inuyasha was upon him, claws extended to tear rents through his clothes—but of course Sesshomaru caught his hands and held him, writhing and lashing in the air.
“Calm yourself,” said his impossible brother, taking Inuyasha in with a flick of his eyes and a twitch of his nose. “I was wondering whose pheremones were wreaking havoc for fifteen ri.”
“GET AWAY FROM ME!” Inuyasha snarled, snapping his teeth in the air.
Instead, Sesshomaru sat him down on the ground and reached for the collar of his haori. Inuyasha snarled and wrenched away. “SESSHOMARU!”
Sesshomaru caught his chin and forced him to meet his gaze. “Inuyasha. Listen to me. You are undergoing something all inu yokai go through. I can ease your discomfort.”
Inuyasha ripped his head away, pressing a protective hand against his chest—and yelping when it sent a bruise of pain through his body. “Nothing’s—happening,” he grit out, ducking his head down. “Go away.”
“You are producing milk,” Sesshomaru said plainly. “I do as well, in my season. Let me help you.”
“Why?” Inuyasha choked out. “Why’s it happening?”
“I will explain when you are in less distress. Move your arms.”
There ensued a staring contest which Inuyasha lost, too desperate to hold out after a week of agony. Haltingly, he lowered his arms to fist in the fabric of his pants. As Sesshomaru reached for his collar, he kept his head turned away.
His haori was pulled open, then down to his elbows, baring his heated, sensitive chest to the cool night air. He flinched at the change in temperature, though the lack of irritation from the fabric was an immediate relief.
Sesshomaru gave a critical-sounding hum, and Inuyasha looked despite himself.
His chest was a fright. His pecs were swollen and round, rashy from irritation, and his nipples were hardly recognizable, enlarged, standing in firm points, the pink skin around them flushed and rubbed raw. Worst of all was the—the milk, oozing from his pores, soaking his haori and smearing across his skin.
Sesshomaru raised a hand to touch the engorged edge of one pec, and Inuyasha couldn’t stop his whimper of distress. His brother cut a look at him. “How long since it started?”
“A week,” Inuyasha growled—or, he meant too. It was closer to a whine. “It won’t stop!”
“You are almost at the end,” Sesshomaru said. “But not relieving the production has caused … this.” He nodded to the leaking mess of Inuyasha’s chest.
“Relieving?” Inuyasha asked.
Eyes fluttering back to his chest, Sesshomaru said nothing more. Instead, he leaned forward and put his mouth to Inuyasha’s nipple.
“Hey!” Inuyasha screeched, as just that barest amount of pressure was enough to send a squirt of his—his milk—out of him. He tried to shove Sesshomaru’s face away, arms tangled in his haori sleeves. “What the fuck!”
“Inuyasha.” Sesshomaru’s voice was tinged with a growl. “You will let me help.”
“Like this?” Inuyasha squealed, struggling away until one of Sesshomaru’s hands seized his waist, the other taking hold of his swollen left pec in a move that made him keen in pain.
“Like this,” Sesshomaru said firmly, and bent his head again.
Gripping the side of his pec, Sesshomaru’s lips descended around his nipple again, and the plush push of them around his areola made another gush of milk spill out, straight into Sesshomaru’s mouth. Inuyasha stared, breath heaving, as Sesshomaru swallowed it without a moment’s hesitation.
At Inuyasha’s apparent compliance, Sesshomaru released his firm grip and placed the pads of his clawed fingers around the circle of his lips, working them in a little push-pull movement that made milk squirt out as if Sesshomaru did this every day.
Push, pull, squirt, swallow. Inuyasha felt slightly insane with the reality of what was happening, and also slightly insane with the relief that came with every gush of milk from his tender chest, the relief of the weight that had been hanging on him for a week. He fell into a sort of daze, watching Sesshomaru suck at his chest, neat as anything, not a drop spilling past his lips. He handled Inuyasha like a zither, careful fingers massaging his raw skin, coaxing until nothing was left, until Inuyasha was whining from the dry suction.
It was the gentlest Sesshomaru had ever handled him.
Sesshomaru swallowed a last drop and sat up, looking at Inuyasha.
“What’s going on?” Inuyasha whispered.
Sesshomaru reached out and cupped his other pec, the heavy flesh resting in his palm. Inuyasha whined in pain, for this one was still full to bursting.
“You have become an adult inu youkai,” Sesshomaru said, shrugging. “I thought only full-blooded inu yokai experienced this, but then, there is only one inu hanyou.”
“You mean—it’s puberty?” Inuyasha demanded, outraged. “That’s all?”
“Yes.” His thumb rolled across Inuyasha’s flesh. “All inu demons lactate during their cycles, male or female. There are other symptoms. Parental instincts. Aggression. Sexual desire. It will pass.”
“You—you do this?” Inuyasha demanded, gesturing at his chest.
“Every so often,” Sesshomaru said.
“And someone—someone sucks the milk from your tits?”
Sesshomaru raised a cool eyebrow. “At times. Other times, I take care of it alone.”
“How?”
Sesshomaru nodded down to his hand on Inuyasha’s chest—Inuyasha could hardly bear to look, but he watched as Sesshomaru moved his fingers to Inuyasha’s reddened areola and pulled at the flesh, so that milk dribbled out the top. “Just so. But it is a terrible waste.”
“Waste?”
Sesshomaru leaned forward and licked the dribble from his nipple, making Inuyasha squeak. “Inu youkai milk is powerful and nutritional. Empty yourself into a bowl and water a seedling with it, and it will be a spiritual sapling in a year.”
He didn’t move away again, but lapped at Inuyasha’s nipple in a conciliatory way, and wasn’t that a weird observation to make. “I will benefit from your first milk, it seems.” And he nuzzled his lips in and pulled another thin stream into his mouth, Inuyasha groaning in pain and relief—and then he was simply sobbing, as Sesshomaru began a ruthless suction, apparently set to emptying him as efficiently as possible.
Inuyasha curled over his head and wailed and, as soon as he even realized he’d begun to get hard, he was coming in his pants, a whimper of relief quickly overridden by a whimper of sheer panic and mortification. He tried to pull away but Sesshomaru wouldn’t let him, just kept working at him like a calf at a teat, single-minded in this task. His nostrils flared slightly and his mouth became a little meaner, though, a tooth entering the sensitive area here and there, fingerpads more firm and less coaxing.
Finally, the last of his embarrassment dribbled onto Sesshomaru’s tongue, and his brother sat up, something like satisfaction glinting in his eyes. “Thank you for the gift,” he said decisively. “Perhaps I’ll return the favor one day.”
Inuyasha swayed slightly. Sesshomaru caught him before he collapsed completely.