InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Cobalt Skies and Too Blue Eyes ❯ Chapter One: Geshi ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, etc. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

COBALT SKIES AND TOO-BLUE EYES

Summary: A dream haunts Sango in the eyes of her newborn son. As the veils between this world and the next are drawn back on the night of seasonal equinox, she must consider that the ghost of the father might come seeking both her and her son… (“after Naraku” canon cont., SangoXBankotsu, some InuyashaXKagome)

WORDS

kami - gods
houshi - Buddhist monk
oni - spider
Mikomi - hope
Geshi - summer’s solstice, celebrated June 21st in the Gregorian calendar
-sama - honorific conferring great respect or ‘lord’
taijiya - demon slayer

A/N: And so I start on yet another fic. Sigh. But this came to me last night in a dream, and I had to sit and pound out this chapter on the keyboard or lose it utterly. I am pleased with the results. I knew I couldn’t leave Sango and Bankotsu alone for long… (Fate)

WARNING! LEMON WARNING! LIME ON FFNET! FLUFF AND WAFF, ANGST AND CHARACTER DEATH, ADULT SITUATIONS AND RUN ON SENTENCES, VERY LIKELY PWP THIS CHAPTER (Lemons will be edited out on fanfiction.net, if you are over 17, you can read it on adultfanfiction.net and on mediaminer.org under “YoukaiFate“)

CHAPTER ONE (GESHI)

His eyes, of course, were blue. A beautiful blue, a celestial blue---or so she told herself whenever she found her fingers lightly tracing the faint definition of his arching brows above the deep, clear eyes that had never changed in hue. Many of the older women in Kaede’s village had told her not to think the blue granted him at birth would last, that most babes, born with such a bright color to their eyes, would darken in time to a more prosaic brown. But his beautiful blue eyes had never changed, in fact, the color had seemed to grow more intense, more brilliant, with each passing day of his precious little existence…

He was a gift of the kami, a blessing to her who had feared the loneliness of life more than ever she had the grim finality of death. To one who had lost most everyone she had ever truly cared for, he was a gift most precious. She feared it, sometimes, this ever-wondering love that would well up inside of her each time she looked at him. An ache would rise up in her throat, and she would find herself blinking back sweet tears of relief that he, at least, was still here for her to cherish and protect.

It frightened her, sometimes, how deeply he held her heart in his two, small hands. Poor thing. She didn’t ever want to be a burden to him, or her deepening love to become a burden for him. She would protect him with every last breath in her body, but she also knew that to hover over him was to stifle that small spark of life and awareness within him---that it would do more harm than good in the long run. She knew she had to carefully balance her overwhelming love for him with both stern guidance and nurturing tenderness so that he might one day realize his own potential and independence as a grown man, a warrior.

“He has the look of his father,” the village women would say, delighted that so handsome a man was reborn among them. Sango would smile faintly, in gratitude that the gods had given her that, at least. She sought traces of her houshi in the pudgy roundness of his childish features that looked like any other baby’s, fat and chubby and dearly loved. She was reassured by the soft strands of inky black hair that capped his little, round head, and by the blue eyes that didn’t change, though the women had said they might. As the first long days of her slow recovery became weeks, and the weeks became months, he seemed to grow almost daily, until he now sat up on his own, and smiled real smiles back up at her, who he recognized as mother, and cooed and babbled nonsense to her in an attempt to reply to her own continuous babbling of loving attention.

The birth had been difficult. Her hips were narrow, her will somewhat lacking. The village women had muttered darkly among themselves that it was her spirit---all but broken by the houshi’s sudden death in the unleashed, chaotic winds of his own curse---that had not wanted to live without him. While his last moments lay deeply mourned on that lonely field of battle, when they had finally defeated Naraku, she had passed the days of her growing pregnancy falling deeper into a hopeless, numbing despair of utter loss and overwhelming grief. All who were important to her now lay dead alongside the dark oni---her brother and her lover both sacrificed in that final, decisive confrontation.

Kagome had worried incessantly, driving her hanyou mate to distraction as the elderly midwife, Kaede, had grown more troubled as the long hours of her struggle to give birth had grown, and she had weakened hour by hour, her will to live almost gone. When finally he had come, weak cries gaining in strength as they laid him in her exhausted arms for the first time, she had looked upon him with dull brown eyes that did not truly see, for her spirit wandered far in sadness and pain, aching for the man that should have been standing beside her, beaming down with pride at the son she had finally given him, a long promise finally fulfilled.

They had all feared then that she would die, and leave the new babe orphaned in a harsh and lonely world---though he would never have been abandoned or left unloved, for Inuyasha and Kagome had already pledged silently to one another that they would take him, if Sango did not survive the long night…

But she had survived, and it was because of him. For he had breathed new life into her as she had slowly felt the solid, growing weight of him in her arms, his fretful cries drawing her back from the encroaching darkness of despair. She had blinked, her gaze slowly focusing, to regard her son with faint astonishment as his little, curled fists waved, and he cried with hunger and fear for the strange new world he now found himself in. Her fingers, pale and shaking, the motion heavy and slow with weakness, had combed tentatively across his sweet little head, and his eyes, brilliantly clear and brilliantly blue, had opened for a bare moment before he screwed them tightly shut again, hating the flickering candlelight he could not quite see.

“He must nurse,” the old miko had said, her voice like gravel and yet as soothing as Kirara’s rumbling purrs of reassurance. She had helped shift the exhausted taijiya so that he might, and it had seemed as if they had both drawn sustenance and energy from the simple action, as faint color had returned to cheeks too pale and drawn from the past night’s struggle. The haunted shadows had slowly receded from her dark eyes, though the sleepless shadows beneath them remained to tell of her exhaustion, and she had lain, unable to do much more than smile softly as life renewed within her in the simple act of holding him to her breast.

“He looks like Miroku,” Kagome had whispered softly, tears in her eyes. The young miko had laid a hand on his head, as if in benediction.

Sango had nodded, weak and exhausted but oddly content for the first time in far too long. Her voice was faint, yet full of a love she had never thought to behold again, as she whispered softly, “Mikomi.”

“Hope…” Kagome had smiled at the name, wiping the fresh tears from her eyes and sniffling as Sango had finally succumbed to exhaustion, and slept heart-healed for the first time in many months.

And so he had been named, little Mikomi, only child of a monk and a friend so deeply mourned by all of them. Sango’s recovery had been slow, though her will to live had been rekindled, and she had fretted over how long it took, and how impatient she now was to get up and be about. Kaede had soothed her, saying that one who had been weakened by grief and so close to death could not hope to recover her strength so quickly. Sango had felt guilty, then, over how much worry she had caused her friends, though each of them in their own way had reassured her that it was okay now---now that she had chosen to live, and all because he needed her to, needed her as much as she needed him.

Time had crept by, measured by how slowly she had recovered her strength, and celebrated with each small triumph as little Mikomi grew and flourished under her awed gaze. He was a happy child, rarely fretful, and as healthy and strong as any young, worried mother could wish. His eyes remained as deep a blue as at his birthing. The color had actually lightened from a dark indigo to a more brilliant twilit hue, and continued to deepen in color, to the delight of everyone who saw him. His hair, so thin and soft, grew slowly into soft swirls of inky promise, and everyone insisted that he took so much after his father that there was none who could tell the difference between them.

She should have been reassured by that, and had spent many hours just looking at him, seeking some trace of Miroku in this, their son. But the strong features others claimed to recognize were baffling to her, lost in the babyish roundness of childish innocence that blinked back up at her, his happy gurgle and drooling smile finally making her laugh and kiss him with apology for staring so intently. He was, more than anything, himself, and she should content herself with that, and deny the worry that nibbled uneasily at the back of her mind.

For there had once been another blue-eyed man in her life, and though there had never been love between them, there had been the act of loving, though to this day she was still unsure that it had not been more than an idle dreaming lost in the darkness of a warm midsummer night long ago…

But each time those beautiful blue eyes looked up at her with such innocent trust, she doubted, and worried, and wondered uneasily if it had been but a midsummer night‘s dream…

Some villages celebrated the shortest night of summer with a festival. Sango’s village had always been too busy to worry much about it. If anything, they had never welcomed the night with aught but resignation, as the youkai were often wont to use the long hours until dawn to wreak havoc among the weaker humans who could not defend themselves against their aggressiveness. On Geshi, the summer solstice, the veils between this world and the next were thinned, and the spirits, both good and evil, could be enticed to cross the barrier separating them, and lend strength or aid to either.

This night should have been like any other for their small group, though they had welcomed the brief respite with more than a little relief. The Band of Seven---seemingly resurrected back to life, or perhaps, some new group of imaginative bandits hoping to use the slaughtered Shichinintai’s fearfully bloody reputation for some obscure reason of their own---had not deigned to attack them that day, and so they had all used the brief respite from constant fighting to grab at a faint chance to relax. They had stopped early in the afternoon, much to Inuyasha’s disgust, though he hadn’t protested too loudly, as was normally his wont. The worry still nagged at him over just how close his friends had come to dying from exposure to some of Mukotsu’s more insidious poisons, and that had held his sharp tongue for once.

That particular experience had haunted all of them, and brought home to each just how fragile and unpredictable life could be. At any moment, any of them could vanish from this world, drawn into death by the dangers that constantly hovered all around them. The unspoken threat lay heavy on their hearts, causing them to continually look over their shoulders, uneasily wondering when the next blow might fall, when the next strike might come, and who might fall beneath it…

Sango had been more affected by the ordeal than she dared show anyone but her beloved houshi, whose quiet strength she had always been able to draw upon. Troubled by their near brush with death, and worried now that she might die, her vengeance unsatisfied, her brother unclaimed, and her love for him forever unknown, she had sought comfort in Miroku’s all-too-willing embrace. Miroku had been delighted by the urgency that had driven away her fears of the unknown ways between man and maid, and had been considerate---and thorough---in the taking of her virginity. She had held him, after, as he trembled in the culmination of passion, awed by the gift of trust she had given up to him.

They had not spoken of commitment, not then. It was enough to hold each other, to feel the strong beat of their hearts, skin on skin, and know that life still surged un-sundered through each, that the shadow of death that had hovered so closely over them had not yet reached out its cold grasp to take the other away…

“Houshi-sama…” The urgency had come again, to rekindle that awareness of life once more, and he had kissed her, deeply, and had shown her again with his body all the pleasures she had long denied herself. They had eventually fallen into exhausted slumber, curled into each other’s arms, fulfilled and sustained for now by that simple expression of their as yet unvoiced love.

They had arisen that dawn before the others, and unspoken lay the agreement between them that they should not let the others yet know. Inuyasha probably suspected, for he kept glancing at them out of the corner of his amber eyes, though he forbore to comment. Sango was relieved that Shippo, for once, seemed not to notice the change between her and the houshi, and that Kagome was all but oblivious in her maidenly innocence. They had continued their long, weary journey to Mount Hakurei, which they all suspected hid a lot more than its rocky, cloud-draped façade presented to the world.

The chance to be alone again had not presented itself until this night, when the summer’s twilight draped itself across the cobalt sky as they made an early camp in a convenient clearing among the branching trees just off the dirt road they traveled along. The moon hung fat and full in the darkening sky, it’s mournful surface slowly brightening as the sun finally descended and the night of the summer’s solstice encroached.

Exhausted for once, Shippo had promptly fell asleep after a quick dinner of smoked fish fresh-caught in the nearby stream and a bowl of Kagome’s instant ramen, which Inuyasha had devoured just as quickly as the little kitsune. Kirara had curled herself around the sleeping fox, her purrs reassuring Sango that she was content for the night to stay with him. Inuyasha, eying the monk and the taijiya who oh-so-casually refused to look at one another, had abruptly stood up. Grabbing a protesting Kagome by one, clawed hand, he had disappeared into the woods, hauling her after him until their arguing voices had dwindled into the muffled silence of the intertwining trees.

Miroku had grinned, aware that Inuyasha had just given him the perfect opportunity to further his new acquaintance with the slayer, who was still shy and hesitant, even after giving herself so willingly to him. Sango had blushed, aware of his hentai thoughts, and felt a surprising tingle of anticipation curl low in her belly. Without a word, she had put her hand in his when he had bowed so sweetly to her, and they, too, had quickly disappeared into the muffling forest, to find a place where they could renew this new-found aspect of their complicated relationship.

As before, urgency had lent haste to their first, tentative touches. Clothing had been abandoned as quickly as caution, and Miroku had more than lived up to his reputation of sexual prowess as she had clung to him, crying out her pleasure even as he had buried himself within her, his teeth grit as he felt the tight clasp of her womanhood surround him. Restraint quickly vanished, and she had held him to her as he rode out his passion, emptying his seed with an almost anguished shout of male triumph.

Drawing the sweaty black bangs from off of his forehead, Sango had felt her love for him welling up deep inside of her, though still she hesitated to speak of it, for he had said nothing as yet to her of his. She was content, then, to lie there and hold him. Eventually, he had roused himself, and once desire had been rekindled, they had made sweet, languorous love, there in the shadow-ridden warmth of the deepening night. The close-knit branches of the fir trees that surrounded them had blocked the moon’s wan light from penetrating their chosen nest, and she could barely see him beside her, though she could feel the strength and warmth of his well-defined chest under his cheek as she curled up along his side. He draped an arm across her bared shoulders, the beads wrapped across his palm hard knots between the whispering purple silk covering his right hand. He had murmured sweet nonsense to her as she had dropped off to sleep against him with a sigh of utter contentment, the tight-strung exhaustion of the long day finally catching up with her…

It was some time later, when the night had deepened to such darkness that her sleepy gaze could only make him out as a blurred shadow beside her, that he had unwound himself, murmuring something she could not remember as he lightly kissed her temple, promising to be back in just a moment. She had murmured sleepily for him to hurry, and had curled herself into the fading warmth left in the spot he had just abandoned. He had draped his long robes across the needle-cushioned earth as a bed, and they had used her yukata as a light blanket to keep away the faint chill in the air of the lengthening night. Pulling the yukata tighter around her bare shoulders, Sango had nestled into the houshi’s woolen robes, and tumbled back into sleep, missing him, but knowing he would be back at any moment.

And that was when she dreamed…

She thought it was him, returning. She had woken with a soft sigh as a gentle, but firm, hand had been laid lightly on her shoulder. She lay, half-curled on her stomach, the yukata draped lightly across her back and tangling among her bent legs. The light touch of his calloused fingers had wandered down the curve of her arm, as if mapping her skin anew. Tingles of awareness had been left in their wake, her skin goose-bumping behind the slow caress. She had arched her back, her eyes still closed, her sleepy awareness overcome by misty feelings of dawning excitement as his fingers had circled over her hip, to then sweep back up the curve of her spine.

“Miro---” She sighed out, her breasts growing heavy as desire curled low in her belly.

“Shh…” His voice had been husky, deep and seductive as his lips brushed lightly over her temple, in the same spot as when he had left her. He draped himself behind her, his warm lips whispering a path down her cheek as he paused to nibble on the delicate shell of one ear. His fingers curled over the edge of her yukata, tugging lightly, drawing the impromptu blanket down her arm and hips in a sensuously slow, but determined, motion. She shivered in response as the light chill of the night air whispered along her exposed skin.

His warmth had soon dispelled the night’s chill, for wherever the warm flesh of his hand wandered, her skin grew flushed and heated. The heat and strength of him, behind her, made her tremble as he nestled her more firmly against him, his hips pressing the heavy weight of his arousal into the arch of her lower spine, just above the curve of her buttocks. She shivered at the awareness of it, and he chuckled lightly into her shoulder, pausing to kiss it softly even as his fingers wandered over her hip, causally sliding between her thighs, which she parted with an indrawn breath.

“Please…” She whispered urgently as he drew patterns over her muscle-tightened inner thighs. She could already feel the taunt anticipation building as she restlessly moved against his teasing touch.

He chuckled again, a dark chuckle of seductive promise, and she hissed, and then moaned, as the roughened pads of his calloused fingers abruptly found the hidden nub of her desire. Lightly rubbing, he held her cradled against him, his wide shoulders enveloping hers in hard heat as she shuddered at the amazing sensations that flooded through her senses, washing away everything but the mind-numbing pleasure his talented fingers played so adroitly across her flesh.

A firm finger lightly stroked against her hidden depths, the damp heat of her core inviting further exploration. Sango moaned and whimpered as his palm parted her thighs wider, so that he might map those depths with wandering abandon. His thumb continued to distract her by lightly smoothing across the swollen flesh of her tiny bundle of nerves, pressing one moment, and then flicking lightly against it the next. She felt as tight as a strung bow beneath his heady manipulation, and she all but sobbed when his lightly stroking finger finally found its way between her nether lips, to dip between her tight folds.

She sucked in her breath as her body suddenly convulsed, surprised as he that the pleasure was so ready to be drawn from her. His wandering fingers had barely delved before the press of his thumb on her tightening nerve-center had her bucking convulsively around them, swallowed by a spiraling peak of heady pleasure that he quickly fanned into a spinning flame that swamped across her senses and whisked her away on the dizzying heights achieved. His mouth abruptly swallowed her surprised cry, his tongue delving as deep as his penetrating fingers, to ride out the storm of her passion until she lay limp and spent against him, her body shuddering with her heart beat as the almost painful waves of her fulfillment slowly receded.

“Damn…” His whisper was so low against her swollen lips, she barely heard him. She shivered again, for that voice was like smooth velvet against her senses, and he withdrew his hand to lightly cup her hip as he turned her attention with a longer kiss. His tongue slid against hers, deepening the kiss as that same hand slowly came up to tilt her chin. His fingers lightly tangled in her long hair as she turned her body into his embrace, seeking the press of his warm skin against hers.

Her legs were tangled in her abandoned yukata, and she mewed lightly as she felt a powerful thigh drape itself over hers, trapping them further as he continued to assault her senses with his talented tongue. She strained against him, wanting more, as his touch feathered down her cheek to lightly cup one breast, which felt heavy and aching against his hardened palm. Her nipple tightened under the light flick of his thumb, and she moaned into his mouth, trying to turn further into his heat.

“So hot…” He whispered against her throat as their lips parted and she threw her head back over the supportive arm that had crept along the back of her shoulders. He rolled the hardened tip of her breast between thumb and forefinger, squeezing lightly, and she hissed as her hips bucked anxiously against the entrapping weight of his thigh below. His hot breath whispered over her flushed skin in silent appraisal just moments before he claimed her breast with the damp heat of his descending mouth, suckling the aching bud deep inside his wet heat so that she gasped again, her hands coming up to curve over his wide shoulders as his tongue and teeth played havoc with her senses once again.

He turned her, so that she now lay flat against the rough robes beneath her, his left arm still curving behind her shoulders as his mouth nibbled its way to her other breast, playing it as he had the first, suckling and teasing and drawing her further into the emblazoning fire of burgeoning passion. Her breasts ached at the attention, and a dull longing woke between her thighs, her body writhing restlessly against his as she sought more direct contact between them. His sex lay nestled against her lower belly, the heavy weight leaving its own tingles across her roused flesh. He rocked his hips lightly into hers, and she all but turned him over by thrusting back against him in fiercely, reawakened need.

He chuckled, the vibrations against her taunt nipple making her breath catch as a sharp bolt of raw hunger thrust right through her body to the tightened bundle of nerves below. Holy gods, he was possessing her very soul with his restraint, and she made a pleading sound of urgency in the back of her throat, wanting more, oh so very much more...

His mouth wandered from her aching breast, and she mewed in disappointment as he kissed the taut muscles of her flat belly. She arched her spine, trying to thrust her breasts back to his attention, but his strong hands slid across her skin to hold her shoulders flat against the ground even as his hips turned into hers, thrusting her thighs apart so that he now lay nestled between them.

Sango was confused by his actions, though her body continued to respond. Miroku had not yet shown her this aspect of lovemaking, and she squirmed a bit when his lips nibbled further down her stomach. Her spread thighs trembled as he moved lower, his wide shoulders filling the space between them as his hands slid down her shoulders to press against her bent elbows, keeping her supine when she would have sat up in confusion.

“Huh.” His deep voice was smug, as if he knew something she did not.

“What are you…?” Her hesitant question was abruptly cut off by a shocked gasp as his mouth swooped down to kiss her there, where his fingers had been but minutes before. He wreaked such havoc upon her senses that she could only shake her head from side to side, her hair tangling around her shoulders as her body was stretched to the breaking point by the sweet torture.

His tongue, oh gods, his tongue! It was so much hotter, so much softer, so much more coaxing and intimate and heady than ever his fingers had been. His mouth played across her dampened curls as she sobbed out a moan of sudden comprehension. His tongue tasted the bitter essence of her as her body rocked against the firm weight holding her still beneath his masterful manipulations. She had never known such aching, writhing, all-consuming pleasure-pain, such throbbing need and such horrible heights of struggling, hot desire. He fanned the consuming sensations within her, delving from button to core and coaxing her to burn all the more for him. The flames of passion that enveloped her consumed all else, and it seemed as if the swirling euphoria that nipped its way along her mind with such enfolding fury would fling her very soul from the pinnacle of pleasure and into a pain so aching it made tears spring to her eyes as she all but crushed a fold of the houshi’s robes into her mouth to keep the raw scream torn from her throat from ringing out into the silently empty night.

He stayed with her, lightly kissing her as her thighs shook beneath the after-shocks of achieved desire. She felt adrift in pure, shocked sensation as the waves of passion slowly rescinded. She felt as honey poured from a jar as he moved over her, his own needs hardly satisfied. His strong hands became determined as he spread her thighs further, a finger gingerly testing her readiness. She pooled and tightened around him, and made only a faint protest as his warmth left hers for a moment as he shifted his weight back over her. His right hand slid along the inside of her left thigh, stopping at her knee to bend it and coax it up over his wide shoulder. Sango breathlessly complied, feeling the first probe of his arousal right there at her center as he tentatively flexed his hips.

She bit her knuckles on a hiss of surprise at the first inquisitive touch of his manhood against her opening. Her body trembled as she felt her muscles stretching, trying to accommodate his width. She had thought that her body would grow more accustomed to his size the more they made love, but it seemed as if this was once again her first time, when her untried depths had been left stretched and aching by his deep, determined shove between them.

If anything, it felt as if he had grown harder, and wider, for he had to use his free hand to rub the head of himself along her aching channel, spreading the damp heat of her essence to ease his passage before he probed once more at her opening. His actions had not helped, for she felt as if she were being split even wider as he tentatively thrust an inch or so within her. Her breath caught as the tortured pleasure-pain of it made her tremble in both dread and anticipation.

He seemed to shudder above her, though he had stilled his actions to draw his fingers over the tight bundle of nerves that had her sobbing out her frustration at his lack of motion. Her thighs were thrust even further apart as his other hand cupped under her buttocks, seeking to rise her up against him for easier penetration as he shifted the weight on his thighs. Her left calf, braced along his wide shoulder, trembled at the strain of keeping it there. He pushed a little further, and she sucked in her breath at the surprising pull of it. He hissed a muffled oath, sweat dripping down his hard chest and tangling the dark shadow of his bangs against his bowed head, his jaw clenched at the strain of it.

“It’s…it’s all right, houshi-sama…” Sango whispered up to him, her love for him shining in the tears that crept into her eyes for the love and consideration he was showing her, even as her body trembled in both fear and yearning.

He grunted, laughing a bit, almost as if he were laughing at himself, and tensing above her, abruptly thrust home.

Her body stiffened, her back bowing in reaction to the sharp pain of it as she kept a sob back by biting down hard on her knuckled fist. Tears tickled her lashes, though they did not fall, for already her body was adjusting to his sudden invasion, though she still felt as if he had abruptly cleaved her in two. He was sunk deep within her, deeper than ever before, almost touching her womb as the muscles of her buttocks clenched against the overwhelming intrusion and her thighs trembled in the aftermath of shock.

His damp forehead was bent against her breasts as he, himself, trembled. “Gods…” He breathed against her chest, his bangs tickling along her skin as they both shook for a moment. She felt him, every single inch of him, pressed so deep within her, and felt her muscles slowly flexing and releasing to accommodate him. There was no further pain to haunt her, as there had been that first time, when Miroku had taken her maidenhead, and a hazy warmth was slowly unfolding across her awareness as she felt him stir above her.

His breath was short, sharp, all but hissing through gritted teeth as he withdrew himself a few inches to slowly sink back within her. Sango softly groaned, the feeling as he returned to her depths overwhelming. Passion flowered once more within her, and she felt the urgency gaining strength once more within her. Her balled fist slowly released to lightly caress his tangled bangs. He shook his head slightly, as if wary of her touch, and leaned up a bit to knit his free hand with hers, pinning it beside her head as his mouth claimed hers in a quick kiss that deepened as his hips rolled against hers, the sensation of it making her gasp and strain once more against him.

He withdrew to press deeper, his initial movements slow and languid as he allowed her body to continue to adjust around him. The desire for more had her almost whining into his mouth as his lips drew in her cries, the kiss deepening even as his body rocked over hers in slowly growing momentum, stoking the fire of need to burn once more within her.

She mewed as he withdrew almost all the way, and sighed in both satisfaction and disappointment as he sank so slowly back within her. She tugged on the imprisoning hand that covered hers, her other hand curving over his hip to slide down his muscled backside, silently urging him to set a faster pace. He ignored her, continuing that slow, torturous slide along her senses as she twisted her mouth away from his seeking lips to sob a whispered plea into his the damp skin of his throat and shoulder.

“Greedy…” He teased her huskily as he flexed his hips once more. She shivered in response, and urgently bucked her hips against his, seeking that fulfillment that danced so enticingly away from her.

He abruptly sat up, pulling her with him. She let out a gasp of surprise as his strong arms wrapped themselves around her back and waist, his fingers tangling in the heavy length of her long, black hair as he hugged her tightly to him, shifting his weight back on his knees and feet as he drew her up against him. Her left leg fell from his shoulder to drape along his narrow waist as he spread his thighs beneath them both, knees bent on the ground, the firm strength of his muscled thighs supporting and cupping her buttocks as his arms tightened around her and his head bent over hers.

Sango gasped at the new position, which deepened his penetration to an unusual degree within her. She felt as if she was centered around that hard length, her body spasming in tiny aftershocks at the new, overwhelming sensations that surrounded her. Her legs were draped around his waist, her toes brushing the ground behind him as he took her weight on his braced thighs. His hips flexed, and she felt him brush something deep inside of her that had her head jerking up and back as her mouth opened on a silent “oh” of pure astonishment.

He chuckled into her straining throat, idly licking there as a strong hand circled over her hip to cup her breast. His mouth descended, and she felt pierced once more from tip to core as he suckled her breast deep into the wet heat of his mouth, his tongue flicking the tender nipple and ripping a shocked gasp from her lips. His hips rocked in a shallow, steadily increasing rhythm that was sending her senses into overdrive as her stomach muscles tightened and the breath heaved out of her in gasping sobs.

He continued to suck hard on her breast, his teeth lightly nipping her aching bud as his hand lowered itself between them to tease that other, swollen bud below. Pure bolts of electric heat flashed through her as his fingers found the hidden bundle of nerves, tweaking it in time to the increasing rhythm of his rocking hips. He played her body as skillfully as any musician, plucking at the strings of her desire until they snapped, sending her awareness to shatter on the rocks of his continued manipulation as she let out a hoarse scream he quickly cut off by gathering her mouth to his and swallowing her continued cries as she slowly floated back down to earth.

“Oh, gods…” She breathed against his smug grin. He kissed her hard, and quickly lowered her back down to the woolen robes so that he could cover her once more with his own body. Leaning his weight on his elbows, he kissed her yet again as his body withdrew to surge back in with tingling anticipation. Her body trembled beneath him, but she was almost too exhausted to do much more than hold him as his rhythm increased, his breath coming short and sharp as he quickly found a pace that pleased him. His forehead fell against her shoulder as he lost himself within his own need for completion. Drawing her legs up to his hips, Sango matched him thrust for thrust as he delved deeply within her, his motions becoming sharp and abrupt as he climbed his own summit.

She whimpered as his pace increased, her body soft and yielding beneath him as he withdrew to the head to slam back within her swollen, aching depths. His breath became erratic, his murmurs hoarse as he continued to pummel his way through the growing fire that threatened to consume him. Sango felt her stomach muscles tighten as he drew her legs up onto his shoulders, his strong hands now urging her hips up off of the earth so that he could deepen his thrusts, all but slamming into her body as the demands of his overwhelmed and roughened his need. The heavy sac that lay against the curve of her raised buttocks swelled and tightened just a single moment before he thrust himself so deep within her that she felt again as if she had been pierced in two. He was taut above her, his back bowed into hers as his weight pushed her beneath him, his buttocks clenching and unclenching in a primal rhythm as his heavy sex jerked within her straining channel, his seed bursting forth in hot, continuing streams as if it would never end, bathing her depths in a strange, flooding sensation that had her shaking just as much as he at the fearsome barrage of it.

Never, ever, had it felt like this, and although she did not join him in that fiercely primitive completion, she felt oddly satiated and lazy as she felt him jerk one final time, before collapsing on top of her like one dead. She trembled at his weight and the warmth of it, her fingers sweeping up the side of his arm and shoulder to touch along his buried cheek as he shuddered into the curve of her shoulder.

“Damn.” His voice was hoarse, and almost awed as the powerful muscles in his shoulders and back tightened, gathering himself to look up at her. The shadows of the deep night blurred his features, making his eyes dark shadows, the firm line of his lips and the sharp angle of his jaw only a touch lighter than the inky shadow of sweat-dampened bangs that tangled across his forehead.

His calloused palm came to cup her chin up to his so that he could kiss her, his lips soft and firm as his tongue delved deep, tangling with hers. Sango swept her own hands along the wide sweep of his shoulders, surprised by the toned definition in them, which seemed so much more muscled than she remembered. Her fingers trailed along the strong line of his jaw to bury themselves in the nape of his neck, and she was surprised to find the thick hair there that lay bundled into a loosened braid, rather than a simple tail.

Her jerk of surprise had him groaning as his body responded to her sudden movement. He swallowed her astonished protest against the firm press of his mouth as he deepened the kiss. His body, still anchored deep within her, twitched and hardened with renewed interest, and he took her protest as nothing more than surprise at the feel of him growing once more within her hot, tight depths. She pushed urgently at his shoulders, but she could not move his weight from off her. He circled her wrists with both of his hands, drawing them down and pinning them along either side of her head as she tried to wriggle free, and only succeeded in bringing his need to raging life.

He chuckled into her mouth, following her as she tried to turn her head away. He thought it a game, a tease, to entice and enflame, and so he whispered against her lips, ignoring her muffled protest, “Won’t take long, girl. I promise…”

And it didn’t. Within a few, hard thrusts, he had thrown his head back to snarl out a groan as his body shuddered and convulsed over hers, his buttocks clenching again as he buried himself within her, even deeper than before. The very head of him battered painfully against something deep down inside of her that had her gasping in surprising pain and pleasure as her body suddenly convulsed around him, her inner muscles tightening even as he strained over her, burying his seed as deep within her tight, hot depths as he could manage. The pleasure was so mind-blowing and intense that it shook both of them to the core, and left them spent and exhausted as they collapsed back on the blankets in a sweaty tangle of heavy limbs and heady release.

He gathered himself once more to roll up off of her, and she whimpered slightly as his heat left hers. He lightly touched her cheek with casual tenderness, and drew her yukata back up over her shoulders as the night air chilled her exposed skin. She trembled as his lips brushed her temple once more, and he whispered softly, “I will return, one day. I promise…”

And then he was gone, and she was left to curl herself into confused uncertainty as exhaustion won out over worry and she slept once more, rousing only when her houshi had returned. He kissed her awake with tender attention, drawing her once more into his warm embrace, and rousing her in sleepy protest as he pulled her to him, desire evident.

He had kissed her, apologizing for taking longer than he should to go and check on their friends. Sango had trembled in his arms, and asked wonderingly, “Was it a dream, then…?”

“Did you dream of me?” She could not see his lazy smile in the darkness, or the rather pleased expression in his deep, indigo eyes.

She bit her lip, uncertain what to say. He took her hesitancy as shy timidity, and so he artfully used every formidable tool of persuasion at his disposal to coax her exhausted body to respond to his growing ardor. He had made slow love to her, his body promising things his heart knew but he was still too cautious to utter, for there was still the darkness of a shadowed fate at the hands of Naraku that lay hovering between them and a true ending of perfect happiness. Sango had clung to him, in despair and confusion, letting go of her awareness of that Other to cling desperately to this, her reality, and her new-won love…

When next she saw him, that Other, she could not believe that it was he whom she had held in the dreamy darkness of a midsummer’s night, and was desperate to believe that it had been but a dream, only a dream, for he was their avowed enemy. The fearsome leader of a fearsome band of bloodthirsty murderers who had been given life again by Naraku, he and his brothers were set the task of killing the oni’s enemies in return for the use of the tainted Jewel shards that aided their resurrection.

He had not betrayed knowing her by so much as even a look or flicker of awareness. He ignored her as he ignored the others, engaging Inuyasha as the only one suitably strong enough to be considered a worthy opponent. There was only the once---and it could have been her fleeting imagination---when they had been on the island, seeking the reason behind the powerful barrier that surrounded Mount Hakurei in waves of purifying energy. Bankotsu had faced them alone, battling Inuyasha in his weakened state before the hanyou had driven him off with the revitalized Wind Scar, after Miroku and the headman’s son had broken through the Living Buddha’s sacred relic.

It was during that battle, when Miroku and Kagome still searched for the sacred relic, that Sango had distracted Bankotsu from landing a killing blow on the weakened hanyou. Flinging her Hiraikotsu with all her might, she had swept the giant boomerang between the two fighters, touching neither. She had been strangely loathe to actually hurt Bankotsu, the memory of a dreamy midsummer’s night had made her pull her hand at the last minute, so that her boomerang spun dead center between them, hitting neither.

He had looked at her then, as the dust cleared from the mighty weapon’s passage, and the look in his cobalt eyes had made her drop her own in acute embarrassment as the color abruptly left her pale cheeks. Inuyasha had shouted, drawing Bankotsu’s attention back to himself, and Shippo had jumped into her arms. Sango had buried her mixed feelings in comforting the little kitsune, hugging him to her as a lifeline in a sudden sea of uncertainty.

Had it then, been but a dream? She might never know.

Except that those brilliant blue eyes now haunted her in the brilliant blue eyes of her son…