InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Contest Two ❯ Selfish ( Chapter 3 )

Story Title: Selfish

Author: Quickening

Disclaimer: You think I own Inuyasha? Boy, why can't we all have fantasies like that?

Story Summary: Kagome has a nightmare. Miroku comforts her. They talk about it, and come to a surprising conclusion. Hopefully, the story is a hell of a lot better than my summary is. Beware descriptions of violence, possible language, and angst. Oh. And there'll be some fluffy goodness somewhere in this thing, too. Somewhere

Rating: R

Everything was ruin.

Destruction, as far as the eye could see; desecrated forests; razed and blackened fields; lakes and rivers filled with sluggish liquid that could no longer be described as water, or so parched that their beds cracked like the skin of mummified corpses; a sky the color of blood pulsing with heavy clouds the color of soot; and bodies. Bodies were lying everywhere; twisted, grotesque corpses, human, youkai, and animal alike, misshapen and deformed, as though even after death they sought to writhe with the agony that had consumed them.

She stood alone in the middle of this field of horror, and was too numb to feel sick at the images it presented her. In one hand, she clenched her bow, now a useless stick of wood, snapped clean in two. In the other was loosely clutched a single arrow, sputtering with the remaining sparks of her exhausted power. Her eyes, open yet unseeing, were fixed upon the bodies lying closest to her.

A small child with fox-colored hair and supple tail, now scorched and matted with drying blood; his bright, mischievous green eyes now glazed over with death; his expressive face frozen in an illustration of horror as the echoes of his agonized screams forever lingered in the burning air. Being the smallest and weakest, he had been the first of their little group to fall, and she knew she would forever suffer beneath heavy guilt of her failure to protect the one who had always looked up to her as Mother.

There lay an elderly lady, still clutching her useless bow, her single eye open and narrowed and her lined and aged features determined; ever the proud and noble miko, certain of their victory over evil even though half of her own body had already been brutally ripped away by a razor-edged tentacle.

A young woman lay crumpled among shattered armor and the remains of slain youkai; a testament to her own fierce and violent struggle before the lances of bone had pierced her from behind, binding her to the fire-baked earth in some grotesque parody of a pincushion. Beside her, half on top of her, curled the mangled form of her loyal companion, fur matted and burnt, the long, sharp tusks of her fangs shorn clean off, determined to the last breath to protect her beloved mistress from harm, although the life had fled the human's body long before the youkai finally surrendered hers.

And finally, the young man with amber-gold eyes and flowing hair that had once been the purest white, but now rivaled the crimson of his robes for color, rested at her feet, stabbed through with his own sword, pinning him to the ground. The enchanted weapon still somehow held its transformation even though breath no longer passed through its owner's lips, and the lifeblood continued to pour out of him into the dirt in an ever-widening pool. His face frozen in a contortion of surprise and agony, his open eyes stared up at her, reproachful, condemning. You failed. You failed. This is all your fault. You failed… they accused over and over, so that she was forced to tear her eyes away from that dead gaze in order to keep the weight of it from dragging her to her knees.

There was one other, she knew. There should have been another lying there, dead, but he was gone. He'd been the last to fall, killed by his own hand as the black hole he carried in his palm finally cracked and split and consumed him entirely, leaving not even a body to prove he ever existed. His eyes, too, she could still feel burning into her, a gaze of betrayal and disappointment. Why? he had seemed to ask her, even as his mouth remained frozen around agonized screams while the Kazana literally ripped his body apart. Why didn't you keep your promise? Why did you have to let us die? Why didn't youdie? How do you deserve to live when you are the one who let us all die?!

"It's not my fault!" she screamed, clapping her hands over her ears, although it did nothing to drown out the voices. "It's not my fault!"

Oh, but it is, came the disembodied reply; a deep voice like honey and velvet and the slick, deadly hiss of scales on a coiled serpent. You made a promise to complete the Shikon no Tama and look what happened. You failed, and now everybody is dead. The earth is dead, and the one who killed it still roams free. And it is all…your…fault.

And Kagome, finally overwhelmed by the weight of the guilt and the agony and the sorrow that consumed her, fell to her knees with her hands fisted in her hair, loosing the hot tears that ran like blood down her face, and screamed, and screamed, and screamed.

&~&~&~&~&~&~&

"KAGOME!"

She awoke mid-shriek, her body involuntarily jerking itself upward, instinctively struggling to escape the tight, bruising grip that something held on her arms. Her throat burned with the force of her cries, her chest heaving as she gulped in deep gasps of air. Her eyes were wide and wild, blinded by tears and the firelight and her own terror as her mind sought to escape the lingering remnants of the nightmare.

Slowly, soothingly, a rich, deep voice began to penetrate her stricken countenance-a voice similar yet oh-so-different from the taunting, whispery snake-voice in her head-and she very gradually began to relax as her mind finally caught up with her surroundings. There was no more razed, ruined land; she was in the middle of the forest, could smell the rich, earthy scent of the trees and the bushes and the mossy ground beneath her. The air was cool upon her flushed face, the crackling of a campfire reached her ears, and above that, the dearly familiar voice continually murmured soothing nonsense into her ear. She realized a moment later that she was being held, cradled in a protective embrace, like a very small child in need of comfort. She was sitting in someone's lap with her legs draped sideways over theirs, one hand on her shoulders to pull her close to a warm, solid chest, as the other pressed her head to rest beneath a strong chin, stroking gently through her hair. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep, shuddering breath, knowing even before she smelt the scent of green tea and black ink, or felt the press of rosary beads against her arm, who it was that held her.

"Miroku-sama," she croaked out, her voice hoarse and throat sore from all her screaming. Shame immediately overwhelmed her as she imagined what it must have looked like, her screaming and thrashing like the possessed over something as silly as a nightmare. But-and she shivered involuntarily at the memories the word invoked-what a truly horrifying nightmare it had been.

"Kagome-sama," the monk replied, keeping his voice soft and gentle. "Are you well now?"

"I-I'm fine," she replied stiffly, not quite able to keep the quaver out of her voice as a new emotion-the utter relief that she was awake from that horror-vision and that her friends were all still alive and well-threatened to spill more hot tears from her eyes.

"I think not," the man argued gently, keeping his grip firm as she sought to pull away from him. "You're shivering like a terrified rabbit."

"Shut up," she muttered, ducking her head to hide the flush in her cheeks. He laughed softly, to her bemusement.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, and was answered with a massive shudder that shook her entire body. "I guess not," he added, gazing at the small girl in his lap pityingly.

"Where is Inuyasha?" she asked hoarsely, looking blearily around their camp. Sango and Shippou weren't with them this time around, Sango having taken Kirara to scout out the terrain a few miles ahead, and Shippou having decided to go with her simply because watching Inuyasha and Kagome constantly bicker had become less than exciting after all this time. Which had turned out to be a good thing, after all, since witnessing his surrogate mother screaming like all the fires of Naraku were burning at her heels would have undoubtedly sent the poor little kit into a frenzy of terror. At any rate, it was now simply the three of them…except that three had obviously dwindled down to two with the lack of the hanyou in his usual roost in the trees.

Miroku hesitated. "Inuyasha left sometime after dusk," he replied, choosing his words carefully. "You were already asleep." She didn't ask where he had gone off to, and Miroku was relieved. He hadn't the heart to tell her that just before the hanyou's disappearance, a ghostly Shinidamachuu had drifted past them just outside the campsite.

Then again, it didn't seem to matter; one look at her saddened countenance and Miroku realized that she already knew where Inuyasha was.

He sought to keep a reign on his temper, cursing the other man in his mind. Hadn't the poor girl suffered enough for one night? He knew very well that it should have been Inuyasha who held Kagome in his arms, protecting her from the visions that had terrorized her. He was the one Kagome loved, after all. But because of the idiot's inability to let go of the past once and for all, Kagome had been left abandoned to the imaginings of her own mind, left to scream and cry and shake with fear, seeking comfort that would not come. Miroku could not leave her alone; her cries had shaken something in him that he thought he'd kept carefully buried, a sense of fierce protectiveness that he knew he had no right to be feeling over somebody else's woman…even if that somebody else didn't appear to want her.

Very well, then. If that was how it would be played out, then who was he to ignore a damsel so obviously in distress, Miroku thought grimly as he cradled Kagome's form in his arms. He would offer her all the comfort he could, poor as it might be, and even if it didn't come from the one she truly wanted, hopefully it would be enough to ease her troubles, if only for awhile.

So he sat there, swallowing the questions that rose to his tongue, certain that when Kagome was ready to speak, she would. He made sure his hands stayed in the proper places, not wanting to upset her further with his usual habit of groping, and she seemed to take comfort in the fact that he was behaving himself, for she no longer protested at being held in his lap. Rather, she let her body slump against him in weariness, her head tucked under his chin as her soft hair tickled his throat. To say that Miroku rather enjoyed having her cuddled so quietly and trustingly in his lap was like stating the blatantly obvious fact that water was wet, and he was loathe to do anything to drive her away from him. So much so, that he found himself barely breathing lest he accidentally stir the memory as to exactly whom it was that was holding her so intimately.

True, his back had a bit of a crick in it where he pressed up against the uneven trunk of a tree, and his legs were beginning to tingle ominously in the places where her soft weight was slowly putting them to sleep. But that was a small price to pay for such a treasured moment, and even those discomforts were forgotten when she shifted, raised her head and looked up at him through huge, night-shadowed eyes that still glittered with the traces of tears on her lashes. He suddenly felt as though he'd just taken a blow to the heart…from Inuyasha's fist.

"Miroku-sama, what is it that you're most afraid of?" she asked him, so quietly that her voice barely passed beyond a whisper.

He was startled; the question had been completely unexpected, and he was not prepared to answer such an intimate query. He faltered for a moment; it was on the tip of his tongue to toss out some flippant reply as he always did when faced with such personal issues, but the sadness on her face gave him pause. She was obviously very serious about this, and he owed it to her, he supposed, to give her a serious answer. Besides, he suspected that her question had more to do with her nightmare than she was prepared to admit, and he still longed to ease those troubling memories from her heart.

When he didn't answer right away, Kagome carefully picked up his hand-the cursed hand that loosely clutched her elbow-and drew his arm over her shoulder to bring the covered appendage before her. Miroku sucked in a breath in spite of himself when she held it between her own, showing not a glimmer of fear as she examined it, lightly tracing her finger over the bespelled beads, the only thing which held the raging monster at bay. "You're afraid of the Kazana, aren't you?" she guessed. "Y-you're afraid of the day when it…when you…" She choked on the words, unable to continue.

Miroku's eyes softened at her distress, and he gave her shoulders a comforting squeeze. "I do not fear the Kazana," he told her softly. "I've long ago accepted the fact that it may end my life one day. By accepting this fact, and preparing for it, I have no need to be afraid."

She looked up at him suspiciously, as though suspecting him of a lie, but he was the very picture of sincerity as he gazed back at her. She looked down again. "Then what is it that you do fear?" she asked. "You do fear something, don't you?" Her tone of voice suggested that she needed to know what that might be, although he could not begin to fathom why. But he was finding, much to his consternation, that he was unable to deny Kagome-sama anything she requested of him, even if it meant sacrificing his pride in the process. But what was pride anyway, compared to easing her troubled soul?

"Yes," he finally admitted on a breath. "There is one thing I fear." His cursed hand clenched convulsively for a moment, and then relaxed as Kagome stroked the back of it soothingly, turning it over to cup her soft little palm within his own. "I do fear the Kazana," he admitted, "but not for what it might one day do to me. I fear of what it might afterwards do to others." To you, was his unvoiced meaning.

"To others?" He heard the puzzled frown in her voice, her head tilting curiously to one side, and instinctively he lowered his face so that his rough cheek grazed her soft one, gazing at her hand resting so trustingly within his own. So small, so frail…the thought of those fragile bones being crushed, being consumed by the black hole was enough to make him sick, and he abruptly tore his hand from beneath hers and stuffed it beneath his robes, hiding it from her innocent gaze. She looked up, twisting her head to meet his eyes, startled. "M-Miroku-sama…?"

He gritted his teeth, suddenly wanting to run away, wishing that there was some way to change the subject, but somehow unable to do so. "When…if…I am consumed by the Kazana," he began in a low, tight, painful voice, "what is to stop it from…from growing completely out of control?"

A sudden widening of her eyes; she understood, then, what he meant. What he feared. That, after he was gone, the Kazana would not simply disappear as his father's had, but would continue to rage and grow and swallow everything in its path, everything and everyone, until there was nothing left to consume, nothing but the empty blackness of itself. He feared the destruction of the entire planet, of life itself.

Just like she did.

She drew in a deep breath at the realization, and almost without realizing it, whispered, "We-we're exactly the same."

"What?"

She turned to look at him again, into his startled eyes, and managed a weak smile. "We both fear the same thing," she explained shakily. Before he could pry her for explanation, she continued hoarsely, "In my nightmare…the earth was destroyed. All of it. There was nothing but death. The mission had…failed. Naraku took the jewel, he finished it, and he wished for the destruction of life. I…I watched all of you die…" Here she choked a bit at the memories, and Miroku squeezed her hand in an effort to remind her that he was still there, still very much alive.

"I couldn't do anything but…but stand there. Just…stand there while you all died in…horrible, horrible ways! And then there was nobody left, and I was the only one alive and…and...you kept demanding to know why I was still alive because it was all my fault that you were dead because I failed and…and…" She began to choke on the sobs that tried to escape through her words, and Miroku forgot what little propriety he was attempting to maintain as he pulled her closer to him, turning her so that she was flush against his chest, her face buried in his neck as she trembled with renewed sobs. He closed his eyes sorrowfully as he embraced her fully, one hand stroking soothingly over her back while the other tangled itself in her thick, soft hair. Strangely enough, not a single thought of groping her ever crossed his mind. Even he understood when best to keep inappropriate gestures to himself.

"It was only a nightmare, Kagome," he murmured, his lips brushing her hair. Appropriate or not, he couldn't bring himself to call her "sama" just now. It was too impersonal for such an intimate situation, and the fact that she didn't protest greatly encouraged him. "It hasn't happened," he added firmly. "It's never going to happen, so banish that dream from your mind. Ease your heart, Kagome. Please?"

"But how do you know?" she choked. "W-we're so close to the end…only a few shards left and…and he still has most of the Shikon no Tama and what if it wasn't a dream? What if it was a…a premonition?"

He winced; in truth, that was entirely possible. She was a miko, after all, no matter how untrained she might be. To have a vision wasn't entirely unheard of…

But in the next moment, he mentally smacked himself for having such dire thoughts. He was supposed to be comforting her fears, damn it, not offering them encouragement!

"Kagome," he began, gently chiding as he tilted her chin up to meet her gaze. "Have you ever had a premonition like that in all the time we've been traveling together?"

Something in his tone must have reached her, because she suddenly looked a little sheepish. "Well…not exactly," she mumbled. "Although…there was that one time when I dreamt I'd fail a major history test and I did. History! Which I'm practically living right now!"

Miroku forced a lighthearted laugh and pulled her close to him again, nuzzling his face against her hair. "When did you become so pessimistic?" he asked teasingly, desperately attempting to lighten the atmosphere.

"Since I saw all of my friends dying in front of my eyes," came the muttered response, and he sighed. Well, nobody could say he hadn't tried…

"Kagome," he began reasonably, "as I understand Time, it's something of a paradox, is it not? What happens in my future has already happened in your future."

"Yeah…" she murmured sleepily. Then, abruptly she sat up and shot him a perplexed glance. "Wait…run that by me again?"

He chuckled again, this time in genuine amusement. "What I mean is, if Naraku had succeeded in destroying the world in this time, there wouldn't be a world in the first place in yours, now would there? Therefore, you never would have been born, so you never would have come back through the well, the jewel would never have shattered, and none of this would have ever happened. And yet, if none of this had happened, Naraku wouldn't have been able to destroy the world in the first place, which means you would have been born, and come back through the well, and…"

"Miroku…sama?"

He paused at the pitiful whimper and blinked down at her. "Eh…yes?"

She heaved a sigh and slumped against him, shaking her head back and forth against his chest. "My brain is about to spontaneously combust. Could you maybe…not talk anymore?" she pleaded, eliciting another warm laugh.

"As you wish," he murmured, smiling down at her fondly. "But I do hope you see my point about this entire world-being-destroyed thing…"

She snorted. "Same thing applies to you," she retorted through a sudden yawn. "If your Kazana had managed to suck in the world, would I be sitting here right now?"

He blinked, then laughed. "Now that's not very kind of you, throwing my own words back in my face," he admonished teasingly, earning a little grin in reply. Ancestors, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd allowed himself to laugh so much! It felt…good. It felt good-wonderful, in fact-to be sitting there with Kagome, simply teasing and laughing and…he suddenly hoped that Inuyasha wouldn't return for a good, long while yet. If the hanyou was too dense to realize just what a good thing he was missing out on…well…Miroku certainly didn't feel any urge to enlighten him.

Weariness seemed to be catching up to Kagome; she was leaning heavily against him now with her hands fisted loosely in the fabric of his sleeves, completely relaxed and obviously trusting that he could, just this once, keep his wandering hands to himself. He felt rather touched that she was leaving herself so vulnerable in his presence, but then again, she was pretty shaken, and obviously in need of comfort. He tried not to resent the fact that things would have been different had Inuyasha been there, only to quickly reassure himself of the fact that, even if Inuyasha had been, she still might have taken refuge in Miroku's arms anyway, since the hanyou was never one for open displays of affection no matter what the circumstances were.

He felt Kagome release a huge yawn, felt her full breasts pressing into his chest as her lungs expanded…and gulped at the abrupt surge of arousal that shot straight into his loins. He gritted his teeth against the sudden, uncomfortable pressure swelling between his legs, praying that his self-control wouldn't snap. Of all the times for his traitorous body to act up, he thought with a near-silent moan. And he'd been doing so well, too!

His fingers twitched with the urge to move much lower down on her back than their current chaste position. She was right there, in perfect alignment! All he needed to do was slip them down over her side and…he restrained himself with the swift reminder that as soon as he touched her inappropriately, she would most likely remove her delicious body from his lap (although, given the pressure of her soft weight against a certain part of said lap, that wasn't a bad thing). Not only that, but she would no doubt follow that up by delivering a black eye or two in retaliation, and he really didn't wish to wander around half-blind for the next few days.

"Is something wrong?" Kagome's concerned voice snapped Miroku out of his deliberation and he glanced down at her in surprise, only to notice a worried frown etched on her brow. Obviously, she had sensed that something was amiss, even though she didn't appear to realize what was wrong (bless her innocence). However, he realized with a nervous gulp, if she happened to shift in just the right place, she'd be finding out the hard way (*cough*) exactly what the problem was.

"N-nothing's wrong, Kagome-sama," he began as innocently as possible. "I was just thinking that you appear to be rather tired. Perhaps you should retire to your bedroll until morning comes so you can catch up on your sleep?"

Kagome's eyes darkened slightly at the suggestion; she seemed not at all pleased at the idea of sleeping again. Poor girl probably feared another nightmare as bad as the first, he thought pityingly.

"Miroku-sama?" Her questioning voice once again interrupted his musings, and he glanced down at her as she looked away in a useless attempt to hide the faint blush in her cheeks. "W-would you mind terribly if I…if I stayed where I am?"

The earth could have exploded right under him and he wouldn't have been more surprised. Kagome was willingly volunteering to sit with him in his lap?

All night long?

Surely, now he was the one who must be dreaming!

His incredulousness must have shown on his face, because the corners of her mouth tightened briefly and she moved as if to push herself up and away from him. "Right. That was a stupid question," she stated around a half-hearted and obviously forced giggle. "I doubt it's very comfortable for you to sit like that and your legs are probably asleep by now and…"

A pair of arms interrupted her ramblings quite effectively as they wrapped themselves around her waist and pulled her back into his warm embrace. "On the contrary," he murmured teasingly, "I happen to be quite comfortable." True, his legs were completely numb, but that was a small price to pay for the pleasure of her body pressed so closely to his. He was, however, extremely careful about how he adjusted said body, not wanting her to figure out exactly how much he was enjoying her presence. Allowing a small smirk, he positioned her so that her legs were draped over his lap, one on either side to straddle him, making sure to shift her lower half down further on his legs while pulling her upper half closer to lie against his chest. This served the duel purpose of keeping her lap far enough away from his so that she couldn't possibly feel any…mysterious lumps that might set her to gouging out his eyeballs, and yet close enough so he could fully enjoy the delicious curves of her soft breasts pressing into his chest. "There," he said lightly. "Quite comfortable."

She grimaced. "For you, maybe," she muttered. "What am I, an afghan? Stretching me out like that…" Muttering to herself, she scooted closer to him, eliciting a bit of panic on his part when her buttocks landed firmly on his tense thighs, directly over his rather prominent erection. He closed his eyes, prayed to Buddha, and waited for the raging violence to begin.

What happened instead was that Kagome slipped her arms around his chest, nestled her head against his pectoral, sighed deeply, and settled in for a nap. Miroku felt a vein twitch in his forehead, while something else twitched…lower down. Merciful Buddha, the girl couldn't possibly be that naïve…could she? And while he didn't particularly mind being wedged together like one of those sandwiches she often brought with her to snack on, his self-control really couldn't take much more pressure like this…

"Miroku-sama…?" Kagome's sleepy voice jerked him out of his raging thoughts like a bucket of ice water thrown directly over his lap.

"Y-yes, what is it, Kagome-sama?" he replied, his voice coming out oddly strained.

If she noticed at all, she didn't say anything. "Is…do you think it's selfish…for a person to…not want to be alone?" she questioned, her voice rising barely above a murmur, soft and husky and sleepy.

Miroku gritted his teeth until they nearly cracked. Stop…talking…like…that…

The poor monk was going to need a long dip under the waterfall before this night was over…

"I think…it is human nature to not want to be alone," he replied carefully. "If that is selfishness, you are no more selfish than I."

Her brow furrowed slightly as she frowned thoughtfully. "So…is it selfish to want to be with one person…and another person at the same time?"

He froze, glancing down at the top of her head. "What do…?" His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat and tried again. "Wh-what do you think, Kagome-sama?"

He could practically feel her frown as she thought quietly for a moment. "I used to think so," she finally replied. "I used to think Inuyasha was…incredibly selfish. For wanting two people at the same time." She mentioned no names, but then again, she didn't need to.

Behind her back, his hands clenched into fists at the mention of that name. "But now?" Because there was obviously a "but" somewhere in this. She shrugged lightly and sighed heavily. He gritted his teeth and really wished she'd stop doing that…

"Now…I think maybe…I can understand a little better how Inuyasha feels…"

His heart thudded against his chest. Hard. He knew she could feel it against her cheek. "Is that right?" he murmured, trying very hard to keep his hopes from skyrocketing…and failing miserably. She nodded once, keeping her face carefully lowered from his, but he could still see the color burning in her cheek through the silken hair that swept across it, and his desire grew. "And why is that?" he murmured, suddenly not-so-afraid anymore. He pushed aside the strands of hair with his cursed hand, tucking them gently behind her ear. She glanced up at him nervously, then away again. He smiled.

"Perhaps it is selfish to desire two people at the same time," he began gently, "but only if that desire hurts one or both of those people. Otherwise, I don't believe it is selfish to desire…companionship. Humans were never meant to be alone, after all."

She nodded slowly, as if thinking it over.

"Why the questions, Kagome," he murmured. "Is there…somebody you desire? Aside from Inuyasha, that is…"

She jumped a little as if caught off-guard, then frantically shook her head, but it was more of a knee-jerk reaction and she stopped immediately. "Well…um…maybe," she amended, a bit sheepishly. "Wh-what about you?"

His lips curled into a smirk. "Come now, Kagome," he purred. "You should know me well enough to know the answer to that question."

He expected her to realize that he was teasing, in regards to his little…addiction to women, and was therefore surprised when her shoulders suddenly slumped. "Right," she replied with a little laugh. "Sango, of course."

He blinked. Sango? Funny…thoughts of the demon slayer hadn't even crossed his mind lately. More importantly… He glanced down at the girl in his lap, lips curling upward. Could she be…?

"Actually, no," he stated in well-feigned surprise, causing her to glance up in genuine surprise. Their eyes locked, and his lids lowered to cover a darkening gaze. "It isn't Sango that I've had on my mind lately…" he murmured, allowing his lips to curl into a sensual smirk. And he shifted his hips beneath her, lifting them ever-so-slightly into her body, to make sure she could feel the meaning behind his words.

Her eyes widened, and the color in her face grew more pronounced. "Oh," she squeaked.

His smile deepened, and suddenly, she found herself on her back in the moss, with him sprawling over her, his hands tangled in her hair and her back cradled in his arms; his face was only inches from hers. "Kagome…" Her name was a mantra on his lips, and her heart began to pound. "Perhaps we are both very selfish at times. That is also human nature." He silenced her soft protest with his mouth, urging her into stillness as he plied her lips in a drugging kiss. His breathing had deepened when he finally lifted his mouth from hers; his eyes were nearly as black as the sky above them, and glittered with just as much starlight. "If we both insist on being selfish," he continued in his deep, soft voice, "then perhaps we might both be content…to be selfish together."

He waited with bated breath for her response; watched her face, soft and vulnerable with the firelight and shadows that danced across it. And when she slowly lifted her head from the ground to press a soft, chaste kiss to his lips, he very nearly wept with relief.

It was all the encouragement he needed.

&~&~&~&~&~&~&

As the moon waned and the sun touched the sky with glowing fingers, dawn found the monk and the miko curled together in a tangle of limbs and clothes and sated desire, deeply sleeping and more relaxed than either of them could ever remember feeling, had they been awake to think it over.

So did a certain hanyou, as he stole silently into the camp, trying not to look as guilty as he felt after having spent yet another night speaking with the beloved miko of his past. There wasn't any harm in just talking to her, he told himself…although he knew very well that Kagome did not feel the same way about that.

He stopped dead in his tracks at the first sight of the heap of bodies; his nose told him what had happened even before his eyes did, as it was assaulted with the combined scents of Kagome and Miroku and the sex they'd obviously had. Together.

His hackles rose and a low snarl rose in his throat as he stalked over to them, fully prepared to rip Miroku's throat out through his knees for daring to lay one perverted finger on his Kagome.

But…something stopped him.

They lay there, curled together in a lover's embrace, oblivious to Miroku's rising doom, and they looked…content. At ease. As if nothing in the world could ever go wrong again. Or, if it did, as if they could face it down and conquer it together.

The clawed hand that had risen to strike the deadly blow wavered, hesitated, and then dropped limply to the hanyou's side as he stood there gazing down at the pair. In particular, at Kagome, as she lay draped like a limp cat over Miroku's prone form beneath the robe spread over them, her hair a mass of tangles and her pale face utterly composed and peaceful. She sighed and turned to bury her nose in the man's bare chest, snuggling into him before relaxing again, a soft smile curling faintly at her lips.

Did…did she ever look like that when she was with me?

The thought struck him a blow, like his brother's claws piercing his chest, and he abruptly turned and staggered away from the scene, feeling vaguely sick. He leaned against a tree, resting his forehead on his forearm as he breathed deeply, and tried to block out thoughts of Kagome writhing beneath Miroku's body, calling Miroku's name, coming for the first time in Miroku's arms.

The tree shuddered as Inuyasha's fist made a six-inch hole in its trunk.

It should have been me. It was supposed to have been me! he howled silently.

And it could have been, another nasty thought occurred to him. If he had been there, it could have been. Whatever had driven Kagome to seek that kind of comfort in Miroku's arms, if he had just been there, perhaps he would have been the one to kiss her and hold her and make her climax in his arms over and over again.

But he hadn't been. He had been with her, and Kagome…she had finally grown tired of waiting for him to make a decision about what he really wanted.

She had finally made it for him, and he…he had finally lost her.

And he knew, as much as he wanted to deny it, that he had nobody but himself to blame.

As the sun continued to rise over the trees, the hanyou crept away into the forest to release his anguish on the hapless trees, alone, leaving the pair of lovers to rest in their contentment until the first lances of sunlight began to pierce the canopy of the forest above them.

End

"…the little dog lay curled and did not rise,
But slept the deeper as the ashes rose.
And found the people incomplete, and froze
The random hands, the loose, unready eyes
Of men expecting yet another sun
To do the shapely thing they had not done.
These sudden ends of time must give us pause.
We stray into the future rarely wrought
Save in the tapestries of afterthought…"
~~From "Year's End" by Richard Wilbur

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*Coughs* So. That's it. There may be a lemon insert between the time Miroku begins to…uh…"comfort" Kagome and the time Inuyasha finds them, but I'll save that for later. Like, after the contest. Besides, it isn't written yet.

As for the poem…er…I dunno. I was finishing this up and suddenly those lines just popped into my head and I thought…well, why not? Besides, I love poetry, and I love that poem, and those particular lines actually kinda fit from Inuyasha's point of view at the end there. Kinda. At least in my warped mind it does. ^^; Basically what it's saying is don't keep putting things off 'cause, well…you snooze, you lose. And…well…Inuyasha unfortunately lost.

Anyway, hope you all enjoyed reading this. I really enjoyed writing it. ^_^

Quickening