InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Metamorphosis ❯ New Beginnings, Part 2 ( Chapter 44 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: King Baka 
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Suspense / Romance / Hentai / Adventure | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 03.04.2010 | Updated On: 02.08.2011 | Pages: 2 | Words: 6.4K | Visits: 3.0K | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Suspense / Romance / Hentai / Adventure | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 03.04.2010 | Updated On: 02.08.2011 | Pages: 2 | Words: 6.4K | Visits: 3.0K | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: I don’t own Inuyasha or any of the publicly known characters, plot, etc. I’m just renting them from Rumiko Takahashi, Viz, etc. I do own the plot of this story and any original characters I’ve created. I will make no money from this fic; I write for my own enjoyment and the enjoyment of my readers.
New Beginnings, Part 2
Inuyasha woke with the sun as he usually did, but this time instead of dozing off until the others roused, he immediately rose to his feet. After taking care of nature in that strange toy-let contraption, he returned to Kagome’s room. He stood watching her sleep for a minute or so, debating with himself whether he should wake her up. He wished he could leave her here, but the well would no longer allow it. He could try to carry her to Kaede’s hut without waking her, but the odds of her remaining asleep in hanyou form were slim. At least, that was the reason he told himself why he strode over to her bedside and gently jostled her awake.
“Kagome? Kagome, wake up.”
She groaned and rolled over onto her back, blinking blearily up at him. “Inuyasha? What is it?”
“I gotta go help Miroku build his hut today, or did you forget already?”
“Oh. No, just give me a few minutes.”
Nodding, Inuyasha exited the room and went downstairs to give Kagome some privacy. She joined him about ten minutes later, still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. He shook his head in amusement. She may be a hanyou, but she still wakes up like humans do. She was dressed in her feudal era clothes and had the jewel shard contained in a new bottle suspended by a cord around her neck.
“Alright, let’s go,” he declared.
“You don’t wanna eat first?” Kagome replied, sounding disappointed.
“Keh. You can eat when we get there. The bouzu and I need to get to work.”
“Okay, I was gonna offer to make bacon, but if you don’t want it…”
“Bacon?” the hanyou repeated, immediately perking up at the mention of his favorite modern breakfast food. “Can you make it fast?”
Kagome grinned, knowing she had him. “Faster than you can say ‘feed me.’”
Inuyasha’s answer was to lick his lips and practically skip into the kitchen. Kagome followed, shaking her head at his antics, and began to prepare the meal. She grabbed a pan and started cooking a half dozen of the real reasons she wanted to eat breakfast in her time. For some reason, she had woken up this morning with a serious craving for eggs. After cracking the six she decided that they were hungry enough to eat two more and added them to the pan. Meanwhile, Inuyasha stared through the clear door of the microwave at the bacon sizzling inside. Her mother liked to cook it that way because a lot of the grease came off, and that was probably a good thing since Inuyasha looked like he wanted to devour all of the dozen strips she had put in there. Could hanyou have heart attacks? She didn’t intend to find out any time soon.
Breakfast was quiet save for the sounds of scarfing and a satisfied sigh when Inuyasha had finished his meal. He had only taken his half of the food, but Kagome gave him two of her bacon strips when she caught him eyeing her plate. She supposed he couldn’t help it if he was a glutton for modern food, since how often did he get to eat it? She was sure he would get his fill of it over the next few days or weeks, however long they stayed here. Inuyasha graciously got up and washed the dishes as she was finishing her eggs.
“Thanks for doing that,” she told him as she slid her plate into the water.
“Thanks for the meal,” he replied.
“Y-you’re welcome,” she stuttered, surprised at his easy thank you. Either his manners had really improved that much or he was going out of his way to be nice to her. Probably a little of both, she reflected.
Without further ado, they leapt into the well together. Their companions were just finishing their morning meal when they arrived, and shortly thereafter Miroku and Inuyasha got to work. They were soon joined by a handful of villagers who trickled in, all interested in making sure the newly-married couple had a cozy and private place to spend the evening. Inuyasha kept his vow; the hut was completed by early afternoon. It was quite extensive by the standards of the time, large enough to comfortably house the newlyweds, Kohaku, and several children, including Shippou if the fox so desired. Miroku was already planning where they would build an extension should they need it, but unless Sango’s first pregnancy resulted in quintuplets, their current residence would be perfectly adequate for years to come.
“Thank you, Inuyasha. We could not have done it without you,” Miroku said.
“Keh.”
“Come, let us go bathe. I cannot attend my own wedding smelling like a sweaty fundoshi.”
Inuyasha nodded in agreement; they both could use a good wash.
Meanwhile, Kagome, Sango, and Kaede spent the morning seeing to wedding preparations. Kagome took the slayer down to bathe after the boys had returned, and then straight into Kaede’s hut to prepare the bride for her special day. When they were finished, Kagome stared at her friend in amazement.
“Wow, Sango-chan. You’re so beautiful!”
“T-thanks,” the slayer stammered.
“What’s the matter? You nervous?” Kagome posed knowingly. At Sango’s nod, she wrapped her arm around her shoulders. “Just think about this, Sango-chan. However nervous you are, Miroku-sama is at least that nervous.”
“You really think so?”
“Of course! I bet he can’t even sit still right now.”
They were waiting inside the new hut for the ceremony to begin, though Miroku hadn’t stopped pacing since he put on the formal kimono one of the villagers loaned him. It was driving Inuyasha crazy; he could hear every soft footfall and every anxious sigh. Seeing the normally cool and collected monk like this was officially weirding him out.
“Sorry, Inuyasha. I’m just nervous, I guess.”
“What the hell are you so worried about? Sango obviously loves you.”
Miroku froze and stared at the hanyou; Inuyasha never would have said something like that before. Apparently, admitting one’s own love made it easier to opine on the relationships of others. That thought gave Miroku an idea, though he knew the hanyou wasn’t going to like it.
“Inuyasha, one of the things I’m anxious about is…well, you know, tonight. My experience with women is…somewhat limited, and I don’t want Sango to be disappointed.”
To Inuyasha’s credit, he didn’t ask how limited, but he didn’t act surprised either. He would always have wagered that the ‘will you bear my child’ line hadn’t enjoyed much success over the years. When the hanyou didn’t say anything, Miroku continued on the same course.
“What did you do on your first night with Kagome-sama?”
At this, the blush that Inuyasha had been stubbornly holding down rose to darken his cheeks. Damn bouzu. Even when he’s being sincere he has to ask perverted questions! There was no way the monk was getting any details from that night. But thinking back on it, Inuyasha knew there were some things he could say that might at least help soothe the man’s nerves.
“Quit worrying, bouzu. If a dumb hanyou like me can get it right, then so can you. Just take it slow. Let her make the first move. She’s probably even more nervous than you are. And…uh,” he stalled, wondering whether he should give this final pointer. It was a very personal detail, but it was solely because he had discovered it that Kagome had climaxed with him. Sango deserved as much in her first time as well. “Don’t be afraid to touch her as you’re doing it,” he finished, his reddened face rapidly vanishing into his haori.
Slightly more schooled in the ways of sexual pleasure, Miroku instantly understood what he meant. It was very good advice—all of it was—and he didn’t know if he would have thought of it on his own. He was stunned that Inuyasha was willing to share something so intimate, but grateful as well. And because of that, he would say nothing to deepen the hanyou’s obvious embarrassment.
“Thank you for the sound advice, my friend. I hope you and Kagome-sama eventually get to the point where you are able to put that knowledge to use.”
Inuyasha shot him an incredulous look, as if to say ‘what makes you think we aren’t doing it now?’ But he quickly dropped the act, and merely nodded his gratitude for the support.
“In your own words,” Miroku continued, “take it slow. Let her make the first move. Give it time,” he added on his own.
Inuyasha had already decided to do just that, but it was still nice to hear from someone else that he was doing the right thing. He also sensed that Miroku truly did want him and Kagome to patch things up. A half day of laboring together had removed much of the tension from their relationship, and now he knew that at least Miroku accepted him back into the group so long as he behaved properly from now on. The monk’s bride-to-be was another story, but he would battle that demon when he came to it. Speaking of demons, Shippou suddenly popped into the doorway.
“Kaede says it’s time,” he told them, and just like that Miroku was a nervous wreck again. Inuyasha shook his head; the man was completely hopeless.
Those nerves subsided once he was reunited with his fiancée before Kaede, with the whole village in attendance. They looked so serene up there, smiling joyfully at each other, neither showing any of their previous anxiety. They knew beyond any doubt that this is what they wanted to do, how they wanted to spend the rest of their lives, as man and wife. And they proceeded through the ceremony with all the confidence that true love can bring. (1)
It truly was a beautiful ceremony, and among those who knew them well, there were few dry eyes. Even Kohaku couldn’t help but be happy for the couple, despite any lingering reservations he had against the lecherous houshi. It helped that Miroku had behaved as a near-perfect gentleman since their confrontation a few weeks ago, at least in public. And now that they were married, anything intimate happening between his sister and her husband in private was no longer lecherous at all. Seeing the two of them together, Kohaku’s concerns about the monk’s faithfulness shrunk to almost nonexistent. Whatever his ways might have been before, the boy sensed that Miroku had fully broken with them and accepted the role of the faithful husband with the same open arms he used to take in a broken taijiya and an orphan fox kit. Kohaku knew that many men of this era would view him as a hindrance, extra baggage that came along with his sister, but Miroku didn’t see them that way. The monk had all but insisted that they live with him and Sango. Of course, both he and Shippou would be spending tonight in Kaede’s hut, for obvious reasons.
Kagome was conflicted. For the most part, she was deliriously happy for her friends, but she also felt a certain sadness well within her, stemming from the knowledge that she would never enjoy a moment like this with Inuyasha. No, I told myself I didn’t want to pressure him into marriage. We are already joined in the youkai way; it’s the right decision. It didn’t really matter right now anyway, since even if they planned on getting married, it wasn’t happening anytime soon. They were still walking on eggshells around each other, and probably would be for some time. She felt eyes on her, and turned to see Inuyasha gazing at her intently. He looked away quickly, but the slight frown on his face made her wonder if her brief melancholy had been visible in her expression. She shrugged, deciding there was nothing she could to about it now. Once again adopting a cheerful smile, she resolved to enjoy the evening.
It wasn’t difficult; the festival after the ceremony was a joyous affair, lasting well into the night. From a practical standpoint, the villagers wanted to make sure their protectors knew they were always welcome, but most were genuinely happy for the newlyweds as well. Sake was plentiful, though neither Miroku nor Sango drank very much; both wanted to be completely sober for their wedding night. And when the time finally came for the couple to retire, they were serenaded by well-wishes and sent on their way with embraces from their closest friends. So caught up in the moment was she, that Sango temporarily forgot her resentment toward Inuyasha, and hugged him immediately after releasing Kagome. It would be the following morning before she realized her error and scolded herself accordingly.
They walked silently together toward their new home, listening as the sounds of the festival were slowly replaced by the soft crunch of the grass under their feet and the chirping of the crickets. The night was so peaceful, and for a moment Sango allowed it to lull her body into a state of blissful relaxation. Then she remembered where she was, where they were going, and what they were going to do there, and her nervousness from before the ceremony returned full force. She sensed Miroku shifting toward her, and braced for the sensation of his hand on her backside. She was pleasantly surprised when his hand instead grasped hers, holding it gently between them.
She stopped in her tracks, obliging Miroku to do the same as she stared down at the place where their bodies joined. The moonlight gave the sight a dappled effect; it was difficult to see where he ended and she began. She blushed despite herself. How odd was it that she would not have batted an eye at a grope, but this innocent contact warmed her in a wonderful way which none of his more lecherous touches ever had? She felt gentle pressure on her fingers, and her eyes panned up to his face. He grinned at her, seemingly aware of her thoughts. She hesitantly smiled back, starting forward again and returning his squeeze as she did so.
“I almost can’t believe it,” Miroku said after a short distance.
“We waited so long…and then it happened so fast,” Sango agreed.
“No more waiting,” Miroku observed. He let the comment hang in the air for a moment before moving around in front of Sango, taking her other hand as well and blocking her path. Not that she had any intention of going anywhere. She moved in close, the front of her kimono just making contact with his, and tilted her chin up, rising to meet him as he leaned toward her.
Their first kiss as husband and wife was so much like their first one ever. Soothing yet passionate, revealing of the emotions and soul of the other, the first defining moment of a whole new relationship. They were finally married. They were finally home. In the heat of the lip lock his hand came to rest on her backside, and Sango grinned against him. No matter how much things had changed between them, Miroku would always be her perverted Houshi-sama at heart. She wouldn’t have him any other way. Finally they pulled apart, leaning their foreheads together as they caught their collective breath.
“L-let’s go inside,” Sango said.
“As you wish, my dear,” Miroku replied, something of a twinkle in his eye. And yet, she sensed no urgency from the monk as she stepped inside their new home for the first time. She stood and looked around for a few moments as her husband busied himself setting a small fire for light and warmth. Then she knelt down on the large futon, big enough for two, and ran her fingers along the smooth surface of the top covering. Miroku’s soft gasp drew her attention to the center of the room, where he gazed at her in awe, completely taken aback by her beauty under the flickering firelight. He had seen it before, but never had he appreciated it—or Sango herself—so much. The taijiya flushed again under his scrutiny, but didn’t look away. The light shining around him gave him a majestic appearance, an aura of strength and love so rare in this world. Both of them knew in that moment how lucky they were.
Miroku strode over to the futon and seated himself across from her in his customary cross-legged manner. But he was certainly not the picture of peaceful concentration he usually was. He leaned forward, never taking his eyes from her, their knees separated by a few short inches. Hesitantly he reached up with his previously-cursed right hand, watching as the light from the dancing flames flitted across his skin. Tenderly he brought it to Sango’s cheek, cupping her smooth skin, just enjoying the act of feeling her. His hand wandered, drifting to run his fingers along her jaw line and down to her neck, then back up again. Sango leaned into the touch, tears of happiness springing to her eyes. Nothing could have prepared her for the way her husband was acting right now, as if she was the most precious thing in the world to him. But more than that, the way he was hesitating, seemingly unsure of himself. She knew he was no virgin, but it was rapidly becoming clear that he had never experienced anything like the wonderful expression of love and desire in which they were about to engage. She supposed they were both virgins in that sense. It gave her courage, and a boldness that urged her to fling shyness to the wind and show her man her deepest desires.
Rising up onto her hands and knees, she closed the distance between them and kissed him firmly. As the kiss deepened, tongues tangling in the humid utopia created by their lips, Sango crawled forward, pushing Miroku slowly backward until finally he leaned back on his elbows, she on top of him resting between his splayed knees. It was a comfortable position, and they spent several moments enjoying each other in that manner. But neither of them could use their hands when situated in that way, so Miroku sat up slightly, slipping an arm around Sango’s waist and gently rolling her over onto her side. They lay facing one another, each breathing hard, licking their lips to moisten them for the next encounter. Miroku motioned for Sango to turn over, and she passed him a confused look, but complied. Then she felt him working on the ties binding her hair. Sango sighed in bliss as he leisurely ran his fingers through the strands when he was finished, simply enjoying the affectionate contact. After awhile, she rolled over and freed him from his braid, taking a few moments to return the favor, though she had much less hair to work with. That didn’t seem to matter to the monk; his eyes slid closed as she petted his scalp. When they came open again, there was a hunger in his gaze that sparked a matching desire deep inside her. Taking her chin in his hand, he guided her to him for another kiss.
His other hand came to rest on her bicep, subconsciously squeezing her muscle with each movement of their lips. Sango also moved to touch as well, her palm resting briefly on his cheek before ghosting down over his neck and finally slipping inside the kimono he wore. The feel of the warm skin of his chest sent a wave of excitement through her. The knowledge that she was at long last touching him like this thrilled her and made her want more. Pushing gently, she urged him over onto his back, she coming to lean over him. Finally she pulled away from the kiss and sat up to inspect her prize. For his part, Miroku was more than willing to lie back and allow his goddess to worship him.
Tentatively at first, Sango used both hands to separate the layers of clothing covering his upper body. Gaining more confidence from the heated look he sent her, she made quick work of the various ties before slowly drawing the garments apart and baring his torso to her gaze. It was a sight she had only rarely glimpsed, and she had always been too embarrassed to really look. Now she realized how attractive his body really was. His chest and abdomen were toned from years of wandering the countryside and performing exorcisms, though not overly muscular. There was barely a mark on his pristine skin; he had always possessed a knack for avoiding injury, unless his kazaana was involved. She was jealous of that ability.
His muscles tensed and relaxed as her hands moved over them, memorizing the subtle contours of his body. Every sigh of appreciation, every hitch of breath drove the blood just a little bit faster through her veins, and she could tell it was doing the same to him. For Miroku, Sango’s teasing was sweet torture, and he could only take so much of it. His hands were literally burning, having rarely ever been denied before. He held himself in check for awhile, but finally decided enough was enough. The goddess had taken her turn; it was now his turn to worship her.
Sango suddenly found herself flat on her back, her houshi looming over her. He shrugged out of the sleeves of his kimono, leaving him bared to the waist. She gulped at the ravenous look in his eyes and tried to fight off a renewed flash of nerves. Fair was fair, after all. But after a moment his face softened, and he leaned in for a reassuring kiss. While she was suitably distracted his right hand came to rest upon her tummy, moving in slowly-widening circles over the cloth covering her. And when the edge of his fingers made first contact with the gentle swell of her chest, he pulled back from her lips, wanting to see her face as his hand came up to cover a breast.
A small gasp escaped Sango; even through several layers of clothing, that simple touch sent a tiny thrill through her. She brought her hands up to caress his arm, to encourage him, to show him his touch was wanted. He responded in kind, bringing his free hand to her other breast and massaging them slowly with a steady rhythm. His gentle circles soon had Sango biting her lip and wondering what his hands would feel like without the barrier of cloth. Evidently, Miroku wondered the same thing, as his hands left her breasts in favor of unfastening the ties to her kimono. Gradually he drew apart the folds, revealing her chest binding. Sango sat up, pulling her arms out of the sleeves, and began to remove it. But Miroku stilled her hands, obviously wanting to do it himself. A flush spread across Sango’s entire upper body, but she assented, leaning back onto her elbows so her husband could unwrap her.
And he did so, reverentially, as if opening a wondrous gift. He stared unblinkingly as inch after inch of skin was revealed, and Sango glanced down at her body, hoping to see herself through his eyes. She gasped; in the waning firelight, every scar seemed twice as noticeable as before. And she had many of them, even one on her breast from an old injury. They glowed, glaring reminders of battles past that took away from her beauty and labeled her a warrior, and nothing more. It was almost as if they made her less of a woman. She dreaded Miroku’s reaction. Then the last of the binding was gone, and she didn’t have to wait any longer.
Miroku stared awestruck. He had imagined Sango’s breasts many times, but to actually see them as they rose and fell with each breath was mind-blowing. Then her arms came up to block his view, and he glanced up to her face to send her a look of mild admonishment. His grin fell immediately; something was wrong. It was the way she wouldn’t look at him, the way her eyes were afraid, and the way she covered not only her breasts but her body’s odd marks that let him know exactly why she was anxious. His gorgeous, powerful, confident bride was subconscious about her scars. Did she think they made her seem less beautiful in his eyes? The truth was just the opposite; her scars reminded him why he fell in love with her in the first place. Sango’s body and personality had been hardened by years of slaying demons and dealing with tragedy. Yet, she still maintained a feminine softness that he had always found incredibly alluring. And the more he grew to know her, the more he realized how special and wonderful that contradiction was. She was a warrior, but he knew she would make an amazing wife and mother as well. If their union tonight resulted in a pregnancy, he would be the happiest man alive. And if not, well, they would have plenty of fun trying again and again and again. But back to the here and now, his foolish wife needed to be reassured, and he knew just how to go about it.
Sango felt genuine panic at his perceived hesitation, believing her body to be a disappointment to him. But she knew he wouldn’t stop or comment, being far too kind for that. So she was not surprised when she sensed him hovering over her, or that his lips found her breast, but she was shocked to discover that he only paid attention to one area of her breast before moving south. One very particular part of her breast…
She gasped as she realized what he was doing. Kissing and licking every mark upon her skin, showing her that he accepted all of her, scars included, and that they didn’t make her any less breathtaking in his eyes. She brought her hand to her mouth and choked back a sob. Miroku grinned, now that he knew she had gotten the message. His tongue briefly detoured down to her belly button, burrowing into the orifice just to make her squirm. But he felt that he really needed to drive his point home so she would never again doubt how beautiful she was to him. And there was one more scar he hadn’t gotten to yet. When he urged her to roll onto her stomach, Sango complied without really thinking about it. But her mind abruptly skidded to a halt when she felt his lips press against the middle of her back, the same place where Kohaku’s sickle had buried itself on that fateful day long ago…
Suddenly Miroku was thrown back, landing unceremoniously on his backside. Before he could wonder what happened, Sango was straddling his hips, her lips smashed into his in the most desperate and passionate kiss of the evening. She dominated him, taking what she wanted, plundering his mouth and turning his tongue into her willing slave. Her hips gyrated against his, grinding her heated core against his pulsing erection. Their bare chests rubbed together, eliciting delicious a friction that drove their excitement to new heights. In the back of his mind, Miroku wondered where this voracious vixen had come from. He hoped he could coax her to come out more often. But some of Sango’s ardor soon faded, perhaps a result of her rational mind regaining control of her faculties. Whatever the reason, Miroku decided the time was right to take control of the encounter again. He rolled them over, placing her on her back and settling between her legs. He pressed his hips forward, wringing a throaty moan from his wife and failing to keep a matching one from escaping his own lips. A single thought passed between them—their remaining clothes had to go.
Miroku set to the task, quickly shedding his own clothing and giving his wide-eyed wife her first glimpse of his raging hard-on. He disrobed Sango much more leisurely, cherishing every moment. And when he finally found himself staring down at his wife in all her naked glory, he had to remind himself to breathe. She truly was a goddess. It didn’t even register that she was just as enchanted by him.
A squirm by Sango drew him from his stupor, and he moved to lie beside her. They turned to face each other, breath mingling in the scant space between them. Miroku’s hands finally found her bare breasts, drawing a low moan from his wife as her eyes slid shut. He watched, fascinated as she hissed when his fingers gently closed around her nipple, rubbing the bud until it hardened. Miroku’s other hand moved down to stroke her hip, seeking permission to cross the final threshold. Without hesitation, Sango parted her legs, allowing her husband’s hand to slip between them. They both gasped at once; Sango because of the jolts of electricity shooting through her body, and Miroku because of how wet she was. Male pride blossomed within him at the thought that he excited her so. And now, he fully intended to give her more pleasure than she had ever known. His fingers parted her folds, gently massaging as her breath shuddered in and out of her lungs. One of them found her nub, causing her back to arch and a broken moan of his name to escape her lips. His name, not the title she still sometimes called him by. He was just contemplating the significance of that when he felt Sango’s warm hand wrap firmly around his member.
He bit back a groan and gritted his teeth, his body jerking at the sudden contact. He had to fight the urge to thrust into her hand as she stroked it up and down at an agonizingly slow pace. How was it that it didn’t feel half as good when he did it himself? Realizing Sango’s touch had caused his own hand to still, he resumed his ministrations upon her tender flesh, gently slipping part of a finger inside her. She gasped and squeezed him, pulling a groan from him despite his efforts to hold it back. Now she stroked him harder, at a pace which would not allow him to last too long if she continued. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand from her core and stopped her, having a different scenario in mind for his first climax with her. The lay together panting for several moments, staring into each other’s eyes, neither having any doubt that both desired to consummate their relationship. Miroku leaned in for one more sweet kiss, then rose to his knees and shuffled into position, settling over her. Sango’s thighs closed around his hips, her arms wrapped around his torso as he prodded at her entrance briefly before pressing inside.
Sango grimaced at the discomfort but otherwise made no complaint; it was actually not as bad as she feared. But her husband knew it would hurt, and even if he didn’t, he was far too observant not to notice. He paused deep inside her, intent to wait until the ache subsided, but Sango was having none of it. She rolled her hips, urging him to continue. He did so, pulling out and pushing back in at a snail’s pace until the look of concealed discomfort on his wife’s face started to shift into something else. It was when she began raising her hips to meet each of his thrusts that he finally stopped holding himself back.
Grunts and groans and the soft slap of flesh on flesh reverberated throughout the hut, illuminated now only by the last dying embers of the fire. But the two lovers saw each other clear as day, despite the darkness. Miroku reared up, pulling Sango’s hips and pounding into her at a new angle that made her see stars. She cried out as his thumb found her little nub once more, making good use of a friend’s advice. She could sense her orgasm approaching, nearly frightening in its intensity. She reached up to his face, the tips of her fingers just barely skimming along his lips before he opened his mouth and captured one of them between his teeth. He grunted with every thrust, the rhythm becoming more frantic as they both felt the imminence of their climaxes. Then with one final thrust he released himself, a single extra stroke of his thumb driving Sango into oblivion immediately thereafter. They cried out together, feeling waves of pleasure wash over them, pulsing around each other as one body, one soul.
Finally they descended from their highs, Miroku collapsing by Sango’s side. They lay there staring at the ceiling and panting heavily with contented looks on their faces for the longest time. Then Miroku felt Sango’s hand clasp his own; he grinned as he realized it was the same gesture which had started them down this road earlier in the evening. The last dimly-glowing ember finally faded to black, leaving only the moonlight slipping through the doorway to light the hut. That was alright; they would build a new one tomorrow. And no matter how fleeting the flames of this world were, the fire burning in their hearts would never die.
(1) Sorry I skimped a little on the wedding details. I know virtually nothing about traditional Japanese weddings, and considering the amount of research I would have to do to make the details accurate, I didn’t think they were worth the effort.
A/N – I think I promised someone awhile back that I wouldn’t forget about Miroku and Sango in this story. With that in mind, I figured a nice lemon was just the thing the story needed. Plus, I was shocked to realize that I had never written a serious Miroku/Sango lemon before.
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New Beginnings, Part 2
Inuyasha woke with the sun as he usually did, but this time instead of dozing off until the others roused, he immediately rose to his feet. After taking care of nature in that strange toy-let contraption, he returned to Kagome’s room. He stood watching her sleep for a minute or so, debating with himself whether he should wake her up. He wished he could leave her here, but the well would no longer allow it. He could try to carry her to Kaede’s hut without waking her, but the odds of her remaining asleep in hanyou form were slim. At least, that was the reason he told himself why he strode over to her bedside and gently jostled her awake.
“Kagome? Kagome, wake up.”
She groaned and rolled over onto her back, blinking blearily up at him. “Inuyasha? What is it?”
“I gotta go help Miroku build his hut today, or did you forget already?”
“Oh. No, just give me a few minutes.”
Nodding, Inuyasha exited the room and went downstairs to give Kagome some privacy. She joined him about ten minutes later, still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. He shook his head in amusement. She may be a hanyou, but she still wakes up like humans do. She was dressed in her feudal era clothes and had the jewel shard contained in a new bottle suspended by a cord around her neck.
“Alright, let’s go,” he declared.
“You don’t wanna eat first?” Kagome replied, sounding disappointed.
“Keh. You can eat when we get there. The bouzu and I need to get to work.”
“Okay, I was gonna offer to make bacon, but if you don’t want it…”
“Bacon?” the hanyou repeated, immediately perking up at the mention of his favorite modern breakfast food. “Can you make it fast?”
Kagome grinned, knowing she had him. “Faster than you can say ‘feed me.’”
Inuyasha’s answer was to lick his lips and practically skip into the kitchen. Kagome followed, shaking her head at his antics, and began to prepare the meal. She grabbed a pan and started cooking a half dozen of the real reasons she wanted to eat breakfast in her time. For some reason, she had woken up this morning with a serious craving for eggs. After cracking the six she decided that they were hungry enough to eat two more and added them to the pan. Meanwhile, Inuyasha stared through the clear door of the microwave at the bacon sizzling inside. Her mother liked to cook it that way because a lot of the grease came off, and that was probably a good thing since Inuyasha looked like he wanted to devour all of the dozen strips she had put in there. Could hanyou have heart attacks? She didn’t intend to find out any time soon.
Breakfast was quiet save for the sounds of scarfing and a satisfied sigh when Inuyasha had finished his meal. He had only taken his half of the food, but Kagome gave him two of her bacon strips when she caught him eyeing her plate. She supposed he couldn’t help it if he was a glutton for modern food, since how often did he get to eat it? She was sure he would get his fill of it over the next few days or weeks, however long they stayed here. Inuyasha graciously got up and washed the dishes as she was finishing her eggs.
“Thanks for doing that,” she told him as she slid her plate into the water.
“Thanks for the meal,” he replied.
“Y-you’re welcome,” she stuttered, surprised at his easy thank you. Either his manners had really improved that much or he was going out of his way to be nice to her. Probably a little of both, she reflected.
Without further ado, they leapt into the well together. Their companions were just finishing their morning meal when they arrived, and shortly thereafter Miroku and Inuyasha got to work. They were soon joined by a handful of villagers who trickled in, all interested in making sure the newly-married couple had a cozy and private place to spend the evening. Inuyasha kept his vow; the hut was completed by early afternoon. It was quite extensive by the standards of the time, large enough to comfortably house the newlyweds, Kohaku, and several children, including Shippou if the fox so desired. Miroku was already planning where they would build an extension should they need it, but unless Sango’s first pregnancy resulted in quintuplets, their current residence would be perfectly adequate for years to come.
“Thank you, Inuyasha. We could not have done it without you,” Miroku said.
“Keh.”
“Come, let us go bathe. I cannot attend my own wedding smelling like a sweaty fundoshi.”
Inuyasha nodded in agreement; they both could use a good wash.
Meanwhile, Kagome, Sango, and Kaede spent the morning seeing to wedding preparations. Kagome took the slayer down to bathe after the boys had returned, and then straight into Kaede’s hut to prepare the bride for her special day. When they were finished, Kagome stared at her friend in amazement.
“Wow, Sango-chan. You’re so beautiful!”
“T-thanks,” the slayer stammered.
“What’s the matter? You nervous?” Kagome posed knowingly. At Sango’s nod, she wrapped her arm around her shoulders. “Just think about this, Sango-chan. However nervous you are, Miroku-sama is at least that nervous.”
“You really think so?”
“Of course! I bet he can’t even sit still right now.”
* * *
“Dammit, bouzu! Would you sit down already?!” They were waiting inside the new hut for the ceremony to begin, though Miroku hadn’t stopped pacing since he put on the formal kimono one of the villagers loaned him. It was driving Inuyasha crazy; he could hear every soft footfall and every anxious sigh. Seeing the normally cool and collected monk like this was officially weirding him out.
“Sorry, Inuyasha. I’m just nervous, I guess.”
“What the hell are you so worried about? Sango obviously loves you.”
Miroku froze and stared at the hanyou; Inuyasha never would have said something like that before. Apparently, admitting one’s own love made it easier to opine on the relationships of others. That thought gave Miroku an idea, though he knew the hanyou wasn’t going to like it.
“Inuyasha, one of the things I’m anxious about is…well, you know, tonight. My experience with women is…somewhat limited, and I don’t want Sango to be disappointed.”
To Inuyasha’s credit, he didn’t ask how limited, but he didn’t act surprised either. He would always have wagered that the ‘will you bear my child’ line hadn’t enjoyed much success over the years. When the hanyou didn’t say anything, Miroku continued on the same course.
“What did you do on your first night with Kagome-sama?”
At this, the blush that Inuyasha had been stubbornly holding down rose to darken his cheeks. Damn bouzu. Even when he’s being sincere he has to ask perverted questions! There was no way the monk was getting any details from that night. But thinking back on it, Inuyasha knew there were some things he could say that might at least help soothe the man’s nerves.
“Quit worrying, bouzu. If a dumb hanyou like me can get it right, then so can you. Just take it slow. Let her make the first move. She’s probably even more nervous than you are. And…uh,” he stalled, wondering whether he should give this final pointer. It was a very personal detail, but it was solely because he had discovered it that Kagome had climaxed with him. Sango deserved as much in her first time as well. “Don’t be afraid to touch her as you’re doing it,” he finished, his reddened face rapidly vanishing into his haori.
Slightly more schooled in the ways of sexual pleasure, Miroku instantly understood what he meant. It was very good advice—all of it was—and he didn’t know if he would have thought of it on his own. He was stunned that Inuyasha was willing to share something so intimate, but grateful as well. And because of that, he would say nothing to deepen the hanyou’s obvious embarrassment.
“Thank you for the sound advice, my friend. I hope you and Kagome-sama eventually get to the point where you are able to put that knowledge to use.”
Inuyasha shot him an incredulous look, as if to say ‘what makes you think we aren’t doing it now?’ But he quickly dropped the act, and merely nodded his gratitude for the support.
“In your own words,” Miroku continued, “take it slow. Let her make the first move. Give it time,” he added on his own.
Inuyasha had already decided to do just that, but it was still nice to hear from someone else that he was doing the right thing. He also sensed that Miroku truly did want him and Kagome to patch things up. A half day of laboring together had removed much of the tension from their relationship, and now he knew that at least Miroku accepted him back into the group so long as he behaved properly from now on. The monk’s bride-to-be was another story, but he would battle that demon when he came to it. Speaking of demons, Shippou suddenly popped into the doorway.
“Kaede says it’s time,” he told them, and just like that Miroku was a nervous wreck again. Inuyasha shook his head; the man was completely hopeless.
Those nerves subsided once he was reunited with his fiancée before Kaede, with the whole village in attendance. They looked so serene up there, smiling joyfully at each other, neither showing any of their previous anxiety. They knew beyond any doubt that this is what they wanted to do, how they wanted to spend the rest of their lives, as man and wife. And they proceeded through the ceremony with all the confidence that true love can bring. (1)
It truly was a beautiful ceremony, and among those who knew them well, there were few dry eyes. Even Kohaku couldn’t help but be happy for the couple, despite any lingering reservations he had against the lecherous houshi. It helped that Miroku had behaved as a near-perfect gentleman since their confrontation a few weeks ago, at least in public. And now that they were married, anything intimate happening between his sister and her husband in private was no longer lecherous at all. Seeing the two of them together, Kohaku’s concerns about the monk’s faithfulness shrunk to almost nonexistent. Whatever his ways might have been before, the boy sensed that Miroku had fully broken with them and accepted the role of the faithful husband with the same open arms he used to take in a broken taijiya and an orphan fox kit. Kohaku knew that many men of this era would view him as a hindrance, extra baggage that came along with his sister, but Miroku didn’t see them that way. The monk had all but insisted that they live with him and Sango. Of course, both he and Shippou would be spending tonight in Kaede’s hut, for obvious reasons.
Kagome was conflicted. For the most part, she was deliriously happy for her friends, but she also felt a certain sadness well within her, stemming from the knowledge that she would never enjoy a moment like this with Inuyasha. No, I told myself I didn’t want to pressure him into marriage. We are already joined in the youkai way; it’s the right decision. It didn’t really matter right now anyway, since even if they planned on getting married, it wasn’t happening anytime soon. They were still walking on eggshells around each other, and probably would be for some time. She felt eyes on her, and turned to see Inuyasha gazing at her intently. He looked away quickly, but the slight frown on his face made her wonder if her brief melancholy had been visible in her expression. She shrugged, deciding there was nothing she could to about it now. Once again adopting a cheerful smile, she resolved to enjoy the evening.
It wasn’t difficult; the festival after the ceremony was a joyous affair, lasting well into the night. From a practical standpoint, the villagers wanted to make sure their protectors knew they were always welcome, but most were genuinely happy for the newlyweds as well. Sake was plentiful, though neither Miroku nor Sango drank very much; both wanted to be completely sober for their wedding night. And when the time finally came for the couple to retire, they were serenaded by well-wishes and sent on their way with embraces from their closest friends. So caught up in the moment was she, that Sango temporarily forgot her resentment toward Inuyasha, and hugged him immediately after releasing Kagome. It would be the following morning before she realized her error and scolded herself accordingly.
They walked silently together toward their new home, listening as the sounds of the festival were slowly replaced by the soft crunch of the grass under their feet and the chirping of the crickets. The night was so peaceful, and for a moment Sango allowed it to lull her body into a state of blissful relaxation. Then she remembered where she was, where they were going, and what they were going to do there, and her nervousness from before the ceremony returned full force. She sensed Miroku shifting toward her, and braced for the sensation of his hand on her backside. She was pleasantly surprised when his hand instead grasped hers, holding it gently between them.
She stopped in her tracks, obliging Miroku to do the same as she stared down at the place where their bodies joined. The moonlight gave the sight a dappled effect; it was difficult to see where he ended and she began. She blushed despite herself. How odd was it that she would not have batted an eye at a grope, but this innocent contact warmed her in a wonderful way which none of his more lecherous touches ever had? She felt gentle pressure on her fingers, and her eyes panned up to his face. He grinned at her, seemingly aware of her thoughts. She hesitantly smiled back, starting forward again and returning his squeeze as she did so.
“I almost can’t believe it,” Miroku said after a short distance.
“We waited so long…and then it happened so fast,” Sango agreed.
“No more waiting,” Miroku observed. He let the comment hang in the air for a moment before moving around in front of Sango, taking her other hand as well and blocking her path. Not that she had any intention of going anywhere. She moved in close, the front of her kimono just making contact with his, and tilted her chin up, rising to meet him as he leaned toward her.
Their first kiss as husband and wife was so much like their first one ever. Soothing yet passionate, revealing of the emotions and soul of the other, the first defining moment of a whole new relationship. They were finally married. They were finally home. In the heat of the lip lock his hand came to rest on her backside, and Sango grinned against him. No matter how much things had changed between them, Miroku would always be her perverted Houshi-sama at heart. She wouldn’t have him any other way. Finally they pulled apart, leaning their foreheads together as they caught their collective breath.
“L-let’s go inside,” Sango said.
“As you wish, my dear,” Miroku replied, something of a twinkle in his eye. And yet, she sensed no urgency from the monk as she stepped inside their new home for the first time. She stood and looked around for a few moments as her husband busied himself setting a small fire for light and warmth. Then she knelt down on the large futon, big enough for two, and ran her fingers along the smooth surface of the top covering. Miroku’s soft gasp drew her attention to the center of the room, where he gazed at her in awe, completely taken aback by her beauty under the flickering firelight. He had seen it before, but never had he appreciated it—or Sango herself—so much. The taijiya flushed again under his scrutiny, but didn’t look away. The light shining around him gave him a majestic appearance, an aura of strength and love so rare in this world. Both of them knew in that moment how lucky they were.
Miroku strode over to the futon and seated himself across from her in his customary cross-legged manner. But he was certainly not the picture of peaceful concentration he usually was. He leaned forward, never taking his eyes from her, their knees separated by a few short inches. Hesitantly he reached up with his previously-cursed right hand, watching as the light from the dancing flames flitted across his skin. Tenderly he brought it to Sango’s cheek, cupping her smooth skin, just enjoying the act of feeling her. His hand wandered, drifting to run his fingers along her jaw line and down to her neck, then back up again. Sango leaned into the touch, tears of happiness springing to her eyes. Nothing could have prepared her for the way her husband was acting right now, as if she was the most precious thing in the world to him. But more than that, the way he was hesitating, seemingly unsure of himself. She knew he was no virgin, but it was rapidly becoming clear that he had never experienced anything like the wonderful expression of love and desire in which they were about to engage. She supposed they were both virgins in that sense. It gave her courage, and a boldness that urged her to fling shyness to the wind and show her man her deepest desires.
Rising up onto her hands and knees, she closed the distance between them and kissed him firmly. As the kiss deepened, tongues tangling in the humid utopia created by their lips, Sango crawled forward, pushing Miroku slowly backward until finally he leaned back on his elbows, she on top of him resting between his splayed knees. It was a comfortable position, and they spent several moments enjoying each other in that manner. But neither of them could use their hands when situated in that way, so Miroku sat up slightly, slipping an arm around Sango’s waist and gently rolling her over onto her side. They lay facing one another, each breathing hard, licking their lips to moisten them for the next encounter. Miroku motioned for Sango to turn over, and she passed him a confused look, but complied. Then she felt him working on the ties binding her hair. Sango sighed in bliss as he leisurely ran his fingers through the strands when he was finished, simply enjoying the affectionate contact. After awhile, she rolled over and freed him from his braid, taking a few moments to return the favor, though she had much less hair to work with. That didn’t seem to matter to the monk; his eyes slid closed as she petted his scalp. When they came open again, there was a hunger in his gaze that sparked a matching desire deep inside her. Taking her chin in his hand, he guided her to him for another kiss.
His other hand came to rest on her bicep, subconsciously squeezing her muscle with each movement of their lips. Sango also moved to touch as well, her palm resting briefly on his cheek before ghosting down over his neck and finally slipping inside the kimono he wore. The feel of the warm skin of his chest sent a wave of excitement through her. The knowledge that she was at long last touching him like this thrilled her and made her want more. Pushing gently, she urged him over onto his back, she coming to lean over him. Finally she pulled away from the kiss and sat up to inspect her prize. For his part, Miroku was more than willing to lie back and allow his goddess to worship him.
Tentatively at first, Sango used both hands to separate the layers of clothing covering his upper body. Gaining more confidence from the heated look he sent her, she made quick work of the various ties before slowly drawing the garments apart and baring his torso to her gaze. It was a sight she had only rarely glimpsed, and she had always been too embarrassed to really look. Now she realized how attractive his body really was. His chest and abdomen were toned from years of wandering the countryside and performing exorcisms, though not overly muscular. There was barely a mark on his pristine skin; he had always possessed a knack for avoiding injury, unless his kazaana was involved. She was jealous of that ability.
His muscles tensed and relaxed as her hands moved over them, memorizing the subtle contours of his body. Every sigh of appreciation, every hitch of breath drove the blood just a little bit faster through her veins, and she could tell it was doing the same to him. For Miroku, Sango’s teasing was sweet torture, and he could only take so much of it. His hands were literally burning, having rarely ever been denied before. He held himself in check for awhile, but finally decided enough was enough. The goddess had taken her turn; it was now his turn to worship her.
Sango suddenly found herself flat on her back, her houshi looming over her. He shrugged out of the sleeves of his kimono, leaving him bared to the waist. She gulped at the ravenous look in his eyes and tried to fight off a renewed flash of nerves. Fair was fair, after all. But after a moment his face softened, and he leaned in for a reassuring kiss. While she was suitably distracted his right hand came to rest upon her tummy, moving in slowly-widening circles over the cloth covering her. And when the edge of his fingers made first contact with the gentle swell of her chest, he pulled back from her lips, wanting to see her face as his hand came up to cover a breast.
A small gasp escaped Sango; even through several layers of clothing, that simple touch sent a tiny thrill through her. She brought her hands up to caress his arm, to encourage him, to show him his touch was wanted. He responded in kind, bringing his free hand to her other breast and massaging them slowly with a steady rhythm. His gentle circles soon had Sango biting her lip and wondering what his hands would feel like without the barrier of cloth. Evidently, Miroku wondered the same thing, as his hands left her breasts in favor of unfastening the ties to her kimono. Gradually he drew apart the folds, revealing her chest binding. Sango sat up, pulling her arms out of the sleeves, and began to remove it. But Miroku stilled her hands, obviously wanting to do it himself. A flush spread across Sango’s entire upper body, but she assented, leaning back onto her elbows so her husband could unwrap her.
And he did so, reverentially, as if opening a wondrous gift. He stared unblinkingly as inch after inch of skin was revealed, and Sango glanced down at her body, hoping to see herself through his eyes. She gasped; in the waning firelight, every scar seemed twice as noticeable as before. And she had many of them, even one on her breast from an old injury. They glowed, glaring reminders of battles past that took away from her beauty and labeled her a warrior, and nothing more. It was almost as if they made her less of a woman. She dreaded Miroku’s reaction. Then the last of the binding was gone, and she didn’t have to wait any longer.
Miroku stared awestruck. He had imagined Sango’s breasts many times, but to actually see them as they rose and fell with each breath was mind-blowing. Then her arms came up to block his view, and he glanced up to her face to send her a look of mild admonishment. His grin fell immediately; something was wrong. It was the way she wouldn’t look at him, the way her eyes were afraid, and the way she covered not only her breasts but her body’s odd marks that let him know exactly why she was anxious. His gorgeous, powerful, confident bride was subconscious about her scars. Did she think they made her seem less beautiful in his eyes? The truth was just the opposite; her scars reminded him why he fell in love with her in the first place. Sango’s body and personality had been hardened by years of slaying demons and dealing with tragedy. Yet, she still maintained a feminine softness that he had always found incredibly alluring. And the more he grew to know her, the more he realized how special and wonderful that contradiction was. She was a warrior, but he knew she would make an amazing wife and mother as well. If their union tonight resulted in a pregnancy, he would be the happiest man alive. And if not, well, they would have plenty of fun trying again and again and again. But back to the here and now, his foolish wife needed to be reassured, and he knew just how to go about it.
Sango felt genuine panic at his perceived hesitation, believing her body to be a disappointment to him. But she knew he wouldn’t stop or comment, being far too kind for that. So she was not surprised when she sensed him hovering over her, or that his lips found her breast, but she was shocked to discover that he only paid attention to one area of her breast before moving south. One very particular part of her breast…
She gasped as she realized what he was doing. Kissing and licking every mark upon her skin, showing her that he accepted all of her, scars included, and that they didn’t make her any less breathtaking in his eyes. She brought her hand to her mouth and choked back a sob. Miroku grinned, now that he knew she had gotten the message. His tongue briefly detoured down to her belly button, burrowing into the orifice just to make her squirm. But he felt that he really needed to drive his point home so she would never again doubt how beautiful she was to him. And there was one more scar he hadn’t gotten to yet. When he urged her to roll onto her stomach, Sango complied without really thinking about it. But her mind abruptly skidded to a halt when she felt his lips press against the middle of her back, the same place where Kohaku’s sickle had buried itself on that fateful day long ago…
Suddenly Miroku was thrown back, landing unceremoniously on his backside. Before he could wonder what happened, Sango was straddling his hips, her lips smashed into his in the most desperate and passionate kiss of the evening. She dominated him, taking what she wanted, plundering his mouth and turning his tongue into her willing slave. Her hips gyrated against his, grinding her heated core against his pulsing erection. Their bare chests rubbed together, eliciting delicious a friction that drove their excitement to new heights. In the back of his mind, Miroku wondered where this voracious vixen had come from. He hoped he could coax her to come out more often. But some of Sango’s ardor soon faded, perhaps a result of her rational mind regaining control of her faculties. Whatever the reason, Miroku decided the time was right to take control of the encounter again. He rolled them over, placing her on her back and settling between her legs. He pressed his hips forward, wringing a throaty moan from his wife and failing to keep a matching one from escaping his own lips. A single thought passed between them—their remaining clothes had to go.
Miroku set to the task, quickly shedding his own clothing and giving his wide-eyed wife her first glimpse of his raging hard-on. He disrobed Sango much more leisurely, cherishing every moment. And when he finally found himself staring down at his wife in all her naked glory, he had to remind himself to breathe. She truly was a goddess. It didn’t even register that she was just as enchanted by him.
A squirm by Sango drew him from his stupor, and he moved to lie beside her. They turned to face each other, breath mingling in the scant space between them. Miroku’s hands finally found her bare breasts, drawing a low moan from his wife as her eyes slid shut. He watched, fascinated as she hissed when his fingers gently closed around her nipple, rubbing the bud until it hardened. Miroku’s other hand moved down to stroke her hip, seeking permission to cross the final threshold. Without hesitation, Sango parted her legs, allowing her husband’s hand to slip between them. They both gasped at once; Sango because of the jolts of electricity shooting through her body, and Miroku because of how wet she was. Male pride blossomed within him at the thought that he excited her so. And now, he fully intended to give her more pleasure than she had ever known. His fingers parted her folds, gently massaging as her breath shuddered in and out of her lungs. One of them found her nub, causing her back to arch and a broken moan of his name to escape her lips. His name, not the title she still sometimes called him by. He was just contemplating the significance of that when he felt Sango’s warm hand wrap firmly around his member.
He bit back a groan and gritted his teeth, his body jerking at the sudden contact. He had to fight the urge to thrust into her hand as she stroked it up and down at an agonizingly slow pace. How was it that it didn’t feel half as good when he did it himself? Realizing Sango’s touch had caused his own hand to still, he resumed his ministrations upon her tender flesh, gently slipping part of a finger inside her. She gasped and squeezed him, pulling a groan from him despite his efforts to hold it back. Now she stroked him harder, at a pace which would not allow him to last too long if she continued. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand from her core and stopped her, having a different scenario in mind for his first climax with her. The lay together panting for several moments, staring into each other’s eyes, neither having any doubt that both desired to consummate their relationship. Miroku leaned in for one more sweet kiss, then rose to his knees and shuffled into position, settling over her. Sango’s thighs closed around his hips, her arms wrapped around his torso as he prodded at her entrance briefly before pressing inside.
Sango grimaced at the discomfort but otherwise made no complaint; it was actually not as bad as she feared. But her husband knew it would hurt, and even if he didn’t, he was far too observant not to notice. He paused deep inside her, intent to wait until the ache subsided, but Sango was having none of it. She rolled her hips, urging him to continue. He did so, pulling out and pushing back in at a snail’s pace until the look of concealed discomfort on his wife’s face started to shift into something else. It was when she began raising her hips to meet each of his thrusts that he finally stopped holding himself back.
Grunts and groans and the soft slap of flesh on flesh reverberated throughout the hut, illuminated now only by the last dying embers of the fire. But the two lovers saw each other clear as day, despite the darkness. Miroku reared up, pulling Sango’s hips and pounding into her at a new angle that made her see stars. She cried out as his thumb found her little nub once more, making good use of a friend’s advice. She could sense her orgasm approaching, nearly frightening in its intensity. She reached up to his face, the tips of her fingers just barely skimming along his lips before he opened his mouth and captured one of them between his teeth. He grunted with every thrust, the rhythm becoming more frantic as they both felt the imminence of their climaxes. Then with one final thrust he released himself, a single extra stroke of his thumb driving Sango into oblivion immediately thereafter. They cried out together, feeling waves of pleasure wash over them, pulsing around each other as one body, one soul.
Finally they descended from their highs, Miroku collapsing by Sango’s side. They lay there staring at the ceiling and panting heavily with contented looks on their faces for the longest time. Then Miroku felt Sango’s hand clasp his own; he grinned as he realized it was the same gesture which had started them down this road earlier in the evening. The last dimly-glowing ember finally faded to black, leaving only the moonlight slipping through the doorway to light the hut. That was alright; they would build a new one tomorrow. And no matter how fleeting the flames of this world were, the fire burning in their hearts would never die.
(1) Sorry I skimped a little on the wedding details. I know virtually nothing about traditional Japanese weddings, and considering the amount of research I would have to do to make the details accurate, I didn’t think they were worth the effort.
A/N – I think I promised someone awhile back that I wouldn’t forget about Miroku and Sango in this story. With that in mind, I figured a nice lemon was just the thing the story needed. Plus, I was shocked to realize that I had never written a serious Miroku/Sango lemon before.
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