InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Shakujou to Hiraikotsu ❯ Looking at the Stars ( Chapter 1 )

Looking at the Stars

by Scribe Figaro

 

Some uncertain time before the final battle with Naraku.

 

Sometimes she thought the best part was the fear, the uncertainty.  The children play their games and the adults play their games.

 

She once played the children's game with Houshi-sama. 

 

In that game, there is the flirting, the awkwardness, the arguments.  The arguments where she fought him because she liked fighting him.  The games where you grow close and fight it every step of the way.

 

Kagome and Inuyasha continue that game.  They argue and accept and deny and argue again.

 

She plays the adult's game with Mirkou.

 

Kagome and Inuyasha are her friends, but they would not understand the adult games.  They are not ready.

 

So they play their adult games away from the children.

 

Sometimes she worried that they would be seen.

 

Sometimes she worried her manner would have changed, that Houshi-sama would do something to provoke her to blush, and Kagome would read the difference between the previous blush of this is the man I am going to marry and the current blush of this is the man who I invite to come inside of me, and none could say what would happen upon that realization. 

 

Kagome came from another time; from her provocative appearance and somewhat prudish behavior Sango was led to believe she was so unaware of her own body that she was practically sexless.  Perhaps this was due to her purity as a priestess.  Or perhaps she comes from so far into the future that people don't even have sex anymore.  An absurd notion, Sango would earlier have thought, but she had seen Kagome's machines which instantly produce perfect music, and instantly produced perfect paintings.  Surely there were machines that instantly produced perfect people.

 

Miroku did not seem to worry, though at times he seemed to distance himself, his eyes no longer meeting hers, his mind removed slightly from the situation.  Some perturbation in his senses drew him away in those instants, though nothing in his rhythm betrayed this.  So far, each time found no intruder - enemy or friend - but such instants displayed the unstated understanding that so long as they played their games away from their allies in secret places, there was the possibility that their eyes would meet urgently with the message It is coming - a similar but different urgency than the more typical I am coming and You are coming and her ever-favorite We are coming - and they would fly apart like the halves of a cleaved nutshell, and he would stand urgent and battle-ready, muscles tensed, chest rising and falling with breath, shakujou in hand, cock wet and hard with foreskin pulled tight back, no doubt numb as the wetness she shared with it abandoned its heat to the night air; and she would stand urgent and battle-ready, muscles tensed, chest rising and falling with breath, Hiraikotsu in hand, nipples taut, vulva warm and suddenly empty, thighs damp and growing chill in the absence of his touch.

 

In such a case they would fight naked and, upon success, continue their games beside the youkai corpse if necessary.  Adult games may be postponed but should never be cancelled.

 

But this has never happened, and so far as interruption by their allies was concerned, she was less than worried due to the youkai being on her side.  Shippou was a child, and did not understand the adult games, but he was child enough that he did not feel he needed to understand the adult games.  When Shippou had mentioned to her offhand about she and Miroku being like his parents, Miroku took care of the situation with care and expertise.

 

So Shippou knew the secret, and knowing it would be embarrassing for Sango if Kagome or Inuyasha tried to bother them while they were “looking at the stars,” and knowing how good it was to know a secret and to be responsible for keeping it, Sango could count on the kitsune to warn them when Kagome had a fight with Inuyasha and sought her out to complain about it.

 

Kirara could similarly be counted upon, though her inability to start a loud argument with Inuyasha made it difficult to sound such a warning, and in addition, she seemed more inclined to wander than stand any sort of guard.  It was bit demeaning, Sango had to admit.

 

Sometimes she worried about Inuyasha, that her pleasure would sound like a cry for help to his ears, that - despite bathing before returning to the group - the smell of Miroku remained on her thighs and between her thighs.  She thought sometimes he knew and did not say, or that he had evidence but would not believe.

 

Sometimes she thought this was the best part, the fear, the uncertainty.  It thrilled her to think of such things, the first things she thought about when she was with him, and when she returned to her mind she found he had already undressed her and she had already undressed him, and while refusing to let him remove her tongue from her mouth she pushed him down, and her hand found him hard and ready, and his hand found her wet and ready, and she positioned herself, and he - knowing not to interfere in this delicate ritual - placed his hands on her knees as she straddled and lowered herself, guiding him into alignment.

 

The proper way to sheathe a sword is to place the underside of the blade against the sheath, draw downward until the tip of the blade is directly above the opening, then angle the blade inward in one slow, deliberate movement.

 

But swords are oiled prior to sheathing them.  Miroku is not.  So there is a bit of awkwardness in the sheathing, giving him her wetness by slowly pushing him into her and back out, a little bit more each time.  And swords have no protective coverings, while Miroku does, and as the foreskin is already partly pulled back by his erection, she completes that task with utmost care, pulling back the foreskin with her vaginal walls, exposing the sensitive head, and comforting it with the warmth and wetness he cannot provide himself.

 

And then they are together, and his eyes betray the thrill, the privilege, the incredulous I am inside Sango that he silently tells her as if each time was the first time, and she angles herself, and moves in broken elliptical motions until she finds the route by which her movement makes him place pressure on all the points she wants him placing pressure, and she finds her rhythm, and he holds her hips and moves with her, and she leans foreword, breasts hanging over him, erect nipples scratching his chest, and her mouth is over him, but they do not kiss - the effort of breathing is too much for that - and their lips touch off and on and they breath each others' breath.

 

And at some point the delicate rhythm shatters, light hunger becomes starvation, deliberate action becomes a frenzy, and her legs and hips tire and cannot maintain the same speed, nor reach the speed she now desires, and the instant she slows he rolls her along his arm, and now she is beneath him, and he is poised above her and inside her, and he makes deliberate, long strokes, and then faster, and faster, and faster still, and she spreads her legs wide to let him in as deep as he dares, and her hands grip his buttocks and she thinks mine mine mine inside me inside me let me take you let me consume you and - often by surprise - the wave begins to crash, and she thinks no not yet come inside me come inside me and most of the time she has presence of mind to urge him, the words she could never think herself saying but urgency drove the words from her lips, and she grips him tightly and with her mouth at his ear she hisses “Come inside me come inside me” and without fail he shudders and a guttural sound from the back of his throat, and he is defeated and he fills me and he only releases his seed when I want him to and I am the only one who can do this and I trust him I want him I need him I love him.

 

Exhaustion and sweat, and he twitches like a man who was dealt a death blow, and she tries not to laugh, and she holds him, and he holds her, and when he lies beside her she lays on her side and touches his face, and after a while they bathe - one at a time; when they bathe together it becomes necessary to bathe a second time - and if the night is warm he can usually convince her to lie naked with him, and they take turns studying the stars and studying each other.

 

She does not sleep this way - one risk too many for them, she thinks - and he watches her dress, and, now clothed, they rest and sometimes fall asleep and sometimes do not wake in time to return to camp.  Sometimes Sango awakes, her head on Miroku's shoulder, and her eyes catch Kagome silhouetted against the rising sun, and she stands there, hands on her hips, and she cries out, fully scandalized:

 

“Did you two kiss!?”

 

Sometimes she thought this was the best part.

 

END