Adult-FanFiction.org : Inuyasha / Yashahime

What I want.	By : Crazedlemonlover Category: InuYasha > Het - Male/Female > Miroku/Sango Views: 6838 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, or any part of it. And am in no way compensated.

Chapter List
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When the gods rain upon you glorious opportunity, you better damn well take it. And run as far as you can with it, run to the mountains, to rivers, and even to the waiting line in hell. Miroku didn’t know what drove him to walk over to Sango tonight, hold her hand and lead her into the forest. Call it sexual instinct. Call it love. Call it holy redemption from above. But definitely call him a bastard for what he was plotting. But whatever the outcome of the night, he washed his hands of it, and put his hands where they truly belonged—on Sango.
                Sango felt the strong, warm grip pin her wrists against a tree. Another warm and calloused hand boldly grabbed her chin and placed upon her lips a sweet, soft warmth. His lips. She heard a loud and pounding sound echo through her ears, only to realize that it was her heart. Miroku pulled away and smiled. He had been smiling when he kissed her, she could feel that evil grin push against her, only to see it inches away from her as he pulled away from their first, real kiss. Well, hers anyway. Sango slowly went from looking at that notorious grin, to looking at those violet eyes. It was a slow and daunting task, because she felt she might melt away from the burning crimson of her cheeks.
                Miroku could see those big brown eyes look at him. Burning through whatever was not said, couldn’t be said, and all the things they wished they both could. He wish he was the kind of man that could just declare what was at the depth of his soul to the one person he loved more than anything. More than sex, more than gambling, more than flirting, more than drinking, more than spying, more than eating, more than lying, more than the hate he felt for Naraku, and even more than his own will to live. Miroku had always thought he had only one void. But in fact he had two. He had the love he felt for Sango. Endless, forever consuming, threatening to take him whole, and growing a bit larger every day. But he was not the kind of man that said that. He was the kind of man that proved it. Looking into those big brown eyes, he saw trust, and love, and leaned in to inhale so that he could drink as deeply as he could.
                All of a sudden, Sango felt Miroku’s hot and invading tongue in her mouth. Miroku felt Sango gasp in protest and sought out to change her mind. Their tongues soon circled one another, spreading warmth, comfort, and then heated sin. Sango felt the change from intrusive, to entrancing, and kissed him back, but harder. Her body said what she could never bring herself to say, and Miroku heard loud and clear. She couldn’t stifle a groan back when he pinned his raging length against her. His hand now acting on its own nefarious accord, released her captive wrists from over her head, and slid down, slowly. It slowly grazed her hair, and lightly traced her lips when he broke away from her lips to kiss the side of her pale long neck. It followed gently through the neck and took residence on her breast. Sango shuddered and moved to slap him, but then, it dawned upon her that it was not just her breast. It was her heart that thumped wildly — for him. Miroku, feeling the change, pulled his lips from her collarbone, and gazed deeply into her.
                “Let me show you what stars are made of…”he whispered in her ear.
Miroku slowly nibbled on her ear, sending shock waves down Sango’s spine. He could hear her quick breathing as he kissed the farthest end of her cheek, placing one kiss at a time closer, and closer to her lips. There was something different about this kiss though. Sango felt a scintillating warmth in her stomach, spreading further and further down. When he finally did reach her lips, Sango trembled. He kissed her softly, and slowly, as his hand moved softly, and slowly, as he made way through Sango’s yukata, to touch pure, firm, beauty. Unfortunately he was only touching her belly. He ached to rip her yukata and let his feverish hands roam and grab freely those supple breasts. But there would be time for that later. His cock, already angered by pressing into Sango firm, tight body had reason to hate Miroku more. Trying to distract Sango by deepening the kiss, Miroku gently slid his cursed hand down to where his dreams led him at night. Sango’s aching core. He slowly slid down and gently, just lightly touched those scorching lips, when Sango muffled concerned. Miroku broke the kiss, to instead cuddle her, rub his nose against hers in endearing affection, reassure her with his sweet words, coaxing her head on his shoulders. One hand brushed through her hair, as the luckiest hand began to slip his first finger in. Sango’s eyes popped open and before she could push him back, and definitely slap him, he found that precious little gem of hers, and began to push down, and rub gently.
Sango felt lightning strike, and it was Miroku’s doing.
                “It’s a sin,” Sango choked.
Miroku inside, evilly chuckled. She had already been wet when he touched her. They were both sinners.
The little warmth in her belly began to attach itself to every nerve, assaulting her senses. She didn’t know what was happening, but she knew, at that moment, to wrap her arms around Miroku’s neck and cling on for dear life. Sango’s embrace was also, her acceptance of the sultry situation, and with that, Miroku started to rub harder, in circles, and began to hear Sango breath loudly, erratically, and little by little, Miroku could hear how Sango felt about what he was doing to her. Shudders playing aside moans, and stutters pierced the choir of the forest, and Sango in her newly discovered excitement, had won herself a solo. Sango shut her eyes tight, not wanting to meet her long forgotten virtue, and hugged Miroku that much harder. The feeling of the pulsating rapture she felt was making her quiver, and shake, and pierce her nails into the hoshi. With every moan, it was her permission for Miroku to go faster, and harder, and then he added the second finger. With the addition, Sango cried out something incoherent, that he knew could only mean faster, or harder or both. His stiff length cried out in frustration when Sango began to thrust back into his hand in frustration to get the friction she so desperately needed. Her throbbing warmth threatened to engulf them both. In his horny madness, Miroku began to bite Sango’s lips, her chin, her neck, and bit her nipples through the fabric of her yukata. Anything to hold him off long enough for her to finish, and for him to finally start. He wanted her to enjoy herself because when she came, he would lay her down on the ground and rip that flower to shreds.
Miroku could feel her getting close. Her excitement was seeping into his hands. He could smell her wanton juices as they began to drip. He could feel her slippery, blistering muscles gripping him. He couldn’t wait to taste her drenched ectasy.. As Sango’s simmering walls began to collapse on his fingers, her breathing grew louder, and more erratic, and her nails digged deeper into his back.
                “Your hands…”Sango stuttered. She was enthralled in the fascination, that just his hands could cause her such exquisite bliss. She couldn’t see his hands, was far too embarrassed to look even look at him, or even analyze the situation, but she knew they were his hands. And even if it was only a little bit of him, they were inside her. He was inside her, and this truth made Sango’s heart melt right into her soul, and made the act that much more beautiful.
                It’s not enough to say water boiled, fireworks went off, a tree caught fire, but Sango learned what stars were made of.
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What I want.