First of all.... I'm so cheap. I can't think of a name, so I start flipping through my music and find something. Props to whoever knows where this one came from.
Warnings for this fic: Naraku/Miroku, AU, yaoi, rape, ncs, darkness. It won't be pretty, at least not for most of it. I'm leaving my options open.
Additionally, because this fic will probably have a lot of lemony bits to it, there's a high possibility I won't update it here on ff.net, but only on my page.
Thanks to Kat, tdei for beta-ing, and thanks especially to Rin, who hasn't killed me for this. (yet. n.n;)
One final note: this takes place -before- Miroku meets Inuyasha-tatchi.
--==--
Miroku glanced around the palace, measuring it up as the nervous servant glanced around him. The place seemed moderately wealthy.
The servant was an old man, weathered by age, and his eyes almost completely disappeared into his wrinkles. "Thank you kind sir!" He bowed, for what had to be the hundredth time since he had found Miroku.
He put on his best, most gracious smile. "I am happy to help. It is my duty, as a monk." He glanced over the servant's shoulder, eye caught by a large Chinese urn. "Really, it's an honor to be of assistance to such an important family," he said distractedly as he mentally calculated the worth of the urn. He pressed his hand to his chest and bowed slightly. "Please, show me to the room your master is in."
The servant nodded, bowing even lower this time. Miroku gritted his teeth as he smiled. He liked formality as much as anyone, but this was getting out of hand.
They paused outside the door, and Miroku turned to the servant. "Remember, once you leave, do not come back inside the palace until after daybreak, no matter what you hear. Otherwise, I cannot guarantee your safety."
The servant nodded. "I will follow your instructions, my lord. Please, do all in your power to save my master!"
Miroku waved the servant off. He babbled too much. Contemplating the door, he frowned. There was something evil behind it... faint, but distinct. And somehow, familiar. He raised his hand to the door as the servant's footsteps faded into the distance.
First things first, he supposed, and slid the door open, squinting as he stepped in. The room was dark, the light from the few candles moving sluggishly through air thick with the smoke of incense.
In the middle of the room, lying on a thin reed mat was a shadowed form that he assumed must be the master of the household.
He slid the door shut behind him and approached the figure, kneeling beside the figure, who he could see was at least as young as he, if not younger. He just looked at the boy for a moment, taking in the way his long, wavy dark hair fell past his pale cheeks. He hardly looked real.
Miroku grinned to himself. Hell, he hardly looked like a boy. If he didn't know better, and couldn't see the bits of flat, muscled chest that showed through the boy's clothing, he would have thought the boy was a girl.
He brought his hands up to pray, closing his eyes. A low moan broke through the concentration he was trying to gain, and his eyes snapped open to see the boy tossing restlessly.
A pair of the deepest eyes he had ever seen fluttered open, still heavy with confusion and sleep. Miroku's breath caught in his throat slightly as they rested on him.
"What...." His voice came out in a raspy whisper, and the boy cleared his throat slightly. When he spoke again, his voice was clear, deep and commanding. "Who are you?"
Miroku managed to keep his expression serene as possible, even while the hair on the back of his neck prickled. This had never happened before... was this a trick of the demon's?
The boy sat up, staring at him in dazed confusion. "Who are you," he repeated, his words barely more than a whisper as he stared at the monk.
Miroku cleared his throat, surveying the boy warily. Finally, he answered. "...I am a monk."
"A monk?" The boy's eyes widened in surprise. "They called a monk for my illness?"
"They were afraid you were being possessed."
"I was simply feeling ill." The boy smiled wryly. "My servants, however, are rather paranoid, it seems." He paused, and the silence played out awkwardly. Miroku still watched the boy. Something about him still placed him on edge.
"Can I at least offer you a place to stay for the night for your trouble?" The boy's eyes glinted bronze in the candlelight, and Miroku's negative caught in his throat as he unexpectedly found himself caught by them, entranced.
He didn't think it was possible for a boy to have such lovely eyes. The light brush of fingertips against his cheek took him by surprise, and he felt his cheeks heating. "Please, stay."
Dumbly, he found himself nodding, and the boy smiled warmly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Miroku's ear. "Good. But it's very quiet... did you send all the servants away?"
The question caught Miroku off guard, and he paused, drawing back slightly. "Yes... I wanted to keep them safe."
A low chuckle. "Good." He stretched slightly, then sighed. "Perhaps you would like some sake?"
"Aren't you ill?" He watched the young lord. He looked fine... Miroku frowned. His movements were natural, simple. His speech, though slightly informal, wasn't what he had come to expect from those possessed.
Perhaps there was no danger after all. He relaxed slightly, still keeping his sight trailed on the other man.
"What's better for illness than sake?" Another brilliant smile, and a wink, as the boy's hands dropped to his, pulling slightly. "Come, this room has a ghastly feel to it."
Miroku hesitated for the barest second more, then nodded, smiling.
Warnings for this fic: Naraku/Miroku, AU, yaoi, rape, ncs, darkness. It won't be pretty, at least not for most of it. I'm leaving my options open.
Additionally, because this fic will probably have a lot of lemony bits to it, there's a high possibility I won't update it here on ff.net, but only on my page.
Thanks to Kat, tdei for beta-ing, and thanks especially to Rin, who hasn't killed me for this. (yet. n.n;)
One final note: this takes place -before- Miroku meets Inuyasha-tatchi.
--==--
Miroku glanced around the palace, measuring it up as the nervous servant glanced around him. The place seemed moderately wealthy.
The servant was an old man, weathered by age, and his eyes almost completely disappeared into his wrinkles. "Thank you kind sir!" He bowed, for what had to be the hundredth time since he had found Miroku.
He put on his best, most gracious smile. "I am happy to help. It is my duty, as a monk." He glanced over the servant's shoulder, eye caught by a large Chinese urn. "Really, it's an honor to be of assistance to such an important family," he said distractedly as he mentally calculated the worth of the urn. He pressed his hand to his chest and bowed slightly. "Please, show me to the room your master is in."
The servant nodded, bowing even lower this time. Miroku gritted his teeth as he smiled. He liked formality as much as anyone, but this was getting out of hand.
They paused outside the door, and Miroku turned to the servant. "Remember, once you leave, do not come back inside the palace until after daybreak, no matter what you hear. Otherwise, I cannot guarantee your safety."
The servant nodded. "I will follow your instructions, my lord. Please, do all in your power to save my master!"
Miroku waved the servant off. He babbled too much. Contemplating the door, he frowned. There was something evil behind it... faint, but distinct. And somehow, familiar. He raised his hand to the door as the servant's footsteps faded into the distance.
First things first, he supposed, and slid the door open, squinting as he stepped in. The room was dark, the light from the few candles moving sluggishly through air thick with the smoke of incense.
In the middle of the room, lying on a thin reed mat was a shadowed form that he assumed must be the master of the household.
He slid the door shut behind him and approached the figure, kneeling beside the figure, who he could see was at least as young as he, if not younger. He just looked at the boy for a moment, taking in the way his long, wavy dark hair fell past his pale cheeks. He hardly looked real.
Miroku grinned to himself. Hell, he hardly looked like a boy. If he didn't know better, and couldn't see the bits of flat, muscled chest that showed through the boy's clothing, he would have thought the boy was a girl.
He brought his hands up to pray, closing his eyes. A low moan broke through the concentration he was trying to gain, and his eyes snapped open to see the boy tossing restlessly.
A pair of the deepest eyes he had ever seen fluttered open, still heavy with confusion and sleep. Miroku's breath caught in his throat slightly as they rested on him.
"What...." His voice came out in a raspy whisper, and the boy cleared his throat slightly. When he spoke again, his voice was clear, deep and commanding. "Who are you?"
Miroku managed to keep his expression serene as possible, even while the hair on the back of his neck prickled. This had never happened before... was this a trick of the demon's?
The boy sat up, staring at him in dazed confusion. "Who are you," he repeated, his words barely more than a whisper as he stared at the monk.
Miroku cleared his throat, surveying the boy warily. Finally, he answered. "...I am a monk."
"A monk?" The boy's eyes widened in surprise. "They called a monk for my illness?"
"They were afraid you were being possessed."
"I was simply feeling ill." The boy smiled wryly. "My servants, however, are rather paranoid, it seems." He paused, and the silence played out awkwardly. Miroku still watched the boy. Something about him still placed him on edge.
"Can I at least offer you a place to stay for the night for your trouble?" The boy's eyes glinted bronze in the candlelight, and Miroku's negative caught in his throat as he unexpectedly found himself caught by them, entranced.
He didn't think it was possible for a boy to have such lovely eyes. The light brush of fingertips against his cheek took him by surprise, and he felt his cheeks heating. "Please, stay."
Dumbly, he found himself nodding, and the boy smiled warmly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Miroku's ear. "Good. But it's very quiet... did you send all the servants away?"
The question caught Miroku off guard, and he paused, drawing back slightly. "Yes... I wanted to keep them safe."
A low chuckle. "Good." He stretched slightly, then sighed. "Perhaps you would like some sake?"
"Aren't you ill?" He watched the young lord. He looked fine... Miroku frowned. His movements were natural, simple. His speech, though slightly informal, wasn't what he had come to expect from those possessed.
Perhaps there was no danger after all. He relaxed slightly, still keeping his sight trailed on the other man.
"What's better for illness than sake?" Another brilliant smile, and a wink, as the boy's hands dropped to his, pulling slightly. "Come, this room has a ghastly feel to it."
Miroku hesitated for the barest second more, then nodded, smiling.