Cursed Desire
By Sarga
Written December 2008
Summary: Miroku's desire for Sango has never been a secret...
A/N: Written for the LJ community Inu_Kaidan prompt 7: Rejection. Inu means 'dog' Kaidan means 'ghost story'. Supposed to be a dark!Fic but not quite there yet...
Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, nor do I make any money off of this fic.
Miroku sat in quite meditation, the smooth lines of his face not betraying the heavy thoughts that went on behind his mask of boyish charm. Thoughts of death, of unfulfilled destiny, of lust – both sated and not – of life...
Sango was near.
Miroku could smell the subtle perfume of the demon slayer – a combination of the oils regularly worked into Hiraikotsu and that fragrant floral scent that Kagome brought with her from her own era.
As the woman drew near him, the monk steadily controlled his intake of breath. This would always be hard for him, knowing that his touch was unwanted, undesired – outright denied. Even with this knowledge it could not prevent him from perusing her through heavy-lidded eyes, the deceptive calm of meditation easily hiding his true intent.
Gods he wanted her!
Slipping his eyes closed once more, Miroku waited for the desperate burning within to subside. Only then did he allow himself a final subtle but deep inhalation of the distinct scent of her. As she stood before him, silently waiting for his eyes to open and acknowledge her presence, he secretly prepared himself to have her in the most intimate of ways.
"My lovely Sango, to what do I owe the honour of such divine presence?" Miroku's voice was smooth, enticing, a fraction of the need that coursed through him daring to slip from behind his deceitful mask of calm.
Sango's cheeks tinged with pink as she proffered a small dish – a truce in the form of food. What else would she be willing to sacrifice in the name of peace... Miroku shivered at the errant thought.
"Kagome tells me you rescued a boy during my absence?" Sango's question was open-ended, he could be humble or... well, he refused to be dishonest about his own doings.
"Ah, yes, the child. He was very close to death by the time I reached him. Another moment and he would have been lost." Miroku watched as his words had the desired effect. Sango's faced flushed prettily and he wondered what else he could say to have her face flush just that shade.
Her following words were pleasant but of no consequence. As she spoke of her travels to her demon-slayer village he mimicked the act of listening, all the while drinking in her form.
Sango was ready for him, Miroku could tell by looking. A few well-thought words and she would be his to command. A few well-placed kisses and she would mould to his form like pottery under a skilled artist's hands.
It was time.
Slipping a hand to her waist as he spoke, the monk smoothly coaxed the demon slayer closer. Her eyes were vulnerable, her own obvious desire as raw as his own insidious need.
Miroku lowered his hand and the response was immediate.
Sango slapped him and stormed away, indignant and true to form.
Once more Miroku had rejected Sango's advances, but really... it was for her own good...
As always, Read and Review!
--Sarga