A/N: FINALLY I get to this bit! This was originally intended to be the
second installment (well, parts of it were, anyway). In case you can't
tell, this story has gotten a lot longer than I'd expected it to. -_-;;
"Mortals Flicker And Flash And Fade"
Sesshoumaru didn't react to Miroku's kiss in the slightest, just patiently waited it out. As soon as the monk pulled away, his face red with embarrassment, Sesshoumaru turned him around and began to work the snarls out of his hair.
Miroku took a moment to wonder where Sesshoumaru's latest prosthesis had come from, but his thoughts were interrupted by the other's voice.
"Would you like to hear a story?" Sesshoumaru asked him calmly.
"'Kay," Miroku agreed softly, pulling his knees up to his chest.
"Once upon a time, a dog youkai fell in love with a human woman," Sesshoumaru began, his voice grave. "She was beautiful, powerful, and kind, and bore him a pup. He had already had a child by another woman, however- a pureblooded youkai. And this child was very angry with him, because the dog youkai loved his younger child better. And the eldest child was also afraid to befriend the younger, because he knew the hanyou- child was certain to die before he. In the end, however, he did befriend him, and when the hanyou-child grew old and died, the youkai-child threw his still-burning ashes into the sky, and made Sirius, the Dog Star, with his brother's soul, and was thusly never alone."
Miroku furrowed his brow slightly in confusion and glanced back at Sesshoumaru, who was still intent on combing his hair. The parallels (and lack of parallels) between the story and Sesshoumaru and Inu-Yasha were blatantly obvious.
"That is an old legend," Sesshoumaru said after a moment. "Inu-Yasha's mother told me it once, and I thought she had made it up until a few months ago when I heard a woman in a village telling it to Rin."
The monk didn't answer him, too lost in thought to formulate a proper response. Sesshoumaru sighed deeply and pressed a kiss to the back of Miroku's neck, then continued to speak.
"I was never particularly fond of that story for obvious reasons, but it makes a point about immortality," he told Miroku. "It isn't overly pleasant."
"I can't see how immortality could be seen as a bad thing," Miroku retorted, half-consciously looking to his wrapped right hand.
"Only because you have not lived so long as I. But it makes you bitter in the end," Sesshoumaru countered. "And many youkai's greatest fear is not to be killed, but to be left alone with eternity."
"Then I suppose I'll never understand," Miroku replied grimly, flexing his fingers. "This hellhole will swallow me up long before I reach anything even close to old age."
"True," Sesshoumaru remarked, ripping out a particularly vicious snarl. "You must live a very hurried life; trying to fit everything into such a little amount of time."
"Life is not to be 'hurried'," Miroku snapped, and Sesshoumaru smiled very slightly, closing his eyes.
"I have never had to worry about that," he murmured. "The only thing that changes in my life is Rin. It didn't occur to me that she was going to die before I was until recently, which is strange, considering our history together. And you- you will die before her. But that is alright, I suppose, since you can't hurt me."
"You keep saying that," Miroku mumbled, crossing his arms and looking gloomy.
"Yes," Sesshoumaru agreed a little defensively, his fingers brushing against the monk's forehead. Miroku let all his breath out in a surprised huff at the strange sensation- one hand was a clawed youkai's, the other a human's.
"Why?" he asked sourly.
"You don't matter to me," Sesshoumaru explained. "All I know about you is that you have a curse on your right hand and will probably die just around the time Rin is old enough not to get herself into unnecessary trouble."
Miroku fell silent as Sesshoumaru continued to comb out his wet tresses, the last of the mud washing away. The youkai's fingers were deceptively gentle, and he carefully guided Miroku's head down to his lap, leaning over him and thusly surrounding both of them in the silky white curtain of his own hair.
The monk shivered and relaxed into the embrace as the other kept talking about nothing in particular. Sesshoumaru's voice said that he felt nothing for him, but his actions implied otherwise. As if the youkai weren't confusing enough already . . .
He sighed very softly, letting his eyes drift shut and mind wander.
Watching his father die . . . Snatching Kagome and the Shikon Jewel up on her bicycle . . . His long-ago battle with Inu-Yasha . . . Seeing Shippou transform . . . First glimpsing precious Sango, who was beautiful even when she bled . . . Seeing his foster father possessed by an evil youkai . . . Kissing Sesshoumaru.
Miroku's eyes flew open in shock as lightning struck his brain. "I hate my father," he said in amazement. Sesshoumaru's hands went instantly still in his hair.
"Excuse me?" he asked blankly.
"I hate my father," Miroku repeated, clearly surprised at himself. "He knew that he was going to die, but he had me anyway, just to carry on with his damned vengeance. And he didn't love me. He only wanted me around to avenge him and my grandfather."
Sesshoumaru said nothing, but his fingers slowly began to caress Miroku's scalp, and he bent further over, until their faces were only inches apart. Miroku sighed softly as the other's fingers slowly slipped down past his chest, tracing lazy circles on his belly. Without thinking, he let his emotions show in his face.
Sesshoumaru's eyes widened slightly at the expression Miroku wore, and with good reason. His eyes were warm and more open than they had ever been, a deep, sweet violet that promised gentle touches and pleasures in darkness that had previously been unknown to both.
"I . . . don't know your name," Sesshoumaru whispered after the longest silence Miroku had ever experienced. "I never . . . I never heard it."
"It's Miroku," he replied quietly, carefully reaching up to cup the other's face in his hands. Screw permission; screw everything. He just wanted Sesshoumaru.
"We are . . . alike," the youkai said softly, his own hands moving up to grasp Miroku's. "I hate my father very much too . . . but I love him still. And I suppose I love my Rin as much as you would love an heir."
"I don't want to hurt a child the way I was," Miroku muttered, wriggling into a slightly more comfortable position. "Or the way my father was. But at the same time, I want one more than anything. It makes me feel selfish, and petty."
"Love is selfish," Sesshoumaru replied calmly, pulling Miroku's hands away from his face and lowering them to his bare stomach. "It is the most selfish thing there is."
"Yes," Miroku agreed sadly. "I suppose you are correct there."
"Of course I am . . . Oh, and by the way, why haven't you bedded the exterminator?" Sesshoumaru inquired. "The two of you seem to get along well enough. Certainly she would do it, if you asked her in sincerity."
"I couldn't." Miroku shook his head. "I wouldn't want to leave her with no husband and a child doomed to die before she. Sango's lost so much in her life- I can't take away her chance at another family."
"Ah." Sesshoumaru fell silent again.
"Kiss me?" Miroku asked after a brief pause.
"Not right now," Sesshoumaru said distractedly, his claws twirling around the rosary on Miroku's hand. The younger surprised himself by not immediately pulling away.
Sesshoumaru pulled the cursed hand towards him and lightly bit the sheath, his tongue darting out once to ghost over Miroku's fingertips. The monk squirmed slightly, an instinctive nervousness building up in the pit of his stomach.
"I wish you wouldn't do that," he murmured.
"I won't break it," Sesshoumaru assured him, pressing a careful kiss to the knot that kept the sheath fastened, as if to seal his word the same way the void was.
" . . . Okay, then," Miroku said softly. Sesshoumaru flicked his tongue over the nape of the monk's neck, and he sighed gently.
"Kiss me?" Miroku asked again, his voice a little quieter than the last time.
"Later, Miroku," Sesshoumaru promised, and for the first time in his life, the monk shivered at the sound of his own name.
* tbc . . . *
"Mortals Flicker And Flash And Fade"
Sesshoumaru didn't react to Miroku's kiss in the slightest, just patiently waited it out. As soon as the monk pulled away, his face red with embarrassment, Sesshoumaru turned him around and began to work the snarls out of his hair.
Miroku took a moment to wonder where Sesshoumaru's latest prosthesis had come from, but his thoughts were interrupted by the other's voice.
"Would you like to hear a story?" Sesshoumaru asked him calmly.
"'Kay," Miroku agreed softly, pulling his knees up to his chest.
"Once upon a time, a dog youkai fell in love with a human woman," Sesshoumaru began, his voice grave. "She was beautiful, powerful, and kind, and bore him a pup. He had already had a child by another woman, however- a pureblooded youkai. And this child was very angry with him, because the dog youkai loved his younger child better. And the eldest child was also afraid to befriend the younger, because he knew the hanyou- child was certain to die before he. In the end, however, he did befriend him, and when the hanyou-child grew old and died, the youkai-child threw his still-burning ashes into the sky, and made Sirius, the Dog Star, with his brother's soul, and was thusly never alone."
Miroku furrowed his brow slightly in confusion and glanced back at Sesshoumaru, who was still intent on combing his hair. The parallels (and lack of parallels) between the story and Sesshoumaru and Inu-Yasha were blatantly obvious.
"That is an old legend," Sesshoumaru said after a moment. "Inu-Yasha's mother told me it once, and I thought she had made it up until a few months ago when I heard a woman in a village telling it to Rin."
The monk didn't answer him, too lost in thought to formulate a proper response. Sesshoumaru sighed deeply and pressed a kiss to the back of Miroku's neck, then continued to speak.
"I was never particularly fond of that story for obvious reasons, but it makes a point about immortality," he told Miroku. "It isn't overly pleasant."
"I can't see how immortality could be seen as a bad thing," Miroku retorted, half-consciously looking to his wrapped right hand.
"Only because you have not lived so long as I. But it makes you bitter in the end," Sesshoumaru countered. "And many youkai's greatest fear is not to be killed, but to be left alone with eternity."
"Then I suppose I'll never understand," Miroku replied grimly, flexing his fingers. "This hellhole will swallow me up long before I reach anything even close to old age."
"True," Sesshoumaru remarked, ripping out a particularly vicious snarl. "You must live a very hurried life; trying to fit everything into such a little amount of time."
"Life is not to be 'hurried'," Miroku snapped, and Sesshoumaru smiled very slightly, closing his eyes.
"I have never had to worry about that," he murmured. "The only thing that changes in my life is Rin. It didn't occur to me that she was going to die before I was until recently, which is strange, considering our history together. And you- you will die before her. But that is alright, I suppose, since you can't hurt me."
"You keep saying that," Miroku mumbled, crossing his arms and looking gloomy.
"Yes," Sesshoumaru agreed a little defensively, his fingers brushing against the monk's forehead. Miroku let all his breath out in a surprised huff at the strange sensation- one hand was a clawed youkai's, the other a human's.
"Why?" he asked sourly.
"You don't matter to me," Sesshoumaru explained. "All I know about you is that you have a curse on your right hand and will probably die just around the time Rin is old enough not to get herself into unnecessary trouble."
Miroku fell silent as Sesshoumaru continued to comb out his wet tresses, the last of the mud washing away. The youkai's fingers were deceptively gentle, and he carefully guided Miroku's head down to his lap, leaning over him and thusly surrounding both of them in the silky white curtain of his own hair.
The monk shivered and relaxed into the embrace as the other kept talking about nothing in particular. Sesshoumaru's voice said that he felt nothing for him, but his actions implied otherwise. As if the youkai weren't confusing enough already . . .
He sighed very softly, letting his eyes drift shut and mind wander.
Watching his father die . . . Snatching Kagome and the Shikon Jewel up on her bicycle . . . His long-ago battle with Inu-Yasha . . . Seeing Shippou transform . . . First glimpsing precious Sango, who was beautiful even when she bled . . . Seeing his foster father possessed by an evil youkai . . . Kissing Sesshoumaru.
Miroku's eyes flew open in shock as lightning struck his brain. "I hate my father," he said in amazement. Sesshoumaru's hands went instantly still in his hair.
"Excuse me?" he asked blankly.
"I hate my father," Miroku repeated, clearly surprised at himself. "He knew that he was going to die, but he had me anyway, just to carry on with his damned vengeance. And he didn't love me. He only wanted me around to avenge him and my grandfather."
Sesshoumaru said nothing, but his fingers slowly began to caress Miroku's scalp, and he bent further over, until their faces were only inches apart. Miroku sighed softly as the other's fingers slowly slipped down past his chest, tracing lazy circles on his belly. Without thinking, he let his emotions show in his face.
Sesshoumaru's eyes widened slightly at the expression Miroku wore, and with good reason. His eyes were warm and more open than they had ever been, a deep, sweet violet that promised gentle touches and pleasures in darkness that had previously been unknown to both.
"I . . . don't know your name," Sesshoumaru whispered after the longest silence Miroku had ever experienced. "I never . . . I never heard it."
"It's Miroku," he replied quietly, carefully reaching up to cup the other's face in his hands. Screw permission; screw everything. He just wanted Sesshoumaru.
"We are . . . alike," the youkai said softly, his own hands moving up to grasp Miroku's. "I hate my father very much too . . . but I love him still. And I suppose I love my Rin as much as you would love an heir."
"I don't want to hurt a child the way I was," Miroku muttered, wriggling into a slightly more comfortable position. "Or the way my father was. But at the same time, I want one more than anything. It makes me feel selfish, and petty."
"Love is selfish," Sesshoumaru replied calmly, pulling Miroku's hands away from his face and lowering them to his bare stomach. "It is the most selfish thing there is."
"Yes," Miroku agreed sadly. "I suppose you are correct there."
"Of course I am . . . Oh, and by the way, why haven't you bedded the exterminator?" Sesshoumaru inquired. "The two of you seem to get along well enough. Certainly she would do it, if you asked her in sincerity."
"I couldn't." Miroku shook his head. "I wouldn't want to leave her with no husband and a child doomed to die before she. Sango's lost so much in her life- I can't take away her chance at another family."
"Ah." Sesshoumaru fell silent again.
"Kiss me?" Miroku asked after a brief pause.
"Not right now," Sesshoumaru said distractedly, his claws twirling around the rosary on Miroku's hand. The younger surprised himself by not immediately pulling away.
Sesshoumaru pulled the cursed hand towards him and lightly bit the sheath, his tongue darting out once to ghost over Miroku's fingertips. The monk squirmed slightly, an instinctive nervousness building up in the pit of his stomach.
"I wish you wouldn't do that," he murmured.
"I won't break it," Sesshoumaru assured him, pressing a careful kiss to the knot that kept the sheath fastened, as if to seal his word the same way the void was.
" . . . Okay, then," Miroku said softly. Sesshoumaru flicked his tongue over the nape of the monk's neck, and he sighed gently.
"Kiss me?" Miroku asked again, his voice a little quieter than the last time.
"Later, Miroku," Sesshoumaru promised, and for the first time in his life, the monk shivered at the sound of his own name.
* tbc . . . *