Miroku paused for a second and looked over his shoulder, in time to see Inuyasha strike their enemy a killing blow, then he dove into darkness. The mountain stream was ice cold. He had seen Sango hit her head when she fell to the bottom of the waterfall. He struggled to the surface. With that first breath he looked out and saw her magenta armor snagged on a tree branch. His monk's robes hampered his movement, but he labored through the rapids to her. Her head was still above the rushing water and he worked to get her untangled from the tree. They ripped free only to be claimed by the current once again. His focus shrank to the two of them and the struggle to keep their heads above water.
Eventually they fetched up against something solid. The slick but sturdy barrier turned out to be a piling from a small dock. He pulled them from one pole to another and slowly to shore. There on the bank he checked to see that she was still breathing. He got to his knees and balanced Sango on his back. Taking a deep breath he gathered the strength to stand. He swayed under weight and weariness, but moved on. On the bank he spied a small hut with old fishing nets hung on its walls. He called out but there was no response of light or movement.
Reaching the door he blundered ahead into the center of an empty room. An old futon lay on a ledge near the fire pit. He draped the unconscious Sango on it and released a cloud of dust. Coughing and sputtering he turned to search their shelter. He peered into the dark corners and found only a small woodpile and an old chest. Fire, that's what he needed and he set about to make one. His flint was still with him and he pulled some tinder from a frayed hole in the futon. Fires are always slow going at first, but it does no good to rush. He lay the wood piece by piece over the smoldering tinder until he was sure he had a blaze that would burn merrily without his attention. Then he looked at Sango. She looked so beautiful and so fragile. Even in the dim yellow light he could see she was pale, and he saw her start to shiver. Her strength has saved him in so many battles. It made his heart ache to see her wounded and vulnerable. He moved to her and felt for injuries. There was a swelling bump over her left ear, but other than that she just felt cold. There must be something dry to wrap her in. Now that he had light from the fire he searched inside the trunk and found an old blanket.
It would do no good to wrap her up if the layer closest to her skin was still wet and sapping her strength. He had to get her out of her wet clothes, and began searching for a way to undo her armor. Most of the armor was attached to the black silk suit, demon spider silk probably, but he found a catch at the side of the breastplate. He lifted it up and saw the lacing that held the suit together in front. It took all his focus to make his cold fingers and weary brain undo the unfamiliar lacings. So great was his concern for her that he hardly realized what he was doing. He had reached the bottom of the laces and reached up to push the wet cloth off her shoulders. Her moon round breasts slid into view, and he was captivated by the gentle movement of her rosebud nipples extended in the cold.
A rush of warmth raced through his body, and he was thankful, as he too had begun to shiver in his wet robes. He closed his eyes and steeled himself. As much as he longed to lay his weary head between those breasts and sink into oblivion, he would not risk his beloved's safety or honor by taking advantage of this situation. He squeezed his eyes shut, grabbed the silk suit by the collar and pulled. The slurping of wet silk parting from skin made him shiver for an entirely different reason, but he tossed aside the suit and grabbed the old blanket. Covering her in the blanket, he began to vigorously rub life back into her limbs, before opening his eyes. She was his companion a fellow warrior and he focused on watching the pink of life return to her face.
When his strength gave out he wrapped the blanket tight around her and took stock of himself. He managed to stand and began to unwrap his robes. Sango's presence again struck him and he felt embarrassed. He stepped down from the ledge and stood facing the fire. He hung each garment from the rafters and built up the fire to help them dry. He knelt there by the crackling flames pondering the silk wrap and prayer beads on his right hand, which were the only things he still wore. His fate was uncertain, but he knew he could no longer risk loosing Sango, to ensure the continuation of his family name.
Her conciseness rose and broke upon the surface like a bubble. There had been water, and now she couldn't move. She had no strength to move either, and slowly she realized that it was a blanket, which kept her bound. She opened her eyes the least crack and saw bear shoulders and wild hair silhouetted by the light of a fire. A river spirit has rescued me she thought, in the morning he will name his price for saving my life. At the thought of such a debt a small moan escaped her lips. The figure before her rose and turned. The long arch of his manhood, relaxed from the fire became eye level. Warmth radiated from his skin, and a careful hand brushed her brow. Perhaps being the concubine of a river spirit wouldn't be so bad. With that thought she sunk beneath the surface of conciseness once more.
Miroku looked down and saw that a small smile now played across lips that were no longer blue from the cold. "Mirrrow." He turned again to see Kirara had joined them and was sitting guard on the other side of the fire. She nodded at him as if to say she would take guard from here. Then she winked. There is always something unnerving about when a can winks, and Kirara somehow made it more so. Watching carefully for approval, he lay down beside the firecat's mistress and dropped into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.
The sounds of morning birds' penetrated Sango's dream of watery bowers decorated with pearls and delicate water plants. Something was lying across her chest. It was a man's arm, scarred and strong. She felt his breath by her ear, and something long and warm twitched at the curve of her hip. She looked up from the mat and saw Miroku's robes drying in the rafters. A fuzzy head popped up over the side of the ledge. Kirara licked her nose and purred, then she went to the front porch for her morning ablutions.
Sango freed an arm from the blanket and turned to look at Miroku. "I was caught by a handsome water sprite", she whispered remembering her fevered impressions from the night before. He hadn't taken any blanket for himself and he was cold to the touch anywhere he wasn't leaning against her. She was about to open the blanket and share it with him when she felt that twitch against her hip again and realized what that would mean. A fierce blush tingled her skin as she remembered what she had seen against the firelight. She had thought eagerly of rewarding that water sprite, why should her friend Miroku deserve less.
Carefully she unwound the blanket and spread it over them both. All those times he had groped her, making her eager and angry flooded back to her. Maybe it was time for some payback. She ran her fingers through his hair, and down his back. She lingered appreciating the feel of his shoulder muscles and the ripple of his spine. So many times his hand had strayed to her bottom, now she placed her hand on his flank. The skin warmed to her touch and she resisted the urge to tweak it. He mumbled in his sleep and pulled her towards him. She could feel the long shaft of him trembling against her belly. Her core tremble in response. His head was buried in the crook of her neck and he breathed her sent deeply. One last forbidden touch was left to her, as she slipped her hand between them. Softer than the silk of her own skin, it jumped at her touch. Her fingers wrapped around him as they would the handle of a blade. He fit perfectly in her grip. Gently her thumb grazed the underside of the tip smearing moisture across the head. The sensation brought a flood of warmth between her own thighs. She shivered with longing, and knew for the first time what it was to resist that temptation.
The shiver alerted her companion, who moved from dream to reality without much change in context, except that in his dream they had been laying in the softly perfumed bed of the finest inn in Japan. Two pairs of soft brown eyes met, and two smiles bloomed guiltily across sleepy faces. "I thought it was I who took wanton liberties at inopportune moments."
"Well, I'm sure you did last night," she replied in defense.
"I did no such thing," he retorted. "I even closed my eyes when I peeled that black suit off you." He gulped and became more ridged in her hand, as he remembered the sounds that silk had made.
"I dreamed last night that I had been rescued by a river sprite. I saw his beautiful form silhouetted against the fire, and was almost eager to repay my life debt to him, by becoming his concubine." She giggled at the look of surprise on his face.
Suddenly he turned serious, "If anyone owes a life debt between us it is I." Then gathering all his courage, he said to the woman still holding his genitals, "I would be honored to repay that dept by becoming your husband." Thoughts passed like clouds across her face.
"When all is said and done, and the Jewel of four souls is safe we will see who owes the bigger debt. But if in all that time you can stay true to me I will wed you beneath the Shinto gate in my village and officially be your wife." It was all he wanted any more and she was actually offering it to him. He started to sit up and pull away, vowing that if it took every ounce of willpower he had that he would meet her conditions. He would remain chaste for her, but she reached out and pulled him back down saying, "now don't think I'm not going to do my part to keep the attention of your wandering hands." She lightly pressed her lips to his. His eyes widened in surprise and realization, for an instant before he clutched her to his chest and clamed her mouth with a ravenous kiss. He pulled back and looked deeply into her eyes. "You look like a starving man who's not sure if he's really just been offered a seat at the banquet."
"If you are a banquet, my dear, then this is the finest spread I have ever been offered. And I'm not leaving until I've sampled every dish." He kissed her forehead, then each eyelid, and her nose. He lingered at her mouth, sucking at her lower lip until she gave way and let him in. Her sweet little tongue darted everywhere till he caught it and sucked it gently into his mouth. Light nibbles trailed down her jaw line, and he lipped the pulse points on her neck. His tongue trailed along her collarbone and up to the shoulder joint, where he gripped her with his teeth till she gave a little shiver. He moved down towards her breast and she took the opportunity to grab his earlobe between her teeth and suck. It felt like his bones were melting, and he collapsed into her grip.
The tip of his manhood just brushed her moist gateway, as his head came to rest between her breasts as it had longed to last night. The heat of him so near sent lightning coursing through her body, and she arched breathing out a little whimper. He chuckled and kissed the bosoms on which he rested his head. Her blood was boiling and she raked her fingers down his back and set them into the firm flesh of his behind. He yelped and bucked, sliding his entire length up across the tiny precious pebble that is the keystone of every woman's gateway. She fell back with a shuddering cry. "Not so fast sweetling," he murmured. "Now that I'm here I intend to savor every morsel." His hand reached up to massage one breast, while he began kissing a slow spiral from the base of the other. It felt like ages until her reached the top, but when he took her tight nipple into his warm mouth is sent flaming signals racing to her core.
The slow delicious torture continued. He tasted each plain of smooth stomach. Drank from the well of her navel. He sampled hips and thighs, but carefully passed over the rich mound of curls he found at their juncture. Kisses fell upon her knees as he gently tickled behind them. He gripped her strong caves and raised them up so he could nibble the curve of her ankle. A kiss was placed in the instep of each foot before he began to lovingly suck each toe. Long ago she has discreetly fumbled with boys from her village, behind the work shed or in the fields before harvest, but none of them had the art of this connoisseur. And none of them had ever been where she was going to request he go next. "Please ...." she breathed. How could she be saying this, "I need you inside me."
"You'll get your deserts once I've had mine," he smiled wickedly. Then he proceeded to lick his way back up the inside of her leg and bury his face in the dark, uncharted jungle between her thighs. She was so sweet, fresh with the river, salt slick with desire, and perfumed with her own smoky feminine scent. He lapped her open and traced each petal of that delicate flower. His nose brushed her apex and she gasped. He used his thumbs to spread her curls and kissed the quivering bead. One finger slowly tested her opening, finding it damp and inviting a second followed. They swirled and twisted while his tongue found her apex and began a maddening spiral. Coherent words had left her but she knew what she wanted. She reached down and twined her fingers in his hair. Lifting him up till she could see his eyes, she struggled to find words. "Yes dear," he mumbled into her pubic bone, but her eyes only flashed. "Are you sure your, ready?" She managed to nod. "This might hurt," he cautioned.
"Any bearers that might have blocked your path, gave way long ago to strenuous exercise," she managed with some difficulty. He nodded and took his weight on hands and knees. He offered her a salty kiss, and placed her hand back where it had been when he awoke. Her touch was so gentle now as she guided him home. He slipped inside and she took him to the hilt.
She breathed felt herself stretch to take him, and held him there wile she wrapped her legs around his body. She was full and complete, and knew no greater pleasure until he started to move. The pace was slow at first, then faster, then he rolled his hips and rocked with in her like a ship with in its berth at port. As he found a steady rhythm, she rose to meet him. The steady fire that burned within her grew into a roaring blaze. As the world exploded within her, she sank her teeth into his shoulder and screamed.
"Oh Sango. My beautiful Sango," he cried, as with a final frantic burst he spent himself within her. He slowed and found he was raining tears as well as kisses upon her upturned face. They floated there, slowly coming back to earth. Resting side by side they looked into each others eyes, seeing both love and uncertainty. "Do we tell the other's?" they asked each other in unison. Sango giggled and placed a finger on Miroku's lips. "Maybe not just yet," she said. He smiled in response. They rose and gathered their things, washed quickly in the cold water of the river, and prepared to leave. They looked fondly at the small hut that had sheltered them, and Miroku placed a spirit ward for good luck over the door. They kissed once more, and she called for Kirara. They went off to find what new trouble had befallen InuYasha and Kagome, with new hope for their own futures filling their hearts.
