Author's Note: Inuvember "MirSan" prompt. Suggestive material ahead.
Originally posted on Tumblr: Nov. 22, 2018
Posted here: Sept. 17, 2020
Setting: Either post-canon or modern AU. Honestly, either fits lol.
Characters/Pairings: MirSan
Words: 773
Rated: T, almost M
Genre: Romance & Humor
The Game of Love
Miroku calmly sipped his tea, hiding his grin at Sango's obvious irritation. She was chopping vegetables for dinner, each cut a sharp jab on the table, her leg twitching under her apron.
"You seem rather frazzled, my dear," he said cheerfully.
"Do I? Oh, I wonder why," Sango's voice said, keeping her back pointedly to him, her tone dripping in sarcasm.
"Oh, come now, dear, you've never objected to cooking my dinner before."
"It has nothing to do with dinner, and you know it!" Sango hissed, shooting a deadly glare over her shoulder before promptly tossing her head and resuming her work.
Miroku grinned slyly. Good, good. His plan was going perfectly.
He set down his tea and slapped a hand to his forehead in mock-distress. "Ay, me. Such is the life of a man. A woman's heart is truly a mysterious thing. My love is upset with me, and I haven't the faintest idea how to go about fixing it!"
Of course, that was a bald-faced lie. Miroku knew his wife better than the back of his hand. She was strong in every sense of the word, kind, compassionate, and clever. But she had one weakness: she was enormously jealous, even borderline possessive. And that trait, when activated, could easily be spun into something far more enjoyable.
Yet after a whole year of marriage and finally experiencing the joys of making love with the woman of his heart, Miroku came to learn that building up Sango's willingness to engage in such pleasurable activities was a game unto itself. Once her shyness was surmounted, she transformed into a vixen of unimaginable proportions and was quite possibly the greatest adventure he'd ever experienced, time and time again.
But getting to that point was half the fun.
And so, Miroku would flirt with ladies, even though he had no selfish joy in it any longer. He'd smile, give a witty retort to their own advances, and even dare to caress a hand or two. Once, he flirted shamelessly out of obligation to pass on his father's curse, and because he was a free man, free to do what he likes. But Sango was different. Sango had his respect, his friendship, his undying love. He would never deliberately hurt her feelings.
But, oh, how he loved to make her jealous!
"Oh, indeed?" Sango's furious voice growled out now, her hand gripping her knife dangerously tight. "I suppose for all of your delight with female company, you still don't understand a woman's heart?"
"I beg to differ! I understand far, far greater than you realize, my dearest wife," Miroku purred, standing up and daring to wrap his arms about Sango's waist. She stiffened and struggled to turn around to face him.
"Don't you touch me! You lech-!"
Miroku shushed her and nibbled at her earlobe. Sango whimpered, loosening her grip on her cutting knife. A wave of tremors lessened the tension in her body. Miroku grinned and ran kisses down her neck, until she was moaning and shivering with anticipation. His hand for the umpteenth time (but never enough times) wandered down and caressed her ass.
Sango inhaled sharply, leaning back against Miroku, who passionately kissed the back of her neck.
And then let her go.
"Well, then, wife, when shall I expect dinner?" he said matter-of-factly, as if nothing had just happened, turning his back on his stunned wife, hiding his triumphant grin.
And three, two, one...
Sango all but launched herself at her husband, slamming him against the wall, her mouth sloppily planted on his in no time. Miroku couldn't help but laugh now as Sango eagerly pressed their bodies together, and held his hands firmly in place at his sides.
"And what are you laughing at, monk?" she huffed, glaring up at him.
"Nothing at all, my love, nothing at all," Miroku said, clearing his throat, smiling fondly down at the stunning creature currently holding him against the wall. "Just thinking about how lucky I am."
Sango flushed, then shook her head sharply. "You're not getting out of trouble that easily, you know."
"Then, please, enlighten me. How am I to repent for my callous behavior?"
"I can think of a few things," Sango whispered, unraveling her kimono and pushing her hot and bothered body against his again before stepping back, letting the fabric drop to the floor, and saying demurely: "Meet me in the bedroom."
As Miroku watched her naked form walk seductively towards the door, almost certain she was swishing her hips on purpose, he instantly stripped off his own robes, and hurried after his wife.
The game had only just begun.
