It's wierd, I actually meant to write this story mostly from Inuyasha's point of view, but it's turning out to be mostly sympathetic to Miroku.

Warnings: This story gets steadily more gay from this point on. Anyone who doesn't want to read that, hit that nice 'Back' button right about now. And as of the next few chapters I seem to be working my way through as many cliches as I can think of.

Disclaimer: None of this is mine. Stop looking so surprised.

Miroku was confused.

The last few weeks, he'd been increasingly drawn to Inuyasha's rear. Ever since that first day when he'd realised it was definitely the nicest bottom he'd ever had the pleasure to lay eyes- and hands- on, it was very nearly all he could think about. It was becoming an obsession.

He wanted desperately to talk to someone about it, but didn't know who. Obviously, he couldn't talk to Inuyasha himself about it- the half-demon was already bristly enough without actually discussing the matter. Kagome did seem interested in Inuyasha herself, so it would be callous to raise the matter with her. Similarly, with Sango… it was not appropriate to speak to her about the man who had distracted Miroku's affections from her. And while Shippo seemed mature for his age, the monk was sure he was not old enough for this particular conversation.

His voice of council came from a direction he hadn't considered.

The group had returned to the village to restock before they could continue their pursuit of Naraku. They had all been seated for dinner, and Inuyasha had stood to refill his bowl. As he walked past, Miroku, forgetting their unaccustomed company, and barely looking up from his meal, had reached up to slide an appreciative hand across the youth's firm buttocks as he passed. Inuyasha had paused only slightly, rolling his eyes and muttering a 'Keh' under his breath. Miroku responded by smiling and giving a light, teasing slap to the rounded muscle.

Kaede's keen eyes had followed the exchange.

Some hours later, the monk had slipped from the guest hut to complete his necessary. On his return trip, Kaede was there to meet him.

When he smiled in greeting, he was stopped by the sharp look she shot him.

"What has been going on, monk?"

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"With you and Inuyasha. Have ye been taking advantage of the boy?"

Miroku's eyes widened. "No! No, I've done no such thing!"

"I saw ye touch him at dinnertime. He seemed rather used to such familiarities."

He bowed his head a little. "I… Kaede-san, it's a difficult situation."

Her brows were fiercely drawn. "It is a thing that will not be borne, monk, if ye've laid with him against his will."

"But we haven't!" he protested, eyes wide. "We haven't done anything! It's just that I… I'm… fascinated. Sometimes I touch his rear. That's all. And I stop as soon as he says to."

The aging priestess pinned him with a piercing stare. "Ye've not touched him when he's bade ye not to?"

He shook his head forcefully. "Absolutely not."

"Hmm." She relaxed. "I don't know that ye've realised it, Miroku-san, but us ladies are a bit protective of Inuyasha-kun. He's seen so much hardship, and though he's old in human years, he is still but a boy."

"A youth," he conceded, sitting on a convenient fallen log and gesturing for Kaede to join him. "Not a boy, but not a man yet either. I know."

"Too young to fully understand such a thing as it would seem ye offer him."

He ducked his head again. "I don't know what I offer him. I don't know what I want from him, Kaede-san. I honestly don't."

"It seems obvious to me."

"I don't know if that's what I want."

She waited.

Miroku buried his face in his hands. "It was just his- bottom. It's amazing. I never realised it before, and then suddenly I saw it, and then I couldn't stop thinking about it. He lets me touch it sometimes, but it's more of a kindness from him than anything else. But… a few days ago it wasn't just that. I was holding him, and had my hand on his rear, but I was smelling his hair, too. Leaning on him." His shoulders hunched. "I wanted more."

"More?"

"I wanted him to want to touch me, too. I wanted more than tolerance." He looked up her, mouth tight with pain. "What does that mean?"

Folding her hands, Kaede considered before replying carefully. "Do ye want him, Miroku-san?"

Do I want to take Inuyasha to bed? He was suddenly, forcefully hit with the idea. Of Inuyasha's pale skin slick with sweat. Of his own hands fisting in silver-white hair. Of golden eyes half-lidded with need. Of Inuyasha's back arching. Sliding deep, deep inside. Voices gasping, mouths meeting wetly. Muscles moving under skin. Fangs against his lip, his tongue.

He let out a breath roughly, and turned away. "Yes. I do."

"Well." Kaede refolded her hands, obviously a little uncomfortable. "Do ye want him as a lover, or as only a bedmate?"

He bit his lip, still blushing. "I don't know. I know that – I don't want to lose him as a friend, whatever happens. I'd rather never touch him again than lie with him once and have him hate me for it."

"It's good that ye've thought of that much, at least."

"Kaede-san… does this mean I'm a man-fancier?"

She snorted. "Well, ye fancy a man, don't ye?"

"A queer, I mean. I- I don't want to be that. I've seen too many men beaten or killed for that. I don't like the idea of being thought of that way."

"Do you still fancy Sango-chan?"

"… yeah."

"There are many people who fancy both men and women." She patted his shoulder. "Rather than that, worry more about deciding what ye want with Inuyasha, and what ye're to do about it. So long as ye remember to never hurt him, or ye'll have me to reckon with as well as Kagome-chan and Sango-chan."

He laughed, and did feel lighter. "I won't forget. And thank you, Kaede-san, for talking to me about this."

…

Inuyasha was waiting at the hut when he returned. The red-clad form was leaning watchfully against the doorframe, knee kinked and one foot resting back against the wall.

"Inuyasha?" he breathed, surprised.

"S'my watch."

Miroku nodded. He wet his lips, but couldn't say anything. Yellow eyes were deep gold in the moonlight, and he didn't trust himself to speak.

Inuyasha looked away. "Y'okay?" he mumbled.

He closed his eyes. "I don't know what's happening," he admitted roughly.

A whisper of fabric. Inuyasha was standing close in front of him, eyes impossibly deep. "Miroku?"

He squeezed his eyes shut this time.

Warmth against him. Inuyasha leaned into him, responding to his need for comfort, resting his forehead on Miroku's shoulder. "Here," he breathed, every movement a gift, and drew Miroku's hands to his ass.

He bit short a sob, hands reflexively tightening, pulling the youth against him, and then loosening to hold gently. Every inch of Inuyasha's muscular frame was pressed closely to his own, relaxed and accepting, clawed hands resting lightly on his shoulders. Miroku sighed harshly, and pushed his face into Inuyasha's throat, pulling in great lungfuls of his smell. He moved his hands deliberately- one to the small of Inuyasha's back, and one across his shoulders.

"Miroku… what's wrong?"

Urgent, he mouthed the tender skin of Inuyasha's throat, feeling the shocked gasp against his lips.

"Miro…ku?"

"It's not just your ass anymore," he confessed. And lifted his head to capture Inuyasha's mouth.

The kiss was clumsy and inexperienced on both sides. Inuyasha tolerated it for a few seconds, surprised, and then turned his face away. "I know."

Realisation of what he'd done dawned slowly in Miroku's eyes, but before he could speak, Inuyasha cut him off.

"I'm going to my tree. It's your watch." He pulled out of Miroku's arms and turned to leave.

What have I done? he thought, hollow and shocked at himself.

After half a dozen steps, Inuyasha paused, and turned around. "I don't hate you," he admitted hesitantly, and then fled.