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Title: cut him out in little stars (and he will make the face of heaven so fine) 
Fandom: Inuyasha
Genre: Het, PWP, Angst
Word Count: ~1900
Pairing: Miroku/Sango
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Graphic het smut
Notes: Fills the 'In Public' square of my [livejournal.com profile] kink_bingo . See my card here.
Summary: Sango reevaluates her expectations of her life. Miroku seduces her into making love in a semi-public location.
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.



Sango had never asked for a perfect life, or even a normal one. Growing up among demon hunters meant that she was familiar with husbands who never came home, or came home on pieces, wives with thick scars wrapped around their bodies, children kidnapped to be used as puppets against their own parents.

Still, the battles of the past year changed her perspective completely. The words home and safety had little connotation anymore, except the dredges of painful memories she could not escape. The threat of constant danger, running breathless at all hours of the day and night. She thought she might have forgotten what it felt like to have a long meal, lingering over dirty dishes and trading gossip of the neighbors. Petty things. Lovely things.

Miroku was not a man she had ever imagined herself wanting. He smiled too easily, especially at other women. He broke his promises as often as he made them, lied as often as he spoke. This was far from the sweet, upstanding boys she had secretly fancied in the village, fantasizing about long walks along the river, introducing them to her parents, a small wedding with her favorite foods. Her fantasies always stopped there, for she was too young, then, to comprehend anything such as a wedding night.

Certainly, Sango had never imagined that her virginity would be taken when she was yet unmarried, sprawled in the dirt twenty feet from their campsite, reeking of demon blood and smoke. She had clawed at Miroku like a wild thing, drawing him closer with teeth and nails because it was the only way to confirm that yes, he was alive and so was she.

Miroku was enough of a gentleman to hold her still, tell her gently that it was merely adrenaline, not desire, streaking through her veins. However, he was not enough of a gentleman to push her away, especially when she rolled them over and sated herself roughly, messily, on his cock, slapping away his hands when he gasped that she must be patient.

It hurt, nearly broke her in half, which was exactly what she needed.

Sex became a weapon which she wielded against herself, until the night Miroku had come to her beneath the tree with the swaying branches.

She was sitting, and he walked up behind her, glancing far, far off into the sky splattered through with stars. “Ghost lights,” He remarked, his smile invisible in the darkness.

“Fireflies.” She countered, never as romantic as he. “Where are the others?”

“At the inn.” Miroku sighed, settling by her crossed legs. The grasses weaved softly around them, as high as their shoulders and soft as a caress.

“Sleeping?”

“Fighting.” Miroku couldn’t help smiling in the slightly smug way he did sometimes, as if thinking privately that he and Sango had the much more stable relationship, despite the fact that it was nowhere as interesting and no less tragic. It would have been annoying if it wasn’t so endearing.

“Well, then.” Sango found that she had no more to say, staring into the night. She was never clever with words, not near as fond of them as Miroku was. Her most common response to his quips was violence.

“If I know them, they’ll be distracted for more than a while,” Miroku shifted towards her suggestively, slipping one hand onto her knee, and when she didn’t react, down towards her inner thigh.

Sango debated pushing him away, which is what she usually did, but the surprised smile on Miroku’s face when she didn’t protest would be worth the grass stains and embarrassment. Briefly, she chased the idea that they should move to a more private location, one not lighted by the lanterns outside the inn’s back door. But that thought was banished just as quickly as it came.

“Sango,” Miroku whispered against her lips before capturing them, teasing them open with tentative swipes of his tongue. She met him shyly, allowing him to explore her mouth as she returned the favor. He tasted of sake and salted fish and Miroku.

Usually, at this point, they would have ripped each other’s clothes off already and started rolling around in a battle for dominance. It was strange to actually have the time to stroke down the panes of his back, run her fingers through the hair at his nape, methodically memorizing every detail and locking it away in her heart. The grasses, flattened around their bodies, did little to hide them from the prying eyes of others, but to Sango they felt comforting, a soft cage around their bodies, pressing them ever closer.

Miroku pulled away from her mouth with a soft sound and shook out his ponytail, allowing his hair to frame both of their faces. The sigh Sango released in reply was pure adoration. She suddenly realized that she had never seen him with his hair down before.

“I love you,” Miroku said, looking serious, as if he hadn’t already proven this fact so many times in the ways that mattered. The way he hunched over her body, protective to the last, even if it was only from observation. “I love you,” He repeated, unknotting the sash at her waist with lightly trembling hands and pushing the cloth to her sides.

“I know,” Sango arched softly, satisfied that the glow in Miroku’s eyes came from the bite mark above her left breast, the one he had left the day before yesterday. The skin was tender and still streaked with red, and Miroku kissed it tenderly, reclaiming her just as completely without any force.

Sango filled her mouth with whimpers as Miroku lowered his mouth to her chest, refusing to let any escape into the night lest they betray her and bring back something that would shatter this dream like rice paper between their fingers. With long, slow licks he pleasured her, teasing her nipples to hardness and soothing them with the heat of his mouth, blowing hot and cold across her skin until she squirmed. Meanwhile, his hands made short work of her legwear, pushing it out of the way rather than stripping it off completely. Some habits never die.

Miroku, she chanted his name in her head, because it was safer than saying it aloud. Her fingers flew over his clothed body, unfastening and rumpling, diving under yards of cloth until she reached skin and flesh, hot with life. A strange sense of modesty filled her when she tugged his robe to cover both of their bodies, as if that would fool anyone..

Miroku started kissing down her stomach, making her writhe helplessly with the barest hint of teeth. All of his caresses were slow, curious. Perhaps, Sango thought fondly, he was trying to remember all of her, just as she was trying to remember all of him.

His breath warmed between her legs, ruffling the pubic soft hair. At this, Sango actually squeaked, unaccustomed and ashamed. She glanced down to find Miroku smiling at her so wide that her heart broke a little, before he even began tasting her.

As Miroku’s clever, clever mouth went to work, Sango pressed the back of her head to the ground and moaned as wantonly as she liked. It no longer mattered that they were just outside the back of the inn, that anyone with a sharp eye and a craving for night air could open a window and see them. As pleasure spiraled, hot and quivering in her belly, Sango wanted to shout her love from rooftops.

Shhh…” Miroku admonished, sliding up to kiss her, which was just as well because his sleek chest and hard body pressed along every inch of her on the way up. She opened to his tongue earnestly, craving the taste of herself in his mouth. One of his hands framed her breasts, squeezing lightly and flicking a sensitive nipple

Sango thought that Miroku’s bare hip felt very sweet indeed and decided to grind against it, sighing teasingly into his mouth as she scratched his back lightly with her blunt nails. Miroku tensed under her touch, still wary the welts she had left behind on so many occasions.

“Can’t take it anymore, so beautiful, Sango,” Miroku mouthed against her jawline, her neck, unable to control his mouth. Sango just nodded, urging him on as he trailed fingers downwards, petting her inner thighs before reaching her slick entrance.

First he touched just the edges of her desire, making her chase the feeling of pleasure with desperate noises he licked right out of her mouth. Gradually, gradually, he eased his fingers inside as if she were a virgin being entered for the first time, scared and trembling, heart beating like a jackrabbit’s.

In reply, Sango clutched his shoulders tighter, buried her face in the crook of his neck. There was a scuffling sound from nearby, something that might have been footsteps. Immediately, both of them stilled, inhaling each other’s breaths as the fear of being caught spun hot and tight under their skin. When the noises stopped completely, they began moving again, and this time Miroku’s touches were no longer tentative.

Frantically, Sango fumbled with Miroku’s robes and withdrew his cock. She wished she could see it in the darkness, taste it like salt on the tongue, but her needs were more immediate this night. Miroku’s choked moan told her she was doing the right thing as she slid her palm along his lengths a few times before guiding her to his entrance.

The emptiness she felt when Miroku withdrew his fingers was quickly alleviated by the blunt, hot flesh pressing against her. Sango relaxed and allowed him to push in gently, allowed him to set the pace slow and sweet even though she was desperate for anything but.

Once in a while, perhaps, it was good to indulge, Sango thought, her eyes gazing emptily at the stars. The slow build of arousal sang beneath her skin, made her excruciatingly sensitive to everything, from the prickling of grass blades all down her back and shoulders, to Miroku’s sweat dripping over her breasts. Sango opened her legs wider, grinding herself upwards in sharp, twisting motions. Miroku’s cock was a brand within her, burning with every thrust, filling her and making her feel unbelievably tight. With every movement, their bodies made soft, slick noises.

He chanted her name, some variation of a love declaration, praises over every inch of her body. His muscles tensed and tightened under her fingers, and she could feel his cock swell almost unbearably thicker.

Miroku,” She panted, and it felt like the first words she had had spoken aloud, rather than mouthed against his skin. “Touch me.”

She could feel him nod against her shoulder, the sharp lines of his jaw sliding against her collarbone. Then his fingers, the fingers of his right hand, digging through her soft pubic hair and uncovering the throbbing, sensitive flesh underneath. With a smile against her skin, Miroku began rubbing her hard, fast, digging his nail into the hood of her clit just the way she liked. Sango gave no thought to their exposed location as she screamed and thrashed and pounded his back, making him thrust into her like they were both starving for it.

Sango? Miroku?”

Sango ignored Kagome’s cries and Inuyasha’s footsteps in favor of the rippling orgasm still warming her body, closing her legs over an equally spent Miroku and panting into the still night.
(deleted comment)

Date: 2012-10-06 06:23 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] silverfoxflower.livejournal.com
Thank you! I wrote this forever ago and I remember wondering if the story was a little too "adult" for the pairing, haha. I'm so glad you enjoyed <3

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