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tampered2007-03-13 11:11 am
hottesthoushi.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-03-13 11:11 am
Log; Completed
When; March 9th, evening.
Rating; NC-17 for grown up stuff o noes! :o
Characters; Sango![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
boomerang_girl, Miroku hottesthoushi
Summary; After the wedding, Sango and Miroku bathe together and then... uh. Consummate the relationship.
Log;
Miroku closed the door of the apartment when they entered and locked the door for the night, smiling as he did so. It was surreal, so difficult to believe, even now that everything was over. There was once a time where he might have thought of marriage as confining and limiting, but somehow, he felt free now. It was strange and he couldn't entirely explain it, but there was something so liberating about all of it, being married, having Sango as his, settling down like a normal person... It was something he thought he might never experience. But now he was here, in his house with his wife...
Miroku turned to Sango and felt his chest swell with pride and happiness at the very sight of her. My wife... "Did you enjoy it, Sango?"
She's probably moved so awkwardly. Stiff moments were allowed with such a ceremony, but all of the time afterward she'd moved so carefully to keep from mussing her clothing in the slightest. Miroku had gone through the trouble of finding her magnificent garments for the occasion, and she'd be damned if she ripped it, or something equally foolish.
She was fiddling with the hem of her sleeves by the time they returned to their apartment, moving to sit, but pausing when he spoke. She turned to regard him, and instantly felt more swept-up, so that maybe her head was spinning. She bit her lip lightly, nodding once, "Yes, Houshi-sama. It was a lovely ceremony." She suddenly felt a bit awkward for speaking so formally. Miroku was, after all, her husband. She opened her mouth as if to speak again, but lost the words and closed up again. Instead, she smiled.
"I'm glad," Miroku said, moving to gather her in his arms. The rich, heavy silk against his hands, so different from what she normally wore, reminded him of how real this was. He thought absently what a shame it was that the tailor who had made them was gone now - He would have liked to have expressed his gratitude more. With a smile, Miroku pulled away and placed his hand on her cheek, running his thumb gently across it... And coating it with white makeup. He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before looking at her again.
"Would you like a bath?" he asked, moving to wipe the makeup on a napkin that sat on the table nearby.
She possessed a growing sense of nerves that had been building up for even the past few days. She embraced him loosely, laughing lightly when his touch at her cheek took away some of the make-up she wore.
She absently went to take the napkin from him, but stopped when he posed the question, hand resting across his as she seemed to consider it. She wasn't sure if he was suggesting her own bath, or a bath for the two of them, and she was thankful for whatever was left of the make-up to cover her blushing. She nodded again, "That might be nice. Yes."
Miroku smiled and took her hand, leading her to the bathroom, still basking in the way she made him feel, her name on his tongue and the overwhelming feeling of having it tied to the thought in his mind that she was his wife. "Sango, I..." He stopped when they reached the door and blinked, trying to find a way to make his words perfect. In another situation, perhaps he might have joked about it, or simply come out and asked what she had intended, but this... It was a special day, and while he felt a hint of giddiness inside, it wasn't really the place for jokes or being blunt. He breathed and looked at her. "Did you want a bath by yourself, or together...?"
She blushed deeper, and tried to will herself from it. She was, after all, not so completely new to his presence. Perhaps it was only that she didn't know him so completely, even if he'd seen and touched her. She thought, though, biting at her reddened lip again, "Together would be fine, I suppose." She sounded affirmative, she needed to just to make herself more comfortable, "If... I suppose that that's a good way to begin."
"Alright, then," Miroku said, feeling pleased that she hadn't been bothered my the question. He opened the door for her and stepped in afterwards, closing it. He realized suddenly how small the room was with two people in it, and decided to make himself busy with getting towels for the two of them. Maybe if he did something to prepare, it wouldn't be quite so awkward in the room.
Even as Miroku went to busy himself, Sango developed the same train of thought. Rather than having to fish for something to busy herself with, though, she knew that she'd have enough of a task in getting undressed. Pressing her lips together, she situated herself in a corner of the washroom and reached back for the large knot that kept her sash up, tugging awkwardly until it came undone and folding the cloth carefully. She set it atop the counter carefully, still near-paranoid about making any messes concerning her state of dress.
She undid a cord that kept her top-most layer together, pressing her lips together again in thought and looking over to him. "There's too much of this," cloth, she meant. She could near-swear that it all weighed more than she did, "I'm going to set it aside." The room to breath would be welcome, she was sure, and she shifted from the bath-room to undress, for the most part, elsewhere.
"Alright," Miroku said, watching as she left. There were an awful lot of parts to that outfit, weren't there? He looked down at his own clothes and frowned slightly, setting the towels on the edge of the dry tub to free his hands to remove his own clothes. There weren't near so many parts to this outfit as Sango's, but it was still more complex than what he was used to. When he was finished, he tied a towel carefully around his waist (this would serve to cut down on embarrassment when Sango returned) and decided to gather the soap together until she came back. This was mostly for his sake rather than any sort of desire to be organized - With the excitement of the ceremony and party over, it hit him how important and real this all was once more, and he was beginning to get nervous. What if he said the wrong thing, or did the wrong thing? What if he upset her?
What if... What if she found his touch repulsive and completely unenjoyable?
Miroku sighed and picked the bottle of shampoo up from the place it was on the corner of the bathtub. There was no real reason to be thinking that, right? He was just nervous...
In a similar attempt to preserve modesty, Sango returned after ridding herself of her heavier garments clad in only the lowermost layer of her wedding clothes, loosely tied. She still had napkin-mussed make-up and a slowly-slipping, elaborate pile of hair atop her head. She'd taken a bit of a bold liberty in unwrapping the binding from her breasts, and so stood exposed under one layer, already feeling heated, knowing that she must've been blushing.
The door was left open, just slightly, and so she regarded his expression before reentering the small room, "Are you alright, Houshi-sama?" For a moment, he might've looked worse for the wear than her. He, too, had undressed, though, and she chided herself for childishly becoming distracted, admiring what there was that was exposed of him. "You looked concerned."
"Hm?" Miroku looked at her and shook his head. "No, everything's fine," he said, going over to place a kiss on her cheek. He smiled against her skin before pulling away. She looked beautiful, always, and now was no exception, even as awkward as some might have looked in her state. He reached up and playfully plucked a pin from her and set it down on the counter before turning towards the bathtub. "You like the water very hot, right?"
"Yes, please." She nodded with a smile, smiling slightly when she felt a large lock of hair loosen. Follow the lead of his movement, she released her robe to reach above her, fingers searching for hair pins and pulling them out so that her hair came undone. It now rested in crooked sections all about her shoulder and in her way, and she combed a hand through it to get it out of the way.
Developing a thought, coupled with an odd smile, she reached forward while his back was turned and pulled pulled on the cord that he used to bind his own hair back.
Miroku fiddled a bit with the knobs and dipped his hand under the faucet to test the temperature of the water. It was quite hot, but didn't burn, and he placed the plug over the drain to let it fill.
A tug at his hair caused him to pause, and he felt his own hair fall free of its normal bindings and over the back of his neck. He grinned when he realized what had happened, and turned around to find that Sango had already taken her hair down. He sighed happily and wrapped an arm around her to pull her close against his chest. The feel of her against his own bare skin was strange but not at all unpleasant, and she was being playful now - That was definitely a good sign, and gods, she was gorgeous.
"Would you like a towel?" he asked, looking down at her.
She considered it only briefly, "Not at the moment, no." After all, she was about to get into the water, and towels were for drying off or covering up. She was dry and covered, though.
She returned his embrace for a moment, before pulling away just slightly to regard him. She smiled cheekily, but kept herself from laughing at his hair, if only for the fact that she'd never seen is undone. It was new, maybe something out-of place, but he was still an entirely handsome man.
Still smiling, smart and softly, she rolled one of her shoulders almost lazily, shrugging her robe down a bit. Embarrassed and nervous, though she was, the hot water and her husband were both very inviting things, and she wanted to keep up properly.
Miroku smiled back and ran his fingers through her long hair before pulling back as she began to remove her robe. He suddenly felt a little embarrassed himself. It was true, he had seen her without clothes plenty of times, but always without her permission. Now, she was standing before him, as his wife, intentionally... He kissed her briefly, only barely brushing his lips against hers as he began to undo the knot that held the towel around his waist. They might as well be even.
She was nearly surprised at the quick kiss, and smiled at it, eyes on his face as she shifted her arms to abandon her robe. He moved too, and her eyes shifted to follow the movement. And, he was naked. He'd certainly seen more of her than she had of him, spying or not, and she was sure that he'd seen his shoulders, his back, but... She got to a point, after a couple of seconds that stretched themselves out for far too long, where she had to remind herself that staring was still rude, and her eyes tore away, looking at the wall as she blushed furiously at his exposed form, nearly oblivious to the fact that she was naked, as well.
She turned slightly away, looking briefly into the bathtub, and then at the faucet, "I think it's full enough." Something had to distract, even if it was pointless to say.
Miroku stifled a small laugh at her behavior. It was really cute, he thought. His own nervousness was draining away in the face of Sango's. He felt like he should try to make her comfortable, and nodded when she mentioned the tub, trying to seem nonchalant and calm about the whole situation. "I think so." He turned the water off and then offered his hand to her with what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
She was actually glad that he could remain so unphased. It made things a little easier, she thought, when someone maintained a sense of level-headedness. It was also something that she found she could admire about him. With another smile, she took his offered hand.
Miroku squeezed her hand and stepped into the water, helping her in with his hand. He took a moment to look over her body, and smiled a bit more. She was different from the other women he had seen, but it wasn't a bad thing at all. There was something special about her. He placed his hand at the small of her back to pull her close to him, and looked down at her. "Is it alright? The water, I mean."
She stepped in slowly, feet and ankles adjusting to the temperature contrast before she was able to smile and nod, "It's nice," she stated, sure that the water could assist in calming her nerves, especially now that her muscles had tensed against him. She could only suppose that it was nerves, she'd have to adjust, and she relaxed slowly, pulling away from his with a smile and lowering herself into the water. She looked up at him, still blushing faintly and avoiding particular areas of him. "This is nice," she was attempting casual conversation again, curled up in the hot water, "I miss hot-springs, though."
Miroku sat down carefully next to her and nodded in agreement, resting an arm on the edge of the bathtub. "I miss them too. I know there is one here, but I'm sure it must have a lot of people all the time." He sighed, shrugging. "It sort of takes all the relaxation out of it, I think, if there's a lot of other people..."
"I would think so." She agreed once more, idly gathering her hair and twisting it. The ends were already wet, and she held it up idly with one hand at the back of her head. It was everywhere, really, which was why she generally liked to have it at least partially pulled back. Wet, though, it was probably worse. "Then again, there're more people here than there might've been in many villages back home." She was rather used to the country-side, herself.
"Yes, that's definitely true." Miroku nodded again, looking thoughtful. "I don't believe I've seen this many people at once in my whole life," he said, reaching over and taking the bottle of shampoo in his hand. "Come here," he said calmly, smiling at her. He shifted so that she might have more room, and reached out his free hand for her.
She bit lightly at her lip, moving forwards towards him and releasing her hair. "Do I need to get my hair wet, if I'm going to use soap?" Even when Kagome had such things available in their own time, she rarely used it. She was wary about it, mostly for close proximity to him and for the fact that she was still a little self-conscious about the large scar on her back.
"Yes," Miroku said, breaking into a grin. "I can get the shower head down, if you like. That might be easiest." He shifted again so that he could stand up and get it if that's what she wanted. She seemed nervous, and he told himself he would have to try harder to make her comfortable. He was becoming more comfortable, but she was inherently much more modest than he, and so it only followed that it would probably take a little while.
"Oh, I'd forgotten about that thing," she answered softly, "I suppose that would be easiest, yes." She shifted carefully, so as to not disrupt the water too much, now sitting with her back to him and her hair loosened, looking at the opposite wall.
Miroku stood up and took it down, then turned the water on but pointed it away from her until he got the right temperature. He sat back down, then, and began to wash her hair, gently running his fingers through it. He hoped this would help her to become more comfortable with him, and the fact that he was getting to do it was certainly an advantage as well. "You know," he said, in an attempt to be conversational while turning the water off so that he could put the soap in her hair without getting the whole room wet, "It took me quite a while to figure this thing out when I first got here."
"Oh?" His idea on the matter did seem to be taking effect. She found the warm water easily comforting and, if she bothered to stop thinking about her own nerves, she could easily agree that his touch was also pleasant. She even smiled, shoulders untensing, "I cheated. It didn't take me nearly so long."
She merely sat idle for a moment, becoming aware of the fact that she could relax and not worry, for the moment. Expression thoughtful, she finally spoke again, "Hey, Houshi-sama," It was impulse, even if she'd realized that the formality was possibly less essential than ever, "There's something that I keep intending to ask you about."
"Yes. I dropped the shower head while it was running and I was still dressed, trying to figure it out, and managed to get the whole room and myself soaked." Miroku's cheeks turned a little bit pink at the memory - Thank God no one had seen him do it. The City was definitely hard to get used to, but he had always thought he adjusted well. He tried not to remember the first little while when he hadn't.
He was surprised by how casually she addressed him, yet still with his title. He would have liked for her to use his name, but decided now wasn't the time to press it. Besides, it's not as if it was a big deal or hurtful or anything like that. "Yes?"
She kept her head tilted back slightly, eyes inspecting the wall with little interest. She smiled, though, because, now that he mentioned it, she could see water stains on the white of the room's borders. "I was just curious about your age."
Oh! They hadn't ever talked about that, had they? "I'm nineteen or so, I believe," Miroku said, leaning over to kiss her forehead before he turned the water on again to rinse her hair. He hadn't really liked to think about his own age when he was in their own world - nineteen years alive, nineteen years without defeating Naraku. It didn't matter much now, though.
She nodded slightly, closing her eyes as her hair was rinsed, "I'd figured that you were older, but I wasn't sure by how much." She shrugged slightly, running a quick hand back over her hair-line, now that it was clean. She had only a close estimate, just like him, "I'm just seventeen, I think." She was sure that she'd lost proper count durning their travels, and that the calendar here was different enough so that pin-pointing her birth date was a little difficult.
"It's easy to lose track," Miroku said, standing to put the shower head back in its place, then settling down again behind her. It was strange, Kitty had seemed surprised by the fact that he didn't know the day he was born on, when he himself wasn't entirely sure of how many years it had been since then. It just went to show how many things were different between all the people in the City. He ran his fingers through Sango's hair once more, then stopped and rested his hands on her shoulders. The lecherous side of him would have liked to rest them somewhere else, but her shoulders were nice too, and there was no reason to move too quickly.
"I suppose so," she leaned slightly into the touch at her shoulders, fingers idly at his wrists. Sango's eyes turned to his right hand, now healed, and she traced a circle on the back-side of his palm. "Do you feel relieved, Houshi-sama? About your curse." Even though that wasn't to mention the City's curses, or the nagging worry of the clock. It still sometimes puzzled her to think that he was dead to their own world, and too much thought on it could leave her saddened. Needless to say, though, she was content, herself.
Miroku smiled and turned his right hand to take hers. "I do, I think..." He closed his eyes and rested his chin on the top of her head. "I'll admit, if you won't think me terrible for it, that I am a little disappointed I didn't get to take Naraku down, but it's not... It's alright. I'm here with you, and that's more than I ever could have asked for," he said, moving his arms down to wrap around her waist. "But yes, I am relieved to have it gone, even if it does mean I can never go back. I can't describe how it feels to wake up and see my hand bare and whole."
"I don't know that I could completely understand, anyway." Sango laced her fingers into his, "And I'd also have to confess that I'm sorry for not defeating Naraku, but..." She paused, shrugging. She'd been worrying about her brother more since Kikyou had come to the city, "I wanted revenge, and that's all. You had the purpose of your life being on the line."
"'That's all' is plenty. It's not as if your motives were any less important than mine," Miroku said, squeezing her hand. "There were different things but in the end, together, we all had reason enough to defeat him fifty times over." He pulled away for just a moment, and realized how the water had cooled in the time they spent in the bath. "Would you like to get out?" he asked, beginning to feel less comfortable in the lukewarm water now that he had noticed it.
She shouldn't have mentioned anything, really, as she didn't want to linger on thoughts concerning her desire for vengeance against Naraku. His question, though, provided reasonable distraction and, now that he'd spoken about it, she too noticed the declining temperature of the water. "Yes," she nodded and, without further hesitation, stood. She noticed, then, that it put him at an awkward angle to her bottom, and mumbled a blushing apology before stepping from the water completely.
She grabbed up a towel a began drying, separating her hair into sections and attempting to comb her fingers through it to loosen any tangles. She stopped before the mirror, regarding her newly-cleaned face before putting her back to it, moving her hair altogether to look at her back. "You don't mind it?"
Miroku stood and stepped out after her, ignoring (with a little difficulty) the fact that he could totally have grabbed her rear then and it was like right. there. Oh well. He took a towel and dried off before tying it around his waist. He looked confused when she spoke and was about to ask what she meant, but realized that she was looking at the scar on her back in the mirror. In honesty, he hadn't gotten a good look at it, but that didn't matter. He could see it now in the mirror, and more than anything he felt... Bad. He felt awful that she should have such a reminder of what had happened, that it had happened at all, and that she thought it might detract from her appearance. "No, I don't mind it," he said, his tone sort of gentle so as to reassure her, but also firm so that she wouldn't doubt it.
"Thank you," she looked away from the reflective glass to regard him, instead, smiling and biting lightly at her lower lip. "It reminds me..." She let that fade out, still smiling. "I know it's sort of ugly, though, so..." She shifted from the counter, moving her hair from over her shoulder so that she could finish drying it, letting what was already done fall over her back. After a moment, she leaned against the door, eyes on him, grazing as a faint blush returned, "You're very handsome, Houshi-sama."
"It's not really," Miroku said truthfully. He smiled in return, which turned into a full blown grin at her next statement. "Oh, you think so?" he asked, tugging on one of his earrings and putting on a playful expression. "I've always rather thought so myself," he said in a teasing tone. "But," this was full of sincerity, "It means an awful lot coming from you, Sango."
"I should hope so," she spoke with a grin, "After all, I am your-" It sort of hit her, then, a little harder than before. Her expression became thoughtful for a moment, back pressed against the door, and then she smiled even wider, "I'm your wife."
Miroku's smile widened as well and he pulled her away from the door to hug her. "That's right," he said, kissing her neck playfully. "And I'm your husband." It felt so good to say it, but strange as well. He really, truly loved the way it felt.
The statement and his actions made her stomach flutter a bit, a melty feeling that sunk warmly to the lowermost of her torso. She smiled, still, though, face pink as she tilted her head to accomodate the space he so pleasantly filled. She embraced him, squirming slightly, fingers idly at his spine. "Houshi-sama..." she was probably pressed too close for him to see her expression, but she looked thoughtful, and then she laughed lightly, "Don't you think that twenty children is a bit much?"
Miroku hummed thoughtfully against her neck, pausing briefly in his actions to answer. "You're right. Nineteen is just fine," he said, moving his hands down so that one arm wrapped around her waist and the other rested on her rear. He pulled away and gave her a big grin, keeping his arms where they were.
She laughed again, in a manner that was probably a bit uncharacteristic for her, but stopped at that touch on her bottom, impulsively locking up, jumping in surprise with her eyes narrowing. She paused, though, relaxing instantly with a smile, "Impulse," mumbled quietly against his shoulder. Then, with another blush and shift of her weight, she added, "I can move the towel, if you'd like."
He was surprised by this, but thoroughly pleased. She was becoming comfortable with him, and really, he had sort of been hoping to hear some variation of those words from her for some time now. "Well, maybe, but perhaps this is something more suited for another place in the apartment?"
She nodded in agreement, pulling away while standing close, trying to look relaxed and still-poised even if her nerves were fast returning. She could only suppose that they really had no better place to go but to bed. "I'd say so," she tilted upwards to kiss him briefly and, with little more action than her eyes lingering on him, she opened the door. With another nervous smile, just as eager, she turned from the room.
She had earlier deposited her heavy wedding clothes in her own room, and had actually started impulsively towards that area designated as hers. She stilled in the living area, though, turning back to look at his door, "Your bedroom, Houshi-sama?" Her face felt so warm, and she tried to will the blush away. She felt as if she might overheat, if it persisted.
Miroku smiled and followed her, closing the door after himself. "Would you be more comfortable in yours?" he asked. It didn't matter to him so much where it happened, really - What mattered most was that she was comfortable, and wherever she was comfortable, he would be comfortable too.
Sango shook her head stiffly, "I've put my things down in there. I'd only have to move them again," and, frankly, she didn't feel like it right now. She took the few steps towards his door and rested her hand on the knob, "If you don't mind, that is." She cracked the door open and peeked in, almost curiously.
"I don't," Miroku said, shrugging. He couldn't help but laugh a little bit at the way she peeked inside the room, and he came behind her, resting his hand at the small of her back. "I apologize for not making the bed," he said, a hint of playfulness returning to his tone. "I was a bit preoccupied this morning."
"I'm sure I can forgive you, somehow." She returned the playful tone, pushing the door open further and turning to face him a little more directly, taking steps backwards into the room so that his hand at her allowed him to follow her. She now stood in her husband's room, wearing a towel, a flush, and an almost-expectant expression. "I guess I've forgiven worse," and, all above, she didn't mean to make her voice sound that breathy.
"Thank you, Sango," Miroku said, grinning. He pulled away for a moment to close the door, and then returned to wrap his arms around her and give her a soft kiss. There wasn't really much that mattered now, and his expression softened quite a bit and he felt himself blushing as he pulled away from the kiss. This was really happening, she loved him, they were married... It was almost too good to believe.
She smiled at the apology, but said nothing for it. He kissed her, then, and she could've sworn that all of her most useful organs dissolved, and she was filled with that warm, giddy feeling once more. He pulled away, blushing, and she knew that she was worse, but it didn't really matter. With another smile that bordered on coy, she reached for the towel that she'd wrapped around herself and removed it. "You still know more than me, Miroku-san," she said in a playful tone, still quiet, as she dropped the make-shift garment.
Miroku felt his heart swell at the sound of his name on her lips, and his whole body become more heated as she stood before him without her towel. The bath had seemed more innocent, but this was definitely not. He couldn't stop smiling, and was sure he probably looked sort of goofy, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. "Oh, maybe," Miroku said, moving to brush her hair away from her face as he removed his own towel. "I probably know more than I should. But I suppose that's a perk for you, isn't it?"
"For once, I suppose." Her face tilted into his touch, and she looked up to kiss him lightly, smile playful, feeling a little better even while she was blushing madly. "Maybe, Houshi-sama," she reverted for the purpose of her playfulness, "All of your fooling around with other women," She kissed his chin, "Was some sort of odd preparation for your laying with me." Sango had come to wrap her arms loosely around his shoulders, feeling increasingly tactile. Her nipples brushed lightly against his skin, and she realized with further reddening that it tickled in an oddly pleasant way.
Miroku breathed in sharply when her breasts brushed against him, but it certainly wasn't out of pain or bad feelings. He leaned down to capture her lips with his, making the kiss deeper than any one they had shared yet that evening, and pulled away as he guided her gently to the bed. "If it means that I have more experience with which to pleasure you, then I'm very glad for it. I only wish I had been smart enough to see the negative effects as well." He looked her in the eyes when he said this, hoping that she would see his sincerity
She pressed further against him as he kissed her, and she was nearly floored with the depth of it. The feelings that had been slowly pooling within her seem to shoot down her spine, and she must've nearly shivered, her legs feeling a bit wobbly below her. So, needless to say, she was grateful for the bed, and she set down heavily, breathing already slightly uneven and regarding him with wide eyes. She fixed him with a daze that was meant to be reassuring, "It's the past, Miroku-san. This," she kissed him quickly, "Can matter much more."
Her words were reassuring, and Miroku pulled her into his lap, despite the slightly uncomfortable position it might have put her in, and took another deep kiss from her before moving his mouth only a breath away to speak. "I'm glad you feel that way," he said, placing a hand on her stomach. He traced his fingers along her skin lightly and spoke again before moving his lips to her neck once more. "You make me so happy, I don't deserve it. I love you, and I promise I won't ever hurt you again."
She accepted being pulled into his lap, and even shifted to get more comfortable, moving one of her legs to his other side. Sango sat, balanced on his thighs, form arching and clinging as they kissed once more. The touch at her stomach surprised her slightly, and tickled. She nearly giggled, but stifled it with a smile, expression softening after, head tilting as he kissed down, "Thank you. I love you, Miroku." Her back arched again, and she nibbled lightly at her lip. She wanted something to do with her hands, one arm slung over his shoulders, her nails raking lightly at his skin. With curiousity and trepidition, her other hand wondered a bit, down his chest and stomach, harder that her own and strong enough for a fighter like her to admire. She stopped at his pelvic area, biting her lip and considering her actions before she reached down touch lightly at his member, fingers brushing down the base quickly before she arched forward again, "Do you mind it?" She realized that this might've been intrusive.
Miroku was pleased by her reactions, and let out a small sigh of pleasure at the movements of her hand down his torso. It was coming naturally to her and he felt glad for it. He stiffened considerably in surprise when her hand brushed him in such an intimate place, but he smiled and quickly recovered. "I don't mind at all," he said, looking at her with a grin. "I suppose you've earned your fair share of touching after all this time with me, haven't you?"
She bit her lip, "Perhaps... I'm just... Curious, I suppose. That's all." Blushing further, she looked down, hand moving against him again, loosely encircling him and rubbing down his length. After all, he'd been able to touch her while she was cursed, maybe this could qualify as paying him back. Or... Well, she was a eager to please him as he seemed to be to please her. "Um. Tell me if I do anything wrong, okay?" It was a learning thing, she supposed, and she kissed lightly at his jawline.
Of course," Miroku said. He tensed a little when she touched him again, and made a soft sound. He covered his mouth with his hand embarrassedly, then smiled sheepishly at her. "There's not much you can do wrong, exactly. Don't worry too much."
She smiled at the sound, at his tensing. She felt good knowing that she could get a reaction out of him. It was... This was all, well. She had to supposed that it was an arousing sort of situation, really, but the thought made her go all tingly again. She continued to touch at him, thumb running up and down that intimate part of him while her hand gripped loosely. She leaned forward in his lap to kiss lightly at his neck, because that was something transferrable that she liked, herself. His hair was still down, and the hand at his back moved to comb idly through it, "I like your hair, Houshi-sama."
He shifted and sighed, leaning into her touch. It was fantastically pleasant, and he pulled her closer, resting his hand on her rear again and giving it a firm squeeze. It really was a nice backside, entirely deserving of all the praise she probably didn't know he had given it. Miroku tilted his head to press into her hand with a mumbled thanks, and then he let go of her to take the wrist of the hand that was working him. "Perhaps we should stop with this part for now," he said, adopting the sheepish look again. "If you keep up this way it might be over too soon."
She stopped, then, smile smile and look of concentration fading. She took a breath, still wishing that her blushing would subside. The huntress shifted to get more comfortable, rear-end pressing into his hand. It was a better feeling now that she was roused, now that she knew what was coming, and wanted near-desperately to be touched. She nodded finally, firmly, "Alright, then." And, just like that, she wasn't sure how to proceed.
Miroku hesitated slightly - he rather liked having her in his lap - before placing both of his hands on her waist and moving to lay her down on the bed. Boldly, he moved his hand to cup her gently and he gave her a grin as he began to apply a little bit of pressure with his palm. "I can't let you do all the work, now," he said playfully. He was much more experienced in taking the helm in this sort of thing.
She relaxed easily into the softness of the bed, smiling up at him and biting her lip as his hand came to rest in-between her legs. "I suppose not," she breathed out, squirming and smiling, hips tilting.
If it was possible, the sight of her there felt even better than when her hand was on him. Miroku leaned down and kissed her, slipping a finger inside of her. He was a little surprised by how aroused she appeared to be, but that really only made him more bold. This, he was experienced in, and he'd be damned if she wasn't going to enjoy this as much as he could make her.
She let out an odd, sighing sound into his mouth, open against his and increasingly confident. One of her hands pressed flat against her stomach, and the other lingered on his shoulder. Her hips shifted again, spine curving, bum pressing into the mattress, "Miroku-san..." She muttered, but she wasn't sure what for.
"I take it you're enjoying this?" Miroku said, smiling. Perhaps this was time to move on, then. He drew his hand away, but paused and studied her for a moment. Suddenly, the enormity of the moment came crashing back to him, replacing his playfulness with the seriousness of it all. It should be enjoyable, but it was also important... He found himself nervous again. The first time he had done this barely counted, he could hardly remember... "Sango..."
"Hm?" She shifted to look more directly at him, expression changing slightly when she saw that he seemed calmed and serious again. She even grew concerned, sitting up slightly to lean back on her hands, "Yes?"
Miroku moved carefully to position himself over her. He gave her a kiss with the intent of pushing her head back into the pillows, and brought a hand up to caress her cheek as he held himself up with the other arm. "You need to relax, okay?" he said. She seemed bothered, and he hadn't meant to worry her, so he felt a little bit guilty.
Her weight fell again, hands giving under her to grab at other places, the curve of his neck and his upper arm. He told her to relax, and she tilted her head into his palm. She nodded, but her expression remained a little concerned, "I'll try."
Carefully, Miroku took a knee and carefully pushed her legs apart to settle between them. This was it, wasn't it? Though they were already married, once this was done, she would be his in all eyes - even those who cared little about human ceremonies and symbolic claims. He gave her a small kiss on her forehead and then reached down to position himself before reaching back up again and taking her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. He would have liked to hold her, but he didn't trust himself to be able to support both her and himself on one arm in this situation. Vaguely he recalled the conversation they had had about this moment some months ago, but he still felt as if he should warn her. "Ah... ...I'm going to do it now, okay?" he said, feeling a bit foolish.
She was glad for his hand in her own, really, and gripped onto it lightly. Sango was plainly nervous, now, anticipating something that she wasn't completely aware of. "Okay," she nodded, biting her lip and trying to untense herself.
Drawing in a small breath, Miroku began to push himself in, almost painfully slow, so as not to... stretch her too rapidly and cause her too much pain. He squeezed her hand and closed his eyes in concentration, trying to keep at a steady rate and not go too quickly, though he did want to. There were enough stories he had heard of this, and it seemed so very wrong to sacrifice her comfort for his pleasure if he could help it. He opened his eyes to look at her face, searching for any signs of discomfort.
She breathed in sharply, eyes closing automatically, teeth still relentlessly on her lower lip. To her chagrin, her throat let out a low whimper, and she was clenching up in spite of her best efforts to relax, thighs clasping tightly at his hips. It wasn't something so completely painful, she knew, nothing like an actual wound. It was just straining, muscle and nerves, and she knew that there was a sort of barrier concerning the action, that she might bleed. They'd talked about it, and she'd assured him, so the least she could do was relax and let it happen properly. She tried for deeper breathes, even, and muttered a blushing apology, "I'm sorry," breathe, relax, "I don't mean to make it difficult." She smiled through her strained expression.
"No, don't apologize," Miroku said soothingly, smiling somewhat sympathetically. "You're not making it difficult, it's this way by nature. It's alright, I'll stop for a moment to let you adjust... I'm sorry it hurts." He wished there were some way he could make it so that it didn't hurt. Though he was only barely beginning to bury himself in, he could feel her nervousness, see her chest rising with each breath. "I'm sorry..."
"You, either," she said raspily, with a smile. "I had fair warning, didn't I?" Talking to him made her feel more at ease, as it often had and likely often would. She eased downwards, shifting a little with a deep breath and relaxing her legs. The squeeze at his hand was encouraging this time, and she smiled softly again, "Go on, please."
Nodding, Miroku began to push again, a bit faster this time but not by much. He hastily bit back a sound rising from his own throat. It didn't seem right to be groaning in pleasure when she was beneath him in pain, and he squeezed her hand again before leaning down to kiss her as he finally pressed all the way in.
She continued her unwilled resistance, but the lack of the initial shock made it a little easier for the bearing. The feeling of pressure was still there, imposing and uncomfortable, but it was eased slightly, slowly. She took a moment to relax again, one leg coming to rest over the nearest of his. With another nervous glance, she pushed her hips forward experimentally.
Miroku met her push with one of his own, and then blushed at his own eagerness. "Sorry," he sort of mumbled, grinning sheepishly. "...Does that mean it doesn't hurt as much anymore, though?"
"It's fine," she stated, smiling slightly. Her being sore for the ordeal was a given, but there was no reason why he couldn't enjoy it properly. In fact, she would probably confess that she derived and emotional pleasure from his enjoyment of her. Still, she'd be truthful, "Um, it's... Just the muscle, I think. It feels sort of heavy; there's pressure, and it stings, a bit, deep down." She adopted a warm expression, though, her more idle hand reaching down the press against the bottom-most of her belly, "I can feel you, though, here. It's welcome."
Miroku blushed a little bit more and felt his heart swell at her last statement. It seemed almost an odd thing to say, but it really made him feel wonderful. He loved the way she felt, and knowing that she could feel him as well and that she liked his presence within her despite the pain was... Well, it was difficult to put into words. He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, drawing out only slightly before pushing back in, setting a slow rhythm as he did it again, drawing out a little more this time before he pushed back in a bit harder.
Sango breathed a bit harshly on his lips when he moved, and she tried again to squirm and settle below him. Despite her realized need to relax, she felt restless, senses still abuzz. The soreness was still there, but dulling as she grew used to it, and his movement easily alighted pleasant feelings, all pooling warm in her belly and feeling like coiling. She let out a low, pleased hum, back arching so that she pressed against him.
Miroku made a pleased sort of sound and pressed his lips onto hers, moving a bit quicker in the same rhythm. Her reactions were wonderful, and the fact that she seemed to be enjoying it more made it all the more so. He let go of her hand to grasp at her breast, rubbing the nipple with his thumb as he continued to kiss her. It all seemed to come a bit more easily now.
Her breathing was slightly erratic to his movements, and she let out an odd sort of sighing moan now and again, nearly unable to stop moving. She drew her knees up, thighs tightening once more, but not in such a forbidden manner as when they'd starting, she was pressing, keeping him in place. Every few thrusts, when her body seemed to feel so inclined, she rocked her hips to meet him. She bit her lip at the touch at her breast, her own hands free and wondering fingertip and nail smoothing wherever she could reach.
The pleasure was building rapidly within him and Miroku moved down to suck on her right breast as he continued to thrust inside of her. He was a bit surprised by how bold she was being, but he supposed that moving back against him would be something that came naturally - and it really was not as if he was complaining one bit.
As he could've suspected, likely, part of her boldness could be attributed to simply was felt natural. Her movements were impulse, and she was decently glad to have them. Otherwise she'd feel a little more lost in the situation. Miroku received a high, breathy whimper as he moved to her breast, and she impulsively shifted closer, inviting his warmth. One of her hands shifted to comb fingers through his hair, "Mm. Houshi-sama." It was slipped from her mouth as a subconscious sign of gratification.
Miroku sighed as well at her fingers in his hair, and began to move faster when realized suddenly how close he was to the end. A small groan escaped his throat and he pulled away from her chest to breathe. He wanted to draw this out as long as he could, but there wasn't much he could do. He kissed her again and made another sound into her mouth, kneading the breast he had left with his hand rather more hard than he had intended.
She sounded off surprise in his mouth for the slightly harsh treatment of her breast, shifting impulsively but still pressed close. The hand that was not in his hair was at his back, tracing up and down what she could reach of his spine. She did feel much better by now, but her soreness kept her a bit away from the feeling that he'd been able to provide to her while cursed. It was of little matter to her, though, as she stopped to think properly for the first time in several minutes. The act itself was amazingly intimate; this was her husband in claim of her purity, inside of her, and she felt safe and loved.
She soon had both arms lazily around his shoulders, watching his face with a soft expression. Even satisfied now, she was convinced that they'd have to do it again once her soreness subsided.
Miroku let out a strangled cry as he finally reached his peak, tensing and digging his fingers into the sheets. The world disappeared for a moment in a splash of color and light, and he finished, breathing ragged and shallow. Slowly, he opened his eyes and smiled down at Sango, unable to speak for a few moments. When he caught his breath, he started to speak but had difficulty finding the words to say. He settled for something simple. "Gods, I love you."
She watched as he climaxed, hands holding steady and expression accomplished. He tensed and went limp above her, and soon was pressed against her again, weight relaxed and breathing heavy. "I love you, as well, Miroku-san," she said with a quick kiss to his jaw-line.
Miroku sighed and wrapped his arms around her, cuddling her to himself. He felt tired, and his strength was drained away. With a smile, he looked at her and kissed her warmly, moving a hand up to stroke her hair. "You're beautiful..."
"Thank you," she said, catching quick sense of the calming air developing in their small space. "I'm quite glad you think so." Sango shifted so that he had proper room to lay beside her, moving her loose-feeling legs to tuck her feet under the blankets he kept. She pressed further into the mattress, getting comfortable, "I'm stealing your bed, Houshi-sama."
"Well, it's our bed now," he said, pulling the blankets up to cover them both. "But if you'd like to steal it I suppose I can forgive you just this once." He adopted a playful, almost absurd "puppy eyes" expression. "But you won't kick me out, right? Just because you're stealing it?"
She shook her head firmly, "Not unless you pull one of your dirty tricks on me." Of course, such 'dirty' tricks probably mattered a good degree less than they would have yesterday. She was smiling, though, all in mild joking conditions, setting her head down near his shoulder.
"What a generous woman I've married," Miroku said teasingly, kissing her forehead. He yawned, then, and settled down into the pillows. "Sleep well, Sango."
Rating; NC-17 for grown up stuff o noes! :o
Characters; Sango
boomerang_girl, Miroku hottesthoushiSummary; After the wedding, Sango and Miroku bathe together and then... uh. Consummate the relationship.
Log;
Miroku closed the door of the apartment when they entered and locked the door for the night, smiling as he did so. It was surreal, so difficult to believe, even now that everything was over. There was once a time where he might have thought of marriage as confining and limiting, but somehow, he felt free now. It was strange and he couldn't entirely explain it, but there was something so liberating about all of it, being married, having Sango as his, settling down like a normal person... It was something he thought he might never experience. But now he was here, in his house with his wife...
Miroku turned to Sango and felt his chest swell with pride and happiness at the very sight of her. My wife... "Did you enjoy it, Sango?"
She's probably moved so awkwardly. Stiff moments were allowed with such a ceremony, but all of the time afterward she'd moved so carefully to keep from mussing her clothing in the slightest. Miroku had gone through the trouble of finding her magnificent garments for the occasion, and she'd be damned if she ripped it, or something equally foolish.
She was fiddling with the hem of her sleeves by the time they returned to their apartment, moving to sit, but pausing when he spoke. She turned to regard him, and instantly felt more swept-up, so that maybe her head was spinning. She bit her lip lightly, nodding once, "Yes, Houshi-sama. It was a lovely ceremony." She suddenly felt a bit awkward for speaking so formally. Miroku was, after all, her husband. She opened her mouth as if to speak again, but lost the words and closed up again. Instead, she smiled.
"I'm glad," Miroku said, moving to gather her in his arms. The rich, heavy silk against his hands, so different from what she normally wore, reminded him of how real this was. He thought absently what a shame it was that the tailor who had made them was gone now - He would have liked to have expressed his gratitude more. With a smile, Miroku pulled away and placed his hand on her cheek, running his thumb gently across it... And coating it with white makeup. He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before looking at her again.
"Would you like a bath?" he asked, moving to wipe the makeup on a napkin that sat on the table nearby.
She possessed a growing sense of nerves that had been building up for even the past few days. She embraced him loosely, laughing lightly when his touch at her cheek took away some of the make-up she wore.
She absently went to take the napkin from him, but stopped when he posed the question, hand resting across his as she seemed to consider it. She wasn't sure if he was suggesting her own bath, or a bath for the two of them, and she was thankful for whatever was left of the make-up to cover her blushing. She nodded again, "That might be nice. Yes."
Miroku smiled and took her hand, leading her to the bathroom, still basking in the way she made him feel, her name on his tongue and the overwhelming feeling of having it tied to the thought in his mind that she was his wife. "Sango, I..." He stopped when they reached the door and blinked, trying to find a way to make his words perfect. In another situation, perhaps he might have joked about it, or simply come out and asked what she had intended, but this... It was a special day, and while he felt a hint of giddiness inside, it wasn't really the place for jokes or being blunt. He breathed and looked at her. "Did you want a bath by yourself, or together...?"
She blushed deeper, and tried to will herself from it. She was, after all, not so completely new to his presence. Perhaps it was only that she didn't know him so completely, even if he'd seen and touched her. She thought, though, biting at her reddened lip again, "Together would be fine, I suppose." She sounded affirmative, she needed to just to make herself more comfortable, "If... I suppose that that's a good way to begin."
"Alright, then," Miroku said, feeling pleased that she hadn't been bothered my the question. He opened the door for her and stepped in afterwards, closing it. He realized suddenly how small the room was with two people in it, and decided to make himself busy with getting towels for the two of them. Maybe if he did something to prepare, it wouldn't be quite so awkward in the room.
Even as Miroku went to busy himself, Sango developed the same train of thought. Rather than having to fish for something to busy herself with, though, she knew that she'd have enough of a task in getting undressed. Pressing her lips together, she situated herself in a corner of the washroom and reached back for the large knot that kept her sash up, tugging awkwardly until it came undone and folding the cloth carefully. She set it atop the counter carefully, still near-paranoid about making any messes concerning her state of dress.
She undid a cord that kept her top-most layer together, pressing her lips together again in thought and looking over to him. "There's too much of this," cloth, she meant. She could near-swear that it all weighed more than she did, "I'm going to set it aside." The room to breath would be welcome, she was sure, and she shifted from the bath-room to undress, for the most part, elsewhere.
"Alright," Miroku said, watching as she left. There were an awful lot of parts to that outfit, weren't there? He looked down at his own clothes and frowned slightly, setting the towels on the edge of the dry tub to free his hands to remove his own clothes. There weren't near so many parts to this outfit as Sango's, but it was still more complex than what he was used to. When he was finished, he tied a towel carefully around his waist (this would serve to cut down on embarrassment when Sango returned) and decided to gather the soap together until she came back. This was mostly for his sake rather than any sort of desire to be organized - With the excitement of the ceremony and party over, it hit him how important and real this all was once more, and he was beginning to get nervous. What if he said the wrong thing, or did the wrong thing? What if he upset her?
What if... What if she found his touch repulsive and completely unenjoyable?
Miroku sighed and picked the bottle of shampoo up from the place it was on the corner of the bathtub. There was no real reason to be thinking that, right? He was just nervous...
In a similar attempt to preserve modesty, Sango returned after ridding herself of her heavier garments clad in only the lowermost layer of her wedding clothes, loosely tied. She still had napkin-mussed make-up and a slowly-slipping, elaborate pile of hair atop her head. She'd taken a bit of a bold liberty in unwrapping the binding from her breasts, and so stood exposed under one layer, already feeling heated, knowing that she must've been blushing.
The door was left open, just slightly, and so she regarded his expression before reentering the small room, "Are you alright, Houshi-sama?" For a moment, he might've looked worse for the wear than her. He, too, had undressed, though, and she chided herself for childishly becoming distracted, admiring what there was that was exposed of him. "You looked concerned."
"Hm?" Miroku looked at her and shook his head. "No, everything's fine," he said, going over to place a kiss on her cheek. He smiled against her skin before pulling away. She looked beautiful, always, and now was no exception, even as awkward as some might have looked in her state. He reached up and playfully plucked a pin from her and set it down on the counter before turning towards the bathtub. "You like the water very hot, right?"
"Yes, please." She nodded with a smile, smiling slightly when she felt a large lock of hair loosen. Follow the lead of his movement, she released her robe to reach above her, fingers searching for hair pins and pulling them out so that her hair came undone. It now rested in crooked sections all about her shoulder and in her way, and she combed a hand through it to get it out of the way.
Developing a thought, coupled with an odd smile, she reached forward while his back was turned and pulled pulled on the cord that he used to bind his own hair back.
Miroku fiddled a bit with the knobs and dipped his hand under the faucet to test the temperature of the water. It was quite hot, but didn't burn, and he placed the plug over the drain to let it fill.
A tug at his hair caused him to pause, and he felt his own hair fall free of its normal bindings and over the back of his neck. He grinned when he realized what had happened, and turned around to find that Sango had already taken her hair down. He sighed happily and wrapped an arm around her to pull her close against his chest. The feel of her against his own bare skin was strange but not at all unpleasant, and she was being playful now - That was definitely a good sign, and gods, she was gorgeous.
"Would you like a towel?" he asked, looking down at her.
She considered it only briefly, "Not at the moment, no." After all, she was about to get into the water, and towels were for drying off or covering up. She was dry and covered, though.
She returned his embrace for a moment, before pulling away just slightly to regard him. She smiled cheekily, but kept herself from laughing at his hair, if only for the fact that she'd never seen is undone. It was new, maybe something out-of place, but he was still an entirely handsome man.
Still smiling, smart and softly, she rolled one of her shoulders almost lazily, shrugging her robe down a bit. Embarrassed and nervous, though she was, the hot water and her husband were both very inviting things, and she wanted to keep up properly.
Miroku smiled back and ran his fingers through her long hair before pulling back as she began to remove her robe. He suddenly felt a little embarrassed himself. It was true, he had seen her without clothes plenty of times, but always without her permission. Now, she was standing before him, as his wife, intentionally... He kissed her briefly, only barely brushing his lips against hers as he began to undo the knot that held the towel around his waist. They might as well be even.
She was nearly surprised at the quick kiss, and smiled at it, eyes on his face as she shifted her arms to abandon her robe. He moved too, and her eyes shifted to follow the movement. And, he was naked. He'd certainly seen more of her than she had of him, spying or not, and she was sure that he'd seen his shoulders, his back, but... She got to a point, after a couple of seconds that stretched themselves out for far too long, where she had to remind herself that staring was still rude, and her eyes tore away, looking at the wall as she blushed furiously at his exposed form, nearly oblivious to the fact that she was naked, as well.
She turned slightly away, looking briefly into the bathtub, and then at the faucet, "I think it's full enough." Something had to distract, even if it was pointless to say.
Miroku stifled a small laugh at her behavior. It was really cute, he thought. His own nervousness was draining away in the face of Sango's. He felt like he should try to make her comfortable, and nodded when she mentioned the tub, trying to seem nonchalant and calm about the whole situation. "I think so." He turned the water off and then offered his hand to her with what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
She was actually glad that he could remain so unphased. It made things a little easier, she thought, when someone maintained a sense of level-headedness. It was also something that she found she could admire about him. With another smile, she took his offered hand.
Miroku squeezed her hand and stepped into the water, helping her in with his hand. He took a moment to look over her body, and smiled a bit more. She was different from the other women he had seen, but it wasn't a bad thing at all. There was something special about her. He placed his hand at the small of her back to pull her close to him, and looked down at her. "Is it alright? The water, I mean."
She stepped in slowly, feet and ankles adjusting to the temperature contrast before she was able to smile and nod, "It's nice," she stated, sure that the water could assist in calming her nerves, especially now that her muscles had tensed against him. She could only suppose that it was nerves, she'd have to adjust, and she relaxed slowly, pulling away from his with a smile and lowering herself into the water. She looked up at him, still blushing faintly and avoiding particular areas of him. "This is nice," she was attempting casual conversation again, curled up in the hot water, "I miss hot-springs, though."
Miroku sat down carefully next to her and nodded in agreement, resting an arm on the edge of the bathtub. "I miss them too. I know there is one here, but I'm sure it must have a lot of people all the time." He sighed, shrugging. "It sort of takes all the relaxation out of it, I think, if there's a lot of other people..."
"I would think so." She agreed once more, idly gathering her hair and twisting it. The ends were already wet, and she held it up idly with one hand at the back of her head. It was everywhere, really, which was why she generally liked to have it at least partially pulled back. Wet, though, it was probably worse. "Then again, there're more people here than there might've been in many villages back home." She was rather used to the country-side, herself.
"Yes, that's definitely true." Miroku nodded again, looking thoughtful. "I don't believe I've seen this many people at once in my whole life," he said, reaching over and taking the bottle of shampoo in his hand. "Come here," he said calmly, smiling at her. He shifted so that she might have more room, and reached out his free hand for her.
She bit lightly at her lip, moving forwards towards him and releasing her hair. "Do I need to get my hair wet, if I'm going to use soap?" Even when Kagome had such things available in their own time, she rarely used it. She was wary about it, mostly for close proximity to him and for the fact that she was still a little self-conscious about the large scar on her back.
"Yes," Miroku said, breaking into a grin. "I can get the shower head down, if you like. That might be easiest." He shifted again so that he could stand up and get it if that's what she wanted. She seemed nervous, and he told himself he would have to try harder to make her comfortable. He was becoming more comfortable, but she was inherently much more modest than he, and so it only followed that it would probably take a little while.
"Oh, I'd forgotten about that thing," she answered softly, "I suppose that would be easiest, yes." She shifted carefully, so as to not disrupt the water too much, now sitting with her back to him and her hair loosened, looking at the opposite wall.
Miroku stood up and took it down, then turned the water on but pointed it away from her until he got the right temperature. He sat back down, then, and began to wash her hair, gently running his fingers through it. He hoped this would help her to become more comfortable with him, and the fact that he was getting to do it was certainly an advantage as well. "You know," he said, in an attempt to be conversational while turning the water off so that he could put the soap in her hair without getting the whole room wet, "It took me quite a while to figure this thing out when I first got here."
"Oh?" His idea on the matter did seem to be taking effect. She found the warm water easily comforting and, if she bothered to stop thinking about her own nerves, she could easily agree that his touch was also pleasant. She even smiled, shoulders untensing, "I cheated. It didn't take me nearly so long."
She merely sat idle for a moment, becoming aware of the fact that she could relax and not worry, for the moment. Expression thoughtful, she finally spoke again, "Hey, Houshi-sama," It was impulse, even if she'd realized that the formality was possibly less essential than ever, "There's something that I keep intending to ask you about."
"Yes. I dropped the shower head while it was running and I was still dressed, trying to figure it out, and managed to get the whole room and myself soaked." Miroku's cheeks turned a little bit pink at the memory - Thank God no one had seen him do it. The City was definitely hard to get used to, but he had always thought he adjusted well. He tried not to remember the first little while when he hadn't.
He was surprised by how casually she addressed him, yet still with his title. He would have liked for her to use his name, but decided now wasn't the time to press it. Besides, it's not as if it was a big deal or hurtful or anything like that. "Yes?"
She kept her head tilted back slightly, eyes inspecting the wall with little interest. She smiled, though, because, now that he mentioned it, she could see water stains on the white of the room's borders. "I was just curious about your age."
Oh! They hadn't ever talked about that, had they? "I'm nineteen or so, I believe," Miroku said, leaning over to kiss her forehead before he turned the water on again to rinse her hair. He hadn't really liked to think about his own age when he was in their own world - nineteen years alive, nineteen years without defeating Naraku. It didn't matter much now, though.
She nodded slightly, closing her eyes as her hair was rinsed, "I'd figured that you were older, but I wasn't sure by how much." She shrugged slightly, running a quick hand back over her hair-line, now that it was clean. She had only a close estimate, just like him, "I'm just seventeen, I think." She was sure that she'd lost proper count durning their travels, and that the calendar here was different enough so that pin-pointing her birth date was a little difficult.
"It's easy to lose track," Miroku said, standing to put the shower head back in its place, then settling down again behind her. It was strange, Kitty had seemed surprised by the fact that he didn't know the day he was born on, when he himself wasn't entirely sure of how many years it had been since then. It just went to show how many things were different between all the people in the City. He ran his fingers through Sango's hair once more, then stopped and rested his hands on her shoulders. The lecherous side of him would have liked to rest them somewhere else, but her shoulders were nice too, and there was no reason to move too quickly.
"I suppose so," she leaned slightly into the touch at her shoulders, fingers idly at his wrists. Sango's eyes turned to his right hand, now healed, and she traced a circle on the back-side of his palm. "Do you feel relieved, Houshi-sama? About your curse." Even though that wasn't to mention the City's curses, or the nagging worry of the clock. It still sometimes puzzled her to think that he was dead to their own world, and too much thought on it could leave her saddened. Needless to say, though, she was content, herself.
Miroku smiled and turned his right hand to take hers. "I do, I think..." He closed his eyes and rested his chin on the top of her head. "I'll admit, if you won't think me terrible for it, that I am a little disappointed I didn't get to take Naraku down, but it's not... It's alright. I'm here with you, and that's more than I ever could have asked for," he said, moving his arms down to wrap around her waist. "But yes, I am relieved to have it gone, even if it does mean I can never go back. I can't describe how it feels to wake up and see my hand bare and whole."
"I don't know that I could completely understand, anyway." Sango laced her fingers into his, "And I'd also have to confess that I'm sorry for not defeating Naraku, but..." She paused, shrugging. She'd been worrying about her brother more since Kikyou had come to the city, "I wanted revenge, and that's all. You had the purpose of your life being on the line."
"'That's all' is plenty. It's not as if your motives were any less important than mine," Miroku said, squeezing her hand. "There were different things but in the end, together, we all had reason enough to defeat him fifty times over." He pulled away for just a moment, and realized how the water had cooled in the time they spent in the bath. "Would you like to get out?" he asked, beginning to feel less comfortable in the lukewarm water now that he had noticed it.
She shouldn't have mentioned anything, really, as she didn't want to linger on thoughts concerning her desire for vengeance against Naraku. His question, though, provided reasonable distraction and, now that he'd spoken about it, she too noticed the declining temperature of the water. "Yes," she nodded and, without further hesitation, stood. She noticed, then, that it put him at an awkward angle to her bottom, and mumbled a blushing apology before stepping from the water completely.
She grabbed up a towel a began drying, separating her hair into sections and attempting to comb her fingers through it to loosen any tangles. She stopped before the mirror, regarding her newly-cleaned face before putting her back to it, moving her hair altogether to look at her back. "You don't mind it?"
Miroku stood and stepped out after her, ignoring (with a little difficulty) the fact that he could totally have grabbed her rear then and it was like right. there. Oh well. He took a towel and dried off before tying it around his waist. He looked confused when she spoke and was about to ask what she meant, but realized that she was looking at the scar on her back in the mirror. In honesty, he hadn't gotten a good look at it, but that didn't matter. He could see it now in the mirror, and more than anything he felt... Bad. He felt awful that she should have such a reminder of what had happened, that it had happened at all, and that she thought it might detract from her appearance. "No, I don't mind it," he said, his tone sort of gentle so as to reassure her, but also firm so that she wouldn't doubt it.
"Thank you," she looked away from the reflective glass to regard him, instead, smiling and biting lightly at her lower lip. "It reminds me..." She let that fade out, still smiling. "I know it's sort of ugly, though, so..." She shifted from the counter, moving her hair from over her shoulder so that she could finish drying it, letting what was already done fall over her back. After a moment, she leaned against the door, eyes on him, grazing as a faint blush returned, "You're very handsome, Houshi-sama."
"It's not really," Miroku said truthfully. He smiled in return, which turned into a full blown grin at her next statement. "Oh, you think so?" he asked, tugging on one of his earrings and putting on a playful expression. "I've always rather thought so myself," he said in a teasing tone. "But," this was full of sincerity, "It means an awful lot coming from you, Sango."
"I should hope so," she spoke with a grin, "After all, I am your-" It sort of hit her, then, a little harder than before. Her expression became thoughtful for a moment, back pressed against the door, and then she smiled even wider, "I'm your wife."
Miroku's smile widened as well and he pulled her away from the door to hug her. "That's right," he said, kissing her neck playfully. "And I'm your husband." It felt so good to say it, but strange as well. He really, truly loved the way it felt.
The statement and his actions made her stomach flutter a bit, a melty feeling that sunk warmly to the lowermost of her torso. She smiled, still, though, face pink as she tilted her head to accomodate the space he so pleasantly filled. She embraced him, squirming slightly, fingers idly at his spine. "Houshi-sama..." she was probably pressed too close for him to see her expression, but she looked thoughtful, and then she laughed lightly, "Don't you think that twenty children is a bit much?"
Miroku hummed thoughtfully against her neck, pausing briefly in his actions to answer. "You're right. Nineteen is just fine," he said, moving his hands down so that one arm wrapped around her waist and the other rested on her rear. He pulled away and gave her a big grin, keeping his arms where they were.
She laughed again, in a manner that was probably a bit uncharacteristic for her, but stopped at that touch on her bottom, impulsively locking up, jumping in surprise with her eyes narrowing. She paused, though, relaxing instantly with a smile, "Impulse," mumbled quietly against his shoulder. Then, with another blush and shift of her weight, she added, "I can move the towel, if you'd like."
He was surprised by this, but thoroughly pleased. She was becoming comfortable with him, and really, he had sort of been hoping to hear some variation of those words from her for some time now. "Well, maybe, but perhaps this is something more suited for another place in the apartment?"
She nodded in agreement, pulling away while standing close, trying to look relaxed and still-poised even if her nerves were fast returning. She could only suppose that they really had no better place to go but to bed. "I'd say so," she tilted upwards to kiss him briefly and, with little more action than her eyes lingering on him, she opened the door. With another nervous smile, just as eager, she turned from the room.
She had earlier deposited her heavy wedding clothes in her own room, and had actually started impulsively towards that area designated as hers. She stilled in the living area, though, turning back to look at his door, "Your bedroom, Houshi-sama?" Her face felt so warm, and she tried to will the blush away. She felt as if she might overheat, if it persisted.
Miroku smiled and followed her, closing the door after himself. "Would you be more comfortable in yours?" he asked. It didn't matter to him so much where it happened, really - What mattered most was that she was comfortable, and wherever she was comfortable, he would be comfortable too.
Sango shook her head stiffly, "I've put my things down in there. I'd only have to move them again," and, frankly, she didn't feel like it right now. She took the few steps towards his door and rested her hand on the knob, "If you don't mind, that is." She cracked the door open and peeked in, almost curiously.
"I don't," Miroku said, shrugging. He couldn't help but laugh a little bit at the way she peeked inside the room, and he came behind her, resting his hand at the small of her back. "I apologize for not making the bed," he said, a hint of playfulness returning to his tone. "I was a bit preoccupied this morning."
"I'm sure I can forgive you, somehow." She returned the playful tone, pushing the door open further and turning to face him a little more directly, taking steps backwards into the room so that his hand at her allowed him to follow her. She now stood in her husband's room, wearing a towel, a flush, and an almost-expectant expression. "I guess I've forgiven worse," and, all above, she didn't mean to make her voice sound that breathy.
"Thank you, Sango," Miroku said, grinning. He pulled away for a moment to close the door, and then returned to wrap his arms around her and give her a soft kiss. There wasn't really much that mattered now, and his expression softened quite a bit and he felt himself blushing as he pulled away from the kiss. This was really happening, she loved him, they were married... It was almost too good to believe.
She smiled at the apology, but said nothing for it. He kissed her, then, and she could've sworn that all of her most useful organs dissolved, and she was filled with that warm, giddy feeling once more. He pulled away, blushing, and she knew that she was worse, but it didn't really matter. With another smile that bordered on coy, she reached for the towel that she'd wrapped around herself and removed it. "You still know more than me, Miroku-san," she said in a playful tone, still quiet, as she dropped the make-shift garment.
Miroku felt his heart swell at the sound of his name on her lips, and his whole body become more heated as she stood before him without her towel. The bath had seemed more innocent, but this was definitely not. He couldn't stop smiling, and was sure he probably looked sort of goofy, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. "Oh, maybe," Miroku said, moving to brush her hair away from her face as he removed his own towel. "I probably know more than I should. But I suppose that's a perk for you, isn't it?"
"For once, I suppose." Her face tilted into his touch, and she looked up to kiss him lightly, smile playful, feeling a little better even while she was blushing madly. "Maybe, Houshi-sama," she reverted for the purpose of her playfulness, "All of your fooling around with other women," She kissed his chin, "Was some sort of odd preparation for your laying with me." Sango had come to wrap her arms loosely around his shoulders, feeling increasingly tactile. Her nipples brushed lightly against his skin, and she realized with further reddening that it tickled in an oddly pleasant way.
Miroku breathed in sharply when her breasts brushed against him, but it certainly wasn't out of pain or bad feelings. He leaned down to capture her lips with his, making the kiss deeper than any one they had shared yet that evening, and pulled away as he guided her gently to the bed. "If it means that I have more experience with which to pleasure you, then I'm very glad for it. I only wish I had been smart enough to see the negative effects as well." He looked her in the eyes when he said this, hoping that she would see his sincerity
She pressed further against him as he kissed her, and she was nearly floored with the depth of it. The feelings that had been slowly pooling within her seem to shoot down her spine, and she must've nearly shivered, her legs feeling a bit wobbly below her. So, needless to say, she was grateful for the bed, and she set down heavily, breathing already slightly uneven and regarding him with wide eyes. She fixed him with a daze that was meant to be reassuring, "It's the past, Miroku-san. This," she kissed him quickly, "Can matter much more."
Her words were reassuring, and Miroku pulled her into his lap, despite the slightly uncomfortable position it might have put her in, and took another deep kiss from her before moving his mouth only a breath away to speak. "I'm glad you feel that way," he said, placing a hand on her stomach. He traced his fingers along her skin lightly and spoke again before moving his lips to her neck once more. "You make me so happy, I don't deserve it. I love you, and I promise I won't ever hurt you again."
She accepted being pulled into his lap, and even shifted to get more comfortable, moving one of her legs to his other side. Sango sat, balanced on his thighs, form arching and clinging as they kissed once more. The touch at her stomach surprised her slightly, and tickled. She nearly giggled, but stifled it with a smile, expression softening after, head tilting as he kissed down, "Thank you. I love you, Miroku." Her back arched again, and she nibbled lightly at her lip. She wanted something to do with her hands, one arm slung over his shoulders, her nails raking lightly at his skin. With curiousity and trepidition, her other hand wondered a bit, down his chest and stomach, harder that her own and strong enough for a fighter like her to admire. She stopped at his pelvic area, biting her lip and considering her actions before she reached down touch lightly at his member, fingers brushing down the base quickly before she arched forward again, "Do you mind it?" She realized that this might've been intrusive.
Miroku was pleased by her reactions, and let out a small sigh of pleasure at the movements of her hand down his torso. It was coming naturally to her and he felt glad for it. He stiffened considerably in surprise when her hand brushed him in such an intimate place, but he smiled and quickly recovered. "I don't mind at all," he said, looking at her with a grin. "I suppose you've earned your fair share of touching after all this time with me, haven't you?"
She bit her lip, "Perhaps... I'm just... Curious, I suppose. That's all." Blushing further, she looked down, hand moving against him again, loosely encircling him and rubbing down his length. After all, he'd been able to touch her while she was cursed, maybe this could qualify as paying him back. Or... Well, she was a eager to please him as he seemed to be to please her. "Um. Tell me if I do anything wrong, okay?" It was a learning thing, she supposed, and she kissed lightly at his jawline.
Of course," Miroku said. He tensed a little when she touched him again, and made a soft sound. He covered his mouth with his hand embarrassedly, then smiled sheepishly at her. "There's not much you can do wrong, exactly. Don't worry too much."
She smiled at the sound, at his tensing. She felt good knowing that she could get a reaction out of him. It was... This was all, well. She had to supposed that it was an arousing sort of situation, really, but the thought made her go all tingly again. She continued to touch at him, thumb running up and down that intimate part of him while her hand gripped loosely. She leaned forward in his lap to kiss lightly at his neck, because that was something transferrable that she liked, herself. His hair was still down, and the hand at his back moved to comb idly through it, "I like your hair, Houshi-sama."
He shifted and sighed, leaning into her touch. It was fantastically pleasant, and he pulled her closer, resting his hand on her rear again and giving it a firm squeeze. It really was a nice backside, entirely deserving of all the praise she probably didn't know he had given it. Miroku tilted his head to press into her hand with a mumbled thanks, and then he let go of her to take the wrist of the hand that was working him. "Perhaps we should stop with this part for now," he said, adopting the sheepish look again. "If you keep up this way it might be over too soon."
She stopped, then, smile smile and look of concentration fading. She took a breath, still wishing that her blushing would subside. The huntress shifted to get more comfortable, rear-end pressing into his hand. It was a better feeling now that she was roused, now that she knew what was coming, and wanted near-desperately to be touched. She nodded finally, firmly, "Alright, then." And, just like that, she wasn't sure how to proceed.
Miroku hesitated slightly - he rather liked having her in his lap - before placing both of his hands on her waist and moving to lay her down on the bed. Boldly, he moved his hand to cup her gently and he gave her a grin as he began to apply a little bit of pressure with his palm. "I can't let you do all the work, now," he said playfully. He was much more experienced in taking the helm in this sort of thing.
She relaxed easily into the softness of the bed, smiling up at him and biting her lip as his hand came to rest in-between her legs. "I suppose not," she breathed out, squirming and smiling, hips tilting.
If it was possible, the sight of her there felt even better than when her hand was on him. Miroku leaned down and kissed her, slipping a finger inside of her. He was a little surprised by how aroused she appeared to be, but that really only made him more bold. This, he was experienced in, and he'd be damned if she wasn't going to enjoy this as much as he could make her.
She let out an odd, sighing sound into his mouth, open against his and increasingly confident. One of her hands pressed flat against her stomach, and the other lingered on his shoulder. Her hips shifted again, spine curving, bum pressing into the mattress, "Miroku-san..." She muttered, but she wasn't sure what for.
"I take it you're enjoying this?" Miroku said, smiling. Perhaps this was time to move on, then. He drew his hand away, but paused and studied her for a moment. Suddenly, the enormity of the moment came crashing back to him, replacing his playfulness with the seriousness of it all. It should be enjoyable, but it was also important... He found himself nervous again. The first time he had done this barely counted, he could hardly remember... "Sango..."
"Hm?" She shifted to look more directly at him, expression changing slightly when she saw that he seemed calmed and serious again. She even grew concerned, sitting up slightly to lean back on her hands, "Yes?"
Miroku moved carefully to position himself over her. He gave her a kiss with the intent of pushing her head back into the pillows, and brought a hand up to caress her cheek as he held himself up with the other arm. "You need to relax, okay?" he said. She seemed bothered, and he hadn't meant to worry her, so he felt a little bit guilty.
Her weight fell again, hands giving under her to grab at other places, the curve of his neck and his upper arm. He told her to relax, and she tilted her head into his palm. She nodded, but her expression remained a little concerned, "I'll try."
Carefully, Miroku took a knee and carefully pushed her legs apart to settle between them. This was it, wasn't it? Though they were already married, once this was done, she would be his in all eyes - even those who cared little about human ceremonies and symbolic claims. He gave her a small kiss on her forehead and then reached down to position himself before reaching back up again and taking her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. He would have liked to hold her, but he didn't trust himself to be able to support both her and himself on one arm in this situation. Vaguely he recalled the conversation they had had about this moment some months ago, but he still felt as if he should warn her. "Ah... ...I'm going to do it now, okay?" he said, feeling a bit foolish.
She was glad for his hand in her own, really, and gripped onto it lightly. Sango was plainly nervous, now, anticipating something that she wasn't completely aware of. "Okay," she nodded, biting her lip and trying to untense herself.
Drawing in a small breath, Miroku began to push himself in, almost painfully slow, so as not to... stretch her too rapidly and cause her too much pain. He squeezed her hand and closed his eyes in concentration, trying to keep at a steady rate and not go too quickly, though he did want to. There were enough stories he had heard of this, and it seemed so very wrong to sacrifice her comfort for his pleasure if he could help it. He opened his eyes to look at her face, searching for any signs of discomfort.
She breathed in sharply, eyes closing automatically, teeth still relentlessly on her lower lip. To her chagrin, her throat let out a low whimper, and she was clenching up in spite of her best efforts to relax, thighs clasping tightly at his hips. It wasn't something so completely painful, she knew, nothing like an actual wound. It was just straining, muscle and nerves, and she knew that there was a sort of barrier concerning the action, that she might bleed. They'd talked about it, and she'd assured him, so the least she could do was relax and let it happen properly. She tried for deeper breathes, even, and muttered a blushing apology, "I'm sorry," breathe, relax, "I don't mean to make it difficult." She smiled through her strained expression.
"No, don't apologize," Miroku said soothingly, smiling somewhat sympathetically. "You're not making it difficult, it's this way by nature. It's alright, I'll stop for a moment to let you adjust... I'm sorry it hurts." He wished there were some way he could make it so that it didn't hurt. Though he was only barely beginning to bury himself in, he could feel her nervousness, see her chest rising with each breath. "I'm sorry..."
"You, either," she said raspily, with a smile. "I had fair warning, didn't I?" Talking to him made her feel more at ease, as it often had and likely often would. She eased downwards, shifting a little with a deep breath and relaxing her legs. The squeeze at his hand was encouraging this time, and she smiled softly again, "Go on, please."
Nodding, Miroku began to push again, a bit faster this time but not by much. He hastily bit back a sound rising from his own throat. It didn't seem right to be groaning in pleasure when she was beneath him in pain, and he squeezed her hand again before leaning down to kiss her as he finally pressed all the way in.
She continued her unwilled resistance, but the lack of the initial shock made it a little easier for the bearing. The feeling of pressure was still there, imposing and uncomfortable, but it was eased slightly, slowly. She took a moment to relax again, one leg coming to rest over the nearest of his. With another nervous glance, she pushed her hips forward experimentally.
Miroku met her push with one of his own, and then blushed at his own eagerness. "Sorry," he sort of mumbled, grinning sheepishly. "...Does that mean it doesn't hurt as much anymore, though?"
"It's fine," she stated, smiling slightly. Her being sore for the ordeal was a given, but there was no reason why he couldn't enjoy it properly. In fact, she would probably confess that she derived and emotional pleasure from his enjoyment of her. Still, she'd be truthful, "Um, it's... Just the muscle, I think. It feels sort of heavy; there's pressure, and it stings, a bit, deep down." She adopted a warm expression, though, her more idle hand reaching down the press against the bottom-most of her belly, "I can feel you, though, here. It's welcome."
Miroku blushed a little bit more and felt his heart swell at her last statement. It seemed almost an odd thing to say, but it really made him feel wonderful. He loved the way she felt, and knowing that she could feel him as well and that she liked his presence within her despite the pain was... Well, it was difficult to put into words. He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, drawing out only slightly before pushing back in, setting a slow rhythm as he did it again, drawing out a little more this time before he pushed back in a bit harder.
Sango breathed a bit harshly on his lips when he moved, and she tried again to squirm and settle below him. Despite her realized need to relax, she felt restless, senses still abuzz. The soreness was still there, but dulling as she grew used to it, and his movement easily alighted pleasant feelings, all pooling warm in her belly and feeling like coiling. She let out a low, pleased hum, back arching so that she pressed against him.
Miroku made a pleased sort of sound and pressed his lips onto hers, moving a bit quicker in the same rhythm. Her reactions were wonderful, and the fact that she seemed to be enjoying it more made it all the more so. He let go of her hand to grasp at her breast, rubbing the nipple with his thumb as he continued to kiss her. It all seemed to come a bit more easily now.
Her breathing was slightly erratic to his movements, and she let out an odd sort of sighing moan now and again, nearly unable to stop moving. She drew her knees up, thighs tightening once more, but not in such a forbidden manner as when they'd starting, she was pressing, keeping him in place. Every few thrusts, when her body seemed to feel so inclined, she rocked her hips to meet him. She bit her lip at the touch at her breast, her own hands free and wondering fingertip and nail smoothing wherever she could reach.
The pleasure was building rapidly within him and Miroku moved down to suck on her right breast as he continued to thrust inside of her. He was a bit surprised by how bold she was being, but he supposed that moving back against him would be something that came naturally - and it really was not as if he was complaining one bit.
As he could've suspected, likely, part of her boldness could be attributed to simply was felt natural. Her movements were impulse, and she was decently glad to have them. Otherwise she'd feel a little more lost in the situation. Miroku received a high, breathy whimper as he moved to her breast, and she impulsively shifted closer, inviting his warmth. One of her hands shifted to comb fingers through his hair, "Mm. Houshi-sama." It was slipped from her mouth as a subconscious sign of gratification.
Miroku sighed as well at her fingers in his hair, and began to move faster when realized suddenly how close he was to the end. A small groan escaped his throat and he pulled away from her chest to breathe. He wanted to draw this out as long as he could, but there wasn't much he could do. He kissed her again and made another sound into her mouth, kneading the breast he had left with his hand rather more hard than he had intended.
She sounded off surprise in his mouth for the slightly harsh treatment of her breast, shifting impulsively but still pressed close. The hand that was not in his hair was at his back, tracing up and down what she could reach of his spine. She did feel much better by now, but her soreness kept her a bit away from the feeling that he'd been able to provide to her while cursed. It was of little matter to her, though, as she stopped to think properly for the first time in several minutes. The act itself was amazingly intimate; this was her husband in claim of her purity, inside of her, and she felt safe and loved.
She soon had both arms lazily around his shoulders, watching his face with a soft expression. Even satisfied now, she was convinced that they'd have to do it again once her soreness subsided.
Miroku let out a strangled cry as he finally reached his peak, tensing and digging his fingers into the sheets. The world disappeared for a moment in a splash of color and light, and he finished, breathing ragged and shallow. Slowly, he opened his eyes and smiled down at Sango, unable to speak for a few moments. When he caught his breath, he started to speak but had difficulty finding the words to say. He settled for something simple. "Gods, I love you."
She watched as he climaxed, hands holding steady and expression accomplished. He tensed and went limp above her, and soon was pressed against her again, weight relaxed and breathing heavy. "I love you, as well, Miroku-san," she said with a quick kiss to his jaw-line.
Miroku sighed and wrapped his arms around her, cuddling her to himself. He felt tired, and his strength was drained away. With a smile, he looked at her and kissed her warmly, moving a hand up to stroke her hair. "You're beautiful..."
"Thank you," she said, catching quick sense of the calming air developing in their small space. "I'm quite glad you think so." Sango shifted so that he had proper room to lay beside her, moving her loose-feeling legs to tuck her feet under the blankets he kept. She pressed further into the mattress, getting comfortable, "I'm stealing your bed, Houshi-sama."
"Well, it's our bed now," he said, pulling the blankets up to cover them both. "But if you'd like to steal it I suppose I can forgive you just this once." He adopted a playful, almost absurd "puppy eyes" expression. "But you won't kick me out, right? Just because you're stealing it?"
She shook her head firmly, "Not unless you pull one of your dirty tricks on me." Of course, such 'dirty' tricks probably mattered a good degree less than they would have yesterday. She was smiling, though, all in mild joking conditions, setting her head down near his shoulder.
"What a generous woman I've married," Miroku said teasingly, kissing her forehead. He yawned, then, and settled down into the pillows. "Sleep well, Sango."