Affected

Chpt 3 Pulse

There was a pulse. Two pulses. It was almost like a heartbeat, but it was the same pulse that occurred whenever deep youkai magic was involved. And before Miroku could turn to run (which he figured wouldn't have been such a good idea with a rabid inu on his tail), he felt breath hot and deep across his ear. Inuyasha had pressed him against a tree.

Notgoodnotgoodnotgoodnotgoodnotgoodnotgoodnotgood...

Miroku struggled against the hanyou's hard chest futilly—he knew that he would not be able to break free...and even if he did, where would he go? How many steps would he be able to take until Inuyasha was upon him? He had his sutras, but would he be fast enough, have enough room to plaster them on the hanyou's body? Staring down into the glowing eyes of the inu-hanyou, Miroku thought not.

“Has it been hard denying yourself, Miroku?”

“Inuyasha, I don't—”

“Has it been hard not bending her over the nearest tree and fucking her unconscious? Does she even know? Does Sango have a clue how many times you've woken and had to wash your robes in the middle of the night? Where you go when you say you're going to 'meditate'? Whose name you cry out against all of the plants that are bathed in your seed across the forest floor?”

Shame and embarrassment flooded Miroku's face. Of course Inuyasha would know. He could probably smell each and every one of his sessions of self-gratification. And of course he could hear him when he got up to seek relief in the middle of the night.

“But that still—”

Miroku tried to explain himself despite the futility of it all, but Inuyasha would have none of it. Not this day, not this time.

“Do you know what human blood tastes like, Miroku?”

For the first time in his life, Miroku had nothing to say, instead twisting his head in the negative and cringing at the inu's fanged grin in response.

“Sweet. Human blood tastes sweet, like candy...” The tip of a cold nose nudged against his main artery, and Miroku felt himself harden in response. “You smell sweet, Miroku...”

“InuYASHA!”

Miroku nearly gagged as a single clawed hand dipped below his waist and the hanyou encircled his member through his smooth robes to squeeze painfully, the blood rushing in a tumultuous frenzy throughout his body now settling directly in his loins.

“We're men, we cannot wait forever. It is time we both sought satisfaction, Miroku.”

“No, Inuyasha, I don't—”

But the hanyou ignored him and moved with such grace and liquidity that Miroku could have sworn that he was seeing the Western Lord and not his bastard brother. The inu was in control of him, and it was quite obvious to Miroku...

...the inu didn't make mistakes.

With a quick swipe of his hands, Inuyasha brought the tree behind them crashing down, and flung the monk across it like a sack of potatoes. There was no point in yelling or screaming—no one in the immediate vicinity would be able to challenge Inuyasha and survive at that moment.

“Oh, Buddah be merciful to your loyal servant...”

“There is no need to pray to Buddah, monk. I'm not going to hurt you...”

Miroku paled as he saw a flash of red and then stared deep into them—the intense glowing golden orbs that were less than an inch from his face.

“No, I'm going to help you...”

Miroku decided at that moment that running may be futile, but it was certainly sensible and barrelled backwards in order to leap over the tree and into the dense darkness of freedom. He got as far as finishing the thought before twin clawed hands landed upon him, hot and heavy, shoving him into the unforgiving bark of the fallen tree.

The wind left Miroku's chest in a violent rush—Kami that hurt—and he sucked in a heaving breath to reinflate his bruised lungs.

“...inu...y—”

But the dog demon seemed to have disappeared, completely left after that violent outburst.

Maybe he's come to his senses...

Miroku chanced a glance behind him before attempting to run again and froze.

Or maybe not...

Inuyasha had taken the two seconds that it took for the monk to regain his breath to strip down to nothing, taut muscles and sinewy length glistening in the pearlescent forest air. He was stroking something long and heavy with one hand—prepping it, it seemed, for...

OH HELL NO.

Miroku didn’t often curse, but there was NO way that that THING, that whatever-would-pass-for-a-member-as-a-three-story-high-demon-but-certainly-not-for-a-human piece of flesh swung and twitched eagerly in the air.

Inuyasha smelled Miroku's fear, and did nothing to dissuade him. This was going to hurt. A lot.

“It gets better after the first time, monk.” Inuyasha's glowing gaze captured him, arrested him, kept him from moving and feeling sharp claws pierce his sides to keep him still. Fangs glinted in a sardonic smirk. “I promise to be gentle.”

Not comforting at all.

Miroku flinched as he saw a flash of silver and felt the woosh of air around him. He was still in the exact same position as he was before, but now...now he was naked. That woosh was the sound of the inu pulling his sacred robes from around his head—so quick that not even a hair was out of place on the houshi's head.

Damn it all...

“I'll leave it on next time...” Inuyasha's husky voice rang in his ear and Miroku wanted to hit him—wanted to turn around and pummel that perfect face that could have had ay woman, but noooo, now wanted a man.

Run? Couldn't. Hide? Wouldn't. So that left one option.

“There won't be a next time.”

Inuyasha snorted. Of course there would be. It's not like Miroku could stop him anyway. But he understood that the monk needed some control over the situation.

Even if it was only an image of one.

“Bend over and relax.”

Easy for him to say.

But Miroku did as Inuyasha requested, not flinching when a saliva-coated digit pushed against his entrance, not moaning when it rubbed and pressed, and rubbed and pressed again massaging and coaxing open his nether muscles.

“Mmmmm, Kami...”

But eventually he betrayed himself, shuddering as the digit finally became encased in his flesh, turning and brushing inside—stretching and preparing him for hot and hardened desire that pulsed and twitched against his trembling thighs.

Inuyasha took his time preparing the monk, relishing in the small whimpers and cries that he bit back and swallowed—he wanted to hear them out loud, feel the reverbrations across the forest, but there was time for that yet.

Plenty of time.

“I know what you want, houshi...”

Hot. Slick. Tight.

The penetration was almost unbearable, and it took every payer that his father had taught him for Miroku to not scream his agony to the heavens. Inuyasha smirked at his struggle and increased it even more as he bent down and licked around and inside of Miroku's ear slowly and gently.

Inuyasha pulled back until only the tip of his member remained, and then slid back into Miroku's muscled inferno, savoring the small grunts and whimpers that came from the man beneath him. They settled into an easy rhythm that rose and undulated, dipped and soared in a deafening crescendo of pure desperation-infused lust. Sex hung heavy around them, as thick as the sky was dark and Inuyasha maneuvered Miroku's hips in small circles to provide a created sensation against his throbbing loins.

Miroku, for his part, was lost in the sensations of pleasure and pain that he was receiving. Inuyasha was gliding freely in him now, his muscles having relaxed enough to permit easy entry and exit to the demon's massive flesh. It felt...good...having something rammed so violently inside of him, the friction in his ass feeling so forbidden and indescribably exquisite. Miroku bucked back against the muscled pelvis that dug into him, demanding more harder and faster...

Inuyasha stared at his handiwork as the fever in his body reached climactic levels. What was once a small rosette between Miroku's tight nether cheeks was now strained into a wide circle, filled to the limit with his flesh, and a huge thrill of the eroticism of the moment shot through him as his veins scraped deep within Miroku's passage. It was taking everything within him to not mark the human who sighed and trembled beneath him, especially when that human was strangling his manhood with solid muscles.

“Kami, In—yasha!”

Miroku was burning, suffocating, and dying all at once, the force behind Inuyasha's thrusts becoming deeper and all-consuming as he drove inside of him, scraping the bundle of nerves that was causing his body to shake uncontrollably. Sharp claws raked down Miroku's back—not hard, but just enough to leave five angry welts across the flat expanse of the houshi's back and spiral his sensations into the stratosphere. Miroku jerked up at one particularly hard thrust and Inuyasha growled, pushing him down with his chest until they were both hunched over the fallen tree, Miroku crushed under the hanyou's superior weight.

::JUST TAKE IT, MONK::

Inuyasha was hot—hotter than he had ever felt before, and the wriggling of the body beneath him was forcing his pleasure to skyrocket in dangerous spikes. Miroku moaned and whined, squirmed around the swollen member that seemed to have a mind of its own as it probed and punched deep into the houshi's body. He wasn't going to last much longer, not with the way that Miroku held him in a stranglehold, bruised his member with the crushing action of his enlarged sphincter. It was too much—even for the half-demon inu.

“Ummmm...gods....pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaseeeee...”

The begging was it—Inuyasha had never heard a grown man beg, and Miroku begging for release in a voice that was as masculine as it was submissive sent him over completely. White sheets of painful pleasure and sharp stabs that melted his thighs incapacitated him on top of the sweaty form of his best friend. He felt his essence leave him in a huge burst, pumping out furiously into the limp form below. Inuyasha didn’t stop, but kept pumping determinedly to get the very last ounce of seed from his body, which seemed like it would be forever. He cursed and nearly killed the monk when he tried to move and disturbed his knot.

“Stay still or so help me I'll break your fucking neck.”

“Inuyasha, I need...”

Inuyasha smelled the air, smelled the monk's lack of completion and smirked. He had completely forgotten to properly attend to him, and pulled them both back gently to grab and grip the purplish-red member between the monk's legs.

Miroku gave a contented sigh as Inuyasha pumped him, leaning into the slight nibbles on his neck and feeling the hanyou's receding knot swell again as he began to move in concert with the pumping, seed leaking around Miroku's opening and painting the forest floor. The end was hurtling towards him and he impaled himself on Inuyasha's member harder. It was so dirty, so disgusting...

...so exquisite...

Breath mingled as the orgasm broached...

“...inuyasha...we cannot...”

“...never again...I promise...”

***

~Two months later~

Lying bastard.

Miroku winced as the hanyou finally removed himself from his passage and rolled to the side, grabbing his waist to nuzzle his neck in post-coital stupor.

“We cannot keep doing this, Inuyasha. We will eventually be found.”

“Mmmm, 'probably right. Worry later.”

Miroku sighed and took the moment to enjoy his closeness to his friend, knowing that it wouldn't last. They would have to get up, find a source of water (perferably warm) and bathe before anyone got to suscpicious at their absence, which had been growing longer and longer with each session. But for now they were warm and content and satiated in each others' arms, almost as if that was how it should be...

“Oi, Inu-kuro! What the hell are you doing with my wo—”

Sentence stopped in midair. Incredulous turquoise eyes staring holes into what he was seeing.

Oh yeah, and an incredibly pissed inu-hanyou growling impressively before him.

Kami, truly, what have I done to incur your wrath?...

“Um, hello Lord Kouga. Please give me a moment to explain...”


~TBC~

***