A Rickety Bridge

Chapter Three: Just a Kiss

Sango awoke feeling groggy. Her sleep had been horribly restless until well past the middle of the night, then it had been heavy. She remembered the dream that had plagued her, and she blushed in her bedroll. Apparently seeing Miroku naked had started her imagination going. The dream, she supposed, was probably rather tame, but that didn’t stop the blood from rushing to her face and her body from nestling further into her covers. She had seen animals mating before, but she had always felt a detachment while watching—nothing in the act seemed appealing. When she felt her body aroused by a male presence, the thoughts that made her shiver were always slightly vague and certainly more romantic—visions of being kissed, her nude skin being caressed, being held tightly against a firm body. The thought of a man thrusting between her thighs was foreign and distant. Until last night. For whatever reason, Miroku’s naked hips had made the act itself seem...interesting.

Her eyelids parted lazily and she looked around. She was alone, the camp half cleaned up and her companions missing.

“Kagome-sama snuck off this morning while Inuyasha was bathing at the hot spring.”

Sango started and turned. Directly behind her, Miroku was sitting on a log. He looked tired and worn. He continued, “She said she had to study for a test she’d forgotten about and convinced Kirara to take her to the Well. Shippou wanted to go with her and wait with Kaede-sama for her to come back. Of course, when Inuyasha heard them leave he followed.” Miroku yawned. “I estimate they’ll be back by sundown—perhaps even midday.”

Sango nodded.

He rose. “I’ll heat the food Kagome-sama left for you,” Miroku said, walking toward the pot hanging over the fire.

“That’s all right,” Sango whispered. She was feeling shy this morning and couldn’t seem to look him in the eye or even speak normally. “I’ll do it.”

He gave her a fatigued smile. “But I’m already doing it.”

“Didn’t you sleep, houshi-sama?” she asked, taking in the red eyes he could barely keep open and the way he kept yawning.

“No,” he answered, “but it appears fortune is kind for now. What with our companions’ spat, I don’t think we’ll be traveling so I have today to rest.”

Sango pushed the covers from herself and pulled on her sandals. “Here,” she said, taking the handle of the stirring spoon from him, “I’ll do this. You lie down.” Her shyness was melting in the face of Miroku needing some mothering. “Have you eaten?” she asked him.

He was smiling at her. “No but I’m not too hungry.”

She filled a bowl for him anyway and pressed it into his hands. “Eat.”

He stiffened a little as her fingers grazed his, beginning to pull back from her. Then he seemed to undergo a drastic shift in mood. He took the bowl with one hand and reached out to clasp her hand with the other. She watched as he set the bowl down next to the fire and turned his full attention to her. His gaze was hypnotic and his hand on her wrist was warm.

“Sango,” he said, his voice so husky it immobilized any reflexes to pull back or resist, “would you give me permission to do something?”

“W-what?” she was back to whispering, only this time her voice was a bit breathy.

He leaned forward delicately, pulling her closer to him as well through some unseen but highly palpable force. “Would you…let me kiss you?”

Her eyes widened and she shook her head forcefully.

“One kiss,” he coaxed, “one little kiss.”

Involuntarily, her eyes drifted to his mouth.

“It’s just a kiss,” he whispered, moving in slightly.

She licked her lips and felt herself nod.

His hand caressed the back of her neck, suggesting more than holding her head where he wanted it to be. Her eyelids fell closed and she shivered at the first touch of his lips. He brushed his mouth across hers lightly before pressing into the kiss. His lips were soft and warm, and they stroked hers sweetly at first, then grew more insistent.

Sango sat stiffly, a little too aware of what he was doing to enjoy it. There wasn’t the instantaneous firework-like pleasure she’d always imagined. Still, it was pleasant. The fact that it wasn’t as all-consuming and judgment-blurring as she’d expected made her less frightened of it and she began to relax. Which, she realized too late, was just what her desire was waiting for to pounce—letting go caused a wave of heat to wash over her and a gasp to catch in her throat.

Miroku seemed to feel the change and groaned, dragging his tongue evenly across her lips. Unconsciously, her tongue snaked out to taste the trail of moisture left behind. Miroku took advantage of her open mouth and deftly slid his tongue in after hers.

For a pulse of a moment, Sango froze again. What was he doing? Then his tongue stroked hers and she couldn’t hold back an aroused sigh. How could something as odd and invading as rubbing those two muscles together feel so good? It was so intimate it had her flushed with slight embarrassment as well as excitement, but it also had her leaning almost eagerly into him.

The houshi responded to her moving closer by transferring his free hand to her ribs. With it, he stroked her side, her breath hitching every time he grazed her breast. She should stop him, she knew that she should. But it had been so long since he had grabbed at her chest, so long since he had been forward in his sexual advances, and she...had wondered for a while exactly what it was he would do if she didn’t push him away. Instead of pulling back the next time his palm approached the side of her breast, she turned her body slightly and pressed herself into his palm.

The effect on Miroku was instantaneous. A growl that sent a shock of heat between her legs rumbled into her mouth and he moved forward into her so aggressively, she found herself leaning backward. His hand squeezed her almost painfully once, but then he seemed to retrieve some of his control and his next caress was softer. He stroked and kneaded her swelling peak, paying particular care to rubbing her nipple through the fabric of her yukata with his thumb.

Sango was getting dizzy. The heat in her body was so intense her hands were shaking as though she had a fever, and the core of the heat had her shifting in her seat. It was so insistent and sharp, she was desperate to relieve some of the tension. When she first felt herself sinking, she fought it, then found that she didn’t truly have the will to sit fully up again, so instead she eased backward, resting herself on the ground. Miroku followed her without missing a caress, releasing her neck so that she could lay her head down and moving his hand down her body to....

In the haze of his mouth blowing fire into hers and his other hand touching her in a way she never would have thought she’d allow, she lost track of it—that second hand. Strangely, she didn’t mind, her own arms, no longer burdened with the task of holding herself up, snaking enthusiastically around his neck, holding him to her.

Vaguely she registered that her clothes were suddenly far less tight. An annoying part of her seemed to think that was bad, but the very loud part of her, the part she was inclined to agree with, knew that it was good. Her clothes had gotten too hot and restricting—they were in the way and the cool air that suddenly ran down the length of her entire body brought nothing but a sigh of relief.

Then Miroku did something she absolutely did not want. He broke their kiss and trailed his lips to her neck. She tried to pull his mouth back to hers, but he resisted, instead sucking at the exposed flesh at the base of her neck. Sango gasped, a tremor running from the skin beneath his mouth to the burning between her thighs. Her hips jerked spastically, grazing his. Miroku trembled above her and immediately lifted his mouth from the crook of her neck to her collarbone. He kissed her softly and wetly there before trailing a second kiss a little lower. And another, and another, until Sango registered through her intoxication that he had arrived at the summit of her neglected breast. The thought that it was a naked breast touched her brain briefly. That it shouldn’t be was an idea that didn’t seem to belong in her state of mind. So she threw it out.

He kissed the breast the way he had the skin leading up to it, then flicked the hardened tip with his wet tongue. Sango arched her body into him. That combined with the pressure from her hands on the back of his head pushed the receptive peak into his mouth. He knew what she wanted and suckled. Sango’s mouth opened in surprise, no sound finding its way through her shock. Her breasts and her feminine core were so far from each other on her body that it had never occurred to her that they were deeply and directly connected. Now she knew.

Her legs parted instinctively, one thigh meeting the opposition of Miroku’s body, but he moved out of her way—settling between her limbs instead of outside them. Which seemed to have an effect on him. Once again, he squeezed her breast too hard, and his mouth bit down barely on the nipple of the other. But this time, it felt good—intensely good. Her hips jerked again, rising against him, and this time her thigh brushed something long, hard, and very, very hot through his robes.

His mouth broke from her breast, panting. He closed his eyes and held rigidly still, as if he were trying to restrain himself. But Sango didn’t want him restrained. She didn’t know what he was holding back from doing exactly (though she had an idea), but she did know that whatever it was, she wanted him to do it—now. She repeated her action, shifting this time so that it was her heat that dragged along his instead of her thigh.

He cried out piercingly, his hand shooting to her waist, slamming her hips to the ground and holding them there, away from his body. He fought to control his breath, her name fighting its way through his clenched teeth.

Sango couldn’t help a whimper. “Houshi-sama…please.” She didn’t know what she was begging for, but she knew that he did and she knew that if she didn’t get it, she was going to go crazy.

With a groan, he moved down her body, dragging his lips and nose across her skin, causing the muscles in her stomach to jump. Sango watched in confusion, moving restlessly in her desperation to be released from the heat that had gripped her whole body and settled into a blaze at the place Miroku’s face hovered above now.

He took a deep breath, his expression one of rapture, as though he smelled a sweet perfume. Then he lowered his mouth and dragged his tongue over the most intimate part of her.

She jumped, both in shock of what he was doing and at the violent pleasure that it had caused. “Houshi-sama, w-what’re you doing?”

“Kissing you,” he answered throatily, his eyes glittering darkly.

“Is it still the same kiss? You promised only one.”

He didn’t hesitate or flinch. “Of course.”

Sango knew it was a lie, but she didn’t care. If the first touch of his tongue was any indication as to what this bizarre act would be like, it felt too good for her to care. “Oh. So long as it’s the same one.”

He lowered his head again and, even though she was anticipating it this time, the extreme wave of pleasure shook her. He pulled the nub above her swollen lips into his mouth, rolling his tongue across it and sucking on it faintly. Her fingers pulled his hair and her nails dug into his scalp. Then he pulled back cruelly, licking above, below, all around, but not on that bud. She tried to buck her hips, but he still had them firmly in his grasp. She gave a tiny noise of frustration that became a sigh of bliss as he took it back in his mouth. He waited until she was writhing again before pulling back. Once more he teased her, taking his strong tongue everywhere but where she wanted him to. And again, he only resumed attention to her sensitive nub after she made noise, though it was another two rounds of this game before she realized this. The louder she was, the more attention he lavished where she needed it. So she moaned and whimpered and sighed, and he licked and sucked and licked.

She felt herself approaching a peak. The closer she came the more desperate she was to reach it. And then the heat in her boiled over, searing and sloshing through her every nerve. She cried out, gripping his head to her almost painfully.

Abruptly, her body sagged, all the tension floating out of her as she lay panting. A sheen of sweat suddenly felt cool on her skin.

Gently, Miroku pulled her fingers out of his tangled hair, and moved up to lie beside her, pulling her to him and holding her sated form. The torrent of the spate passed, he calmly stoked the hair at her temple.

Gradually, Sango came into awareness. The full realization of what she had just done and what she had allowed be done to her crashed into her consciousness. She stiffened and immediately moved to sit up.

Miroku seemed to sense the change and let go, sitting up next to her.

Sango looked down at her exposed body, the parted yukata mocking her. She grabbed up her clothes and hugged them to her body, covering herself like an ashamed over-modest child. Her hands were trembling again, but not with lust.

She turned to the houshi beside her, her eyes wide, somewhere between angry and scared and sick. “You...you lied.”

In his eyes she could see sadness and regret. “I don’t suppose you’d believe I lost my head, too?”

She stood. Her legs wobbled under her, but Miroku, who had also risen, caught and steadied her.

Sango pulled away from him as soon as she was certain she wouldn’t fall. She stared down at her body. “I need a bath,” she suddenly determined a course of action. Perhaps it was a frivolous thing to be worrying about first, but all she knew was that she couldn’t stay and talk to him, as the expression on his face was clearly saying he wanted to do.

Miroku sighed, reaching down into her pack while she stood frozen and digging out her soap. “Here. Take a bath, and then we’ll talk.”

She swallowed and took the soap from him without answering. She turned and headed down the path to the onsen.

Sango entered the water, clothes and all, and mechanically began washing herself.

She knew that she couldn’t lay the blame for what had happened at Miroku’s feet, however she might like to. He had been trying to bed her since they met with no success and she’d grown complacent. That perverted houshi may have been able to seduce girls in every village he’d ever visited, but not her—she was in control. Today Sango had learned something very powerful about each herself and the monk to whom she was bound. She had learned he had been holding back, that he’d never actually tried to get her into bed before, and she learned that all it took for him to convince her to do anything was one kiss. Just a little, stupid kiss. She was in trouble.