Finding Daddy
folder
InuYasha › Yaoi - Male/Male › InuYasha/Miroku
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
10,754
Reviews:
29
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
InuYasha › Yaoi - Male/Male › InuYasha/Miroku
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
10,754
Reviews:
29
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.
III
© Salome Wilde, 2008
Finding Daddy
Author’s Note: Because I haven’t said it directly enough yet, this story has been inspired by the AU MirInu shota of talonsage and jenerik_brand. Though mine is canonesque and I needed a head injured adult to get me here, I am indebted to these writers for their beautiful, wicked writing.
III
Why had he never suspected Inuyasha’s lips would be so soft? Why had he never been more curious? He let himself bask in the kiss, so full of sweetness and desire to please. They both so wanted to give to the other; Miroku felt the longing seep into his every aching pore. He kept himself so tightly bound—not only his hand but his heart. And this vulnerable, needing Inuyasha was gently, movingly, erotically opening him up and laying him bare to himself. He wanted this kiss more than he wanted anything else he could name at this moment.
Lips so soft, parting and tentatively offering tongue. He met and pressed into the embrace, wet and warm and naked and open to himself and to Inuyasha. To this Inuyasha. Men’s mouths for him had always been bound to images of Mushin’s sake-sipping slackness. Men’s mouths were about crude appetites, sloppy expressions of affection or exhortations to labor. But whatever they were, they were not for kissing. Until now. Now, when those arms were wrapped so tightly around him and he felt only beautiful tenderness and aching loneliness arcing and washing over them both, over and over. How could a kiss do so much?
At last, he had to take Inuyasha by the arms and gently separate them for a moment. Miroku needed distance, to look into his eyes again and know what was him and what was Inuyasha and who this creature was who kissed so sweetly that suddenly nothing else on earth existed.
Inuyasha blinked, looked up hopefully. Hoshi-Daddy-sama had stopped the kiss but he had not pulled away. His arms still held him. He still felt safe. The safeness was new. And he wanted it, craved it. He had learned in recent months to let his body feel good, even if the human or yokai touching it did not feel good. Even cruel kisses could taste good in their way, for they still wanted something when they bruised his lips and shoved their tongues deep, and he could give it and make his life less unworthy by just withstanding. Then, when they forced their semi-hard shafts between his lips and down his throat, he could work his soft little tongue and make them very hard and then make them burst. That was good, to know he could do that, even though it stretched his mouth too much and made it hard to breathe sometimes. They did not care, and that was scary, but if he thought about making them hard and about the taste of the syrupy musk that they released down his throat like a reward, then it was better.
But Hoshi-Daddy-sama kissed him differently. The monk kissed him like…like…like Mother’s hugs plus warm baths plus rubbing himself when he got hard plus oh just the way he always wished someone would kiss him when he kissed with his whole soul seeking love. He was looking into his eyes now, and Inuyasha wondered what he saw there. He blushed and looked down, but the monk raised his face and looked some more. He licked his lips. They were warm from the kiss. He was warm all over. Warm and wet in the hotspring. Here with this human who had big, sad eyes like Mother and said he’d protect and teach him but also made that place below his belly get tight and the hardness start. He wondered if the nice monk was also getting hardness and tight feelings below his belly. Should he ask? Reach out a hand and see? Before he could act, however, he noticed the concern in the monk’s eyes. A worried look. The little hanyo was excellent at reading others’ expressions. It was as necessary to life as breathing.
Miroku spoke. “Inuyasha, I really don’t think we should…”
His ears went flat. He’d have dropped his head if Hoshi-sama weren’t tipping it up. His lip began to tremble.
Miroku bit his lip as he watched the impossible phenomenon of his grown friend turning into such a pitiful, endearing child. “Oh Inuyasha, you’re so…beautiful…”
The hanyo’s ears perked, instantly. He sniffed and gave a too-big smile that seemed to start in his toes.
“So beautiful…” Miroku murmured, tracing his jawline with a finger.
Inuyasha shook his head and giggled. He wasn’t beautiful. Hoshi-sama was crazy. A crazy Daddy: that was perfect for him. Better than perfect. Without thinking, he pressed forward and nuzzled into Hoshi-Daddy-sama’s neck, pressed a kiss there, and then raised his head again, grinning absurdly.
Miroku watched the sudden, astonishing transformation. Inuyasha was lit from within. He wriggled in the water. He brought his hands through the water and splashed Miroku’s face. He beamed. The sight made the monk’s heart pound. How could his friend, his impetuous, argumentative, irascible, not-child friend be so damned…precious?
Inuyasha seemed to lack the ability to hold still while Miroku cleaned the small head wound. But that only made the experience sweeter. He found himself taking to a parental tone with surprising ease. “Hold still now, Inuyasha, I don’t want to hurt you,” he scolded gently, parting the thick hair to wash it clean.
“Yes, Hoshi-Daddy-sama,” came the child-adult voice that made the monk dizzy with a desire he never knew existed before this day. Being allowed to touch, wash, and pore over his friend’s magnificent mane was another incredible and unexpected blessing. As Inuyasha crouched to allow Miroku to soak and run his fingers through the coarse, shining strands, he basked in the intimacy of this forbidden act. Inuyasha seemed to love it, tipping back and pressing his head into the monk’s eager hands. Everything now was charged with intensity and beauty. He knew they were both feeling it.
Soon, though, conscience caught up once more as the reality of their situation struck. His unrelenting erection troubled him, and he felt lucky that Inuyasha had not seemed to notice his own—though Miroku could not help but see it through the water, looking over Inuyasha’s shoulder. How pale and smooth it was, bobbing below the surface. His own cock was something he took for granted: its fit in his palm, the looseness of the foreskin as he slid it back and forth in solitary moments of pleasuring, the small veins and the way the head swelled as he neared climax, the way it looked as it slipped between a woman’s thighs. Yet, seeing his manhood reflected in Inuyasha’s thicker, slightly shorter shaft made the entire category of the phallus remarkably new, and incredibly exciting.
But no. This was not the time to develop a fetish for his companion’s erection. The thought of having it in his mouth was suddenly both breathtaking and overwhelming, but it was also incredibly irresponsible. No, he chided himself. Inuyasha was injured. No. He was a child. No. He looked to Miroku for protection not molestation (kisses notwithstanding). No. No. No. The way his cock jumped at each “no” was ridiculous. He forced himself out of the water and away from temptation. He held out a hand and assisted Inuyasha to the bank with a forced cheerfulness. Inuyasha was still a bit awkward, and leaving the pool seemed to make him shy once more. The doubled illusion of the child-yet-man shimmered before Miroku as the sight of his wet, naked body and that stunningly beautiful cock made his head swim.
“We need to get back to our companions,” he murmured, attempting to muster conviction while wiping the water from his body and squeezing wetness from the gauntlet that covered his cursed hand.
Inuyasha watched and nodded slowly, beginning to draw his hands down his own body in similar fashion. Then, in a flash, he saw himself. That cock. His eyes widened. He looked at Miroku then down at himself again. His eyes narrowed and his brow wrinkled. He shook his head a little then looked down at the pole between his legs once more. He reached out a hand to grab it but decided otherwise. And then, looking straight into Miroku’s eyes, he began to laugh. A beautiful child’s delighted laughter. A bursting silliness at the absurd. A sound no adult could make and no child should ever stop making. Inuyasha pushed out his hips and the mirage of a little boy holding a tree branch out from between his legs as a joke was as obvious as it was familiar. Look at me, pretending I’m grown. Look at me, making fun of that pitiful state of adulthood.
Miroku caught on in an instant and found himself laughing, too. Inuyasha’s innocent magic was irresistible. The two nude men stood in the grass, laughing until they could no longer even remain standing and collapsed into each other’s arms. Miroku felt drunk with the gift of this brief respite from adulthood, as precious gift as the trust and faith that shone in his friend’s eyes.
- - -
Author’s Wish: Come back to us soon, j. It’s not the same without you.
Finding Daddy
Author’s Note: Because I haven’t said it directly enough yet, this story has been inspired by the AU MirInu shota of talonsage and jenerik_brand. Though mine is canonesque and I needed a head injured adult to get me here, I am indebted to these writers for their beautiful, wicked writing.
III
Why had he never suspected Inuyasha’s lips would be so soft? Why had he never been more curious? He let himself bask in the kiss, so full of sweetness and desire to please. They both so wanted to give to the other; Miroku felt the longing seep into his every aching pore. He kept himself so tightly bound—not only his hand but his heart. And this vulnerable, needing Inuyasha was gently, movingly, erotically opening him up and laying him bare to himself. He wanted this kiss more than he wanted anything else he could name at this moment.
Lips so soft, parting and tentatively offering tongue. He met and pressed into the embrace, wet and warm and naked and open to himself and to Inuyasha. To this Inuyasha. Men’s mouths for him had always been bound to images of Mushin’s sake-sipping slackness. Men’s mouths were about crude appetites, sloppy expressions of affection or exhortations to labor. But whatever they were, they were not for kissing. Until now. Now, when those arms were wrapped so tightly around him and he felt only beautiful tenderness and aching loneliness arcing and washing over them both, over and over. How could a kiss do so much?
At last, he had to take Inuyasha by the arms and gently separate them for a moment. Miroku needed distance, to look into his eyes again and know what was him and what was Inuyasha and who this creature was who kissed so sweetly that suddenly nothing else on earth existed.
Inuyasha blinked, looked up hopefully. Hoshi-Daddy-sama had stopped the kiss but he had not pulled away. His arms still held him. He still felt safe. The safeness was new. And he wanted it, craved it. He had learned in recent months to let his body feel good, even if the human or yokai touching it did not feel good. Even cruel kisses could taste good in their way, for they still wanted something when they bruised his lips and shoved their tongues deep, and he could give it and make his life less unworthy by just withstanding. Then, when they forced their semi-hard shafts between his lips and down his throat, he could work his soft little tongue and make them very hard and then make them burst. That was good, to know he could do that, even though it stretched his mouth too much and made it hard to breathe sometimes. They did not care, and that was scary, but if he thought about making them hard and about the taste of the syrupy musk that they released down his throat like a reward, then it was better.
But Hoshi-Daddy-sama kissed him differently. The monk kissed him like…like…like Mother’s hugs plus warm baths plus rubbing himself when he got hard plus oh just the way he always wished someone would kiss him when he kissed with his whole soul seeking love. He was looking into his eyes now, and Inuyasha wondered what he saw there. He blushed and looked down, but the monk raised his face and looked some more. He licked his lips. They were warm from the kiss. He was warm all over. Warm and wet in the hotspring. Here with this human who had big, sad eyes like Mother and said he’d protect and teach him but also made that place below his belly get tight and the hardness start. He wondered if the nice monk was also getting hardness and tight feelings below his belly. Should he ask? Reach out a hand and see? Before he could act, however, he noticed the concern in the monk’s eyes. A worried look. The little hanyo was excellent at reading others’ expressions. It was as necessary to life as breathing.
Miroku spoke. “Inuyasha, I really don’t think we should…”
His ears went flat. He’d have dropped his head if Hoshi-sama weren’t tipping it up. His lip began to tremble.
Miroku bit his lip as he watched the impossible phenomenon of his grown friend turning into such a pitiful, endearing child. “Oh Inuyasha, you’re so…beautiful…”
The hanyo’s ears perked, instantly. He sniffed and gave a too-big smile that seemed to start in his toes.
“So beautiful…” Miroku murmured, tracing his jawline with a finger.
Inuyasha shook his head and giggled. He wasn’t beautiful. Hoshi-sama was crazy. A crazy Daddy: that was perfect for him. Better than perfect. Without thinking, he pressed forward and nuzzled into Hoshi-Daddy-sama’s neck, pressed a kiss there, and then raised his head again, grinning absurdly.
Miroku watched the sudden, astonishing transformation. Inuyasha was lit from within. He wriggled in the water. He brought his hands through the water and splashed Miroku’s face. He beamed. The sight made the monk’s heart pound. How could his friend, his impetuous, argumentative, irascible, not-child friend be so damned…precious?
Inuyasha seemed to lack the ability to hold still while Miroku cleaned the small head wound. But that only made the experience sweeter. He found himself taking to a parental tone with surprising ease. “Hold still now, Inuyasha, I don’t want to hurt you,” he scolded gently, parting the thick hair to wash it clean.
“Yes, Hoshi-Daddy-sama,” came the child-adult voice that made the monk dizzy with a desire he never knew existed before this day. Being allowed to touch, wash, and pore over his friend’s magnificent mane was another incredible and unexpected blessing. As Inuyasha crouched to allow Miroku to soak and run his fingers through the coarse, shining strands, he basked in the intimacy of this forbidden act. Inuyasha seemed to love it, tipping back and pressing his head into the monk’s eager hands. Everything now was charged with intensity and beauty. He knew they were both feeling it.
Soon, though, conscience caught up once more as the reality of their situation struck. His unrelenting erection troubled him, and he felt lucky that Inuyasha had not seemed to notice his own—though Miroku could not help but see it through the water, looking over Inuyasha’s shoulder. How pale and smooth it was, bobbing below the surface. His own cock was something he took for granted: its fit in his palm, the looseness of the foreskin as he slid it back and forth in solitary moments of pleasuring, the small veins and the way the head swelled as he neared climax, the way it looked as it slipped between a woman’s thighs. Yet, seeing his manhood reflected in Inuyasha’s thicker, slightly shorter shaft made the entire category of the phallus remarkably new, and incredibly exciting.
But no. This was not the time to develop a fetish for his companion’s erection. The thought of having it in his mouth was suddenly both breathtaking and overwhelming, but it was also incredibly irresponsible. No, he chided himself. Inuyasha was injured. No. He was a child. No. He looked to Miroku for protection not molestation (kisses notwithstanding). No. No. No. The way his cock jumped at each “no” was ridiculous. He forced himself out of the water and away from temptation. He held out a hand and assisted Inuyasha to the bank with a forced cheerfulness. Inuyasha was still a bit awkward, and leaving the pool seemed to make him shy once more. The doubled illusion of the child-yet-man shimmered before Miroku as the sight of his wet, naked body and that stunningly beautiful cock made his head swim.
“We need to get back to our companions,” he murmured, attempting to muster conviction while wiping the water from his body and squeezing wetness from the gauntlet that covered his cursed hand.
Inuyasha watched and nodded slowly, beginning to draw his hands down his own body in similar fashion. Then, in a flash, he saw himself. That cock. His eyes widened. He looked at Miroku then down at himself again. His eyes narrowed and his brow wrinkled. He shook his head a little then looked down at the pole between his legs once more. He reached out a hand to grab it but decided otherwise. And then, looking straight into Miroku’s eyes, he began to laugh. A beautiful child’s delighted laughter. A bursting silliness at the absurd. A sound no adult could make and no child should ever stop making. Inuyasha pushed out his hips and the mirage of a little boy holding a tree branch out from between his legs as a joke was as obvious as it was familiar. Look at me, pretending I’m grown. Look at me, making fun of that pitiful state of adulthood.
Miroku caught on in an instant and found himself laughing, too. Inuyasha’s innocent magic was irresistible. The two nude men stood in the grass, laughing until they could no longer even remain standing and collapsed into each other’s arms. Miroku felt drunk with the gift of this brief respite from adulthood, as precious gift as the trust and faith that shone in his friend’s eyes.
- - -
Author’s Wish: Come back to us soon, j. It’s not the same without you.