Resurrection of a Monk II

© Salome Wilde, 2008

Resurrection of a Monk II

Author’s Note: This chapter was co-written by me and the magnificent pseudohanyou, who became Miroku to my Sesshomaru as we composed together. I am honored that she shared her talent and touched me so deeply with her desperate, pleading Miroku. That Sesshomaru was willing to offer so many “worthless words” to the monk attests to his determined allure in her capable hands. The editing and framing is mine and I take responsibility for its flaws. Most of all, I hope the experiment pleases.

Dedication: This is, of course, for you, gakusei.

Chapter 3

Don't go...Gods, don't go, Miroku thought. How he had come to this desperate state he neither knew nor cared. His thoughts raced faster than his hurried heartbeat. Why are you toying with me in this way? Why didn't you look at me? You know I'm here…you know I'm dying. I want to run after you, but they'll see. They'll see that I am yours…and…I don't care. The monk rose, turning away from Inuyasha as he retrieved and resheathed Tessaiga, and then he ran. He would follow and find Lord Sesshomaru—and never look back.

Miroku was stunned when only a dozen running strides brought him within sight of his magnificent lord. You pretend that you don't see me. Liar. His thoughts emboldened him. “Wait! Come back! Take me with you…please. I can’t stay with them. Do you hear me? I cannot stay here! Stop walking!”

And then the miracle occurred. Sesshomaru paused.

There it is: that tiny halt in your step, Miroku remarked with a fragile smile. The same one you gave me when I called out to you that first time. Are you truly going to stop for me? His chest felt tight and his eyes burned. Sesshomaru knew it, smelled it. The monk felt certain of that. Stop for me, my god, my master, he silently pleaded. What is this? Am I supposed to say something? Will you listen if I do? Gods, my heart is racing.... “I...I don't know what to say to you. Take me with you. I have said that already, but it is the only thought that rushes through me again and again. You're leaving. Don't go. Take me with you.”

Sesshomaru turned.

Miroku held his breath. Your eyes; I can finally see your eyes. And suddenly, he could not help but pour forth words, more words, anything to keep those eyes upon him: “Please. All else is nothing to me. Keep me, keep me as you do the girl and the toad. I know begging won't do, I know this Sesshomaru-sama. But you're leaving and I...I cannot let you go. Not again. Forgive me for my decision to return to them. I didn't realize. I didn't know how you…how we…would haunt me.”

Sesshomaru was stillness made flesh. He stood before the monk, unmoving and unresponsive, glaring down at the ranting human before him. He tasted his fear, desperation, and desire in the air between them.

“Yes,” Miroku begged, “look at me the way you did before you fucked me. That glint I saw before I felt your claw probing me, before I felt your cock inside of me. Before I knew what it was to be owned by a demon.” He panted with need. His voice rasped, his nails bit into his fisted palms. “You see that I am yours. You know that I would betray even them. Take me with you. I have no other words.”

Sesshomaru narrowed his golden eyes and the monk finally fell silent. The darkness surrounded them and the silence stretched before them. After long moments, the daiyokai spoke. “What could make you think that such words would sway me, monk? One or a thousand: worthless air from a worthless human.”

Miroku staggered. He fought back the unfamiliar sting of tears seeking to form in his haunted eyes. “You were leaving…I couldn't let you leave. What was I to do? What, other than words, would have halted you?”

“That is your question, fool,” Sesshomaru scoffed. “You have proven your weakness. What have you to offer me in the face of that?”

“My devotion, Sesshomaru-sama. I will not be weak in serving you.” And the realization became as clear as the power in Sesshomaru’s gaze: “It is only when I am not near you that I feel this desperation.”

“I seem to collect the worthless like burrs on a monk's robes,” Sesshomaru mused. He paused, blinked slowly, then spoke again. He extended a languid hand, pointing a poisoned-tipped claw at the monk. “Kill Inuyasha for me. Prove yourself worthy.”

Miroku responded without pause. “Yes, Sesshomaru-sama. If this is what you ask of me, this is what I will do. If I can worship you in this way, I shall. Only promise that you will keep me if I do…”

“You answer so swiftly.” Sesshomaru fought to restrain the trace of emotion in his voice. The presumptuous monk had too much affect on him. Now more than ever. Damn him. Damn Tenseiga. Damn his father. He took a deep, slow breath and regained control. “More words, monk. I see in your eyes the truth, that you will say anything.”

“Yes, Sesshomaru-sama,” Miroku quickly agreed. “Anything. Anything that will sway you to keep me…. But I shall honor my words. Air to you they may be, but they express my devotion.”

Sesshomaru took in the sight and scent of Miroku’s increasing arousal. He saw need. And recognition of power in those wide eyes. Devotion. Human devotion. If he could be moved by it, he was unworthy of it.

“I need you, my Lord. I need you to not abandon me.”

“Abandon?” Sesshomaru said, cool disdain once again ringing sonorously in his words. “I offered you my protection. I honored you every time I touched your worthless body.”

“Yes, Sesshomaru-sama. And I ran. I ran because I am a fool. And I beg your forgiveness now. I will do this thing. I will do this thing for you. Keep me. Let me adore you.”

Curiosity was now at play for the inuyokai. The pleasure of control over little lives. “And Inuyasha?” he asked evenly. “Do you not value his life?”

The calmer Sesshomaru’s voice became, the more passionate grew the monk’s. “Perhaps once, yes. I did. But that is of no consequence now. If you will not have me, he will not save me from the torment. No one can save me but you. And so I say, no, I do not value his life.”

“Well spoken, monk,” Sesshomaru granted, permitting himself to reward the human with praise, for if he was to consider keeping him, he would need to be taught much. “Perhaps you are not a fool in all things.” Then, he pressed him deeper. “And the slayer?”

“Sango?”

“Not of value either?”

“She is no threat to you, my Lord.”

Sesshomaru revealed fangs. “No one is a threat to me, monk.”

“Yes, Sesshomaru-sama,” Miroku replied, blushing hotly. He knew he was a fool to say such things. He felt inside himself and knew that finding peace depended upon fulfilling his master’s needs. Only purging his stubborn thoughts and selfish whims like a sacrificial offering would bring him what he longed for, but he needed help to shed the last vestiges of willfulness and pride. Without wishing to speak again, he found himself doing so: “What consequence does her life hold in accordance with yours? She will not follow you.”

Sesshomaru sensed the tension, understood the battle was not between himself and the monk but within the monk’s own frail human soul. There was no threat here, only a spectacle he would observe until it no longer interested him. “Monk: I would not have her. Yet, neither is Inuyasha a threat, merely an irritation. Yet you would strike him down for me. If you are able.”

“I will.”

“He is weak, monk, but he can destroy you.”

Miroku winced. Did Sesshomaru think so little of his skills? He looked up at the tall, elegant figure of strength before him. Why should he feel anything but disgust? The monk knew he would have to change this, show himself worthy of this deed at least. Holding his head high, he spoke with the bravery of a man determined to earn the prize he sought. “I am able, my Lord. I am able because your bidding guides me. And I know of a time when he cannot.”

“Ah, so you will not face Inuyasha when he is strong but when he is vulnerable. Pathetic monk, why would I want so feeble a follower as you?”

Miroku was silent a moment, stunned by Lord Sesshomaru’s continued resistance and scorn. Was there no reaching him? Yet, wait. He forced himself to know that his god could depart at any moment he wished, or end Miroku’s life without a second thought. And he did not.

Sesshomaru smelled the monk’s impetuous courage and furthered his advance. “And if I bid you to destroy them all? The nekomata, the kitsune, the miko, the slayer: all?”

“I would obey,” he pronounced. Still, he was weak, and his words could not help but reflect it. “But why would you ask such a thing of me? Is my promise to carry out your initial request not proof enough? I only want you to take me with you. I don't want to see them again…”

Did the pathetic creature dare to question his judgment? Sesshomaru growled in his throat before he could stop himself. What was this affect the monk had on him? Would it torment him always? Pushing pointless self-inquiry from his mind, the yokai lashed out and took Miroku by the throat.

Miroku gasped, whimpered. “This...this is all I could ever ask of you, Sesshomaru-sama.”

Sesshomaru sensed no fear as he gripped his prey. The moment was ripe, satisfying, good. “If I choose to end your life now, monk? Is that what you truly seek? A way out of your pitiful existence? Discontented with what you had, unable to attain what you desire?” His eyes bore into Miroku’s as his claws began to dig into his flesh.

“No, Sesshomaru-sama,” he replied, despite the pressure at his throat. “I seek your forgiveness.” He burned with a shame that enhanced his desire and banished fear, come what may. He had never felt more alive. “I seek the feel of you. I cannot have that unless I am alive. No, I do not seek death. My existence is pitiful...only when it does not include you as my master.”

Sesshomaru loosened but did not release his grip. He moved in to his quarry. He could smell the monk’s sweet, mortal breath. “Forgiveness? Forgiveness implies that I care about your life enough to feel anger—which I do not. Or regret—which I do not. You flatter, monk, with that lecherous, untrustworthy tongue.”

“I could please you as well with this tongue, if that is your wish.”

Sesshomaru refused the smile that sought to form on his face. “I know what your body offers, monk. And that it offered any diversion at all is more honor than your life deserves.”

Oh yes, thought Miroku. I understand this. I am not worthy of the air between us. Yet you desire me, Sesshomaru-sama. You do. He let his eyelids slowly drift down, and bent his head in an exquisite sign of true submission.

Sesshomaru felt his body stir. The thought of Inuyasha killed by his former trusted ally, the knowledge that the monk truly, wholly was offering himself, and the awareness that he actually wanted that offering blended together and simmered within him. “Let me see you at my feet again, monk.” The monk obeyed, instantly. And Sesshomaru could not but recall how very right he looked there.

“It is where I belong,” Miroku murmured in tacit agreement with Sesshomaru’s thought.

Sesshomaru reach out a slippered foot to press him down. “If you belong anywhere, worthless monk, it is with your face to the earth before me.”

“If that will please you, my Lord...”

“You do not have it in you to truly please me. And, hear me well, monk: pleasure is not what life is for. Life is about power. Attaining it and retaining it.”

“Your power is over me.”

“Yes. And you are worthy to me only as you enhance my power.” He enjoyed the feel of his foot, resting on the monk’s back. “Humans are simple to awe, monk. It is why your submission has not power enough to move me.”

“Let me touch you and I shall move you in a way words cannot accomplish.”

So boastful, this monk was. “Fool,” replied Sesshomaru, even as he felt his arousal swell. “Show me.”