My Precious
folder
InuYasha › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
9
Views:
7,047
Reviews:
20
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
InuYasha › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
9
Views:
7,047
Reviews:
20
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.
Trust II
Title: Trust II
Author: Saraste
Series: My Precious, part 5
Pairing: Kouga/Miroku, past Inuyasha/Miroku
Rating: series overall PG-13 fluff with some NC-17 naughty.
Genre: romance, post-mpreg, fluff, angst
Warnings: slash, post-mpreg
Wordcount: 2252
A/N: Originally written in January 2009. Depiction of Inuyasha as quite a bastard is deliberate and used as an evil plot device. He's OOC in this fic, get over it please.
* * *
Spring woke the land from it's winter-time slumber as Miroku slowly and apprehensively settled into his new life at the yorouzoku caves.
He was still brittle and apprehensive after so much time spent on his own alone in the mountains with Shin as his sole companion. He shied away from the yorouzoku and their ookami, keeping a polite distance. They youkai members of the pack were curious but made no attempts to approach him at first, respecting his privacy. Most of the males spent their days on hunting trips any way, so it was the women who were most interested about him and his Shin. He was grateful for the space they gave him.
Sango had extended her visit. Their reforged friendship was a great comfort to the monk as he fought so hard to trust others again. To let himself be cared for, letting others into his heart. Feel the warmth of kindness as it was given to him and not doubt it as his broken spirit so very much willed. Miroku was slowly becoming human again.
Learning to live among others.
Sango accompanied him to long walks in the woods and hills, chatting amicably with him and cooing at his son, as Shin explored the wonders of the world from his fathers steady embrace.
It was a joy to behold, seeing the monk with his son.
Miroku was so gentle and understanding, letting his son touch the new leaves and the buds of forest flowers coming up from the ground. He'd swirl around in a circle, holding his son and laughing at Shin's pearly laughter. A loving father. It was evident that without his son the monk would have been lost. For Sango saw him sometimes, an unguarded look of hurt passing over Miroku's eyes when he didn't think no-one looked. It chilled her heart. So much pain. And she vowed to hurt Inuyasha, bad, whenever their paths would cross again. Not even Kagome's disappearance from the hanyou's life justified the way he had discarded Miroku when he'd been with child. Sango shuddered every time she thought about it. The hanyou had been rash, yes, but she'd never seen the kind of cruelty he'd hefted on Miroku under the surface. None of them had, except maybe for Kagome. The taijiya suspected that it had been the real reason the girl stayed in her own time and not returned.
But the look of hurt always disappeared when Miroku beheld his son.
Shin was his reason now, his happiness. A glimmer of hope born from a hopeless relationship. His gift. His son. His precious miracle.
Miroku and Sango averted talking about the old times quite a lot. The first week of Miroku's stay was simply the monk and taijiya getting to know each other again. Sango thought that Shin's birth had perhaps mellowed Miroku a bit, but what had happened between him and Inuaysha had also made him very guarded. She saw how much talking of the past hurt him and did her best to avoid it. She had wounds too from the past, memories she'd willingly forget and she knew Miroku would talk in his own time. She could do nothing but give him the space he needed to mend and come to terms with the past. But Sango would not let him bottle himself up inside, to shut himself off completely like he had.
She did all she could do coax him out of that shell. He didn't even try and rub her bottom any more, the lecher was gone, it seemed. And it disturbed Sango more than she would ever admit. It showed how his adolescent ways had gone, he'd matured. It left her wondering about what would be left of Miroku if the lecher was taken out?
And there was that hollow look in his eyes which Sango didn't like one bit.
She let him be, keep what he willed to himself and simply interacted with him, showing to him that she felt calm in his presence. That she liked his company as she had, in the olden days. Anything to drive off that hallow look.
So she talked.
Talked about anything and everything. Her sorrow for the fact that Kagome was beyond the well now and out of reach, her hurt that Kohaku had not been saved. How badly Shippou had taken the miko's leaving. How she now roamed the lands as a taijiya again, taking him with her and teaching him the tricks of the trade. A sister to the young fox but never the mother Kagome had been.
Telling Miroku how worried she had been when he'd disappeared. Having to stop when she saw the naked hurt in his eyes as he remembered. Starting to talk about mundane things, quick and mellow chatter to let him compose himself. Smiling to him and saying how much she'd missed him.
But nothing Sango did or said rivalled the effect that Kouga had on her friend. Even when he simply walked by. The hollow look dispersed a little and there was something of the old monk back again.
Sango could see that Miroku did his best to deny it but the attraction was there even from his side.
And Kouga, the way he looked at her when he thought she was too close to him. She wished them both good in her heart, hoping that Kouga would be the one to let Miroku feel loved again. If the monk would only let him.
”You need to be patient with him,” she said to the ookami one night when they were still the last one's sitting by the fire at night. Miroku had already gone to sleep in the comfy and warm cave Kouga had given him. She had seen how his eyes had lingered on the monk as he'd left with his sleeping son in his arms.
Kouga sighed.
”I know!” he huffed. “But when I look at him, he smells so defeated,” he looked at her with raw dejection shining in his eyes. He was never one to hold back, his copious declarations of affection for Kagome testament to the fact.
'All I want to do is hold him and make it all right. He thinks I don't see. But I do. Next time I see Inuaysha I'll rip him a new one...'
Kouga sighed.
Sango nodded an understanding and encouraging smile on her lips. She lay her had on his arm and patted it.
”Give him time. He's been hurt so much already. Don't rush it.” She smiled at him in the dim, flickering light of the fire. ”I'm sure he would appreciate that.”
They both trailed off into silence, the taijiya looking at the yorouzoku leader, her friend, with compassion in her heart. Kouga had been without a mate for so long and for him to show interest in anyone since after Kagome had left was a good sign. And Sango could see he was far more serious about the young monk than what he'd ever been about the girl.
They had both grown, the young miko's influence still lingering on in the life's her presence among them had touched. She had shown with her exuberant optimism that life wasn't the gruelling endless battle most of them had begun to see it as. There was laughter and love, they just needed to seize it.
The cool spring night wrapped around the youkai and the taijiya with a promise of new life and opportunities. They would have to see what it would bring to fruit.
* * * *
Miroku was avoiding Kouga.
He simply couldn't help it and disliked the way he felt around the youkai. He couldn't afford to fall for him. He couldn't. Couldn't do that to Shin. He'd be better of alone, he was more alert and whole that way. Whole, but with a gaping wound in his soul, left by what he'd wished and hoped would have been a happy life with Inuyasha.
Having Shin had changed things for him.
Miroku had someone he needed to care for, provide for and protect. Someone he couldn't let down. And never would. That was the reason why he was so afraid now. He had found a place here to raise his son, he hoped to be able to stay for as long as Shin was little. There'd be no change he'd be able to travel with an infant in tow. He needed to stay for as long as he could.
He couldn't afford to have something with Kouga, only for it to be snatched away. The pack would never allow their leader to be with a human. And surely Kouga wouldn't want him? Inuyasha's leftovers. Cast aside once, Miroku was petrified to trust again.
Shin was all he had and would ever have. He was damaged goods, torn inside and scared. Better off alone, his love for his son only. Nothing more, nothing less. A devoted heart going mad in it's isolation... A life centring around his son. A steady, uneventful existence. He couldn't hope for better. And yet his heart deceived his head. There was an attraction there.
And Miroku couldn't deny it however much he wished to.
So he avoided the yorouzoku chieftain.
* * * *
After the first week it was impossible to avoid the curious pack members. Especially the women. Miroku was glad for Sango's moral support as a small group of young mothers finally accosted them one day. Sitting down with them, Miroku looked at them with curious and apprehensive eyes. He saw no malice, no taunts ready to fall from those
smiling lips. But that didn't mean the intent wouldn't be there.
And he hated himself for his lack of trust and brittle heart.
“Nice to meet you, houshi-sama,” a pretty red head with a baby in her arms addressed him, a slight blush on her cheeks. “I'm Aimi.” Her eyes looked at the child in Miroku's arms with abundant curiosity.
Sango lay a hand to Miroku's arm to soothe him, to stop the slight shiver that run through the monk's body. He breathed deep and decided to not run any more. He needed to start somewhere. Shin deserved to be surrounded by people as he grew up. People to trust and to look up to, people he could aspire to be like as he grew up. The youroizoku were fierce warriors and loyal. Miroku couldn't hope for a better environment for his child to grow up in. Kouga had given him a home when he had none, all he could do to try and repay was accept the friendship his people were eager to give him, it seemed.
“Nice to meet you, Aimi-san...” He shuffled Shin's weight in his arms and looked at her baby with curiosity. Before his Shin he hadn't been that much around babies, despite his perpetual asking of women to carry one for him. And the way he'd been shunned during his pregnancy he hadn't had any shared experiences on the subject of motherhood. He suddenly realized how happy he was for having the chance now. “And may I ask who's this?” He asked the young woman.
“Her name is Miu...” Aimi answered, moving her child so Miroku could see her better.
“She's beautiful,” Miroku breathed out as he looked at the sleeping baby, she seemed to be not so much older than his Shin. “This is Shin,” the monk introduced his son, gushing with pride, to the little circle of mothers around them.
“He's adorable!” Aimi chirruped, clearly fascinated by Shin's little ears, watching them twitch as the baby looked at all the faces around him with his amber eyes. Miroku envied his easily gained trust. There had been nothing but love in his son's life. No abuse, no hate, no slurs directed at him, telling him how disgusting he was for having fallen into such a predicament. He'd been spared the abuse his mother had gone through while carrying him. Called names...
What an abomination he was for being born from a man.
And as Miroku looked around now, looked at the eager smiling faces around him, he noticed there were actually two young men among the group of six. His eyes widened in surprise. Aini, who seemed to have taken the lead in the introductions now the ice was broken, noticed his gaze.
“Yes, it is fairly common among us youkai for males to breed too, to carry life within oneself, like you see Naoki here,” she explained readily, gesturing at the one member of the little group besides Sango who wasn't pregnant.
A dark haired male yourozoku nodded his head, his hand resting on his heavily pregnant belly. He seemed a fidgety young thing. But he looked at Miroku with envy and the monk realized. He was like him. A male with the ability to carry young.
“Nice to meet you, Miroku-sama. I'm Naoki,” the young yourozoku introduced himself. He avoided direct eye-contact with Miroku but seemed to be enraptured with the child in the monk's arms.
“Nice to meet you, Naoki.”
And just like that, among new friends as introductions were being made, Miroku began to trust again, little by little.
From his concealed spot in the trees, watching the monk interact, Kouga smiled. There was hope for them, it seemed. At least to him it seemed so. His monk was mending bit by bit.
And he'd give him all the time he needed before making his move.
Author: Saraste
Series: My Precious, part 5
Pairing: Kouga/Miroku, past Inuyasha/Miroku
Rating: series overall PG-13 fluff with some NC-17 naughty.
Genre: romance, post-mpreg, fluff, angst
Warnings: slash, post-mpreg
Wordcount: 2252
A/N: Originally written in January 2009. Depiction of Inuyasha as quite a bastard is deliberate and used as an evil plot device. He's OOC in this fic, get over it please.
* * *
Spring woke the land from it's winter-time slumber as Miroku slowly and apprehensively settled into his new life at the yorouzoku caves.
He was still brittle and apprehensive after so much time spent on his own alone in the mountains with Shin as his sole companion. He shied away from the yorouzoku and their ookami, keeping a polite distance. They youkai members of the pack were curious but made no attempts to approach him at first, respecting his privacy. Most of the males spent their days on hunting trips any way, so it was the women who were most interested about him and his Shin. He was grateful for the space they gave him.
Sango had extended her visit. Their reforged friendship was a great comfort to the monk as he fought so hard to trust others again. To let himself be cared for, letting others into his heart. Feel the warmth of kindness as it was given to him and not doubt it as his broken spirit so very much willed. Miroku was slowly becoming human again.
Learning to live among others.
Sango accompanied him to long walks in the woods and hills, chatting amicably with him and cooing at his son, as Shin explored the wonders of the world from his fathers steady embrace.
It was a joy to behold, seeing the monk with his son.
Miroku was so gentle and understanding, letting his son touch the new leaves and the buds of forest flowers coming up from the ground. He'd swirl around in a circle, holding his son and laughing at Shin's pearly laughter. A loving father. It was evident that without his son the monk would have been lost. For Sango saw him sometimes, an unguarded look of hurt passing over Miroku's eyes when he didn't think no-one looked. It chilled her heart. So much pain. And she vowed to hurt Inuyasha, bad, whenever their paths would cross again. Not even Kagome's disappearance from the hanyou's life justified the way he had discarded Miroku when he'd been with child. Sango shuddered every time she thought about it. The hanyou had been rash, yes, but she'd never seen the kind of cruelty he'd hefted on Miroku under the surface. None of them had, except maybe for Kagome. The taijiya suspected that it had been the real reason the girl stayed in her own time and not returned.
But the look of hurt always disappeared when Miroku beheld his son.
Shin was his reason now, his happiness. A glimmer of hope born from a hopeless relationship. His gift. His son. His precious miracle.
Miroku and Sango averted talking about the old times quite a lot. The first week of Miroku's stay was simply the monk and taijiya getting to know each other again. Sango thought that Shin's birth had perhaps mellowed Miroku a bit, but what had happened between him and Inuaysha had also made him very guarded. She saw how much talking of the past hurt him and did her best to avoid it. She had wounds too from the past, memories she'd willingly forget and she knew Miroku would talk in his own time. She could do nothing but give him the space he needed to mend and come to terms with the past. But Sango would not let him bottle himself up inside, to shut himself off completely like he had.
She did all she could do coax him out of that shell. He didn't even try and rub her bottom any more, the lecher was gone, it seemed. And it disturbed Sango more than she would ever admit. It showed how his adolescent ways had gone, he'd matured. It left her wondering about what would be left of Miroku if the lecher was taken out?
And there was that hollow look in his eyes which Sango didn't like one bit.
She let him be, keep what he willed to himself and simply interacted with him, showing to him that she felt calm in his presence. That she liked his company as she had, in the olden days. Anything to drive off that hallow look.
So she talked.
Talked about anything and everything. Her sorrow for the fact that Kagome was beyond the well now and out of reach, her hurt that Kohaku had not been saved. How badly Shippou had taken the miko's leaving. How she now roamed the lands as a taijiya again, taking him with her and teaching him the tricks of the trade. A sister to the young fox but never the mother Kagome had been.
Telling Miroku how worried she had been when he'd disappeared. Having to stop when she saw the naked hurt in his eyes as he remembered. Starting to talk about mundane things, quick and mellow chatter to let him compose himself. Smiling to him and saying how much she'd missed him.
But nothing Sango did or said rivalled the effect that Kouga had on her friend. Even when he simply walked by. The hollow look dispersed a little and there was something of the old monk back again.
Sango could see that Miroku did his best to deny it but the attraction was there even from his side.
And Kouga, the way he looked at her when he thought she was too close to him. She wished them both good in her heart, hoping that Kouga would be the one to let Miroku feel loved again. If the monk would only let him.
”You need to be patient with him,” she said to the ookami one night when they were still the last one's sitting by the fire at night. Miroku had already gone to sleep in the comfy and warm cave Kouga had given him. She had seen how his eyes had lingered on the monk as he'd left with his sleeping son in his arms.
Kouga sighed.
”I know!” he huffed. “But when I look at him, he smells so defeated,” he looked at her with raw dejection shining in his eyes. He was never one to hold back, his copious declarations of affection for Kagome testament to the fact.
'All I want to do is hold him and make it all right. He thinks I don't see. But I do. Next time I see Inuaysha I'll rip him a new one...'
Kouga sighed.
Sango nodded an understanding and encouraging smile on her lips. She lay her had on his arm and patted it.
”Give him time. He's been hurt so much already. Don't rush it.” She smiled at him in the dim, flickering light of the fire. ”I'm sure he would appreciate that.”
They both trailed off into silence, the taijiya looking at the yorouzoku leader, her friend, with compassion in her heart. Kouga had been without a mate for so long and for him to show interest in anyone since after Kagome had left was a good sign. And Sango could see he was far more serious about the young monk than what he'd ever been about the girl.
They had both grown, the young miko's influence still lingering on in the life's her presence among them had touched. She had shown with her exuberant optimism that life wasn't the gruelling endless battle most of them had begun to see it as. There was laughter and love, they just needed to seize it.
The cool spring night wrapped around the youkai and the taijiya with a promise of new life and opportunities. They would have to see what it would bring to fruit.
* * * *
Miroku was avoiding Kouga.
He simply couldn't help it and disliked the way he felt around the youkai. He couldn't afford to fall for him. He couldn't. Couldn't do that to Shin. He'd be better of alone, he was more alert and whole that way. Whole, but with a gaping wound in his soul, left by what he'd wished and hoped would have been a happy life with Inuyasha.
Having Shin had changed things for him.
Miroku had someone he needed to care for, provide for and protect. Someone he couldn't let down. And never would. That was the reason why he was so afraid now. He had found a place here to raise his son, he hoped to be able to stay for as long as Shin was little. There'd be no change he'd be able to travel with an infant in tow. He needed to stay for as long as he could.
He couldn't afford to have something with Kouga, only for it to be snatched away. The pack would never allow their leader to be with a human. And surely Kouga wouldn't want him? Inuyasha's leftovers. Cast aside once, Miroku was petrified to trust again.
Shin was all he had and would ever have. He was damaged goods, torn inside and scared. Better off alone, his love for his son only. Nothing more, nothing less. A devoted heart going mad in it's isolation... A life centring around his son. A steady, uneventful existence. He couldn't hope for better. And yet his heart deceived his head. There was an attraction there.
And Miroku couldn't deny it however much he wished to.
So he avoided the yorouzoku chieftain.
* * * *
After the first week it was impossible to avoid the curious pack members. Especially the women. Miroku was glad for Sango's moral support as a small group of young mothers finally accosted them one day. Sitting down with them, Miroku looked at them with curious and apprehensive eyes. He saw no malice, no taunts ready to fall from those
smiling lips. But that didn't mean the intent wouldn't be there.
And he hated himself for his lack of trust and brittle heart.
“Nice to meet you, houshi-sama,” a pretty red head with a baby in her arms addressed him, a slight blush on her cheeks. “I'm Aimi.” Her eyes looked at the child in Miroku's arms with abundant curiosity.
Sango lay a hand to Miroku's arm to soothe him, to stop the slight shiver that run through the monk's body. He breathed deep and decided to not run any more. He needed to start somewhere. Shin deserved to be surrounded by people as he grew up. People to trust and to look up to, people he could aspire to be like as he grew up. The youroizoku were fierce warriors and loyal. Miroku couldn't hope for a better environment for his child to grow up in. Kouga had given him a home when he had none, all he could do to try and repay was accept the friendship his people were eager to give him, it seemed.
“Nice to meet you, Aimi-san...” He shuffled Shin's weight in his arms and looked at her baby with curiosity. Before his Shin he hadn't been that much around babies, despite his perpetual asking of women to carry one for him. And the way he'd been shunned during his pregnancy he hadn't had any shared experiences on the subject of motherhood. He suddenly realized how happy he was for having the chance now. “And may I ask who's this?” He asked the young woman.
“Her name is Miu...” Aimi answered, moving her child so Miroku could see her better.
“She's beautiful,” Miroku breathed out as he looked at the sleeping baby, she seemed to be not so much older than his Shin. “This is Shin,” the monk introduced his son, gushing with pride, to the little circle of mothers around them.
“He's adorable!” Aimi chirruped, clearly fascinated by Shin's little ears, watching them twitch as the baby looked at all the faces around him with his amber eyes. Miroku envied his easily gained trust. There had been nothing but love in his son's life. No abuse, no hate, no slurs directed at him, telling him how disgusting he was for having fallen into such a predicament. He'd been spared the abuse his mother had gone through while carrying him. Called names...
What an abomination he was for being born from a man.
And as Miroku looked around now, looked at the eager smiling faces around him, he noticed there were actually two young men among the group of six. His eyes widened in surprise. Aini, who seemed to have taken the lead in the introductions now the ice was broken, noticed his gaze.
“Yes, it is fairly common among us youkai for males to breed too, to carry life within oneself, like you see Naoki here,” she explained readily, gesturing at the one member of the little group besides Sango who wasn't pregnant.
A dark haired male yourozoku nodded his head, his hand resting on his heavily pregnant belly. He seemed a fidgety young thing. But he looked at Miroku with envy and the monk realized. He was like him. A male with the ability to carry young.
“Nice to meet you, Miroku-sama. I'm Naoki,” the young yourozoku introduced himself. He avoided direct eye-contact with Miroku but seemed to be enraptured with the child in the monk's arms.
“Nice to meet you, Naoki.”
And just like that, among new friends as introductions were being made, Miroku began to trust again, little by little.
From his concealed spot in the trees, watching the monk interact, Kouga smiled. There was hope for them, it seemed. At least to him it seemed so. His monk was mending bit by bit.
And he'd give him all the time he needed before making his move.