Miroku and Kagome: 36 tales of love and lust
folder
InuYasha › Het - Male/Female › Miroku/Kagome
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
29
Views:
11,707
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
2
Currently Reading:
2
Category:
InuYasha › Het - Male/Female › Miroku/Kagome
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
29
Views:
11,707
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
2
Currently Reading:
2
Disclaimer:
I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.
Siren's Call - Theme: Haunted
disclaimer: The characters and world of InuYasha are not mine, they are property of Rumiko Takahashi, Shogakukan, Yomiuri TV, Sunrise, and Viz. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Siren's Call
By Sarga
Miroku pulsed smoothly inside his lover, her slick heat encasing him fully as they melded, body to body. Bone-deep moans pulled themselves from her depths and Miroku found himself languishing in her pleasure, almost as if it were his own. Whispers on her lips, so tantalizing, teased his ears. Unable to hear her words of passion for their low volume, he leaned in and kissed her sweat-slicked neck, licking the juncture at the pulse-point. He was pulled over the edge with the feel of her rippling orgasm but was chilled to the bone when he finally heard her passion-filled whisper...
“Inuyasha...”
Miroku sat up abruptly, the chill of his dream leaving his sweaty skin clammy. Rubbing the bridge of his nose wearily, he forcefully reminded himself that it was just a dream. Taking a deep breath, he glanced to his side where the priestess in question was sleeping in one of those ridiculous fuzzy outfits she called pyjamas.
Breath... in, out.
It was just a dream.
Breath... in, out.
Even if it had happened.
Miroku snorted in frustration and stood from the bed that they shared in the hut that had been given to them while in Kaede's village. Their home.
Kagome didn't realize her deepest fantasy had become his darkest shame. He was constantly haunted by the sound of her voice whispering the name of his best friend. Sure, he had known coming in that he was no match for the half-demon, but that she was whispering another man's name when she was with him! It was demoralizing, it was degrading... yet he kept coming back for more.
Miroku was addicted. It was as if, by calling another man's name, the priestess was challenging him to make her call his name, as if she were taunting him, telling him he would never be what she needed; that he was second best.
But that's exactly what he was and always would be, second best.
Pulling on his outer robes, Miroku stepped into the chilly night, intent upon relieving some of his frustration with a short walk around the village. The lone journey could not prevent his mind from drifting back to the circumstances that kept the monk from being truly happy.
Kagome's eyes were always closed.
Miroku stared unseeing ahead of himself, lost in thought.
Whenever they made love, her eyes were closed. They would drift shut soon after he would lay her beneath him. If he were pleasuring her with tongue and finger, by the time he lifted his gaze, hers would be unobtainable. If he pushed inside of her while standing, her eyes would flutter closed right away.
Worst yet, Miroku didn't know what Kagome's eyes looked like when she came.
Seeing the dawn crest the horizon, Miroku followed weary feet back to his hut, knowing this would not be the last night her closed eyes and false whispers kept him from sleep.
When Miroku entered the hut, Kagome was already up and dressed. The small fire, stoked for breakfast, gave the small room the heat it needed to take the morning's chill from his weary bones.
Kami, why did he feel so much like an old man?
“I trust you slept well, my love?” Miroku smiled warmly at the woman he was pathetically attached to.
Kagome nodded once, averting her eyes and giving him the same humouring half-smile she always gave him when he called her by that particular pet name.
“I've made breakfast, Miroku. Nothing too fancy, but it doesn't taste burnt.”
Ah, ever-evasive.
“Thank you,” Miroku purposefully brushed his hand along hers as she passed him his bowl, drawing her gaze to his. Her coquettish smile answered him and she 'accidentally' brushed her hand against his arm.
These little touches weren't about the sex, dammit! If it weren't for the delightful shivers that trailed down his spine from her touch, like wraiths whose master sought to lead him astray, he might be able to voice such a fact. Unable to deny her, unwilling to deny himself, Miroku succumbed to his desires, moving in on the woman who was every inch a siren – enticing, alluring... deadly.
Miroku kissed Kagome like a drowning man clawing for air. Insatiable, he watched with heavy-lidded dread as her own drifted closed... he was losing her again, and, Kami help him, he had to let her go.
Miroku closed his own eyes, his own fantasy playing in his mind before him.
As Miroku fell into Kagome, he imagined that her eyes were wide and the name she called was his and his alone...
Siren's Call
By Sarga
Miroku pulsed smoothly inside his lover, her slick heat encasing him fully as they melded, body to body. Bone-deep moans pulled themselves from her depths and Miroku found himself languishing in her pleasure, almost as if it were his own. Whispers on her lips, so tantalizing, teased his ears. Unable to hear her words of passion for their low volume, he leaned in and kissed her sweat-slicked neck, licking the juncture at the pulse-point. He was pulled over the edge with the feel of her rippling orgasm but was chilled to the bone when he finally heard her passion-filled whisper...
“Inuyasha...”
Miroku sat up abruptly, the chill of his dream leaving his sweaty skin clammy. Rubbing the bridge of his nose wearily, he forcefully reminded himself that it was just a dream. Taking a deep breath, he glanced to his side where the priestess in question was sleeping in one of those ridiculous fuzzy outfits she called pyjamas.
Breath... in, out.
It was just a dream.
Breath... in, out.
Even if it had happened.
Miroku snorted in frustration and stood from the bed that they shared in the hut that had been given to them while in Kaede's village. Their home.
Kagome didn't realize her deepest fantasy had become his darkest shame. He was constantly haunted by the sound of her voice whispering the name of his best friend. Sure, he had known coming in that he was no match for the half-demon, but that she was whispering another man's name when she was with him! It was demoralizing, it was degrading... yet he kept coming back for more.
Miroku was addicted. It was as if, by calling another man's name, the priestess was challenging him to make her call his name, as if she were taunting him, telling him he would never be what she needed; that he was second best.
But that's exactly what he was and always would be, second best.
Pulling on his outer robes, Miroku stepped into the chilly night, intent upon relieving some of his frustration with a short walk around the village. The lone journey could not prevent his mind from drifting back to the circumstances that kept the monk from being truly happy.
Kagome's eyes were always closed.
Miroku stared unseeing ahead of himself, lost in thought.
Whenever they made love, her eyes were closed. They would drift shut soon after he would lay her beneath him. If he were pleasuring her with tongue and finger, by the time he lifted his gaze, hers would be unobtainable. If he pushed inside of her while standing, her eyes would flutter closed right away.
Worst yet, Miroku didn't know what Kagome's eyes looked like when she came.
Seeing the dawn crest the horizon, Miroku followed weary feet back to his hut, knowing this would not be the last night her closed eyes and false whispers kept him from sleep.
When Miroku entered the hut, Kagome was already up and dressed. The small fire, stoked for breakfast, gave the small room the heat it needed to take the morning's chill from his weary bones.
Kami, why did he feel so much like an old man?
“I trust you slept well, my love?” Miroku smiled warmly at the woman he was pathetically attached to.
Kagome nodded once, averting her eyes and giving him the same humouring half-smile she always gave him when he called her by that particular pet name.
“I've made breakfast, Miroku. Nothing too fancy, but it doesn't taste burnt.”
Ah, ever-evasive.
“Thank you,” Miroku purposefully brushed his hand along hers as she passed him his bowl, drawing her gaze to his. Her coquettish smile answered him and she 'accidentally' brushed her hand against his arm.
These little touches weren't about the sex, dammit! If it weren't for the delightful shivers that trailed down his spine from her touch, like wraiths whose master sought to lead him astray, he might be able to voice such a fact. Unable to deny her, unwilling to deny himself, Miroku succumbed to his desires, moving in on the woman who was every inch a siren – enticing, alluring... deadly.
Miroku kissed Kagome like a drowning man clawing for air. Insatiable, he watched with heavy-lidded dread as her own drifted closed... he was losing her again, and, Kami help him, he had to let her go.
Miroku closed his own eyes, his own fantasy playing in his mind before him.
As Miroku fell into Kagome, he imagined that her eyes were wide and the name she called was his and his alone...