Love

I do not own Inu-yasha. If you sue me, all you will get is this ball of lint that I have been collecting since I was four. It's pretig :ig ::shrugs:: it might be worth _something_ . . .

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I blame this entire story on Kuru-chan. This will be full of her influence and includes violence, character death, and explicit sex of the yaoi and yuri variety. You have been warned.

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Chapter One

He paced before the jury box. His voice rose and fell; his hands gestured emphatically and the jurors could not help but be mesmerized. Yes, he owned that courtroom.

"In conclusion, members of the jury, my client seeks only freedom from her unhappy marriage. A marriage which, if I may remind you, she was forced into against her will. Our society considers matrimony a sacred institution as it does freedom. So let us move forward: forward from the reactionary thinking of the past to the thinking of now. To a time when women are not mere spectators in their lives and violence is not a form of love. Your honor."

The dark-haired lawyer nodded to the judge and jury before taking his seat beside his young client. The delicate figure looked up at him with adoration in her bright, garnet eyes and she wasn't the only one. He cut a dashing figure: his hair pulled back into a short pony-tail, mischievous purple eyes under a strong brow, ears rebelliously pierced. His fine suit accented his gracefully thin frame; all the women in the room hung on his every word. Words that expressed his intelligence and passion in a voice that spoke of moonlight and secrets.

The jury filed out. The woman's husband, dark brown hair in a long braid, looked distinctly nervous, as did his lawyer. She smiled sweetly at him across the aisle than made a neck cutting motion with her hand. He glared back then turned, whispering to his council.

"Countess, let's leave the celebration til after the verdict, shall we?"

She pouted, "Oh, all right, but I don't see how we could possibly lose. Did you see those women in the jury? They were falling all over themselves."

He smiled playfully, but set his countenance as the door of the deliberation room creaked open. The case had already been decided. The verdict came back.

"Oh! Mr. Houshi! You don't know what this means to me!" the brunette hugged the trim man enthusiastically, nearly tackling him to the floor.

"It was my honor to help you in your hour of need, Countess," he smiled sincerely, "You are free now and that man won't hurt you any more. It's off to criminal court for him." He laughed, "District Attorney Taijiya is a close friend of mine; he'll get what's coming to him."

"Thank you again from the bottom of my heart, and please, call me Kagura. Oh! and by the way, Miroku, my cousin King Inutaisho is throwing his annual ball next Saturday. I was wondering, would it be too much trouble for you to escort me? It seems I am lacking a date."

He smiled a smile thouldould make one hundred women die of a broken heart, "I would be honored, Kagura, and I accept your invitation. Would you like me to take you to your car?"

She laughed and shook her head, "There's no need. I can make it." She pecked him on the cheek and clicked out of the now-deserted courtroom, "I'll call you tomorrow to sort out the details."

The slim man waved in response and gathered his notes and such into his briefcase, snapping it son yon yet another victory.

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*smack* A hand met a firm behind.

"So I see you've won again, Miroku," owner of said firm behind turned, caramel eyes narrowed dangerously.

He only winked, "Don't I always? Oh, Sango, my love! When will you run away with me?" He fell on his knees, hands clasped in mock pleading.

"This very night! I cannot bear to be away from you a moment longer! I--" the tall and atheletic woman couldn't keep a straight face long enough to finish her line and she collapsed against the wall in laughter. "Miroku," she choked out, calming somewhat, "Does Naraku know you're such a terrible flirt?"

He rose, grinning, and stood in front of his friend, his nose inches from her own, "Of course he does. How else do you think we met?" He quickly kissed her then leapt back out of range of her killer right hook.

"Well, you're safe then, but my Kagome gets very jealous and she is quite scary when she is jealous. She brings her work home sometimes and, being a surgeon, she works around sharp instruments. Let's not do anything to anger her, hmmm?"

"Right, right, hey, good luck on nailing Hiten, like you'll need it."

"Thanks, see you tomorrow, perv."

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Miroku slid wearily into the limo; his briefcase lay forgotten on the floor and he look up through the moonroof with a yawn.

"Will you be making any stops, sir?"

He stifled the yawn behind his hand, "No, thank you. Just home today, Cliff."

"Very well, sir."

The purple-eyed man watched the buildings sweep by as the limo made it's way out of the government sector and into the ritzy district he called home. He sighed with happiness. It was a beautiful fall evening. The sky was like black velvet and the cool breeze that blew his messy bangs was stirring the brilliant gold and red leaves into a frenzy. The season had come late this year: it was already almost December and the trees were still almost fully dressed in their holiday best. It felt wonderful just to be alive. He was a successful and respected lawyer, he lived across from Well Park in a Shikon Avenue penthouse with the love of his life. Could things be anymore perfect?

He stepped lightly from the car and greeted the doorman warmly before going in. Everyone called the tiny old man Gramps. He'd been there as long as anyone could remember and a sweeter man there never was. Miroku whistled snatches of a song as he rode the elevator to the top floor. He had decided he would take a nap before Naraku got home and go over his paperwork after dinner. He was just too damn tired right now.

yawnyawned loudly as the doors opened and he crossed to his door, his footsteps muted by the thick carpeting. Fumbling clumsily with the lock, the dark-haired lawyer eventually made it into the appartment; he hung his coat on the rack and placed his satchel between it and the umbrella stand. He would've just tossed them both over some random chair, but his lover was an incorrigible neat freak and he wanted him to come home to a neat house.

Removing his shoes with a sigh, Miroku padded into the kitchen. He tugged the fridge door open and eyed its contents. Spotting his quarry, he grabbed the carton of milk and popped it open, setting it to his lips.

"You're late," a cold voice came from the kitchen door.

Miroku pulled the carton guiltily away from his mouth, setting it on the counter. "Naraku! You're home!" he rushed over and hugged the older man tightly, nuzzling into his untucked dress shirt and breathing in the scent of mint he loved so much.

"Of course I'm home. My meeting was cancelled, remember? We were supposed to go to dinner."

The smaller man released his hold on Naraku and smacked his head, \dinndinner! I forgot! I'm sorry Nara, there was some problem with the jury and it took ages to--"

He was cut off by a vicious backhand that sent him reeling. His chest hit the counter with a thud he he lay there bonelessly, cheek pressed into the cool tiles. Still stunned from the blow, he lay there, the milk pooling around him, now slightly pink with his blood.

"I don't need to hear your pathetic excuses, Miroku. It's always excuses with you. I'm tired of you and your lies and your filthy ts. ts. After you clean up your mess you can get out."

Miroku began to cry softly as Naraku's footsteps retreated from the kitchen. Hoisting himself off, he mechanically cleaned up the milk from the counter, wringing the dishtowel dry as tears slipped silently down his face. He threw the now-empty carton into the trash and padded into the nearby guest bathroom. The sting of the alcohol pad made him hiss in pain as he dabbed at his cut cheek. Naraku's heavy ring had cut deeply into his cheek and already a faint yellow bruise could be seen. His eyes were already puffy and red from crying and he tried desperately to dry them and return them to normal, but gave up with a sigh and returned the first aid kit to its spot under the sink.

The slight man walked tentatively to the door of the study. A light streamed from under the door and the furious scratching of pen on paper could be heard, the only sound in the quiet house besides the ticking of the clocks. He knocked softly, his heart stopped in his chest, hardly daring to breathe.

"Come in."

Turning the clumsily-large antique-silver knob, Miroku slipped quietly into the room. He stood there, shuffling nervously, gathering his thoughts feeling time creep by for what felt like hours, but was--in reality--probably only a minute or two.

"What do you want?"

The harsh question made him jump, jogging his mind back into the present. Miroku walked timidly over towards the imposing desk and stopped, head bowed, next to Naraku. The man was, by now, leaning back indifferently in his chair.

"Naraku, I--I've cleaned up the mess I made. I'm sorry I was so selfish and thoughtless and that I made you punish me." Here, he dropped to his knees and buried his head in the ruby-eyed man's lap, sobbing, "I'll do anything! Only--only please don't make me leave. I'll do anything to make it up to you! Don't make me leave, I love you!"

The impassive tycoon let Miroku sob into him for a few minutes before standing and pulling the hysterical man to his feet. Hld hld him at arms length, his broken sobs dissovling into silent, shuddering tears.

"You're a mess, Miro," he observed with a tone of amusement in his voice, "And look, you've ruined you favorite suit. It looks as though I'll have to buy you a new one."

Miroku looked up in wonder, "Nara, you're not mad at me anymore?"

The wavy-haired man laughed, "Of course not: I can't ever stay mad at you, Miro. Now, since we missed dinner, how about we go straight to dessert?"

"Nara!" Miroku cuddled happily into the older man, crying this time tears of happiness.

Grinning in triumph, Naraku scooped him up and carried him off to the bedroom. Miroku squealed as he was dropped on the bed and Naraku crawled over him, long black hair cascading around them. He made short work of the soiled suit, tossing it carelessly aside, leaving Miroku naked and blushing on the bed. He leaned back slightly and regarded his prize.

"Beautiful," he mused, sweeping the bangs from his lover's face.

"Stop it Nara! You're making me embarrassed!"

"But you are," he claimed Miroku's neck, suckon ton the pulse. He slowly trailed kisses up to his lips, "My. Beautiful. Little. Miro."

"Hey, I'm not--" Naraku silenced him with a deep kiss, illiciting a moan from Miroku, then pulled quickly away.

"You're a horrible tease," he observed, violet eyes narrowing, "And you're over-dressed. That's unfair."

He started working at the buttons of Naraku's shirt, tongue poking out in concentration. He tossed that aside and moved onto the pants while Naraku watched in amusement, his pale skin slowly being revealed.

"Anxious are we?"

Miroku looked up with a sunny smile, "I missed you."

He shrugged out of his pants, "We saw each other just this morning."

"I know," he was ravishing Naraku's bare chest with his mouth, nibbling hungrily at the flesh as the other removed the tie from his hair, twining his fingers in the short ebony locks. Miroku worked his way downward, teasing the fair flesh with his teeth, but he was stopped just short of his goal. Naraku had flipped him, coming out on top, and had his hands pressing down onto Miroku's shoulders.

"Nara . . . you're hurting me--Oh!" Miroku winced as Naraku traced along his darkening bruise forcefully with his tongue and his arms fluttered uselessly at his sides. Noticing the reaction, he pressed harder and tears sprang from his lover's purple eyes.

Smiling, Naraku licked up the tears then traced the outline of his love's rosy lips with the tips of two fingers. "Open," he ordered. Miroku did so, a question in his eyes. "I want you now. Suck."

He did so, looking up into the other man's eyes which were burning with need. He was feeling slightly nervous, almost as if it was his first time again. Miroku didn't know what Naraku was planning, but if that was all he was going to use for . . .

Naraku pulled his fingers from Miroku's mouth impatiently, sliding his other hand lightly along his side, sending shivers up his spine.

"Nara is that all you're going to--Ah!" two slender fingers entered him forcefully and he cried out against the pain as they stretched him out, "Naraku, I don't think that's going to be enough--"

"Be quiet," Naraku growled, he set Miroku's legs on his shoulders and positioned himself at his entrance, "Stop sniveling like a woman."

He pushed himself in and Miroku screamed in agony. It usually hurt, but briefly and this was far worse than it had ever been. Naraku had not prepared well enough and he was sure he had torn something.

"Nara! Nara, please! Stop!"

Naraku didn't respond. He continued pounding in mercilessly, moaning Miroku's name. Blood was now providing enough help and he touched the spot in Miroku that made the world fade away in a white haze of pleasure. His previous pain was forgotten and he moaned in ecstasy, gasping out broken words, his hands running through his hair.

"Scream out my name Miro. Do it!" he dug his sharp fingernails into Miroku's thighs.

"Nnh, Naraku! Naraku please! Faster!"

Smirking to himself, Naraku quickened his pace. He could tell Miroku was near his release and he hadn't even touched him, his neglected erection twitching uselessly against his creamy stomach. The power. The power he had over this frail creature was intoxicating, enough of an aphrodisiac in itself that just the thought of what he could do to the man aroused him. Miroku was his: mind, body, and soul, and would never even think of leaving him. He was perfect. He was his.

"Mine, mine, mine," Naraku purred as Miroku climaxed, his walls tightening on the man inside him. He fell back limply, panting heavily, as Naraku continued, releasing a short time later. He pulled out slowly and bent down, fiercely cleaning off Miroku's stomach, before falling next to him and claiming his lips. When Naraku pulled away, Miroku was gasping for air and he smiled before biting down hard at the junction of neck and shoulder. Miroku gasped weakly then sighed as his lover licked up the blood and pulled the blankets over them.

"Sleep," he ordered, pulling the short-haired man to him and falling asleep almost instantly.

Miroku briefly considered getting up to do the work he had to do, but if he thought he had been tired before, his earlier fatigue was nothing to what he was feeling now. He closed his eyes and snuggled happily in Naraku's arms, letting all thoughts of the outside world ebb from his mind.

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Send any and all death threats to my other self, Kuru-chan. She happens to be working on the second chapter right now, so she is unavailable for comment. Anyway, love it? Hate it? Let her know!
Soul~chan by proxy