There's a First Time for Everything

It was the sound of her name that got her attention. She had come to this place in one of her rare moments of solitude, intending to sneak a bath, but had ended up simply staring at her reflection in the water. Staring, and wondering.

Her yukata hung loosely, slightly open; she was not brave enough to remove it altogether. She was looking for something, some reason that her body had suddenly turned against her. That was a lie. It wasn't sudden. The betrayal had begun the moment she met Miroku.

At the sound of his voice, and it just had to be him, she clutched the robe shut and scowled. Couldn't she have even a few moments alone?

"Am I interrupting something?" He just had to make everything sound so… dirty.

"I thought I might take a bath."

"Oh, is that all?"

She glared at him over her shoulder. He was closer than she'd thought. "Pervert."

"So you had no intention of doing anything else?" Just a few words, carelessly uttered, and her composure was completely shattered.

"N-no!" But he was right: she'd thought about it, how it would feel to touch herself where those sensations he evoked were driving her to distraction. Oh, that traitorous body of hers!

His hands were suddenly on her shoulders, drawing her into his embrace.

"You've never done this before, have you?" He already knew the answer; she didn't need to say anything. His hands slipped down her arms, his fingers interlaced with hers. His hands were warm as they pulled hers up to cup her breasts. His voice was a mere whisper at her ear: "Let me show you."

And he was guiding her down, down so that she sat between his spread legs, so he could look over her shoulder and watch what he did to her.

His hands – her hands – theirs together opened her yukata, slid inside, touched in her in ways, in places she had never thought to be touched.

He eased her gradually up onto his lap, so she could feel his reaction to her, could feel the hardness of his cock pressed against her; a gentle touch effortlessly coaxed her thighs apart. It was wanton, it was wrong, it was –

It was so very right.

A wordless cry, a strangled moan; her breath came hard and fast as her fingers, expertly guided, slid slickly into her folds, rubbing, teasing her in ways she had not realized she wanted, needed to be teased.

And he kept at it, guiding her, finding all the right places until she squirmed and made breathless, incoherent sounds.

Shuddering in his arms, she needed more, struggled to show him just how much. He kept the same merciless pace despite her almost-pleading. She had no choice but to follow. She fought her own pride, but need won out: "Please."

And with that word, he – they – gave her what she wanted. Harder, faster.

Her hands came free, clutching ineffectually at his robes.

He carried on for her, playing over her most sensitive places, driving her relentlessly toward that peak, that something she so desperately sought.

Back arching to press her breasts more firmly into the one hand, she ground her hips against the other, clung to him as if he were a lifeline, came trembling and spasming to her climax.

He held her while she caught her breath, then helped her to her feet and tied her yukata modestly closed. When he rubbed her ass, the normally unwanted caress felt almost… affectionate. "Now get going."

"Eh?"

He grinned. "It's my turn now." He gestured vaguely toward his groin, where his erection protruded visibly despite his robes. "This isn't going to go away on its own –"

Mortified, her face bright red, Sango fled. She heard him chuckle to himself, a low, satisfied sound that sent shivers down her spine, and was struck by the horrifying realization that she wanted to watch.

Slowly but surely, the monk was corrupting her. "Damn you, Miroku!"