Balancing Act

Sango's rage was an incomparable thing; Miroku could see why Naraku made sure to incite it. Anger had a way of transforming her from ordinary girl into something extraordinary. Her muscles would tighten, she would stand up taller, her eyes would flash. Ah yes, that sight was truly something to behold.

It was usually best to let her be, and wait to approach her until the anger shifted from furious boil to sulking simmer. Usually, things were simpler than today.

She should learn not to let Naraku affect her so much.

But that was a lesson she had to learn on her own, and none of the rest of them could do anything but watch in stunned silence as she stormed away from camp and left a swath of destruction in her wake.

Truly, it was a tantrum more befitting Inuyasha than Sango.

"It's not safe for her to go off alone like that," Kagome commented, compassion and sadness twisting in her eyes. Miroku didn't miss the pointed look she sent his way. He sighed. These days the responsibility for calming Sango fell more and more often to him, rather than to her former confidante, Kagome. He wondered if Kagome was afraid of Sango, or simply did not like the idea of having that anger possibly turned toward her.

He did not much relish the thought, either. But with Kirara tugging with growing irritation at the hem of his robe, it appeared he had little choice.

Reluctantly, he said, "I guess I had best see to her then."

The others said nothing, but he certainly felt like a doomed man as he followed Sango's path into the forest.

At the very least, he supposed, it was easy enough to find her. Talking to her was going to be the problem. What made it more complicated was that he understood, deeply, her need to avenge herself and her comrades, and to blow off the steam of her anger; but he could think of a few more constructive ways she could go about that, rather than destroying the whole forest.

He kept his pace slow, giving her time to wear herself out a bit before he got to her. It also gave him time to think of what to say. It wasn't easy. Then again, when Naraku was involved, things were seldom easy and never straightforward, and this was no exception. There really was not a whole lot he could do, beyond making vague promises that her brother would be saved and everything would be all right in the end.

When he finally found her, he did not bring attention to himself immediately. He watched her for several moments before she became aware of his presence. When she saw him, her frown deepened.

"What are you doing here? I told you not to follow me." Her voice was cold, and she made no move to approach.

"Kagome was worried about you." It was the simplest, and probably the least dangerous, answer.

"I'm fine. I will return to camp when I am done here."

"Sango."

She turned away from him and hurled hiraikotsu at… something. At least it hadn't been him, not until it curved around and came back, that is. He saw it coming and had plenty of time to get out of the way, but it was bothersome that she had not moved to intercept it. The boomerang had been losing momentum all the way around and bounced off a particularly sturdy tree before impaling itself in the earth some distance away.

She ran at him then, determined to inflict damage on something. Anything would do.

He was quick to scurry out of the way. He had been hoping to somehow avoid the brunt of her anger.

Attempting to placate her somehow, he began, "Look, I know you're angry and hurt, and with good reason, but –"

"What would you know of anger or pain?" What would he know? Plenty. He was just better at hiding it than any of the others.

"Sango, stop this." He was not above pleading with her, at least not at this point, not if it might make her listen.

With a wordless cry of fury, she came at him, swinging her fists wildly; he counted himself lucky that in her fury she had left hiraikotsu where it had landed after her initial throw. The tall bone weapon jutted grotesquely from the earth some distance away, thankfully well out of reach.

She threw another punch, better aimed this time, which missed his face by scant inches; he managed to dodge the blow, but stepped awkwardly backward and ended up on the ground, flat on his rump. He didn't know what he'd expected... what, that she'd fall into his arms, tears in her eyes, and let him kiss it better? Yeah, stupid.

She lunged at him, though he was on the ground, and he seized a fleeting opportunity to throw her off balance. He slid to one side, grabbed her by the ankle, and pulled with all his might. She landed flat on her back, nearly on top of him.

As she sputtered and gasped for breath, shocked by the sudden impact, he pressed his advantage and pinned her down with sheer body weight. "What good does it do to fight each other? I am not your enemy," he stressed.

Sucking in deep breaths, her chest heaving and her eyes fiery with rage, Sango nodded. "I know that," she said at last, reluctantly. "But I cannot just sit by and let him do this. I have to do something."

Miroku grinned, doing his best leer. "I can think of a few things." He knew the sudden outburst of lechery would catch her off guard.

Her eyes went wide as she realized their compromising position and just how far from the others they were. Then anger kicked in. She squirmed, struggling to get into a position that would enable her to strike him; he struggled just as hard to keep her from doing so, though he dared think that his end was the more difficult. "No. Absolutely not. Get off of me, you lech!"

He managed to keep her down for a few moments before she got the upper hand again. She half rolled and kicked him off. The world tumbled end over end for a few panicked seconds before he hit the ground. Several joints popped and cracked from the impact; he rolled once before coming to a stop on his back.

Judging by the pain, he had hit his right shoulder on something hidden in the leaf litter; he lay still, his eyes squeezed shut, wondering if he was well and truly screwed this time.

But, instead of anger, "Oh, gods, Miroku!"

She skidded to a halt next to him, on her knees. "Did I hurt you?"

He half sat up, trying to mask the pain in his shoulder, which was not really all that bad, all things considered. "I'm fine."

"What have I done?"

She looked genuinely adorable like that, concern written all over her face. The flush of exertion from their fight only added to it.

"I might have really hurt you. You should never have come after me like this!"

And she really should stop berating herself like that.

"I'm –"

Her eyes went huge and her right hand flew up instinctively, ready to slap him for the infraction. He was kissing her, suicidal idiot that he was.

But the moment had been just too perfect, and he hadn't been able to resist the opportunity. Even if it meant his death, at least he could die happy. Well, mostly happy.

For a long moment he really thought she would hit him, but she slowly relaxed into the kiss. Her eyes drifted shut and her arm came down, her hands clutching helplessly at soil and old, musty leaves.

Finally Miroku pulled back, scrutinizing her expression. That all-encompassing rage had diminished; she still felt angry and sad and ashamed, and a million other things, but that terrifying rage was absent from her gaze. Those other things he could handle, those were things he could maybe make better. Maybe. If she would quit being so stubborn and let someone help her relax once in a while.

He rubbed a hand soothingly along her arm and thought for a moment that she might cry after all.

"At least say you'll give my way some thought next time." He was being serious, or at least trying very hard to be.

"I'm not sure that your way is the right way for me to relax," she murmured, not looking at him.

"Have you ever tried it?"

She did look at him then, but her gaze was cold. He would almost venture to say 'withering'.

"I meant no offense."

"I know. I…" she trailed off, either lost in thought or unwilling to continue.

"If the feelings are there, why not simply go for it?" He knew he was pushing his luck, especially considering his earlier daring with the kiss, but he did it anyway.

She turned away, tossing her hair over her shoulder and practically into his face. "It's not proper or decent, that's why."

"Surely, if a man and woman are promised to be married, there is nothing indecent about that," he prodded.

"She might get with child."

He countered: "There are ways that will not produce a child."

She responded with silence and a look he could not quite interpret.

Finally, she managed, "How did we get to talking about this?"

He ignored the attempt to change the subject. "Surely you've touched yourself before." When she in turn pretended not to hear him, he added, "You know what I mean."

Her face grew very, very red. "That is none of your concern."

"I am merely looking out for your well-being."

"I'm sure you are." He could not tell if she was being serious or not.

For her part, Sango was barely listening to him. His words brought back the memory of sensations she had tried to suppress for a long time; a deep, heated longing was bubbling up within her, at the apex of her thighs. And the heat in her body from her earlier exertions was not precisely helping matters.

He had no right to speak to her of such personal things! And yet his voice, without even the words, was igniting more lustful thoughts than she would likely ever admit to.

She did not want him to see her in such disarray. Indeed, what she wanted most keenly were a few moments alone to assuage the need between her legs. Or, failing that, a sudden dunk in a cold spring.

"Try it before you discount it altogether?" He honestly didn't think it would work, but it was worth a shot.

"Uh, o-okay."

He stared at her, incredulous. "You're serious?"

Her eyes were angry, watery. She knew she wasn't thinking clearly, but at the same time all her attempts at calming herself and the horrible anger within her had failed. She was only getting more worked up, and she knew this was exactly what Naraku had wanted; she was merely proving him right, playing right into his hand. Maybe, maybe Miroku was right. Her throat tightened with apprehension. "If you promise that it's because you want to help me, and not for some lecherous scheme of yours –"

"Sango…"

She could not seem to look at him, appeared to be almost shaking, but she resolutely moved to remove her armor.

Miroku was beside her in an instant. He may not have believed his luck, but he certainly was not going to question it.

He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled his face against her neck, which was still covered by the thick black material of her bodysuit. He wanted to kiss all along that neck, but they would have to get her out of the armor first.

Getting Sango out of her armor was a task that was just as daunting as it sounded. There were a dozen hidden fastenings that held everything in place, and she was careful to undo each and every one of them; Miroku counted himself lucky that she not only knew the best way to remove the armor, but that she was willing to help him with it despite her obvious reticence.

After what seemed like eternity, she stood before him wearing nothing at all. She was blushing terribly, but it only served to make her more attractive in his mind.

While she was occupied with her armor, he had untied the kesa of his robes and spread it on the ground; it would make a fair enough blanket, he imagined.

They sat together for a few minutes, Miroku trailing kisses from her collarbone up her neck, even finding the most sensitive place just behind her ear. He used his own motions to urge her to lie down, to let him do the work.

When he finally decided she was ready, he kissed her again, and then made his way down the length of her body, meandering slowly toward his ultimate goal.

Her nipples peaked in the chill of his absence, but the sudden feel of his tongue against her most intimate place soon subsumed even that sensation. She had touched herself there before, knew well what pleasure it could produce, and was shocked to find herself wishing she had thought to experience such a thing as this earlier in her life.

The feel of that warm, wet muscle moving against her, laving and licking and sucking, despite the nearly obscene nature of the act, was very like bliss. She tossed her head back, giving a wordless cry as he paid particular attention to the hardened, sensitized nub between her legs.

He was relentless.

Her hands tangled in his hair. She couldn't think, couldn't speak, could only feel. Curling forward as her muscles tightened, she came shuddering to climax. And it seemed that Miroku was not going to be content with just one…

Some time later she lay gasping for breath, her eyes closed and her body still trembling; he pulled himself up and lay beside her, trailing a hand lazily across the smooth, muscled planes of her stomach.

When he was certain she had caught her breath at last, he kissed her, and knew she could taste her own essence on his lips.

"How are you feeling?" She shifted to rest her head against him before answering.

"You may have been right."

"May?"

"All right, fine. I admit it. I feel better."

He shrugged. "It is not a perfect solution, but it's something."

They were both quiet for a long time. Finally, Sango asked, "What about you?"

"Huh?"

"Well, I am…" she gestured to herself, indicating her nakedness, "And you have not let me see anything of you."

"Honestly, I thought it might frighten you," he admitted, though it sounded silly. Fearless Sango, afraid of such a little thing? He cursed himself for getting carried away; there were undoubtedly a thousand words that would be more fitting, most of which would not sound nearly so foolish.

She sat up and looked at him pointedly; he followed suit.

"Why?" When he did not answer, she sighed. "I trained with the village boys nearly every day of my life. I went on missions with them more times than I can count. Do you think I never saw –"

He cut her off with a kiss. Truly, he did not want to know what she might have seen or experienced before him.

Her hands fumbled with the fabric of his robes, already in disarray and gathered awkwardly about him, shifting the material away and exposing him.

His erection was hot and hard, eager and greedy for her touch despite his attempts at remaining more or less honorable about their situation. He had planned on sneaking off to take care of that later. Her fingers tightened around his shaft, stroking up and down, each movement stripping away his will to resist.

He was close, had been close for a while. It wasn't long before he was gasping for breath, whispering incoherently. He groaned, struggling not to cry out as he climaxed; his seed spurted, landing harmlessly on the dark fabric of his kesa. He would have to wash that later.

Sango was watching him carefully, nervously, when he was able to focus again. He smiled at her in a way that he hoped was reassuring, and pulled her into a hug; they stayed like that for a long time, until he realized, belatedly, that it was getting dark.

"We should head back."

She nodded tiredly. "Kagome is probably very worried by now."

He tried to assist her with her armor, but found he was more hindrance than help and gave up when she tried to shoo him away for the third time. In the meantime he busied himself with tying his kesa back on, just so.

They walked most of the way back together, but Sango lagged ever so slightly behind. Miroku kept an eye on her, but did not pressure her to stay beside him and, as they got closer to where the others were, he made sure to get ahead of her, where she couldn't hit him as easily.

When he was certain he was well and truly out of striking range, he quipped, "If you ever find yourself in need of a sparring partner again, I would be most happy to oblige."

Her expression contorted its way through a flush of embarrassment on its way to anger, but this was a good, blushing, flustered anger that told him he'd done his job well. Smiling with all the innocence he could muster, Miroku headed back into camp.