Pretending
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InuYasha › Yaoi - Male/Male › InuYasha/Miroku
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Adult +
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Category:
InuYasha › Yaoi - Male/Male › InuYasha/Miroku
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,410
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.
Pretending
Title: Pretending
Author: Saraste
Rating: Adult
Characters: Inuyasha/Miroku
Genre : canon, pwp smut, angst
Words: 500
Summary: Inuyasha likes to pretend and Miroku likes to oblige him.
Warnings: one-sided inucest, angst
Prompt Written for the lj comm iyhedonism for week 5 'rage'.
* * * *
We all have it.
It's in your eyes whenever your brother appears to challenge you, to belittle you, showing how much he doesn't care by seeking you out for a fight. It's in his eyes as he looks at you, before you start to battle each other, insults thrown back and forth, blades colliding.
Rage. Quiet or flaming, it is there.
But we all always work it off differently. For it's not good to dwell on it too long. It corrodes one's self. Not that I am an exception, far from it. I just use it to my advantage. And doesn't that just fuel you more, rile you up like nothing else... Makes it easier for you.
Inuyasha...
It's always a spar, always blowing off steam, letting the rage out. Letting my hands and staff feel the blows you can't rain on your brothers body. Oh but you wish to, so much.
To beat him, make him truly acknowledge you. Make him suffer. Force you authority. Let your rage out.
And I let you pretend. Let you pretend because that is how you can take me without feeling guilty. Without letting yourself feel outside of the rage. So I indulge you. Play the part. Let you imagine it isn't me you're sparring with, fighting with. Coupling with. Letting you imagine the silvery hair, the stripes, the claws.
Letting you think it isn't me.
It is hurtful, harsh and always over too soon. Too soon for both of us. Too quick a coupling to take the edge off properly, to let either feel, sink in the moment and revel. Too quick for the rage to dissipate completely.
And I, too, pretend. Let you have your rage acted upon me as I see you suffer inside. You are so torn. For you see the real me in these unguarded moments, when my soul is naked.
There is a twinge of regret in your eyes as you look at me. Look at me as I lie there, sticky from your fluids, sticky from my fluids. Passive, letting you make me into someone I'm not. Because I need it. Our eyes meet and I know the rage is never gone.
No matter how many times we do it. No matter how many times you enter my body, my willing body, mad with lust for you, my features never matching his, however much you try to pretend. And it makes your rage even greater. To know I'm such as person as would allow this.
And still you come back to me, stepping into the familiar patterns of our sparring, into the familiar thrusts and insults of our couplings. The rage present in every word and movement you make.
It's never gone until we stop playing these games, stop pretending and look under the surface, letting the masks fall. Letting what we share be the truth, not the mockery this is. Then and only then can your rage truly disappear. Only then can we be whole.
Author: Saraste
Rating: Adult
Characters: Inuyasha/Miroku
Genre : canon, pwp smut, angst
Words: 500
Summary: Inuyasha likes to pretend and Miroku likes to oblige him.
Warnings: one-sided inucest, angst
Prompt Written for the lj comm iyhedonism for week 5 'rage'.
* * * *
We all have it.
It's in your eyes whenever your brother appears to challenge you, to belittle you, showing how much he doesn't care by seeking you out for a fight. It's in his eyes as he looks at you, before you start to battle each other, insults thrown back and forth, blades colliding.
Rage. Quiet or flaming, it is there.
But we all always work it off differently. For it's not good to dwell on it too long. It corrodes one's self. Not that I am an exception, far from it. I just use it to my advantage. And doesn't that just fuel you more, rile you up like nothing else... Makes it easier for you.
Inuyasha...
It's always a spar, always blowing off steam, letting the rage out. Letting my hands and staff feel the blows you can't rain on your brothers body. Oh but you wish to, so much.
To beat him, make him truly acknowledge you. Make him suffer. Force you authority. Let your rage out.
And I let you pretend. Let you pretend because that is how you can take me without feeling guilty. Without letting yourself feel outside of the rage. So I indulge you. Play the part. Let you imagine it isn't me you're sparring with, fighting with. Coupling with. Letting you imagine the silvery hair, the stripes, the claws.
Letting you think it isn't me.
It is hurtful, harsh and always over too soon. Too soon for both of us. Too quick a coupling to take the edge off properly, to let either feel, sink in the moment and revel. Too quick for the rage to dissipate completely.
And I, too, pretend. Let you have your rage acted upon me as I see you suffer inside. You are so torn. For you see the real me in these unguarded moments, when my soul is naked.
There is a twinge of regret in your eyes as you look at me. Look at me as I lie there, sticky from your fluids, sticky from my fluids. Passive, letting you make me into someone I'm not. Because I need it. Our eyes meet and I know the rage is never gone.
No matter how many times we do it. No matter how many times you enter my body, my willing body, mad with lust for you, my features never matching his, however much you try to pretend. And it makes your rage even greater. To know I'm such as person as would allow this.
And still you come back to me, stepping into the familiar patterns of our sparring, into the familiar thrusts and insults of our couplings. The rage present in every word and movement you make.
It's never gone until we stop playing these games, stop pretending and look under the surface, letting the masks fall. Letting what we share be the truth, not the mockery this is. Then and only then can your rage truly disappear. Only then can we be whole.