InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Mating Season ❯ A Page Inserted - Sango & Miroku ( Chapter 50 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: SplendentGoddess 
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Drama / Adventure | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 08.05.2006 | Updated On: 07.31.2008 | Pages: 3 | Words: 6.5K | Visits: 20.2K | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Drama / Adventure | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 08.05.2006 | Updated On: 07.31.2008 | Pages: 3 | Words: 6.5K | Visits: 20.2K | Status: Completed
Blanket Disclaimer:
Inuyasha, and the characters therein, are the property of Rumiko Takahashi. I am in no way affiliated with Takahashi, or VIZ Productions.
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This chapter is slightly out of sequence, but I felt that the fandom’s second favorite canon couple deserved to have their own fifteen minutes of fame. So this is Sango and Miroku’s wedding night. Contains Lemon…well duh.
He still couldn’t believe it. His friends had all made him the happiest ex-monk alive. The ceremony was much more than he’d ever expected, and even Master Mushin had been humbled by the rather expensive sake that they’d managed to acquire.
Departing with Sango towards their hut, Miroku couldn’t help but grin that tonight, and every night from here on in, the two of them would be sharing the same futon. Though Sango had been willing to live with him in the same hut, he had been sleeping in Kohaku’s room until now. Speaking of Kohaku, the lad hadn’t even needed to be told, as Miroku saw him departing the ceremony to head straight towards Kaede’s hut, taking Kirara with him. Good boy.
“Sango, my sweet,” the ex-houshi purred, lecherous as ever, “I hope you are ready for tonight.”
Sango had the good graces to blush at the comment, but she readily followed Miroku inside their hut nonetheless.
Once inside, the pair each slipped off their zori (sandals), and made their way through the living area. It was a fairly large hut, after all, Sango had promised to bear him twenty children.
“Are you hungry, Houshi-sama?”
Miroku smirked at her outdated pet name for him. After all, he was no longer a monk, and as such, the title held no truth. She’d said his name before, on the rarest of occasion, but more often than not she’d always called him by his title. A habit he’d gladly spend hours at a time breaking her of. He’d get her to say his name; he’d have her screaming it before morning.
“Only for you, my sweet, only for you.”
Sango blushed, and nervously pulled some stray hairs back behind her ear as she met his eyes with a glimmer of anticipation mixed with apprehension. Wordlessly, Miroku extended his hand towards her, and in a show of complete trust and adoration, the taijiya-turned-bride accepted the offered limb, and allowed her new husband to lead her back towards the main bedchamber.
Pausing just within the doorframe, Sango couldn’t help but to wonder what it was that passed through her husband’s thoughts, as he appeared to be staring at her in some nameless manner of bewilderment.
“Miroku?” she whispered, and the sound of his given name leaving her lips was music to his ears.
“Merely admiring your beauty, my dear Sango.” he spoke confidently, as he gestured towards the interior of the room, and proceeded to pass through only after Sango had entered before him.
Had Sango been youkai, she would have sensed the waves of nervousness as they rolled freely from the man behind her. While it was true that Miroku was not a virgin, he also wasn’t as experienced as he’d always led others to believe, and though he knew that his dear Sango was a virgin, he was still worried that he wouldn’t live up to her expectations.
Sango had similar apprehensions, regarding herself and her own lack of knowledge, but a private talk with Kagome had put most of her worries to ease. She at least had a basic idea of what to expect, as well as a “modern” twist on what was expected of her in return. The few women Miroku had previously been with were naturally products of their time, believing that a woman’s place was below a man - literally…and so Sango hoped that she could offer her new spouse a few pleasant surprises.
Coming up behind his bride, Miroku wrapped his arms securely around her waist, as he held her to him, savoring the simple act of embracing her. Part of him was still in denial that all he had hoped for, all he had dreamed for, had - and was about to - come true. Leaning forward, he permitted his lips to delicately grace the skin on the back of her neck, as he gently tugged her collars lower. Reaching around with his ex-cursed hand, Miroku tenderly began pulling loose the square knot of her obi jime (obi cord), tossing it to the side of the room once it came free.
Sango felt him next working loose the bow in the back of her obi, and took a moment to steady her breathing. Part of her was so nervous over the notion of him undressing her that she had to still her instinct to grab for Hiraikotsu, while at the same time, she mentally chuckled over the notion that she couldn’t wait to be freed from the rather uncomfortable ensemble. It was so tight after all, that she could barely walk, and should an enemy have chosen that moment to strike, she would have been quite useless in battle. Inuyasha had assured the pair that he and Kagome would not depart for her time until sometime the following morning, ensuring that should anything out of the ordinary happen that night, they needn’t concern themselves over it. He was there to protect them, along with the rest of his village.
Sango felt her outer kimono loosen, indicating that Miroku had successfully unwrapped her obi. Glancing down, her suspicions were confirmed as the side flaps of her outer most layer of clothing lazily fell open. The obi, she recognized, was currently adorning the floor in a rather similar fashion as the cord that had preceded it. She felt his hands upon her shoulders then, but she stilled his movements when she reached up and met his hands with her own. Sango then proceeded to turn around, facing her new husband, and slipped the kimono off her shoulders herself. The luscious white silk, Miroku decided, looked much lovelier crumpled at her feet, as he moved to untie the himo (sewn-on straps) which cinched closed her next layer of clothing.
The slayer had different plans, however, as she stilled his hands by once more placing hers atop of them, as she playfully whispered “My turn.”
Miroku grinned as Sango moved forward then, embracing him in a frontal hug. He instantly wrapped his arms once more around her body, content in merely holding her to him, taking in everything that was her. When he felt her delicate hands move themselves lower, attacking his own obi, he couldn’t help but to grin. Permitting his over-kimono to fall to his feet, Miroku stepped free from the billowing pile of royal blue and purple. Walking past Sango as he approached the futon, he turned and sat down upon it, facing her.
Sango watched with smiling eyes as her soon-to-be mate removed his tabi (split-toe socks) and began untying the himo of his kosode (narrow-sleeved under robe). Slipping out of his kosode, Sango’s eyes widened when she realized that he wore no more layers underneath…save for his fundoshi. Well, it was a rather warm day after all, she supposed, and smiling, she mused that it wouldn’t be cooling down any time soon.
Miroku smirked upon noticing his wife’s rather pleased expression with regard to his own physical appearance. He may have lived the simple life of a monk, to a degree, but he was also a warrior, engaging in his fair share of battles, and it showed. His features were, in a word, flawless, or at least they were as far as Sango was concerned. His broad shoulders revealed natural strength, accented by the shapely muscles of his chest and arms, while his legs were as toned as one would expect after nearly a lifetime of travel. Having always kept himself concealed within his flowing monk’s robes, Sango’d had no idea what Miroku had been hiding from her all that time.
“My dear Sango…” Miroku spoke up then, voice dripping with seduction and humor, “…it would appear that you are over dressed.”
Blushing, she gazed downward upon herself, and then, surprisingly, answered with “It would appear you are correct.” as she began to work on her next layer of clothing, Miroku’s eyes eagerly following her every move.
Delicately, teasingly, Sango pulled loose the himo of her inner robe, whose sleeves were just as billowy as her outer robes, though obviously much shorter. (It would be as distasteful for the sleeves of an inner kimono robe to be visible from the outside as it would be for a modern woman’s slip to show below the hem of her skirt.)
Straps undone, the youkai slayer permitted her second layer of white silk to fall upon the wooden floor, and suddenly, she was standing before her husband in nothing more than a thin cotton yukata. Miroku’s smile increased tenfold when he saw her lose her inner, padded kimono. It did away with her pleasing hourglass figure, and having gotten used to seeing her in her fitted, black leather Taijiya ensemble, a padded out cylindrical look did nothing for her, or him. The yukata she wore underneath everything else was cinched tightly ‘round her waist, revealing her shape. Its color was a soft sakura pink, and Miroku had to admit that she did look good in pink. But, he imagined, just like the rest of her outfit, it would likely look that much better on the floor, at least for the time being.
With the yukata giving her legs their desired freedom of movement, Sango effortlessly bent her legs backward at the knee, one at a time, years of Taijiya training giving her the necessary balance as she removed her own tabi without sitting down, to stand before her husband barefooted.
Mentally gulping, she knew what was next.
Moving a shaking hand towards her last belt, Sango was stilled by the whispered words spoken to her by her husband, as he raised himself up to his knees, standing nearly as tall as her upon their raised futon while she stood before him on the floor, as he soothingly implored “Allow me.”
Slowly pulling the tie free, his eyes never left hers, as he studied her reaction to his actions. She was nervous, but otherwise mirthful, her smile never leaving her eyes, or her lips. Slipping the last of his wife’s robes down and off her shoulders to fall at her feet, Miroku frowned playfully at Sango’s chest wrappings, murmuring “Now this can’t be comfortable.”
“It’s not.” she purred in return, and Miroku was surprised at the level of sensuality suddenly present in her voice.
“Well then,” he smirked, “I should remove it for you, ne?”
He knew his Sango had a beautiful figure, and why the propers of his time had decided that a busty woman should be wrapped tight was beyond him. He would have to see if he could talk her into wearing some of those “bra” things from Kagome’s time. According to his hanyou friend, they were absolutely heavenly, even if removing them properly was a bit of a pain.
Finding where the ends of fabric were securely tucked away, the ex-monk playfully began unwrapping his lovely wife, until her chest-binding fell freely in his hand, exposing the breathtakingly beautiful topless body of his lovely Sango, who could not help but to blush upon seeing his mesmerized gaze, as he studied her. Standing before him in a nearly identical fundoshi, she could not help but to notice how his appeared to conceal a rather distinctive bulge, and upon that particular realization, her blush naturally increased.
“Why, my dear Sango…” Miroku purred seductively, having noticed precisely where her eyes had been a moment prior, “I do believe it is your turn to undress me once more.”
Caught off guard by his statement, Sango stuttered through an embarrassed “A-all right.” as her response, as she slowly lowered herself to join him upon the bed, eyes nervous and body visibly shaking.
Sensing her apprehension, and not wishing to push her into anything too quickly, he relented and said “Or we could pause, for the time being, if you are feeling uncomfortable.”
Her eyes snapped up to meet his own at that, and while she could tell he was being completely honest and genuine in his concerns, she found that such a statement caused her to grow in confidence, as she responded with “Nonsense, houshi, this is the moment I have been waiting for.” as she proceeded to reach around him, and untuck the edge of his fundoshi.
Miroku felt his pride soar with the knowledge that this woman, this goddess before him, truly desired him. Now, if he could only fuel his own confidence as he had hers…
“I’m afraid my hands are rather busy, if you wouldn’t mind helping me be rid of this pesky thing.” she purred while gesturing to her own undergarment.
Okay, that did it, as he eagerly reached for, and began unwrapping her female fundoshi.
Both becoming void of clothing near simultaneously, they each permitted their partner a moment or two to simply stare, and each decided that what they saw, was simply flawless.
Sure, Miroku had seen Sango naked before, in a few brief, fleeting glimpses, for which he was brutally punished afterward by her Hiraikotsu. But to see her now, sitting before him, uninhibited, made his breathing pause and his heart rate increase. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would forever dote upon her, and she would want for nothing, except, hopefully, for his touch. He could, and would assure her with confidence that there would forever be no other.
Sango, on the other hand, had never seen Miroku naked, or any man, for that matter. But she was still a woman, and as such, had certain natural instincts when it came to matters of those types. She knew what she liked when she saw it, and quite frankly she liked what she saw. Thanks to Kagome, she had a basic understanding of such things, and from what she had gathered from their talks, while it was true that Miroku was not half demon, he was still exceptionally gifted, for a human.
Coming together and allowing their bodies to touch, Sango felt a jolt of heat rush through her at the sensation of his shaft pressing against her nest of curls. Of course, there would be plenty of time for that in a moment. But first, Miroku had been longing to taste her since he first saw her that morning in all her silks, and so now, finally, taste her he shall.
Sango gasped in pleasure when she felt his lips capture her own, and she readily returned the kiss. As she experienced much more passion from the man currently kissing her than during any of their previous encounters, she quickly realized that he had obviously been holding himself back before now, a notion for which she was grateful. He had insisted on keeping her honor intact, and he had succeeded in said mission. Now, it would be her honor, and her pleasure, to deliver all that he desired of her.
Slowly, but surely, Miroku’s wandering hands did just that, and Sango had to suppress a chuckle when she felt him reach for her backside. She was his now, and he could touch her as often as he liked, but she supposed that turn about was fair play.
Miroku gasped and nearly choked mid-kiss when he felt Sango cup his own backside, squeezing gently but firmly. He had never expected her to be so bold, but at the same time, he realized, he hadn’t expected her to be timid, either. She was a Taijiya, after all, a warrior woman who could take care of herself. He considered her his equal, despite the fact that such thinking was not common for men of his time. But after fighting beside her in countless battles, saving each other’s lives, and tending each other’s injuries, he could not, in his right mind, ever consider her a delicate flower of a woman. She was powerful, and he hungered to feel her power.
Squeezing what he held in his own grasp that much harder, he smiled at her own shuddering gasp, as he pulled her closer against him. Breaking away from his kiss before she fainted from lack of air, he offered her no mercy as he plunged his tongue lower, leaving a scorching trail of fire in its wake, as he tasted her throat and collarbone. He could feel Sango’s body tense when she realized what he was about to do, but smiling once more when she made no move to stop him, he proceeded, and engulfed her right breast in his mouth.
Sango could not prevent the audible moan that escaped her lips upon the sensation of his lips coming into contact with her soft mound, especially when his tongue darted in circles around her rapidly hardening nipple. A rather noticeable, rather familiar sensation of gathering moisture momentarily caught her attention, before she lost herself once more to the sensations.
Miroku didn’t need an inu’s sense of smell to tell him that his Sango was becoming aroused; he could feel her increasing heat as he pressed his shaft against her. Her tiny mews of pleasure were both pleasing to hear as well as physically stimulating, as he felt tingles running through his own lower section each time such a noise escaped her. He was far from quiet himself, moaning and grunting his pleasure and desire; Sango’s name escaping his lips repeatedly. Traveling upward from her chest, he again attacked her neck, as he attempted to maneuver himself to be behind her once more.
Sango suddenly felt herself becoming nervous again, when she felt him shifting around behind her on the futon, and turning herself as well, she attempted to keep him facing her.
“Sango, my sweet, let me rub your shoulders, and pleasure your neck…” he purred, as he tried to move behind her once more, attempting only for the pleasure of this evening to stretch out to its greatest extent, seeing no point in rushing through what he would now have for the rest of his life.
Seeing her stiffen, and suddenly wrap her arms around herself in the universal posture for someone who was uncomfortable, he paused in his ministrations, and asked with all seriousness “Sango, what’s wrong?”
“Miroku…I…I’m ugly…”
Now that statement had him baffled to no end, for as far as he could tell, she was magnificent.
“Sango, my love, you are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes upon.”
“Please…” she whispered, “Can…can you just stay in front of me?”
Realization dawned, as he asked “Is it the scar from Kohaku’s scythe that is bothering you?”
Her eyes widened in surprise and she managed to ask “How…?” before he tenderly shushed her with a finger upon her lips.
“My dear Sango, if I am to honor you as a noble husband, than I must be completely honest with you. I have already seen the scar you wish you conceal from me. You know very well that I have spied upon you bathing in the past…I have my own scars to prove it…” Pausing in his confession, he reached up to feel the back of his head, and offered a humble chuckle. To his relief, Sango’s eyes softened, as she chuckled as well.
“I’m sorry for always hitting you so hard.” she apologized with a smirk, revealing her apology was only half-genuine. After all, in her book, he still deserved it for peeping.
“All things in nature have a natural balance, and I’m quite sure that Buddha tested me with such continual pain so that I may now be rewarded with such pleasures.” That said, he leaned forward and delicately captured her lips once more.
Sango readily returned the kiss, uncoiling her arms from around herself and wrapping them upward around his neck, pulling him closer. When she felt him slowly lower his kisses toward her neck for the third time, she did not pull away, as she permitted him to slowly but surely work his way around her body until he was finally behind her. Pulling her hair away and to the side, he teased the base of her neck, and found that she was actually rather sensitive in that spot.
Playing along the base of her spine, he swirled his tongue lower, feeling her body tense once more, only that time, he could tell it was merely from being tickled. Smiling the most genuine smile he ever had in his entire life, he lovingly coated her backside with his tongue, including every crevice of her scar. In his eyes, Sango was beautiful, no matter what. Returning to her throat, he applied mild pressure to both shoulders as he slowly rubbed and massaged her neck, while teasingly blowing a delicate breeze upon her moistened skin. Reaching around after a moment, he cupped both breasts with his hands, as his mouth moved sideways, and as Sango felt him on the side of her neck, she tilted her head, and met him in yet another string of passionate kisses.
It wasn’t long before they each grew weary of remaining propped up on their knees, and slowly, they allowed their bodies to lower upon the futon. Hands and tongues continued to explore each other’s body, but Sango soon found that she could not help but to gasp out, and pause in her actions, when she felt Miroku suddenly reach between her legs.
Miroku grinned when he discovered just how wet Sango had truly become, and as he slowly began massaging her bundle of nerves, he used his free hand to encourage her own in exploring the more passionate areas of his body, as well. The sensation of her callused hand gently wrapping around his cock sent chutes of pleasure careening through his body. Years of battling with Hiraikotsu had made the skin of Sango’s fingers and palms about as ‘horny’ as he himself was feeling, he mused to himself at the light pun. The sensation, he found, was not unwelcome.
It took no time at all for Sango to get the hang of it (no pun intended), and Miroku found his eyes rolling back in the sheer pleasure she was delivering him. Never in his wildest dreams had he fathomed just what a difference Sango’s hand could make in comparison to his own. Continuing to pleasure her as well, he knew he was succeeding, when he felt her body vibrate, as she unconsciously bucked into his hand. Slowly and delicately, he inserted one finger, then two, as he stretched and prepared her. He had two goals for the evening that truthfully walked hand-in-hand. One, deliver her as much pleasure as possible. Two, do so while also delivering as little pain as possible. He knew it would hurt her when he broke through her barrier, so before that happened, he wanted to hear her scream in pleasure.
Sango could hardly concentrate on what she was doing with the sensations flowing through her own body. She couldn’t quite comprehend how something could feel so wonderful. There were no words to describe it. Attempting to do so would be like explaining a sunset to a blind person. It was simply something that had to be experienced firsthand. She could tell that something was about to happen when she felt a small pressure slowly start to build in intensity, and she knew that it was something that Kagome had mentioned. The miko had said “Don’t try to keep quiet. It feels so much better when you scream his name.” Until now she hadn’t understood what she was talking about.
Miroku knew that she was close when he felt her body start to shake more violently, and her hand still against his member, pausing in her own ministrations. He smiled as he continued to do precisely what it was he was doing, picking up speed as he did so, and before he knew it, her body went wild, as she passionately screamed his name at the top of her lungs.
Coming down from her first orgasm, she barely had time to catch her breath before she found his lips crashed against her own once more. The kiss was fierce, but brief, as he quickly broke away from her mouth to plant streams of kisses along her nose, cheeks, chin and neck.
“Sango *kiss* my *kiss* sweet *kiss*…” he asked through his barrage, “Are you ready for me?”
It took Sango a moment to register exactly what he was asking, but when she did, she looked him serenely in the eyes, and said “Make me yours.”
Positioning himself at her entrance, he got deathly serious and said “Sango, this will hurt, and I’m sorry. I never want to cause you pain. If you need me to stop at any moment, just say so.”
She looked up at him in some mild form of surprise mixed with utter devotion, before silently nodding as both her answer to his plea, as well as her signal for him to proceed.
Miroku had hoped that, perhaps, with all her years of fighting youkai, that her maiden barrier would have already been broken. If that were the case, if he failed to feel her barrier, he would be grateful, and not accusing in the least. But as it turned out, that was not the case. Within mere moments he felt himself come into contact with her maidenhead, and gripping the sides of her face, he silently commanded her eyes to stay with his, as he silently apologized once more, before forcing his way through.
It broke his heart to see Sango suddenly wince in pain, though she hadn’t commanded him to stop. He gently whispered her name in a questioning manner, and her response had been to open her eyes - which she’d pinched shut upon his entry - and nod once more for him to continue.
Proceeding at a rather slow pace, he tried desperately to ignore the incredible sensations washing through him, as he wanted nothing more than for her pain to finally fade away. Wiping a single tear from her cheek, he tried desperately to still his own from falling. He knew she needed a few moments to adjust to his invasion, so despite his primal desires insisting that he increase his speed to pounding thrusts, he steadied his resolve, and continued to move at an almost undetectable rate.
Sango had known it would hurt, and had mentally prepared herself. Her years of training, and firsthand battle experience, had conditioned her to have a rather high tolerance for pain. Still, she mentally cursed when she realized she could not stop a rouge tear from slipping past the boundaries of her eyelids, even as she attempted to keep them pinched tightly closed. Hearing Miroku whisper her name, his voice pleading with her that she be all right, she opened her eyes to once more gaze into his mystifying pools. So blue that they appeared purple, she noted, a rather moistened purple at the moment. Feeling him cup her cheek, and wipe away her tear with his thumb, she had to mentally prevent even more tears from falling. Gathering now due to the sheer amount of unbelievable love she felt for this man, and felt from him in return. She was grateful that he was continuing to move as slowly as he was, especially since she realized that if his pleasure was anything like what he had delivered to her earlier, then his body undoubtedly desired him to go faster.
After what seemed like an eternity, though in reality it was more like two minutes, Sango started matching Miroku’s slow thrusts, causing his motion to seemingly double in speed, as she met him half way. Gasping, mostly in surprise, Miroku whispered down to his love, asking her if she was okay…if she was sure. What he received as a response was a silent nod, accompanied by an even quicker thrusting of her hips up towards his own. Steadying his resolve then, he proceeded to pick up speed himself, increasing his rate slowly, for fear of hurting her still. But whispered commands of “faster” egged him on, and before he knew it, he was pounding into her just as he’d desired doing.
As soon as Sango felt her inner muscles start to relax around his intrusion, and her pain start to subside to the point of nonexistence, she knew she was ready. She knew without needing to ask that Miroku wanted to go faster, but she realized he likely wouldn’t, unless she asked him to. For some reason, she wasn’t nearly as shy as she used to be, and found the command leaving her lips rather effortlessly. She was rewarded by an increase of speed from the man above her, as she desperately tried to keep up with him, matching his pace thrust for thrust. It wasn’t long though, before she found she couldn’t quite move quickly enough in her current position, and giving up on trying to move with him, she instead decided to wrap her legs around his waist, and hold on for the ride.
When Miroku felt her legs wrap around him he was, in a word, shocked. None of the other girls he’d been with (though there weren’t that many) had ever done such a thing. It seemed to draw her in even closer to him, and he found himself able to thrust even faster. He could tell that her pain had completely left her, and for that he was grateful, because he honestly didn’t think he’d have been able to hold back any longer, even if she had asked him to. Backing himself away from her slightly, he attempted to raise himself to his knees, thankful that Sango had the notion to not let go. With her legs still wrapped securely around him, he gripped her bottom firmly, and began pounding into her fiercely.
Was this Heaven? Had she died and failed to notice somehow? How was it that this man, this god above her, could invoke such sensations of pleasure? Nothing should be allowed to feel that good without some sort of penance. But then again, maybe it was just like Miroku had said. Maybe their current pleasure was a reward for all the years of pain they’d already endured.
When he’d been lying more on top of her, she’d had her arms wrapped up around his back, but willingly released him when she felt him pulling away. Clamping her legs tightly around him, she found herself held slightly upside-down, as he pulled her lower half up to meet his own. For lack of better things to do with her arms, she set them at her sides, fiercely gripping the bedding on which she lied, helping him to hold her in place. Feeling him suddenly pause in his thrusts, she looked up at him, meeting his eyes, her expression momentarily confused until she heard him confess that he didn’t wish their night to end too quickly. She then produced a rather wicked smile, as an idea suddenly came to her. She had wondered if such an opportunity was going to present itself, and had started to figure it would have to wait until next time. She was glad to learn she was wrong…
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Was this Heaven? Had he died and failed to notice somehow? How was it that this woman, this goddess before him, would permit him the gift of her body? He was truly blessed.
Feeling his release slowly starting to creep up on him from deep within, he knew he’d need to cease his pounding, and soon. He was fearful of expelling his seed too quickly, and after only a few more thrusts, he knew he had to stop, so stop he did. Seeing Sango’s quizzical gaze, he explained through a deep panting of breath “I do not wish our night to end too quickly.”
He was not expecting the wicked expression that suddenly adorned his bride’s otherwise lovely features. He shuddered, wondering what on Earth could have passed through her mind to produce such an evil grin as its side effect. What was it about her knowing he was on the edge of his release that caused him to get the sinking sensation that she had him right where she wanted him? Frozen like a rabbit meeting the gaze of a wolf at the gleam in her chocolate orbs, his body was irresponsive against fighting her off as she put her plan into motion. How did he suddenly end up on his back?
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Kagome had briefed Sango regarding the various positions in existence, basically telling her that anything she could imagine could easily be done, and to not shrug anything off as not possible without first trying it out. One concept that had instantly struck the slayer’s fancy was something that she was eagerly willing to try out in that moment. Seeing him stilled above her, sweating and catching his breath, her mind inwardly joked Ahh, the poor dear has worn himself out as she rather spontaneously decided to share the workload. Moving quicker than his hazy eyes had time to focus, Sango bent her arms back, placing her palms flatly upon the futon behind her head, elbows up. With a strength and agility born of her profession as Taijiya, she released her legs’ vice-lip grip of his waist, quickly bending them towards her enough to give herself the momentum required to swing and push herself against the mattress, flinging herself forward, up and around, until she pinned him against the bed, her body now positioned sitting atop him as he laid flatly on his back. His expression of bewilderment, she found, was most endearing. She’d managed the maneuver without the pair even separating, and she grinned with smug satisfaction when his eyes widened in the realization that after her little stunt, they were still intimately connected.
He had no idea how Sango had done it, but there he was, laying on his back, his dear, sweet, forceful Sango, straddling his waist. He wasn’t about to complain. No sooner had he fully registered what had happened, did he suddenly feel his goddess start to move above him. Sure, he knew it could be done that way, but that doesn’t mean he ever had before. That’s not to say he hadn’t desired it, either, but he had been unsure of Sango’s willingness to play the dominating party. Belatedly, he realized he should have known better. This was Sango we were talking about, after all, and she’d done practically nothing but dominate him ever since he’d met her.
Rising and lowering herself at a rather steady rhythm, it wasn’t long at all before she learned to read the level of pleasure her husband was experiencing based upon both his breathing and his facial expressions. Twice already, she’d brought him to the brink of rapture, ceasing in her movements at the very last second, causing his climax to fade away once more.
“Damn you, woman…” he hissed through a laugh, while smiling stupidly, “My lovely Sango is not only beautiful, but talented as well.” he groaned as another wave of pleasure washed through him.
But what started as merely a means of bringing her husband unexpected and delightful pleasure quickly turned selfish when Sango realized that while in control in that manner, she was also able to bring herself considerable pleasure. Her movements altered, her intentions shifted, and Miroku could read it in her eyes - or rather, in the way they were pinched shut - that she was no longer concentrating on pleasuring him, but herself, instead.
Somehow, that knowledge managed to bring him even more pleasure than her physical actions alone, and when she reached her second (ever) climax of her own accord, it was then that he could no longer hold himself back.
They screamed each other’s names in unison as he came beneath her, filling her with his seed. There was another, very important reason regarding the specific date they’d selected for their wedding. Let’s just say, nineteen more to go…
Inuyasha, and the characters therein, are the property of Rumiko Takahashi. I am in no way affiliated with Takahashi, or VIZ Productions.
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This chapter is slightly out of sequence, but I felt that the fandom’s second favorite canon couple deserved to have their own fifteen minutes of fame. So this is Sango and Miroku’s wedding night. Contains Lemon…well duh.
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Chapter 50 - A Page Inserted - Sango & MirokuHe still couldn’t believe it. His friends had all made him the happiest ex-monk alive. The ceremony was much more than he’d ever expected, and even Master Mushin had been humbled by the rather expensive sake that they’d managed to acquire.
Departing with Sango towards their hut, Miroku couldn’t help but grin that tonight, and every night from here on in, the two of them would be sharing the same futon. Though Sango had been willing to live with him in the same hut, he had been sleeping in Kohaku’s room until now. Speaking of Kohaku, the lad hadn’t even needed to be told, as Miroku saw him departing the ceremony to head straight towards Kaede’s hut, taking Kirara with him. Good boy.
“Sango, my sweet,” the ex-houshi purred, lecherous as ever, “I hope you are ready for tonight.”
Sango had the good graces to blush at the comment, but she readily followed Miroku inside their hut nonetheless.
Once inside, the pair each slipped off their zori (sandals), and made their way through the living area. It was a fairly large hut, after all, Sango had promised to bear him twenty children.
“Are you hungry, Houshi-sama?”
Miroku smirked at her outdated pet name for him. After all, he was no longer a monk, and as such, the title held no truth. She’d said his name before, on the rarest of occasion, but more often than not she’d always called him by his title. A habit he’d gladly spend hours at a time breaking her of. He’d get her to say his name; he’d have her screaming it before morning.
“Only for you, my sweet, only for you.”
Sango blushed, and nervously pulled some stray hairs back behind her ear as she met his eyes with a glimmer of anticipation mixed with apprehension. Wordlessly, Miroku extended his hand towards her, and in a show of complete trust and adoration, the taijiya-turned-bride accepted the offered limb, and allowed her new husband to lead her back towards the main bedchamber.
Pausing just within the doorframe, Sango couldn’t help but to wonder what it was that passed through her husband’s thoughts, as he appeared to be staring at her in some nameless manner of bewilderment.
“Miroku?” she whispered, and the sound of his given name leaving her lips was music to his ears.
“Merely admiring your beauty, my dear Sango.” he spoke confidently, as he gestured towards the interior of the room, and proceeded to pass through only after Sango had entered before him.
Had Sango been youkai, she would have sensed the waves of nervousness as they rolled freely from the man behind her. While it was true that Miroku was not a virgin, he also wasn’t as experienced as he’d always led others to believe, and though he knew that his dear Sango was a virgin, he was still worried that he wouldn’t live up to her expectations.
Sango had similar apprehensions, regarding herself and her own lack of knowledge, but a private talk with Kagome had put most of her worries to ease. She at least had a basic idea of what to expect, as well as a “modern” twist on what was expected of her in return. The few women Miroku had previously been with were naturally products of their time, believing that a woman’s place was below a man - literally…and so Sango hoped that she could offer her new spouse a few pleasant surprises.
Coming up behind his bride, Miroku wrapped his arms securely around her waist, as he held her to him, savoring the simple act of embracing her. Part of him was still in denial that all he had hoped for, all he had dreamed for, had - and was about to - come true. Leaning forward, he permitted his lips to delicately grace the skin on the back of her neck, as he gently tugged her collars lower. Reaching around with his ex-cursed hand, Miroku tenderly began pulling loose the square knot of her obi jime (obi cord), tossing it to the side of the room once it came free.
Sango felt him next working loose the bow in the back of her obi, and took a moment to steady her breathing. Part of her was so nervous over the notion of him undressing her that she had to still her instinct to grab for Hiraikotsu, while at the same time, she mentally chuckled over the notion that she couldn’t wait to be freed from the rather uncomfortable ensemble. It was so tight after all, that she could barely walk, and should an enemy have chosen that moment to strike, she would have been quite useless in battle. Inuyasha had assured the pair that he and Kagome would not depart for her time until sometime the following morning, ensuring that should anything out of the ordinary happen that night, they needn’t concern themselves over it. He was there to protect them, along with the rest of his village.
Sango felt her outer kimono loosen, indicating that Miroku had successfully unwrapped her obi. Glancing down, her suspicions were confirmed as the side flaps of her outer most layer of clothing lazily fell open. The obi, she recognized, was currently adorning the floor in a rather similar fashion as the cord that had preceded it. She felt his hands upon her shoulders then, but she stilled his movements when she reached up and met his hands with her own. Sango then proceeded to turn around, facing her new husband, and slipped the kimono off her shoulders herself. The luscious white silk, Miroku decided, looked much lovelier crumpled at her feet, as he moved to untie the himo (sewn-on straps) which cinched closed her next layer of clothing.
The slayer had different plans, however, as she stilled his hands by once more placing hers atop of them, as she playfully whispered “My turn.”
Miroku grinned as Sango moved forward then, embracing him in a frontal hug. He instantly wrapped his arms once more around her body, content in merely holding her to him, taking in everything that was her. When he felt her delicate hands move themselves lower, attacking his own obi, he couldn’t help but to grin. Permitting his over-kimono to fall to his feet, Miroku stepped free from the billowing pile of royal blue and purple. Walking past Sango as he approached the futon, he turned and sat down upon it, facing her.
Sango watched with smiling eyes as her soon-to-be mate removed his tabi (split-toe socks) and began untying the himo of his kosode (narrow-sleeved under robe). Slipping out of his kosode, Sango’s eyes widened when she realized that he wore no more layers underneath…save for his fundoshi. Well, it was a rather warm day after all, she supposed, and smiling, she mused that it wouldn’t be cooling down any time soon.
Miroku smirked upon noticing his wife’s rather pleased expression with regard to his own physical appearance. He may have lived the simple life of a monk, to a degree, but he was also a warrior, engaging in his fair share of battles, and it showed. His features were, in a word, flawless, or at least they were as far as Sango was concerned. His broad shoulders revealed natural strength, accented by the shapely muscles of his chest and arms, while his legs were as toned as one would expect after nearly a lifetime of travel. Having always kept himself concealed within his flowing monk’s robes, Sango’d had no idea what Miroku had been hiding from her all that time.
“My dear Sango…” Miroku spoke up then, voice dripping with seduction and humor, “…it would appear that you are over dressed.”
Blushing, she gazed downward upon herself, and then, surprisingly, answered with “It would appear you are correct.” as she began to work on her next layer of clothing, Miroku’s eyes eagerly following her every move.
Delicately, teasingly, Sango pulled loose the himo of her inner robe, whose sleeves were just as billowy as her outer robes, though obviously much shorter. (It would be as distasteful for the sleeves of an inner kimono robe to be visible from the outside as it would be for a modern woman’s slip to show below the hem of her skirt.)
Straps undone, the youkai slayer permitted her second layer of white silk to fall upon the wooden floor, and suddenly, she was standing before her husband in nothing more than a thin cotton yukata. Miroku’s smile increased tenfold when he saw her lose her inner, padded kimono. It did away with her pleasing hourglass figure, and having gotten used to seeing her in her fitted, black leather Taijiya ensemble, a padded out cylindrical look did nothing for her, or him. The yukata she wore underneath everything else was cinched tightly ‘round her waist, revealing her shape. Its color was a soft sakura pink, and Miroku had to admit that she did look good in pink. But, he imagined, just like the rest of her outfit, it would likely look that much better on the floor, at least for the time being.
With the yukata giving her legs their desired freedom of movement, Sango effortlessly bent her legs backward at the knee, one at a time, years of Taijiya training giving her the necessary balance as she removed her own tabi without sitting down, to stand before her husband barefooted.
Mentally gulping, she knew what was next.
Moving a shaking hand towards her last belt, Sango was stilled by the whispered words spoken to her by her husband, as he raised himself up to his knees, standing nearly as tall as her upon their raised futon while she stood before him on the floor, as he soothingly implored “Allow me.”
Slowly pulling the tie free, his eyes never left hers, as he studied her reaction to his actions. She was nervous, but otherwise mirthful, her smile never leaving her eyes, or her lips. Slipping the last of his wife’s robes down and off her shoulders to fall at her feet, Miroku frowned playfully at Sango’s chest wrappings, murmuring “Now this can’t be comfortable.”
“It’s not.” she purred in return, and Miroku was surprised at the level of sensuality suddenly present in her voice.
“Well then,” he smirked, “I should remove it for you, ne?”
He knew his Sango had a beautiful figure, and why the propers of his time had decided that a busty woman should be wrapped tight was beyond him. He would have to see if he could talk her into wearing some of those “bra” things from Kagome’s time. According to his hanyou friend, they were absolutely heavenly, even if removing them properly was a bit of a pain.
Finding where the ends of fabric were securely tucked away, the ex-monk playfully began unwrapping his lovely wife, until her chest-binding fell freely in his hand, exposing the breathtakingly beautiful topless body of his lovely Sango, who could not help but to blush upon seeing his mesmerized gaze, as he studied her. Standing before him in a nearly identical fundoshi, she could not help but to notice how his appeared to conceal a rather distinctive bulge, and upon that particular realization, her blush naturally increased.
“Why, my dear Sango…” Miroku purred seductively, having noticed precisely where her eyes had been a moment prior, “I do believe it is your turn to undress me once more.”
Caught off guard by his statement, Sango stuttered through an embarrassed “A-all right.” as her response, as she slowly lowered herself to join him upon the bed, eyes nervous and body visibly shaking.
Sensing her apprehension, and not wishing to push her into anything too quickly, he relented and said “Or we could pause, for the time being, if you are feeling uncomfortable.”
Her eyes snapped up to meet his own at that, and while she could tell he was being completely honest and genuine in his concerns, she found that such a statement caused her to grow in confidence, as she responded with “Nonsense, houshi, this is the moment I have been waiting for.” as she proceeded to reach around him, and untuck the edge of his fundoshi.
Miroku felt his pride soar with the knowledge that this woman, this goddess before him, truly desired him. Now, if he could only fuel his own confidence as he had hers…
“I’m afraid my hands are rather busy, if you wouldn’t mind helping me be rid of this pesky thing.” she purred while gesturing to her own undergarment.
Okay, that did it, as he eagerly reached for, and began unwrapping her female fundoshi.
Both becoming void of clothing near simultaneously, they each permitted their partner a moment or two to simply stare, and each decided that what they saw, was simply flawless.
Sure, Miroku had seen Sango naked before, in a few brief, fleeting glimpses, for which he was brutally punished afterward by her Hiraikotsu. But to see her now, sitting before him, uninhibited, made his breathing pause and his heart rate increase. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would forever dote upon her, and she would want for nothing, except, hopefully, for his touch. He could, and would assure her with confidence that there would forever be no other.
Sango, on the other hand, had never seen Miroku naked, or any man, for that matter. But she was still a woman, and as such, had certain natural instincts when it came to matters of those types. She knew what she liked when she saw it, and quite frankly she liked what she saw. Thanks to Kagome, she had a basic understanding of such things, and from what she had gathered from their talks, while it was true that Miroku was not half demon, he was still exceptionally gifted, for a human.
Coming together and allowing their bodies to touch, Sango felt a jolt of heat rush through her at the sensation of his shaft pressing against her nest of curls. Of course, there would be plenty of time for that in a moment. But first, Miroku had been longing to taste her since he first saw her that morning in all her silks, and so now, finally, taste her he shall.
Sango gasped in pleasure when she felt his lips capture her own, and she readily returned the kiss. As she experienced much more passion from the man currently kissing her than during any of their previous encounters, she quickly realized that he had obviously been holding himself back before now, a notion for which she was grateful. He had insisted on keeping her honor intact, and he had succeeded in said mission. Now, it would be her honor, and her pleasure, to deliver all that he desired of her.
Slowly, but surely, Miroku’s wandering hands did just that, and Sango had to suppress a chuckle when she felt him reach for her backside. She was his now, and he could touch her as often as he liked, but she supposed that turn about was fair play.
Miroku gasped and nearly choked mid-kiss when he felt Sango cup his own backside, squeezing gently but firmly. He had never expected her to be so bold, but at the same time, he realized, he hadn’t expected her to be timid, either. She was a Taijiya, after all, a warrior woman who could take care of herself. He considered her his equal, despite the fact that such thinking was not common for men of his time. But after fighting beside her in countless battles, saving each other’s lives, and tending each other’s injuries, he could not, in his right mind, ever consider her a delicate flower of a woman. She was powerful, and he hungered to feel her power.
Squeezing what he held in his own grasp that much harder, he smiled at her own shuddering gasp, as he pulled her closer against him. Breaking away from his kiss before she fainted from lack of air, he offered her no mercy as he plunged his tongue lower, leaving a scorching trail of fire in its wake, as he tasted her throat and collarbone. He could feel Sango’s body tense when she realized what he was about to do, but smiling once more when she made no move to stop him, he proceeded, and engulfed her right breast in his mouth.
Sango could not prevent the audible moan that escaped her lips upon the sensation of his lips coming into contact with her soft mound, especially when his tongue darted in circles around her rapidly hardening nipple. A rather noticeable, rather familiar sensation of gathering moisture momentarily caught her attention, before she lost herself once more to the sensations.
Miroku didn’t need an inu’s sense of smell to tell him that his Sango was becoming aroused; he could feel her increasing heat as he pressed his shaft against her. Her tiny mews of pleasure were both pleasing to hear as well as physically stimulating, as he felt tingles running through his own lower section each time such a noise escaped her. He was far from quiet himself, moaning and grunting his pleasure and desire; Sango’s name escaping his lips repeatedly. Traveling upward from her chest, he again attacked her neck, as he attempted to maneuver himself to be behind her once more.
Sango suddenly felt herself becoming nervous again, when she felt him shifting around behind her on the futon, and turning herself as well, she attempted to keep him facing her.
“Sango, my sweet, let me rub your shoulders, and pleasure your neck…” he purred, as he tried to move behind her once more, attempting only for the pleasure of this evening to stretch out to its greatest extent, seeing no point in rushing through what he would now have for the rest of his life.
Seeing her stiffen, and suddenly wrap her arms around herself in the universal posture for someone who was uncomfortable, he paused in his ministrations, and asked with all seriousness “Sango, what’s wrong?”
“Miroku…I…I’m ugly…”
Now that statement had him baffled to no end, for as far as he could tell, she was magnificent.
“Sango, my love, you are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes upon.”
“Please…” she whispered, “Can…can you just stay in front of me?”
Realization dawned, as he asked “Is it the scar from Kohaku’s scythe that is bothering you?”
Her eyes widened in surprise and she managed to ask “How…?” before he tenderly shushed her with a finger upon her lips.
“My dear Sango, if I am to honor you as a noble husband, than I must be completely honest with you. I have already seen the scar you wish you conceal from me. You know very well that I have spied upon you bathing in the past…I have my own scars to prove it…” Pausing in his confession, he reached up to feel the back of his head, and offered a humble chuckle. To his relief, Sango’s eyes softened, as she chuckled as well.
“I’m sorry for always hitting you so hard.” she apologized with a smirk, revealing her apology was only half-genuine. After all, in her book, he still deserved it for peeping.
“All things in nature have a natural balance, and I’m quite sure that Buddha tested me with such continual pain so that I may now be rewarded with such pleasures.” That said, he leaned forward and delicately captured her lips once more.
Sango readily returned the kiss, uncoiling her arms from around herself and wrapping them upward around his neck, pulling him closer. When she felt him slowly lower his kisses toward her neck for the third time, she did not pull away, as she permitted him to slowly but surely work his way around her body until he was finally behind her. Pulling her hair away and to the side, he teased the base of her neck, and found that she was actually rather sensitive in that spot.
Playing along the base of her spine, he swirled his tongue lower, feeling her body tense once more, only that time, he could tell it was merely from being tickled. Smiling the most genuine smile he ever had in his entire life, he lovingly coated her backside with his tongue, including every crevice of her scar. In his eyes, Sango was beautiful, no matter what. Returning to her throat, he applied mild pressure to both shoulders as he slowly rubbed and massaged her neck, while teasingly blowing a delicate breeze upon her moistened skin. Reaching around after a moment, he cupped both breasts with his hands, as his mouth moved sideways, and as Sango felt him on the side of her neck, she tilted her head, and met him in yet another string of passionate kisses.
It wasn’t long before they each grew weary of remaining propped up on their knees, and slowly, they allowed their bodies to lower upon the futon. Hands and tongues continued to explore each other’s body, but Sango soon found that she could not help but to gasp out, and pause in her actions, when she felt Miroku suddenly reach between her legs.
Miroku grinned when he discovered just how wet Sango had truly become, and as he slowly began massaging her bundle of nerves, he used his free hand to encourage her own in exploring the more passionate areas of his body, as well. The sensation of her callused hand gently wrapping around his cock sent chutes of pleasure careening through his body. Years of battling with Hiraikotsu had made the skin of Sango’s fingers and palms about as ‘horny’ as he himself was feeling, he mused to himself at the light pun. The sensation, he found, was not unwelcome.
It took no time at all for Sango to get the hang of it (no pun intended), and Miroku found his eyes rolling back in the sheer pleasure she was delivering him. Never in his wildest dreams had he fathomed just what a difference Sango’s hand could make in comparison to his own. Continuing to pleasure her as well, he knew he was succeeding, when he felt her body vibrate, as she unconsciously bucked into his hand. Slowly and delicately, he inserted one finger, then two, as he stretched and prepared her. He had two goals for the evening that truthfully walked hand-in-hand. One, deliver her as much pleasure as possible. Two, do so while also delivering as little pain as possible. He knew it would hurt her when he broke through her barrier, so before that happened, he wanted to hear her scream in pleasure.
Sango could hardly concentrate on what she was doing with the sensations flowing through her own body. She couldn’t quite comprehend how something could feel so wonderful. There were no words to describe it. Attempting to do so would be like explaining a sunset to a blind person. It was simply something that had to be experienced firsthand. She could tell that something was about to happen when she felt a small pressure slowly start to build in intensity, and she knew that it was something that Kagome had mentioned. The miko had said “Don’t try to keep quiet. It feels so much better when you scream his name.” Until now she hadn’t understood what she was talking about.
Miroku knew that she was close when he felt her body start to shake more violently, and her hand still against his member, pausing in her own ministrations. He smiled as he continued to do precisely what it was he was doing, picking up speed as he did so, and before he knew it, her body went wild, as she passionately screamed his name at the top of her lungs.
Coming down from her first orgasm, she barely had time to catch her breath before she found his lips crashed against her own once more. The kiss was fierce, but brief, as he quickly broke away from her mouth to plant streams of kisses along her nose, cheeks, chin and neck.
“Sango *kiss* my *kiss* sweet *kiss*…” he asked through his barrage, “Are you ready for me?”
It took Sango a moment to register exactly what he was asking, but when she did, she looked him serenely in the eyes, and said “Make me yours.”
Positioning himself at her entrance, he got deathly serious and said “Sango, this will hurt, and I’m sorry. I never want to cause you pain. If you need me to stop at any moment, just say so.”
She looked up at him in some mild form of surprise mixed with utter devotion, before silently nodding as both her answer to his plea, as well as her signal for him to proceed.
Miroku had hoped that, perhaps, with all her years of fighting youkai, that her maiden barrier would have already been broken. If that were the case, if he failed to feel her barrier, he would be grateful, and not accusing in the least. But as it turned out, that was not the case. Within mere moments he felt himself come into contact with her maidenhead, and gripping the sides of her face, he silently commanded her eyes to stay with his, as he silently apologized once more, before forcing his way through.
It broke his heart to see Sango suddenly wince in pain, though she hadn’t commanded him to stop. He gently whispered her name in a questioning manner, and her response had been to open her eyes - which she’d pinched shut upon his entry - and nod once more for him to continue.
Proceeding at a rather slow pace, he tried desperately to ignore the incredible sensations washing through him, as he wanted nothing more than for her pain to finally fade away. Wiping a single tear from her cheek, he tried desperately to still his own from falling. He knew she needed a few moments to adjust to his invasion, so despite his primal desires insisting that he increase his speed to pounding thrusts, he steadied his resolve, and continued to move at an almost undetectable rate.
Sango had known it would hurt, and had mentally prepared herself. Her years of training, and firsthand battle experience, had conditioned her to have a rather high tolerance for pain. Still, she mentally cursed when she realized she could not stop a rouge tear from slipping past the boundaries of her eyelids, even as she attempted to keep them pinched tightly closed. Hearing Miroku whisper her name, his voice pleading with her that she be all right, she opened her eyes to once more gaze into his mystifying pools. So blue that they appeared purple, she noted, a rather moistened purple at the moment. Feeling him cup her cheek, and wipe away her tear with his thumb, she had to mentally prevent even more tears from falling. Gathering now due to the sheer amount of unbelievable love she felt for this man, and felt from him in return. She was grateful that he was continuing to move as slowly as he was, especially since she realized that if his pleasure was anything like what he had delivered to her earlier, then his body undoubtedly desired him to go faster.
After what seemed like an eternity, though in reality it was more like two minutes, Sango started matching Miroku’s slow thrusts, causing his motion to seemingly double in speed, as she met him half way. Gasping, mostly in surprise, Miroku whispered down to his love, asking her if she was okay…if she was sure. What he received as a response was a silent nod, accompanied by an even quicker thrusting of her hips up towards his own. Steadying his resolve then, he proceeded to pick up speed himself, increasing his rate slowly, for fear of hurting her still. But whispered commands of “faster” egged him on, and before he knew it, he was pounding into her just as he’d desired doing.
As soon as Sango felt her inner muscles start to relax around his intrusion, and her pain start to subside to the point of nonexistence, she knew she was ready. She knew without needing to ask that Miroku wanted to go faster, but she realized he likely wouldn’t, unless she asked him to. For some reason, she wasn’t nearly as shy as she used to be, and found the command leaving her lips rather effortlessly. She was rewarded by an increase of speed from the man above her, as she desperately tried to keep up with him, matching his pace thrust for thrust. It wasn’t long though, before she found she couldn’t quite move quickly enough in her current position, and giving up on trying to move with him, she instead decided to wrap her legs around his waist, and hold on for the ride.
When Miroku felt her legs wrap around him he was, in a word, shocked. None of the other girls he’d been with (though there weren’t that many) had ever done such a thing. It seemed to draw her in even closer to him, and he found himself able to thrust even faster. He could tell that her pain had completely left her, and for that he was grateful, because he honestly didn’t think he’d have been able to hold back any longer, even if she had asked him to. Backing himself away from her slightly, he attempted to raise himself to his knees, thankful that Sango had the notion to not let go. With her legs still wrapped securely around him, he gripped her bottom firmly, and began pounding into her fiercely.
Was this Heaven? Had she died and failed to notice somehow? How was it that this man, this god above her, could invoke such sensations of pleasure? Nothing should be allowed to feel that good without some sort of penance. But then again, maybe it was just like Miroku had said. Maybe their current pleasure was a reward for all the years of pain they’d already endured.
When he’d been lying more on top of her, she’d had her arms wrapped up around his back, but willingly released him when she felt him pulling away. Clamping her legs tightly around him, she found herself held slightly upside-down, as he pulled her lower half up to meet his own. For lack of better things to do with her arms, she set them at her sides, fiercely gripping the bedding on which she lied, helping him to hold her in place. Feeling him suddenly pause in his thrusts, she looked up at him, meeting his eyes, her expression momentarily confused until she heard him confess that he didn’t wish their night to end too quickly. She then produced a rather wicked smile, as an idea suddenly came to her. She had wondered if such an opportunity was going to present itself, and had started to figure it would have to wait until next time. She was glad to learn she was wrong…
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Was this Heaven? Had he died and failed to notice somehow? How was it that this woman, this goddess before him, would permit him the gift of her body? He was truly blessed.
Feeling his release slowly starting to creep up on him from deep within, he knew he’d need to cease his pounding, and soon. He was fearful of expelling his seed too quickly, and after only a few more thrusts, he knew he had to stop, so stop he did. Seeing Sango’s quizzical gaze, he explained through a deep panting of breath “I do not wish our night to end too quickly.”
He was not expecting the wicked expression that suddenly adorned his bride’s otherwise lovely features. He shuddered, wondering what on Earth could have passed through her mind to produce such an evil grin as its side effect. What was it about her knowing he was on the edge of his release that caused him to get the sinking sensation that she had him right where she wanted him? Frozen like a rabbit meeting the gaze of a wolf at the gleam in her chocolate orbs, his body was irresponsive against fighting her off as she put her plan into motion. How did he suddenly end up on his back?
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Kagome had briefed Sango regarding the various positions in existence, basically telling her that anything she could imagine could easily be done, and to not shrug anything off as not possible without first trying it out. One concept that had instantly struck the slayer’s fancy was something that she was eagerly willing to try out in that moment. Seeing him stilled above her, sweating and catching his breath, her mind inwardly joked Ahh, the poor dear has worn himself out as she rather spontaneously decided to share the workload. Moving quicker than his hazy eyes had time to focus, Sango bent her arms back, placing her palms flatly upon the futon behind her head, elbows up. With a strength and agility born of her profession as Taijiya, she released her legs’ vice-lip grip of his waist, quickly bending them towards her enough to give herself the momentum required to swing and push herself against the mattress, flinging herself forward, up and around, until she pinned him against the bed, her body now positioned sitting atop him as he laid flatly on his back. His expression of bewilderment, she found, was most endearing. She’d managed the maneuver without the pair even separating, and she grinned with smug satisfaction when his eyes widened in the realization that after her little stunt, they were still intimately connected.
He had no idea how Sango had done it, but there he was, laying on his back, his dear, sweet, forceful Sango, straddling his waist. He wasn’t about to complain. No sooner had he fully registered what had happened, did he suddenly feel his goddess start to move above him. Sure, he knew it could be done that way, but that doesn’t mean he ever had before. That’s not to say he hadn’t desired it, either, but he had been unsure of Sango’s willingness to play the dominating party. Belatedly, he realized he should have known better. This was Sango we were talking about, after all, and she’d done practically nothing but dominate him ever since he’d met her.
Rising and lowering herself at a rather steady rhythm, it wasn’t long at all before she learned to read the level of pleasure her husband was experiencing based upon both his breathing and his facial expressions. Twice already, she’d brought him to the brink of rapture, ceasing in her movements at the very last second, causing his climax to fade away once more.
“Damn you, woman…” he hissed through a laugh, while smiling stupidly, “My lovely Sango is not only beautiful, but talented as well.” he groaned as another wave of pleasure washed through him.
But what started as merely a means of bringing her husband unexpected and delightful pleasure quickly turned selfish when Sango realized that while in control in that manner, she was also able to bring herself considerable pleasure. Her movements altered, her intentions shifted, and Miroku could read it in her eyes - or rather, in the way they were pinched shut - that she was no longer concentrating on pleasuring him, but herself, instead.
Somehow, that knowledge managed to bring him even more pleasure than her physical actions alone, and when she reached her second (ever) climax of her own accord, it was then that he could no longer hold himself back.
They screamed each other’s names in unison as he came beneath her, filling her with his seed. There was another, very important reason regarding the specific date they’d selected for their wedding. Let’s just say, nineteen more to go…