Author's Note: Yo. I said two parts, remember? ^_^

Final Warning: Really, really wrong. You're allowed to hate it.

Two:

Gambit: A voluntary sacrifice of a pawn with the idea of gaining the lead, or some other compensating factor.

Inuyasha fucking hated her.

He hated her with the burning passion of a thousand suns.

And when the bitch woke up again, he was going to show her exactly how much he hated her.

Well, amended Inuyasha furiously, if she woke up again.

"Inuyasha," came a soft murmur in his ear.

Inuyasha started.

"Inuyasha," yawned Sango. "Are we there yet?"

Inuyasha fumed silently and tightened his grip on her stupid knees. "I thought you were asleep," he growled.

Sango yawned again, jaw digging into his left shoulder. "My concussion aside," she began, deceptively serene, "YOU'RE AN IDIOT!"

Inuyasha cringed. "L-look, I'm carrying you, okay?"

Sango huffed, wrapping her arms around his neck—harder—dangerously close to cutting off his air supply. "You wouldn't have to carry me if you weren't such an IDIOT."

Inuyasha bared his fangs, foaming at the mouth. "It's your own damn fault," he grumbled, but made sure she wouldn't actually hear him.

Sango pulled on his ears, wrinkling her nose. "The next time I say duck, DUCK. I'm sick of rescuing you from MOSQUITOES!"

Inuyasha muttered something under his breath, choking on her damn hair.

"What was that, Inu-ya-sha?" asked Sango suspiciously, the daggers strapped to her ankles digging into his sides.

"I said FINE!"

Curled on top of Inuyasha's head, Kirara gave a tiny little yawn.

"And another thing—" continued Sango, bouncing on his back.

"Duck," he hummed evilly.

"What?"

Inuyasha... accidentally! leapt into a huge puddle of mud, catching a cluster of wet branches on the rebound.

Drenched and scratched, Sango clawed at his face, heels kicking at his thighs. "Put me down! Put me down so I can kill you!"

Inuyasha bit back a vindictive snicker.

"Next time I say duck, Sango..."

"You're not serious."

Kagome shied away, her cheeks flushed. "Of COURSE I'm serious!" She tossed a sheet at a dazed Miroku, covering her eyes. "P-put your clothes back on!"

Miroku blinked. "Kagome—"

"Clothes!"

Amused, Miroku shook his head, then reached for a white yukata hanging off a rusty old hook.

"I apologize," he grinned charmingly. "I assumed you understood the concept of undressing before—"

Kagome covered her ears, quickly shaking her head. "I-I didn't—I didn't think you'd—" Her gaze dropped to his discarded robes which, only moments prior, were sliding off his tanned hips, revealing—

Eee!

I'm too young for this!

Miroku leaned against a wall, crossing his arms with boyish confidence. "It doesn't bite."

Kagome squinted, then looked at him, head to toe and back again and—

"PANTS!"

But Miroku only dusted off his borrowed yukata, looking almost angelic.

"Ah, Kagome-sama, if we are not to indulge in..." his lips parted most invitingly, "...deep..." he took a step closer, "...philosophical discussion tonight, perhaps we ought to," he walked past her, calves and... other corded muscles tensing and stretching under his flesh, "sleep."

Kagome stumbled back under the weight of a blanket.

"After all," continued Miroku chivalrously, digging through her backpack for pillows, "sleep is conducive to forgetting."

Not this time!

Kagome scrunched up her nose, looking at the shabby futon in one of the corners. "Um... and where will you sleep, Miroku-sama?"

"Over there, of course." He brushed past her, carrying a stack of fresh, fluffy linen. "With you."

Kagome bristled. "Un hn!"

Miroku cocked his head curiously. "Unless you'd prefer I sleep on top of you, I have no other choice."

Kagome spluttered for a moment, trying so very hard not to picture him sleeping on top of her, then pushed him out of the way and lunged for the futon. "Mine!"

Miroku lowered his head, shoulders shaking, the yukata barely brushing the middle of his very naked thighs.

Feeling chagrined, Kagome quietly held out a hand. "Fine. But if you come near me with that... that," her eyes involuntarily scanned the dark abdominal muscles barely poking out, "THING, I will... um... do things to it!"

Miroku handed her a pillow. "Please do, Kagome-sama."

Embarrassed beyond belief, Kagome cried out, the stupid deep ache inside her intensifying, making her bite her lips and clench her thighs and—

—soon, the bed was nice and soft and light and made, which meant she had to stop stalling and... and get in.

Miroku, clearly unconcerned and unashamed, draped himself across the futon like everything on it—including Kagome—belonged to him, stretching sinuously and grinning at her. "Mm. Perfect."

Kagome had trouble disagreeing.

He looked so... so...

Happy.

Why?

Reluctantly, she changed into her stuffy pink pajamas ("Turn around! And no peeking! I-I know where you sleep!") and crawled in next to him, steadfastly ignoring the pang in her heart and... um, other parts.

"You're awfully flushed, Kagome-sama," he commented, arranging his features into a concerned frown. "Perhaps you ought to take all your clothes off."

"I'm not letting you see me naked!"

"Mou," sighed Miroku. "You saw me, Kagome-sama," he pointed out helpfully.

"Thankfully, not very well!" she lied, thrusting a pillow at him. "Good night!"

Miroku said nothing.

Kagome frowned into her pillow.

Stupid monk, thinking he can—

She squeed abruptly, arching off the futon.

"Sorry," he gave a low, lazy mewl. "I forgot you were there."

Panting wildly, Kagome touched two stiff fingers to her behind, peeling his stupid hand off.

"Miroku-sama, please," she pleaded, "please remember your Buddhist training or something!"

"Ah," he chuckled, "perhaps I should warn you my indoctrination consisted of warm liqueur and even warmer—"

Kagome smothered him with a pillow.

"Kagome-sama!" he choked blissfully, voice muffled.

Kagome held the pillow in place, muttering veiled obscenities.

"You know," he smirked, grabbing her wrist and pushing the pillow off his face. "This isn't helping."

Kagome froze, her knee dropping between his legs. "I—" A warm hardness poked against her belly, and she coughed wildly. "G-good night, Miroku-sama!"

Scrambling off him, she reached for her blanket and hid under it, huddling, eyes tightly shut.

And slowly, her heart stopped trying to fracture her ribs, her eyes fluttered open, her muscles relaxed, and—

Miroku was hovering over her.

Kagome froze, inner thighs oddly slick.

Miroku peeled back her coverlet, giving her a ridiculously amused look.

"Good night," he smiled warmly, pulling the blanket to her chin and tucking her in.

And as Kagome listened to the rustle of cloth while he found a comfortable position (away from her!), she wondered why she couldn't stop shaking.

It—it's cold, that's all.

For fifteen minutes, she dared not move, scheming wildly.

I'm going to make Inuyasha kill him. Kill him and then revive him so I can kill him myself. Kill him and—

Why was it so damn hot in this stupid hot room!

Frustrated and itchy, Kagome kicked off her covers, inhaling deeply and staring at the dark ceiling.

She wiggled her toes and thought about the general uselessness of her stupid, stupid, hot pajamas.

Eyes narrowed, she turned her head to observe Miroku.

Miroku, who was sleeping, quite comfortably—the bastard!—stomach down, white yukata rumpled and tight and stretching over his muscled shoulders and slightly damp where his spine met the dimples of his—

Kagome quickly averted her eyes.

Why?

Why couldn't he just wear something down there?

And also...

She needed to take her pajamas OFF.

Or—or she would... would suffocate, yes!

So, giving herself a mental pat on the back, she wiggled out of her pajama bottoms, toeing them off and away.

Slightly better.

Miroku shifted in his sleep, the sheet around his thighs slipping further down.

Kagome's eyes widened.

I... I don't want to see—I don't—I—

Miroku's hair spilled across the pillow as he hugged it closer.

Kagome giggled.

It's okay, she thought giddily, he's asleep. So! She could... she could take off her pajama top. B-because, well, it was hot and he was asleep and besides, she had a shirt underneath! Granted, it was horribly flimsy and see-through and tickled her skin quite oddly, but...

Kagome sat up and shrugged out of her pajama top, tossing it aside and checking to see if Shippou was asleep.

Only because I'm worried about his... well-being! Not—not because I'm going to... to do anything he shouldn't see!

Determined, she poked Miroku's forehead.

He didn't stir.

Kagome tipped back down, still unusually restless. She fidgeted with the hem of her sleeveless shirt, casting surreptitious glances Miroku's way.

He was still sleeping and the rain was still falling and now she was cold.

Grumpy and jittery, Kagome huffed and turned on her side, staring at a sleeping Miroku.

A deep, persistent itch tore at the inside of her bellybutton.

What am I doing?

Horrified, she shut her eyes tightly and decided.

Y-yes, she would dress before he woke up and, and—

—Miroku's hand dropped to the mat, incredibly close to... to...

Kagome's eyes widened in horror.

His fingers were relaxed and slightly curled and... two of them were... almost... brushing against...

Eee!

Panicky and petrified, Kagome held her breath.

Okay.

OKAY, she could do this!

She could reach down and toss his hand away. Far, far away.

With a small mental nod, Kagome shifted her shoulders, willing her arms to cooperate. But involuntarily, her hips jerked slightly forward and—

There was contact.

A tragically unfamiliar shiver coiled low, traveling upwards, past her navel, straight to her breasts.

Fearing her breathing alone would wake Miroku, Kagome froze, trying to assess the situation.

Still salvageable!

After all, his fingers were... were barely brushing across her panties and... and—he was asleep, for heaven's sake!

Pulse racing and cheeks burning, Kagome moved very, very slowly.

Her trembling hands wrapped around Miroku's warm wrist—

—his fingers twitched in response—

—and a short, blunt nail scraped across—

Startled, Kagome gave a soft gasp, completely frozen and burning and feeling oddly slick where he'd...

Run.

Run fast!

Run fast and never tell anyone about this!

But instead, Kagome's grip on Miroku's wrist loosened and, with a small, terrified frown, she scooted closer—barely an inch, but...

Miroku grunted in his sleep, shifting a leg and tangling himself deeper into the sheets.

Shivering, Kagome stiffened.

Please... please don't wake up.

Slowly, Miroku's head turned towards her, but—but his eyes were closed! And... and his hair was falling across his dark cheeks and his bare neck, and he was—he was really pretty.

Features softening, Kagome moved closer. She'd only meant to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear (so he could—so he could sleep better!), but her whole body moved without her consent, bringing her hips closer to his hand and suddenly—

His hand...

His hand was buried deep between her legs.

And it was her fault.

Horrified, Kagome twitched violently.

Of course, the sudden movement only provoked her thighs into clamping down on that wonderful, warm... eee, horrible, evil! hand.

With a tiny whimper, she shut her eyes and bit her lip.

Should she... should she have been feeling... good?

Because this was potentially an incredibly embarrassing situation. If Miroku woke up and saw... THIS...

Dangerous.

He was dangerous and—and contagious!

He was dangerous and contagious and would never, ever, let her live this down.

Right.

So why wasn't she... MOVING?

Feeling miserable and suspiciously empty, Kagome blindly reached down again.

Just move his hand.

—away!

Move his hand away, crazy idiot!

Blushing furiously, Kagome laid her palm flat against his wrist and—

Miroku's hand instinctively... cupped her, his thumb slipping deeper and hooking around the hem of her panties.

Kagome hissed in surprise, her fingers automatically digging into his skin.

Oh, god!

She swallowed frantically.

For a moment... for a moment, she thought she'd felt Miroku tense—almost like he'd woken up and... oh, god, please, no. No.

Eyes tightly shut, Kagome whimpered.

This couldn't be happening. Not to her. Not to Kagome. She was a good girl. She was Kagome. She was—

—opening her eyes.

Cautiously, her gaze traveled from her clenched thighs... up... to her hands clutching Miroku's... up... to—

Miroku's eyes.

Which were open.

With a loud, mortified eep!, Kagome pushed away, scratching at him and quickly turning over, burrowing under her discarded blanket.

Panting, she curled in on herself.

Please don't say anything. Please don't—

And, to Kagome's complete and utter astonishment (and perhaps... disappointment?), Miroku said nothing.

Suspicious, Kagome stealthily looked over her shoulder, poking her nose out of the blanket and trying to see what Miroku was doing.

And...

...he was staring at her.

His hair was sleep-mussed, and his hand hadn't moved from where she'd left it.

...so.

So maybe...

Maybe he was sleeping with his eyes open!

Maybe he wasn't really looking at her!

Maybe her stupid brain was just playing tricks on her!

Maybe—

"I know you're awake."

Kagome bit her lip, snapping her head back around. "N-no, I'm not!"

She dared a glance.

His lips curved.

"Okay," he said, and reached out with that evil hand.

And then she was nestled in his arms, her back against his chest.

"I thought you ought to know," he murmured in her ear, "I'm having the most interesting dream right now, Kagome-sama." One hand gripped her hip, pulling her closer. "And you?"

Kagome lost the ability to successfully use her lungs. "Mi—Miroku-sama, what... what are you doing?"

"Trying to peel this thing off," he replied, tugging at the blanket. "Do you mind?"

"OF COURSE I MIND, YOU STUPID PERVERT!" was what she was going to say, but...

"I can stop," she heard herself murmur instead.

Miroku's hand froze midair, the blanket falling back.

"I can stop!" she repeated stubbornly, with so much conviction she almost thought he'd believed her. "A-anytime I want!"

And then Miroku did something that left her feeling ridiculously overwhelmed and amazed and proud.

He... laughed.

A happy, pleasantly surprised lilting of his voice.

Kagome's breath caught.

And for a moment, she felt a little greedy and a little possessive of this strange, dark monk and his strange, deep laugh.

I did this, she thought with wonder, and instinctively nuzzled into the pillow, legs stretching, toes accidentally brushing against the front of his calves.

Miroku stopped laughing.

"Not here," he murmured, sounding strained. His gloved hand finally slid under the blanket. "I want," he continued in a low, affectionate manner, "to hear you." His fingers grazed the underside of her breast, his thumb teasing at her—her...

"Uhn!" she moaned, curving into him.

"Not here," he repeated desperately, panting against her neck and making her want... want... something.

And then he was kicking off his covers with a grunt and grabbing her hand and dragging her outside and pinning her to the closest wet wall.

"Here," came his muffled voice. Slowly, he lifted his head from her collarbone and looked at her as though he—as though he wanted to kiss her. His eyes were unusually dark and his hair clung to his wet face, but he mumbled, "Here's much better," and pressed his lips to her shoulder, avoiding her eyes.

Profoundly disappointed, Kagome wrapped her arms around him, frowning at the rain and feeling oddly ashamed.

She'd never—gah, she'd never kissed anyone, but... but... what was his problem? So she wouldn't exactly be excellent at it, but that was no reason to not kiss her!

Angrily, she shifted her knee, intent on shoving him away, but only succeeded in arching into him, into the warm hardness poking against her belly.

"More."

Miroku's back muscles tensed.

"More?" he asked innocently, grinning against her slippery skin.

Mortified, Kagome averted her eyes, quickly turning her head. "I didn't say that!"

Miroku looked up. "No?"

She could see him out of the corner of her eye, could see the rain dripping off his eyelashes and his unbound hair—

"I had candy for breakfast," she explained airily, wiping the rain from her forehead.

Miroku blinked.

"And I'm pretty sure its expiration date was... last month," she nodded to no one in particular. "Which means I'm having a very real hallucination."

Miroku blinked some more.

"Therefore," she whispered softly, turning to him but keeping her gaze lowered as her cheeks darkened, "I shouldn't be afraid of keeping my promise, Miroku-sama."

Miroku raised a confused eyebrow.

Kagome cringed, burning with humiliation.

To be very, very good, you idiot!

Miroku's features softened, cheeks glistening. "And if you wake up tomorrow and find it real?"

Thoughtfully, Kagome fixed her gaze on an invisible spot beyond his shoulder. "Then I will finally understand you, Miroku-sama."

Miroku tensed, eyes widening. "Why would—"

"Because I want to."

And then, he was eyeing her lips, trembling and determined and she was so sure he was going to kiss her, but he—

—slipped his gloved hand up her drenched panties instead.

"I suppose we're both hallucinating," he grinned ruefully.

His knee nudged her legs apart, other hand pushing her shirt up.

A slick, wet ache surged through her.

"Uhn," she agreed, nodding vigorously. "We're—we're not ourselves."

Wet fingers were digging into her flesh, trying to scratch her panties off.

"And who are we?" he asked, amused, his hips slowly rocking against hers.

Kagome buried her head in his slippery shoulder, giggling. "I don't know. You're the experienced one, Miroku-sama."

"Ah," he countered pleasantly, latching onto her breast, "perhaps you," he bit down lightly, "can be the young courtesan," his tongue flicked over one hardened nipple, "that's running away from her depraved master."

Kagome choked on her indignation, and was promptly distracted by his wet sleeves draping around the small of her back, drawing her into him.

"A-and, why," she shivered, "why is she running away?"

The panties were gone, pooling around her feet, caked in mud.

"Mmh, maybe," he scraped his teeth over her wet shoulder, "he was too hard on her." He gave a long, rough lick. "But now he's caught up to her." He pressed his cheek to her heart. "And he's taking her back."

A thick, sharp need lanced through her.

Helplessly, she sunk to her knees, pulling at the hem of his drenched yukata.

"And if she doesn't want him to?" she asked breathlessly, trying to wrap her fingers around his corded calves.

Miroku placed his hands on the wall, touching his forehead to one of the wooden planks and shaking beneath her fingertips.

"He's going to take her anyway."

Kagome let out a tiny whimper, pressing her head to his thigh. "Okay."

Miroku tensed.

"Kagome," he ground out, one hand tangling itself in her hair and bringing her closer.

And then she was touching him, parting his white yukata and seeking flesh.

Raindrops continued to tickle her cheeks and her breasts and her back, and her lips brushed across him briefly, experimentally.

Both of his hands were clutching her hair now, fingers weaving through her wet bangs and affectionately slicking them back.

Sleepy and warm, Kagome grazed her nails lower, clenching her impossibly slick thighs.

"That's not why," she whispered, shutting her eyes.

Miroku stiffened, throbbing in her hands.

"That's not why she was running away," continued Kagome, biting her lower lip.

Miroku's hands slid to hers, removing them slowly. "No?"

"No," she shook her head with innocence that completely belied the deep, coiling hunger inside her.

Cautiously, Miroku knelt next to her, gasping for breath.

"Was she afraid?" he asked softly, pulling her into his lap.

Kagome shook her head, her knees muddy.

"Was she worried about her... old master?" he asked carefully.

Kagome quickly shook her head, wrapping her arms around his neck, her cheeks burning.

"Was she upset with—" he began with an anxious frown.

Kagome burrowed into his shoulder, his yukata brushing her thighs. "She couldn't keep her promise," she whined. "After all, he was used to women, not girls—"

Miroku's lips curled against her neck. "Did she want to keep her promise?"

Shyly, Kagome pressed her lips to his shoulder.

The yukata slipped off it.

"He's going to corrupt her, you know," he breathed, lapping at the raindrops on her jaw, his gloved hand disappearing between her legs.

Kagome arched into his touch, shaking her head. "Nuh uh. She's going to fix him."

And then he slipped inside her, just a tiny little bit.

A surprised cry rolled off her lips as his nails dug into her skin, lowering her onto him slowly, pushing deeper inside her.

It was an unfamiliar, deceptive sort of stretchy pain and she liked it.

She hurt, but she wanted to understand this, understand him, so she sank onto him, hard, and licked a raindrop off his jaw.

For a moment, she thought he was going to break, but he shut his eyes tightly and moved.

A slow, curling itch unfurled inside her.

"D-deeper," she said, perhaps out loud.

She felt full and wet and hot and he was just as incoherent, so she curved around him, wishing desperately to have all of him inside her, all around her, forever.

"If. Only," he grunted in reply, and she realized she'd been whispering in his ear.

The rain stopped.

She shimmied against him, threading her fingers through his hair. "S-stop."

Miroku didn't.

"Mi—"

He angled his torso, grunted, and then he was buried to the hilt and—

"Mi—ro—ku," she whimpered, gulping and swallowing air, the roof is going to—

The hut's thick thatch gave a crackling squeak, then...

...collapsed with a flourish, pelting them with a strong stream of cold water.

Miroku stopped moving, drenched, water dripping from his jaw.

Frozen, Kagome gave him a nervous glance. "Um... omen?"

Miroku scowled. "No," he managed sharply, running a thumb over her bottom lip.

Kagome raised her hips slowly, guiltily, feeling every ridge as he slipped out.

"Kagome," he began, and she thought she must have had a giant, "Take me!" pinned to her chest because he wasn't letting go and he wasn't—

"I-I'm sorry," she mumbled inarticulately. "I'm an idiot." Her throat constricted. "Inuyasha was right."

Miroku's expression darkened immensely.

"Ah," he said sharply, drawing away from her as she slumped against a wall. "Inuyasha."

Kagome rubbed her eyes, curling up and wishing she'd just stop burning up. "Y-yeah. He always says how stupid I am and—"

And then Miroku was in her face, watching her with a quiet fury. "Is Inuyasha that important?"

To you? lingered in the air, so Kagome straightened.

"Of-of course," she rushed to reply. "I promised to be with him forever. And—" you and Shippou and Sango and—

"I see," he said but didn't.

"No, I meant—"

But he cupped her cheeks, smushing them between his wet palms, bangs falling across his narrowed eyes. "Start your forever in the morning."

And then he was spreading her legs and taking off her dirty shirt and filling her so completely.

Her muscles contracted with each pull, an involuntary little cry of delight breaking her in half as he pushed her to the muddy ground, making her writhe beneath him, making her want him, hard, hot, wet, tight, angry—

"It's just a cock, Kagome," he growled in her ear. "Doesn't matter who it belongs to, does it?"

Kagome arched off the ground, back and hips and legs slippery. Must have heard him wrong. Must have—

He withdrew, drawing her closer to his slick chest. "You're not different," he mumbled blankly, then tensed with determination, sheathed inside her again. "So," he challenged, one, two, three deep strokes later, "tell me what you want."

"W-what?" was all she could manage, the odd, unfamiliar friction within her mounting.

Miroku palmed one of her breasts, his rosary grazing her ribs. "—what. You. Want."

Kagome knew she should've yelled, screamed, hit him, but all that mattered was this heavy pressure twisting through her, this aching need that kept hitching as he said these... horrible words and did these horrible things—

"What is it called, Kagome-sama?" he urged softly.

"A... a..." she began, then curved around him, trying to keep him inside.

"A cock," he murmured, slowly pulling out.

Kagome's eyes shot open.

She was throbbing and trembling and so close. "Okay."

Miroku's muscles tightened. "No. Cock."

Kagome whimpered, hands flying to his behind and pulling him back to her.

Miroku groaned, voice deepening to a growl. "And what we're doing is called what?"

Her fingers dug into his flesh desperately.

"Fucking, Kagome," he ground out angrily, but thrust inside her anyway.

And it's wrong, wrong, wro-oh god—

Palms flat against his skin, toes curling, Kagome gasped and spread her legs wider, forcing him in deeper and—

She tumbled and fell and spilled over something really, really—

"Kagome," he groused disdainfully, buried to the hilt and rearing back to look at her.

Slightly incoherent, Kagome shook helplessly under him. "Shh," she choked out. "Eleven, twelve, thirteen—"

Haughtiness making way for worry, Miroku smoothed a strand of hair off her forehead. "What are you doing?"

"Counting," she rasped, willing her lungs to work, "all these white spots." Her hands slid off his behind, one index finger poking the empty air. "They're doing a jig. Make them stop."

Miroku buried his head in the hollow between her breasts, laughing. "You are too young for this."

Sheepishly, Kagome averted her eyes, guilt and coherence returning full force. "Oh. Uhm. I—"

"—want to do this again," he finished for her, dark eyelashes coyly sweeping upwards.

Blushing horribly, Kagome flexed her fingers.

Can we?

"Of course," continued Miroku smugly, "some of us (you) will have to, considering some of us (me) haven't..." he trailed off, nudging her hips with his.

Kagome was the very picture of astonishment. "I-I thought," she stammered, keenly aware of how thick and hard and deep inside he was. "I thought we—we'd... you know—at... at the same time..."

Miroku watched her for a moment, expression unreadable. "I'm incredibly tempted to make you turn around," he said darkly, "but I suppose you'd rather save that particular position for Inuyasha."

Kagome's throat went dry.

Was he insane?

And also, what was he talking about?

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, humiliated. "I didn't mean to... before you... I-I'm sorry."

Miroku's eyes widened a fraction. "Don't—don't apologize," he said, a touch of embarrassment softening his voice.

Shyly, Kagome looked up at him, studying his features. "Is this why you were, um... making friends with three women?"

Miroku's lips curved in mild surprise. "Partially," he replied, hardening inside her.

A slow, gritty stretch of muscle and she was tightening around him.

He shut his eyes, grimacing. "And partially," he drawled, dark blue eyes narrowing in pleasure, "because none of them," low, satisfied growl, "are this," slow, deep stroke, "tight."

Kagome wrapped her legs around him, turning her head and watching his gloved wrist. "How," she gasped out, "how many?"

Slick, achy itch as he pulled out halfway. "What?"

She moved her hips, climbing higher and wishing she didn't feel like crying. "How. Many. Girls?"

Deep, shallow, quick, his hands on her hips, bruising— "One."

Biting her lip, "F-fine," soft gasp or three, "how many," biting into his shoulder lightly, "women?"

Miroku didn't reply.

Okay.

Okay, she thought. I can be selfish, too.

"It's called f-fucking," she whispered, mentally bleaching her brain.

Stunned, Miroku surged against her. "Ka—fuck!"

He came inside her with a surprised snarl and collapsed atop her, trembling, his hair tickling her ribs, an unfamiliar sticky warmth trickling into her—

Quietly, Kagome pried his fingers off her hips and squirmed out underneath him.

"Hot spring," she mumbled, rising shakily. "Somewhere." Waved her hand, avoiding his eyes. "Off to find it." Bent down to pick up her shirt and panties. "I'm—"

His hand caught hers. "Not going alone."

Startled, she turned to him.

"But please," he motioned in the general direction of his abdomen. "Give me five minutes to recover!"

Despite herself, Kagome tittered.

.

"You know, it's going to be hard..."

Miroku dipped into the water, then quickly surfaced, running his fingers through his wet hair to shake the excess off.

Guiltily, Kagome averted her eyes.

"It already is," he smirked lasciviously. "The water's not cold enough."

Kagome bristled. "To pretend, I mean!"

Miroku gave her an odd smirk.

"Ah, Kagome-sama," he sighed dramatically, wading through the water to glance down at her, "our little group is nothing if not an expert at pretense."

Kagome frowned, splashing some water his way. "I know, but... but how am I going to be all outraged when Sango catches you peeking in on us when we're taking a—"

Miroku gave her a small smile.

Kagome froze.

"You're leaving," she said. It wasn't a question.

Miroku's jaw clenched visibly. "I can't possibly stay."

"I won't tell anyone," she said quickly.

Miroku shook his head ruefully. "It's not that."

"And I promise to never mention it!"

"No, Kagome—"

"Please, Miroku... I mean, Miroku-sama, I won't let anyone find out—you won't be safe on your own—and I can't—"

"Kagome!"

Kagome snapped to attention.

"I don't want to see you with him," she thought she heard him say, but she must have imagined it because Miroku's lips were moving, but not so much to form words as...

...trail down her temple.

"I apologize," he said, as he scooped her up and into his arms, water dripping everywhere, "but I don't know any other way to make you," his fingers gripped the underside of her knees, "shut up."

Kagome pondered resisting, but then he was lowering her onto the shore, and her pout disappeared as he parted her legs and kissed her inner thigh and—

"M—no," she tried, but he shot her a wicked grin.

"Secretly, you really, really want me to," he grinned, touching his tongue to his teeth and looking so incredibly handsome she thought she must have been seriously blind before.

"Uhn," she nodded, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer.

"Or... not so secretly," he muttered, but sounded oddly pleased.

.

"—and so the alienated antihero rages against the optimistic assumptions of rationalist humanism—"

"Take off your clothes."

Kagome swatted at him. "I'm trying to teach you things! Pay attention!"

Sugary-sweet, Miroku ran a hand over her bare midriff with an admonishing tsk, "Just one more time, Kagome-sama."

Kagome faltered, almost toppling over the log she was sitting on. "N-no."

Miroku glanced at her muddy gym shorts, pointing at the hut. "It's either that or cleaning the mess inside before Shippou wakes up."

Kagome squirmed, blustering, "But my deep philosophical discussion..."

"...can wait," he nodded warmly.

Kagome glanced at him.

A tiny dark eyelash was stuck to his cheek, so she—

—pounced.

"Kagome!" he shouted as he caught her, "what are you—"

She caught the eyelash between her thumb and forefinger. "Make a wish!"

Miroku blinked, sitting her next to him. "Why?"

"Because I have your eyelash!"

Miroku scratched the back of his neck anxiously. "I broke you. I broke you and now you've gone insane."

Kagome giggled. "You didn't break me! It's just this thing my mom did for Souta and me when we were little."

Miroku scrunched up his nose. "Was she half-dressed, too? Because that's a little... odd."

Kagome flushed. "Shut up and give me your hand."

A sly grin spread over his lips. "Don't mind if I—"

Kagome arched an eyebrow.

He deflated with a sigh. "Fine."

Kagome took his proffered hand and touched her index finger to his, trapping the eyelash in between.

"Okay," she said excitedly, "you have to make a wish, then pick who you think the eyelash will stick to. If you guess right, your wish'll come true."

Miroku gave her a skeptical glance, but frowned in concentration anyway.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Wait," he answered, hiding a smirk, "my wish is slightly detailed."

Kagome blushed. "I forgot to tell you. You can't use it for evil."

Miroku's bushy brows drew together. "You never said I couldn't."

"Well, I'm saying it now!" she huffed, glancing away and sticking her nose in the air. "Wish for something nice."

"I was wishing for something ni—"

Abruptly, Kagome kissed their joined fingers. "There! My wish is in. Your turn."

Miroku blinked. "Why did you—"

Cheeks pink, Kagome scrunched up her nose. "You have to kiss it for luck."

"Oh."

And then he was kissing it for luck.

Except, instead of placing a quick, casual peck on their fingers, he was kissing her...

...breast.

"Miroku-sama," she breathed, trying to push him away with her other hand. "I meant the—"

"Again, you didn't specify—" he began studiously, tilting his head and looking like an impish five-year-old.

"JUST PICK ALREADY!" growled Kagome, poking his stupid, warm chest.

Absurdly focused, Miroku glanced at their fingers.

"You," he said. "It's going to stick to you."

A chill shot up her spine. "F-fine. One, two, three—"

Their fingers came apart, and the tiny dark lash was—

"I'm never playing this stupid game with you again," sighed Kagome, puffing the eyelash off her thumb.

Miroku grinned victoriously.

"What was your wish?" he asked softly.

Kagome flushed.

Lie.

"To wake up," she said honestly.

Miroku winced. "I see." He glanced away with a scowl. "How unfortunate I won."

Kagome shifted awkwardly. "That's not what I m—"

But Miroku had already pasted a nonchalant smile on his face. "It shouldn't be so bad, you know."

Kagome blinked. "What shouldn't?"

"Bearing my child."

Kagome's heart stopped. "W-what?"

Miroku waved a dismissive hand. "I realize you regret... what happened, and I suppose you have every right to." He looked away. "However, I don't." His fingers splayed over his bare knees. "For a while now, I've been—"

"No, wait—Miroku—you don't understand," she began frantically, there's the pill and—

"—watching you with Shippou and the village children—"

"Hold on!"

"—and after careful deliberation (and many, many internal conflicts), I've—"

"Miroku!"

"—decided I want no one else—"

"Miroku-sama—"

"—to be the mother of my child."

"Why won't you listen to m—hh?" Frozen to her spot, Kagome swallowed. "W-what?"

Miroku finally looked at her, and she could've sworn his cheeks were unnaturally dark, but he gave a small nod and explained. "It shouldn't be long before the kazaana..." he trailed off, frowning with determination. "You won't have to be around me for long. But I need a successor, Kagome-sama." His tone changed slightly. "When I die, I want my child to have everything I want for him." His features softened. "And that absolutely has to include you."

Kagome said nothing.

"Kagome?" he asked cautiously, his back muscles stiffening. "I—I'm sure Inuyasha will... forgive you and care for you regardless of—"

Kagome burst into tears.

Startled, Miroku froze.

"A-ah," he began uncomfortably. "Perhaps—"

Kagome launched herself at him.

"You're so... so stupid, you stupid idiot!" she bawled, trying to smother him. "What makes you think you can just—just say something like that and expect me to not want to kill you?"

Except, I don't want you to EVER die, you stupid, stupid idiot.

Confused, Miroku pried her fingers off him. "I apologize," he mumbled, "but which part, specifically, made you homicidal?"

Kagome sniffled, scrubbing at her eyes. "All of it."

Miroku tensed. "Ah."

An uncomfortable silence followed.

"What was your wish?" she asked suddenly.

Miroku twitched slightly. "Nothing."

Halfheartedly, Kagome glanced at the fire. "Fine. Don't tell me."

Miroku was quiet for a long moment, then—

"The child—"

Kagome's head snapped up. "Do you really think I would've... done... um... things with you if I thought I'd get pregnant?" Blushing painfully, she grabbed the nearest branch and poked the fire. "Remember when I was explaining things about the future to Shippou-chan?"

Miroku frowned. "Vaguely."

Kagome inhaled deeply. "Well, you should've paid more attention!"

Contemplatively, Miroku shifted. "So, what you're saying is... we won't have—"

Kagome shook her head quickly. "No."

And why the hell am I sorry?

"I see," said Miroku hesitantly. "Could we possibly pretend this conversation never happened?"

Kagome giggled, choking on fear. "Yes, please!"

Miroku nodded gratefully, though his posture didn't relax. Slowly, a wicked smirk overshadowed the unhappy little frown lingering around his lips.

"Odd," he said.

Startled, Kagome dropped the branch. "What is?"

Miroku raised a cocky eyebrow, sounding baffled. "You wanted me."

No—

"If you had no intention of creating a child with me," he continued prudently, "then..."

I really wanted you.

Horrified, Kagome scooted away, sliding against the mud. "W-well, it's your own fault! You got me—drunk, yeah!"

Miroku laughed.

"Don't," she said weakly. "Don't do that."

Miroku raised both eyebrows. "Don't do what?"

Don't be happy, sounded slightly psychotic, so she went with, "Gah! I need to go feel guilty now!" instead.

Miroku caught her wrist.

"It's not morning yet," he said playfully. "And I'm positive if I... try hard enough, you will be with child."

Coughing wildly, Kagome put a hand to her mouth. "You—don't—"

He pulled her closer, eyes narrowing kindly. "Picture him," he whispered in her ear.

And, strangely enough, Kagome did.

Tiny and adorable and... cursed.

But...

He doesn't get it.

He thought... he thought she didn't want his child. Thought she—

"We'd have a girl," she heard herself whisper.

Miroku's shoulders shook with repressed laughter. "Would we now?"

Kagome nodded earnestly. "And Shippou-chan would be really protective of her."

The corners of Miroku's lips twitched slightly.

"And my mom would kidnap her," giggled Kagome, shaking her head. "We'd get her back every other day, with a million and five braids and—"

Miroku's hands wrapped around her ankles, dragging her against the mud.

Kagome trailed off.

Her shorts, hardened with dry mud, were sliding off her slowly, down her thighs, over her knees, pushed off to the side, and once he was between her legs, fitting so perfectly, she asked, "Would it hurt?"

He lowered his chest to hers, one hand palming her breast and drawing up.

"The kazaana, I mean," she added softly, digging her nails into the mud.

His lips brushed over her left eyebrow.

"Were you born with it?"

His gloved hand slid to her inner thighs, cold fingers parting her, even colder beads tickling her flesh.

"Miroku, please."

He rubbed her absentmindedly. "I don't remember."

She arched her back, hair matted to the mud, wondering if he'd been tucked away as a baby, tiny hand wrapped in a rosary bigger than his whole arm, if—

Inside.

He was inside her again.

And she must have been insane.

She must have been insane to agree to never do this—feel this—again.

.

"Why?" she asked, staring at the moon through her fingers.

She felt him shrug beside her. "Life is short even when you're not cursed with a—"

"But why now?"

Miroku slid a lazy hand over his eyes. "Aside from the fact that we were finally alone, you mean?"

Kagome nodded quietly, turning to him. "If your excuse for... this... is that life is short... why didn't," she coughed, blushing furiously, "...why didn't you ask me before?"

Miroku spluttered. "I asked you the first time I saw you!"

Kagome huffed. "I mean really asked me."

"You wouldn't have said yes," he replied calmly, sitting up. "Actually, I'm relatively positive you didn't say yes tonight, either."

Kagome squirmed. "What would be the point in saying it if we're going to forget in a few hours?" she asked tentatively, casting a stealthy glance at him, watching his expression.

Which didn't change. "So. Almonds."

Kagome giggled, plucking at the dirty pebbles under their even dirtier blanket. "What?"

"You don't like almonds."

Kagome sat up, raising both eyebrows and poking his bare chest. "I broke you!"

A small smile escaped his lips. "You didn't break me." He glanced away, almost meekly. "You've told me you don't like your cat, brother, grandfather, geometry, and almonds." He turned those dark eyes on her. "Now I wouldn't mind hearing what you like."

"You," she replied automatically, then quickly covered her mouth. "A-and Inuyasha and Shippou-chan and Sango-chan and... um... as friends and...!"

Miroku cut her off. "Kagome," he began, clearly uncomfortable. "I... I value your friendship," he said seriously, dark bangs hiding his eyes. "So I'm going to try."

Kagome's little heart fluttered trustingly.

Miroku stood up, offering her a hand. "I'm going to try," his eyes softened considerably as she took his hand, an attractive smirk creeping to his lips, "to use these last few hours for some of the most despicable, dirty—"

Kagome giggled, swatting him away. "I don't think I've seen that listed under the definition of friendship, Miroku-sama!"

"Ah," he complained. "Could you possibly check again?" Forlorn sniffle. "Because I really wanted to," he brushed his cheek against hers, "take you."

"W-what, where?"

"Un," he nodded somberly. "On that rock over there. And in that rosebush behind me. And—"

Kagome peeked over his shoulder, placing a finger to her chin. "That would've hurt!"

Miroku grinned, offering her a nonchalant pout. "Not necessarily."

Kagome sniffled. "I'd sooner pick the rock."

"Okay."

And then she was giggling happily, pinned under him on said rock.

Okay.

.

"How can you not be tired yet?"

Kagome scrunched up her nose, hunched over her backpack. "I don't know."

Miroku was watching her from the futon, leaning on his elbow. "It's the candy."

Kagome shot him an offended glare, biting off a piece of chocolate. "It's you."

Miroku's lips twitched. "Clarify."

"I don't know!" she shrieked, wondering if Shippou would sleep through anything. "The more..." she began, confused, "the more you tell me, the more I want to know about you. You know?"

Miroku glanced at her skeptically.

Huffing, Kagome stuck a red lollipop in her mouth, crossing her arms and staring at his naked chest. "Kinda like one of those lollipops that has something cool in the center. You know, like gum or chocolate or something."

Miroku remained quiet, slowly drawing up to his knees.

Sucking on the inside of her cheeks and scraping her tongue against the cherry flavor, Kagome wagged a finger in his face, mumbling, "I keep wondering if I'll ever get to the center with you." She took the lollipop out. "And if I do, what'll be there."

Miroku was suddenly much closer, kneeling in front of her, the sheet bunched around his waist. "You really need a nap."

"Bah!" she huffed. "Leave me alone. You have your weird analogies, I have mine."

Miroku gave a wistful sigh, eyeing her mouth.

Kagome paused.

She couldn't help it.

Her tongue darted out, licking the top of the lollipop.

"Nhh," he groaned.

Kagome gave another slow lick, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

"Kagome," he growled.

She froze, suddenly aching. "Yes?"

He leaned into her, palms flat against the floorboards. "You're doing it on purpose, aren't you?"

"N-no," she stammered, lowering the lollipop onto her backpack then quickly plopping herself down on the futon.

With a frustrated groan, Miroku sprawled next to her, hands behind his head, eyes tightly shut. "Now I can't sleep."

Kagome giggled. "Oh, no!" she mocked affectionately. "It's the candy!"

Miroku glared at her, nodding his chin at the rumpled linen around his hips. "It's you."

Kagome grew serious, features softening.

Timidly, she reached for the sheet, tangling her fingers around the fabric.

Miroku's eyes widened.

Completely humiliated, Kagome buried her head in his shoulder, sliding her hand under the sheet very, very slowly. "I'm sorry," she apologized to his neck. "I'm not—I'm not going to be good at this."

Miroku hardened in her hand, throbbing, his head arching off the pillow.

Shocked, Kagome loosened her grip, watching his abdominal muscles flex and tighten. His pulse was racing under her cheek and he was thrusting into her hand and she was doing this to him!

Curious and stunned, she let go and slid her hips lower, inching down until she was practically straddling his knees and facing his navel, her sleeves tickling his hipbones.

With trembling fingers, she peeled the warm sheet off, and gripped him again.

"Oh, fuck," he hissed, turning his head and digging his nails into the futon.

Startled, Kagome gasped for breath, then tentatively lowered her head and—

—licked him.

Miroku gave a small, incoherent cry, fisting his hands in her hair.

Kagome paused, a tiny restless smile chasing across her features. "Shippou's going to wake up if you don't sh—"

Miroku opened his eyes.

Kagome's breath caught.

That's him.

This is who he really is.

Staring at her through half-lidded eyes, dark and demanding and doomed.

Her hair spilled over his sweat-slicked stomach, her lips pressed against him, her nails grazed so much lower, and he dug his heels into the futon as he came, coating her palms.

A surprised, flustered laugh slipped past her lips. "Um... so... maybe not so much like a lollipop as a... bottle of champagne."

Miroku grinned sleepily, struggling for breath. Idly, he reached for his outer robe—which, coincidentally, Kagome was wearing—and pulled her on top of him.

"We're going to have to... burn all these sheets and pillows," she mumbled, wiping her hands off on a random wet pillow.

"Tomorrow," he yawned, closing his eyes and rolling her under him.

Kagome thumped her head against his pillow, hair snagging on a tiny button. "A-and we have to wake up before Shippou-chan," she murmured worriedly, staring at the ceiling.

Miroku made a lazy little noise, and crawled down her body.

"I'm serious," said Kagome softly, biting her bottom lip. "What if... what if he sees us like this?"

Miroku pressed his cheek to her stomach, sprawling between her legs. "I don't care."

Kagome closed her eyes. "He'd tell the others..."

"I don't care," said Miroku and, nestled so peacefully, with one hand palming her breast and the other curled under him, he fell asleep.

Kagome wasn't as lucky.

Inuyasha could smell him.

He could smell the bastard and—

"Inuyasha," said Sango exasperatedly. "Stop that."

Kirara meowed loudly.

Annoyed, Inuyasha narrowed his eyes. "Stop telling me what to do." Nevertheless, he obeyed and stopped obsessively cracking his scratched knuckles.

"You two distract her, okay," he said maniacally, gritting his teeth in anticipation.

Sango hit him. "I am not going to distract Kagome-chan just so you can KILL Shippou!"

Inuyasha rubbed his aching head, pleading with her, "L-listen, I won't even get a chance to rip into that brat if Kagome—" Wrinkling his nose, he turned to the dilapidated little hut they'd been glaring at for nearly five minutes. "Hey, Sango?"

Sango yawned, swatting at an imaginary insect. "What?"

"I smell the monk inside."

Sango's eyebrows shot up, her face a mixture of suspicion and pleasant surprise. "Houshi-sama? In there? With Kagome-chan?"

Inuyasha twitched.

Sango frowned. "W-what would houshi-sama—"

A loud squeal interrupted her.

Inuyasha and Sango jumped up and plastered themselves against the blanketed doorway.

"You're doing it wrong, Miroku-sama!" came Kagome's voice.

"Mh hmm. I'm afraid you'll have to show me again."

Giggle. "You have to put it right..." tiny moan, "...here."

Matching groan of pleasure. "Ah. I'm afraid it's too tight, Kagome-sama. I'm surprised I could fit it in before."

"Hold on, let me try. Sometimes you just have to cram it in!"

"Kagome-sama, no. It's too big. You'll get hurt!"

Sango and Inuyasha exchanged horrified glances, ears pressed to the dusty blanket.

"Ah, there! Now pull it out and push harder, Miroku-sama! Harder!"

Grunt. "Perhaps we should wait for Inuyasha."

More giggling. "I'm sure you're better at this." Softly. "Miroku-sama."

Inuyasha's left eye practically popped out.

He raised a clawed hand to rip at the blanket, but Sango beat him to it.

"GET OFF HER, YOU PERVERT!" she screamed as she tumbled through the door, tiny human fangs bared.

Petrified, Inuyasha followed her in.

And froze.

Shippou was sprawled atop a pile of blankets, licking one of those damn poké things. Sango was staring at the scene speechlessly, Hiraikotsu dangling off her fingers. Kirara was batting her tails, licking a fluffy paw. And Miroku and Kagome...

...were bent over Kagome's ugly backpack.

Fully clothed.

Kagome blinked, one hand frozen midair, holding a ramen cup. "Um... hi?"

Miroku raised an eyebrow, both hands lingering on the taut string holding the backpack together. "Come to help us pack?"

Inuyasha reached for the Tetsusaiga.

"—don't ask me, they've been like that forever!" complained Shippou, pointing an accusing paw at Miroku and Kagome.

Kagome stopped chatting with Miroku and almost ran into a tree, her eyes widening. "Wh—like what?"

Inuyasha sniffed her suspiciously, pushing her forward until she almost tripped over a pebble.

Miroku frowned, clearing his throat and hoisting the backpack onto the hanyou's back. "Inuyasha, is there something the matter?"

Slumping under the weight, Inuyasha glanced at him, then at Kagome, then back at Miroku. "You're walking too close to each other."

Miroku hid a grin.

"Kagome-chan," began Sango, throwing Miroku murderous glances. "He didn't... he wasn't—"

"Don't worry, Sango-chan!" replied Kagome a little too quickly. "He... behaved."

Going to burn in hell. Going to burn in hell. Going to—

"Indeed," assured Miroku valiantly, spreading his arms toward the forest ahead. "I made certain Kagome-sama was in the throes of passion all night! Like a perfect gentleman would."

Hastily, Kagome gripped Sango's forearm, trying to stop her from slicing Miroku in half with her Hiraikotsu. "He-he's lying!"

Because technically...

"Oh, forgive me," amended Miroku, highly amused, "I forgot. Half of the morning, too."

Kagome twitched uncontrollably, and let Sango go.

Several concussions later, Miroku was glaring at Kagome.

Kagome smiled sheepishly, trying so very, very hard not to touch his bruises.

After all, they'd agreed to be friends.

And Kagome was—she was—well, she was almost okay with that.

I mean, it WAS my idea and all...

"I still don't understand," sniffed Sango, "how you found each other."

Something in Kagome's chest loosened.

And vanished immediately.

Oh.

She meant literally, not figuratively. Eheh.

Luckily, Shippou came to her rescue. "Oh! Miroku picked us up at one of those places where people pay for what my mom and dad—"

Inuyasha drop-kicked him further up the dirt path.

Sango gaped at Kagome. "Kagome-chan! What were you—what were you doing in such a place!"

Kagome turned a dozen shades of red. "I-I was lost and, um..."

Sango leaned in closer to whisper, "Are the girls there pretty?"

Kagome blinked.

"Never mind!" said Sango, mortified, and quickly changed the topic. "At least you weren't attacked by anyone." Under her breath, she added, "Unlike us."

Eyebrow twitching, Kagome placed a hand on Sango's shoulder. "What happened?"

Sango puffed away her bangs. "Inuyasha's a jerk."

Kagome giggled. "What'd he do?"

Inuyasha flicked them both off. "The bitch was asking for it."

"He attacked some defenseless old lady—"

"SHE WAS A DEMON!"

"—and got us kicked out of three villages—"

"KEH!"

"—and I had to save him every five minutes—"

Inuyasha exploded. "SHIPPOU! Come back here so I can KILL YOU SOME MORE!" He swiped a claw in front of Sango's face. "And you! Stop spreading LIES!"

Sango gave him a chilly glance.

Inuyasha eeped, ears flattening. "I-I mean, we... we should probably get... get going. Yeah." He cleared his throat, dusted off an imaginary fleck off his shoulder, then stalked off towards a sulking Shippou.

Sango's knuckles turned white.

"Kagome-chan," she said sweetly. "What's that word... when you're not standing up or lying down...?"

Kagome bit her lip to keep from giggling. "Sitting?"

"Would you mind terribly...?"

Surreptitiously, Kagome glanced at Miroku, but he seemed awfully preoccupied staring at her bare legs, so she shouted, "Inuyasha!"

"WHAT?"

"This is going to be a horrible alliteration, but... Sango says SIT!"

Looking satisfied and evil (and scary!), Sango nodded gratefully and bounded off toward the Inuyasha-sized crater, a purring Kirara skipping after her.

Inuyasha rose shakily and leapt away, muttering curses.

Amused—and slightly curious—Kagome turned to Miroku.

"You're not wearing anything underneath that kimono, are you?" he asked calmly.

Mortified, Kagome clutched her skirt, eyes widening in horror. "Oh, um!" she rushed to explain. "I—"

Miroku sighed theatrically. "We should have told them about those two travelers we met last night."

"The innocent courtesan and the evil lecher?" she returned, a familiar heat pooling deep within her. "I thought we... we were supposed to forget that particular story."

Not that I can, but...

He pursed his lips. "Perhaps, but he stayed."

Kagome's heart sped up. "So did she. She could have just as easily ran off!"

"And," continued Miroku curtly, "considering she seems to still want the puppy—"

Inuyasha?

I... I don't...

"—he was wondering if she would remain indifferent were he to pursue other... courtesans," he murmured curiously, watching her with an odd, expectant frown.

Kagome opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Was he telling her he was going to be hitting on other girls—possibly Sango—in front of her? Was he saying he would be finding some other girl to... to give him a child? Was he asking if she'd be OKAY with that?

Was he crazy?

"Of—of course she wouldn't mind," she lied through gritted teeth. "She's already forgotten all about it!"

Miroku seemed strangely disappointed.

Kagome averted her eyes. "And-and she thinks he should go right ahead and forget it, too, 'cause obviously it wasn't any good."

Miroku stiffened, frowning deeply. "He'd like to know what the hell she's talking about."

Suddenly furious (Miroku, touching someone else, Miroku, inside of someone else—), Kagome scowled. "It must not have been good. He never even kissed her."

Miroku looked horribly taken aback.

"Maybe," she continued rambling, feeling her stomach drop with every word, "he thought she wasn't worth it. Maybe he was thinking about one of his women or something. Maybe kissing is beneath him. Maybe—"

"And maybe," he replied, almost angrily, "he hadn't ever done it before." He took a deep, frustrated breath, and frowned. "Maybe he was a fool." His knuckles turned white. "Maybe," he turned away, "he wanted to save it for... for someone... who meant something."

Kagome's heart froze painfully.

For a split second, she was on the verge of crying—crying for hours—but the ache quickly turned to anger.

"Someone who meant something?" she gritted out, scrubbing furiously at her eyes.

Miroku continued walking.

Kagome dug her feet into the dust, balling up her fists. "No one."

Miroku paused, turning his head slightly to look at her. "What?

"No one's ever going to mean something to him," she seethed quietly.

A ring on Miroku's shakujo jangled.

"Hey, how about you HURRY UP before Naraku dies of OLD AGE!" shouted Inuyasha irritably without turning around.

Sango seconded him with a wave of her hand, then sleepily trudged after Shippou.

But Kagome didn't move.

"He's selfish and a coward," she shivered, swept away by this incredible sense of loss and regret and hostility.

Miroku said nothing.

"He's conceited and stupid and looking for someone that doesn't EXIST," she said, trembling. "He'll never find her and he'll spend the rest of his life—"

Miroku kissed her.

Something inside Kagome broke.

With a tiny desperate whimper, she grabbed a handful of his robes, thinking—

I'm stealing this. I'm stealing it from someone who deserves it. I'm—

Kagome kissed him back.

And, through a haze of guilt and greed, she noticed—

Miroku...

...wanted this.

"He's found her," he panted against her lips, pushing himself away.

Kagome swayed.

"Problem is," he added calmly, wiping his lips with an odd, almost confused frown, "she's made a mistake. And he doesn't particularly want to be one." He straightened. "And also, she talks too much."

And then, he was walking away, so poised and so dignified she thought nothing could ever fluster him.

Wait.

A small, confused smile crept to her lips.

One step, two steps, three, and she was next to him, clasping her hands behind her and stretching childishly.

"I don't make mistakes, Miroku-sama," she said playfully.

Miroku choked, clearly surprised she'd even spoken to him. But he composed himself quickly, and gave a wry sniff. "Indeed," he said, quirking an annoyed eyebrow. "I'm afraid my memory's not what it used to be—do remind me again, Kagome-sama, who shattered the Shikon?"

Kagome blushed, scuffing her toe in the dirt. "That—that shouldn't count! That was an accident."

"Mistake."

"Accident!"

"Mis—"

Her fingers poked his side.

And to her complete and utter surprise, Miroku—

—blushed!

"You know... I could tell Mushin-sama about that turtle you tried to kill him with," she quipped happily.

Miroku tried to hide a smile, gently tapping his shakujo to Kagome's forehead. "Are you blackmailing me, Kagome-sama?"

"Uh hn," she shook her head piously. "I'm just sayin'... should the subject ever come up..."

Dramatically, Miroku looked to the heavens. "How deplorable! You would have me bribe you with hours of unimaginable pleasure in exchange for keeping silent?"

Kagome giggled softly.

Miroku quickly glanced behind his shoulder for any signs of the rest of the group, rested his shakujo against a helpful tree, then took a step closer.

"Or rather, not keeping silent," he murmured darkly.

Kagome shivered, brushing her fingers over—

"You two idiots coming or what?"

A thoroughly wicked grin curled Miroku's lips. "Actually—"

Kagome clamped a panicked hand over Miroku's mouth. "In a minute, Inuyasha!"

Miroku gave her a displeased glance, licking at her palm.

"I know what you would've said!" she apologized, loosening her grip and sliding her fingers to his bottom lip. "And I don't want Inuyasha to kill you. You have no stereo I could fall heir to!"

Miroku's tongue poked out, licked her fingers, sucked them into his mouth. "Ah," he murmured, then pulled her up, turned her around, and pressed himself to her behind, hard, fingers clutching her hips. "And what would I have said?"

Blushing, Kagome sank into him. "You... you know."

"Say it," he hummed.

Kagome shut her eyes tightly, itching all over. "You—"

"THIS CENTURY!" screamed Inuyasha.

Shippou turned his head briefly, scowling.

Miroku gave a deep, suffering sigh, hand straying between Kagome's legs, jaw resting on her shoulder. "Make sure we accidentally run out of ramen tonight."

Kagome choked, clamping down on his hand. "W-why?"

Two fingers, in and curling against her walls. "So I can escort you to the well, Kagome-sama," he said gruffly. Deeper, faster, warm breath washing over her neck— "And fuck you."

Kagome came with a soft cry.

For a minute, she pulsed around his fingers, choking on small gasps. His fingers slipped out, lingering on the slick flesh of her thighs. The dirt path before her narrowed, and...

You have to stop touching him eventually, idiot.

With a horrified groan, Kagome realized—

"I've turned into you!" she accused furiously, pulling her skirt down and turning around.

Miroku looked ridiculously pleased. "I warned you."

"And I warned you to STOP SLOWING US DOWN!" snarled Inuyasha, jumping in front of them. "Wh—" he sniffed the air, looked at Kagome with an odd mixture of surprise and embarrassment, then stammered, "What the hell's wrong with you? You smell like you're in heat."

Kagome died.

"Oh?" asked Miroku innocently, clasping his sticky hands. "Please explain, Inuyasha!"

Kagome paled, ready to bolt.

Inuyasha scrunched up his nose, narrowing his eyes at Miroku. "H-hey, don't get any fucking ideas, monk!"

"I wouldn't dream of it," replied Miroku virtuously, holding up a hand.

...which slid to the small of Kagome's back.

Inuyasha turned to Kagome. "Stop standing so close to him!" he grumbled. "You're giving him ideas! And he's even starting to smell like you!"

Miroku's fingers slid lower.

Kagome giggled nervously. "Oh, uhm, SHARD!"

Inuyasha jumped. "What? Where?"

"North!"

Eheh... mostly likely, at least.

Inuyasha pounded his fist, looking bloodthirsty and stomping away. "Oi, Sango, there's one north of here!"

"Think we'll make it before sundown?" asked Sango sleepily, trying not to trip over Kirara.

Inuyasha gave an annoyed snort, trying not to trip over Shippou. "We'll take a shortcut," he said obliviously, pointing his chin at the forest ahead. "Yo, monk, you remember the trail?"

"Un hn," replied Miroku, retrieved his staff, then—

—possessively grabbed Kagome's hand and began walking.

"Good, good," nodded Inuyasha to no one in particular. "There might be a village somewhere in between. We can get supplies there."

"Okay, Inuyasha!" agreed Kagome absentmindedly, touching her other hand to Miroku's arm and snuggling closer.

"And if not, we can eat the runt for dinner."

"HEY! I heard that, you stupid dog!"

"Children!" screamed Sango. "Behave!"

"Unh hmm," agreed Miroku, pecking Kagome's cheek, almost shyly.

Kagome hid a deliriously happy smile, squeezing his fingers.

"Kagome..." he grinned, watching her with an odd, flustered look.

Kagome burrowed into the crook of his shoulder.

I know.

"And—" began Inuyasha, then paused. "Who the hell are you?"

"What's it to you?" asked a suspiciously familiar voice.

Kagome froze.

Kanrinin-san!

Hide!

"Let us through, demon!" shrieked the old man, steering a frumpy old woman around Inuyasha.

"I'm not in your way, idiot!" grumped Inuyasha, but leapt aside anyway.

The old woman stepped on his foot. "I can't believe the kind of trash that's coming to our lands these days!"

The innkeeper nodded quickly. "It's abominable, yes!"

"Almost as abominable as that business you used to run when you were young!" huffed the old woman, continuing down the dirt path.

The innkeeper choked, coughing madly. "Yes, yes, good thing those days are behind us." His gaze fell to Shippou. "Hey, don't I know you?"

Shippou blinked.

The innkeeper's eyes widened. "No!" he yelped frantically. "No! We've never met!" He gripped the old woman's elbow and darted away.

Inuyasha and Sango exchanged suspicious glances, then shrugged and went on ahead, dragging a bewildered Shippou along.

Kagome tried to hide behind Miroku, burning with humiliation; Kirara perked up her ears; the innkeeper pretended not to see them, and Miroku...

"Beautiful morning, isn't it, kanrinin-san!" he greeted merrily.

The innkeeper froze, twitching.

The old woman—presumably his wife—raised an eyebrow, turning her steely gaze on the old man. "You know this filth?"

"A-ah," he laughed nervously. "Of-of course not!"

Miroku frowned thoughtfully, bringing two fingers to his chin. "If I'm not mistaken, didn't you offer me some of your best—"

"Crazy!" interrupted the innkeeper hastily. "They're nothing but a few deranged travelers, dear!"

The old woman shook her head disapprovingly. "So young and so lost to society. They almost remind me of those... people you used to know."

Miroku's eyebrow twitched.

"Miroku, don't—" began Kagome, a slight trace of panic edging her voice.

But Miroku nipped her cheek affectionately, then quickly spun her around, lifted up her skirt and... groped her bare bottom quite spectacularly.

Oh, God.

"Why, I never!" shrieked the old woman, turning to her husband with wide, wrinkled eyes. "S-such obscenity!"

Miroku grinned, twining his fingers with Kagome's.

Kirara mewled and jumped on his shoulder.

And as they began to walk, Kagome alternated between pushing him away and never letting go.

"Miroku," she began resolutely, trying to melt into him. "How old are you?"

Please—

"Nineteen," he replied without hesitation.

Kagome's heart skipped a beat or five.

Not to the center yet.

So, content and flushed, she held on and listened to the fading screeches behind them.

"—disgusting! And why do they know you? Did you reopen your little business again? DID YOU? Serving depraved children like those two?"

Fidgeting, the innkeeper scuffed his sandal in the dirt, muttering, "They aren't that bad."

"WHAT?" exploded his wife. "Not bad? Not bad? Are you saying you approve of such evils? Is that what you're saying? IS IT?"

The innkeeper paused, desperate for a distraction.

"It gets worse!" he wailed, bowing frantically at his wife. "They're siblings!"

Back to Hard Candy.