Bad habits are like a comfortable bed: easy to get into, but hard to get out of.

Tokyo, 1997.

She felt so dirty.

And it was all his fault.

He'd been waiting for her, uh huh. Lurking in the shadows, pointing wickedly at his shiny little wristwatch and flashing her that ominously hungry grin.

She should have known better.

She should have said no.

She should have taken one look at his handsome, tanned face and-

"Just this one time," he'd pouted pleadingly, arranging his features into an innocent expression.

And she'd fallen for it.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

So, now, barely an hour later, Higurashi Kagome was just... sitting there, on a park bench, stunned.

She couldn't believe it.

Couldn't believe he'd made her do-do... that. Ew. Ew. EW!

She should've known better.

Really. It was... it was just too big.

Why? Why in God's name did she try to take it all in? Unprepared? Out in public? With-with... him?

Kagome glanced to her left.

Miroku was sitting next to her and grinning quite smugly, his blue eyes glazing over as he stared off into the distance, a satiated smile curling his lips. Kagome whimpered.

Why, a thousand times why?

"You liked it, and you know it," he smirked, not looking at her. He stretched his long legs lazily. Kagome whimpered again.

He was right.

She had liked it.

It'd felt so good. So incredibly, unbelievably, excruciatingly good.

She knew it was wrong. Wrong and dangerous. Everyone said so. But... but...

She wanted more. More, more, MORE.

"Miroku," she began shyly. "Next time..."

Miroku turned his head slowly, staring at her curiously.

"Next time," she continued, "please tell me to slow down, okay?"

Miroku grinned wickedly. "Certainly, Kagome-san."

"And... um," she coughed uncomfortably. "Zip up your pants, please?"

Miroku laughed, his fingers reaching down as Kagome blushed. An old man passed by them, scowling.

"Disgusting," he grumbled, tugging at his dog's leash.

Kagome flushed horribly.

Oh, no.

She'd completely forgotten, overlooked-ignored-the potential consequences. Gaining a few extra kilograms was... was the least of them. Wibble.

Kagome squirmed, suddenly nauseous. Oh, no! It-

It'd started already!

Shakily, she glanced at her fingers. Her fingers, they-they were still sticky.

For a moment, she was tempted to just lick them, but that seemed even more inappropriate.

With a quick, covert glance back at Miroku, she frowned petulantly.

Why, his fingers weren't sticky at all!

Grr.

Huh.

He must be really... experienced with this.

Obviously, his enviable proficiency was another indication that this Miroku had been raised in modern-day Tokyo.

Kagome sighed.

Even though she'd grown up here, surrounded by that-that... that evil temptation, she hadn't really...

Well, that is to say-

Sigh.

She'd been prepared for it to be a... messy experience, but this... this was just...

She needed a shower. Yes. A long, cleansing shower. A nice literal and figurative catharsis. Water washed everything away, right? Even atrocities such as this particular one. Yes. Good. She would do that. She would-

The scent, rich and thick, still hung in the air, and a flash of worry suddenly rushed through Kagome.

Oh uh.

The scent-it stuck to her skin, her clothes, her-

Eek!

Everyone would notice. Everyone would know. Everyone would-

"Kagome," came his soft voice, deeply amused. "You should have told me you weren't ready."

Kagome winced apologetically. "I'm sorry. I just didn't think it would be... that... that..."

"Big?" Miroku raised a smug eyebrow.

Must...not...kill...him.

"Hfff. You look a little too happy about this," she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Perhaps because I am," he said happily, stretching again. "We should have done this a lifetime ago." He glanced at her, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. "In fact, I think we should do it again tomorrow."

God, but she really wanted to do it again tomorrow.

"I-I can't. I have to go back. I promised Shippou-chan," she said uneasily, wondering all the while if that evil ex-monk had gotten her addicted.

She looked at her slippery fingers, then at his still unbuckled belt.

Desire to repeat offense... NOT abating.

Bastard!

He did get her addicted.

Miroku ignored her burgeoning hysterics. "Only tomorrow, I want us to slow down," he grinned mischievously. "Well, you more so than me."

Kagome whimpered sheepishly, a few strategically placed pink spots appearing on her cheeks. "Um. I'll try, Miroku-sama."

"I understand that it feels good, and it's probably rather difficult for you-especially you-to control yourself around me-especially me-"

Kagome growled. "Hey-!"

"-but I think we'd both enjoy it more if you, well... talked less during-"

"What!" she screeched, curiously reinvigorated. "You were the one that wouldn't shut up!"

Miroku merely smirked. "I was faking it."

Kagome fumed, balling up her little fists. "You were NOT faking it. I can tell the difference, you know!"

An elderly couple walked by slowly, their raggedy canes rattling as they scowled nastily at Kagome. Kagome whimpered and sank back onto the wooden bench.

She was doomed. If this got back to her mother-

Mama wouldn't be angry, no. But she would be disappointed, and Kagome certainly wasn't looking forward to another lecture.

How? How did this happen? It'd been only a week-one measly week-since she'd discovered Miroku's reincarnation, and she'd spent half of that time in Sengoku Jidai.

So, how did he STILL manage to get her kicked out of class and now... now... this?

"I'm going home," she huffed, standing up. Miroku simply licked his fingers coolly.

"Don't forget to tell Inuyasha how good it was!" he shouted after her naughtily, his laughter startling her into a shocked silence.

With a strangled cry, Kagome stomped away.

That was it.

She'd never, ever, do that again. Ever.

No matter how much he begged and pleaded and looked at her with those gorgeous-

No!

Never! He would never get her to repeat this horrible offense.

Higurashi Kagome was determined.

She would never eat a Wacdonalds Triple Cheeseburger again.