Inuyasha, "At First" Miroku/Sango; rated M
Fandom: Inuyasha
Title: At First
Author: Paynesgrey
Rating: M
Word Count: 250
Pairing: Miroku/Sango
Genre: Introspection/Romance
Warnings: sexual situations
Notes: "Hurt" prompt at mirsan_fics, post-series CU. Winner 2nd place.
Summary: It hurts, but not that much.
As expected, it hurts the first time.
It’s not as bad as Sango has imagined. She remembers the day when she’s talked with Kagome about it in great, frightening detail - about that horrible pinch and then the blood.
To think blood can come from something as lovely as this. (She’s seen blood gush from dismembered limbs, entrails and gashes to the head.)
She hates how such thoughts intrude on her; this isn’t the time.
He’s gentle with her. He’s so warm hovering over her body that she doesn’t even mind the cold earth against her back. (Their discarded wedding clothes have shifted as they roll around in the grass.)
When he kisses her, it’s almost a perfect distraction as he covers his body over hers, and she feels their limbs sliding together, rising, wanting - pushing and pulling for that inevitable slip.
It’s awkward. Miroku is not as smooth as he’s claimed. Or, he’s so filled with desire he can’t help himself. His hands go everywhere, searching, claiming her as his. She delights in his exploration; she can no longer control the little sounds escaping her lips when he’s not kissing her. His fingers grace the heat between her thighs, and she arches toward him.
They move; he finds her - fills her, and it hurts. She gasps, but she doesn’t allow him to stop. It doesn’t hurt that much.
When he moves again - a steady rhythm - she hardly even notices it. He feels way too wonderful.
Title: At First
Author: Paynesgrey
Rating: M
Word Count: 250
Pairing: Miroku/Sango
Genre: Introspection/Romance
Warnings: sexual situations
Notes: "Hurt" prompt at mirsan_fics, post-series CU. Winner 2nd place.
Summary: It hurts, but not that much.
As expected, it hurts the first time.
It’s not as bad as Sango has imagined. She remembers the day when she’s talked with Kagome about it in great, frightening detail - about that horrible pinch and then the blood.
To think blood can come from something as lovely as this. (She’s seen blood gush from dismembered limbs, entrails and gashes to the head.)
She hates how such thoughts intrude on her; this isn’t the time.
He’s gentle with her. He’s so warm hovering over her body that she doesn’t even mind the cold earth against her back. (Their discarded wedding clothes have shifted as they roll around in the grass.)
When he kisses her, it’s almost a perfect distraction as he covers his body over hers, and she feels their limbs sliding together, rising, wanting - pushing and pulling for that inevitable slip.
It’s awkward. Miroku is not as smooth as he’s claimed. Or, he’s so filled with desire he can’t help himself. His hands go everywhere, searching, claiming her as his. She delights in his exploration; she can no longer control the little sounds escaping her lips when he’s not kissing her. His fingers grace the heat between her thighs, and she arches toward him.
They move; he finds her - fills her, and it hurts. She gasps, but she doesn’t allow him to stop. It doesn’t hurt that much.
When he moves again - a steady rhythm - she hardly even notices it. He feels way too wonderful.