Inuyasha, "For Twenty Seasons More" Miroku/Sango, rated R
Fandom: Inuyasha
Title: For Twenty Seasons More
Author: Paynesgrey
Rating: R (I don't even think it's this high, but to be safe)
Genre: Romance/Fluff
Word Count: 1,039
Notes: Written for "Touch" theme at mirsan_fics.
Summary: Post-Series Canon. Twenty years later their son gets married, and Miroku and Sango realize that their love for one another hasn't changed.
@ mirsanawards
A warm breeze fluttered past their cheeks, and proud parents smiled off to the side as their only son was finally married. Both the bride and groom laughed and cried as friends and family came up to give them well wishes and blessings for the future.
“Ah, I remember ours was just as similar,” Miroku said, turning to his wife of twenty seasons. He looked into her coal eyes, and she smiled prettily at him. Her cheeks were flushed from excitement, and her expression held a sense of pride. “The sun shined brightly, and the skies were clear, just like today.”
Sango’s eyes glittered. “Everything was perfect, except for one thing,” Sango mused, and her husband nodded.
“Kagome was not there,” Miroku said, taking his wife’s hand.
“It was alright. I remember missing her a lot, but I was just grateful she had come back.” She laughed a little. “That was enough for me.”
Miroku raised a single eyebrow. “Oh? I seemed to recall her demanding us to remarry when she got back in a dual wedding with her own husband, Inuyasha.”
Sango’s grin widened. “Well, it wasn’t much of a demand. We were happy to agree.” She nuzzled against her husband’s cheek. “It feels sort of special to have two wedding dates to celebrate.” She glanced back at their son proudly. “And now we have another one.”
Miroku sighed. “I was surprised Seiji was the first to marry before the girls. If they weren’t so obsessed with slaying demons with Uncle Kohaku, I thought maybe one of them would meet a nice prince on the way and bring him back.”
Sango turned to her husband stunned, and she narrowed her eyes him. She lightly jabbed her elbow into his chest. “Hey, that wasn’t very fair. You don’t even want to joke about things like that with me. I have much more material against you.”
Miroku rubbed his sore ribs and gave her sheepish grin. “I suppose you’re right.”
The two of them fell into a serene silence as they watched the ending festivities of their son’s wedding. When Seiji was alone with his wife, Miroku suddenly caught his son perform a familiar motion as the bride made a surprised squeak.
He felt his wife’s eyes upon him. “Well, it’s no mystery where he learned to do that.”
“Oh, how disgraceful! What a bad son! He shouldn’t do such a thing at a wedding,” Miroku exclaimed empathically. He froze when his wife crossed her arms and gave him an unimpressed look.
Suddenly, she laughed, and her mirth was infectious. Miroku drew here into his arms, and they soon forgot about their newlywed son and his wife. They disappeared off to their new home for their honeymoon, and Miroku and Sango became locked in their own little world.
“I’ve been wondering if you’d ever grow out that stage. Would you ever touch me like that when I’m twenty years older from this day?” Sango asked with uncertainty tinted in her voice.
Miroku grinned seductively at her. “Why my dear Sango, I inspected the suppleness of your backside only last week. I can even attest to its firm and shapeliness, which has not faltered from the passage of time.”
Sango blushed slightly and covered her embarrassment with laughter. “Yes, but that was last week, my husband. I’m asking if you’ll do that even when I’m old and gray.” Her voice trailed off and she leaned closer and whispered in his ear. “And will you still enjoy it?”
He slowly leaned down and captured her lips, deeply and sensually. Sango relaxed into his embrace, and he pulled her tightly against him. He walked her to the edge of the shrine and pressed her back. Reluctantly, he pulled from the kiss and stroked the line of her chin with his thumb.
“I will never tire of touching you. Never,” he replied.
The weighted truth of his words satisfied her, and she tilted up and placed a teasing kiss to his chin. “Promise?”
He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed his nose against her cheek. “Let me demonstrate how much.”
Then, he pulled her into another heady kiss before heading back toward their home, where their grown-up children would no longer disturb them. Daylight still remained on this warm summer day, and the heavy breeze that graced them earlier faded into a soft whisper.
Miroku stopped at their front door and lifted his wife into his arms, carrying her over the threshold. Sango let out a surprised gasp, and she could not draw her eyes away from her husband’s playful expression.
“That’s another thing I remember fondly,” she whispered. Miroku carried her down to their bedding and hovered over her. She freed his long dark hair from his pony tail, and he closed his eyes contently as she ran her fingers through it.
He growled against her neck, and she felt his breath tickle her skin. “But that isn’t the most important part.”
“Show me,” she said breathlessly, and she laid back and watched him with excitement. His hands fell into her clothes, and she closed her eyes as she felt the cool air against her bare flesh.
“It doesn’t even feel like twenty years have gone,” he said, and she saw his own clothes pool around him.
He brought her into his arms, and their bodies shaped together as they always had and intended to be. He pressed against her, and she exhaled from the return of his intimate touch. He covered her body with his, and she fell into the blanket of his familiarity. Kisses fluttered like butterflies over her skin and she felt herself reeling, like she was submerging back through time.
“I love you,” Sango said. “I feel like I’m marrying you all over again.”
Miroku chuckled. “And I feel like the luckiest man alive…again.”
They smiled and snuggled closer together. The day of their son’s wedding ended with a ritual of their own. Time changed, and seasons transformed within a never ending loop; the moon brightened and colored their lives with her moods, yet one thing never changed.
Each time they touched it was a rejuvenated vow of love that would never age.
Title: For Twenty Seasons More
Author: Paynesgrey
Rating: R (I don't even think it's this high, but to be safe)
Genre: Romance/Fluff
Word Count: 1,039
Notes: Written for "Touch" theme at mirsan_fics.
Summary: Post-Series Canon. Twenty years later their son gets married, and Miroku and Sango realize that their love for one another hasn't changed.
@ mirsanawards
A warm breeze fluttered past their cheeks, and proud parents smiled off to the side as their only son was finally married. Both the bride and groom laughed and cried as friends and family came up to give them well wishes and blessings for the future.
“Ah, I remember ours was just as similar,” Miroku said, turning to his wife of twenty seasons. He looked into her coal eyes, and she smiled prettily at him. Her cheeks were flushed from excitement, and her expression held a sense of pride. “The sun shined brightly, and the skies were clear, just like today.”
Sango’s eyes glittered. “Everything was perfect, except for one thing,” Sango mused, and her husband nodded.
“Kagome was not there,” Miroku said, taking his wife’s hand.
“It was alright. I remember missing her a lot, but I was just grateful she had come back.” She laughed a little. “That was enough for me.”
Miroku raised a single eyebrow. “Oh? I seemed to recall her demanding us to remarry when she got back in a dual wedding with her own husband, Inuyasha.”
Sango’s grin widened. “Well, it wasn’t much of a demand. We were happy to agree.” She nuzzled against her husband’s cheek. “It feels sort of special to have two wedding dates to celebrate.” She glanced back at their son proudly. “And now we have another one.”
Miroku sighed. “I was surprised Seiji was the first to marry before the girls. If they weren’t so obsessed with slaying demons with Uncle Kohaku, I thought maybe one of them would meet a nice prince on the way and bring him back.”
Sango turned to her husband stunned, and she narrowed her eyes him. She lightly jabbed her elbow into his chest. “Hey, that wasn’t very fair. You don’t even want to joke about things like that with me. I have much more material against you.”
Miroku rubbed his sore ribs and gave her sheepish grin. “I suppose you’re right.”
The two of them fell into a serene silence as they watched the ending festivities of their son’s wedding. When Seiji was alone with his wife, Miroku suddenly caught his son perform a familiar motion as the bride made a surprised squeak.
He felt his wife’s eyes upon him. “Well, it’s no mystery where he learned to do that.”
“Oh, how disgraceful! What a bad son! He shouldn’t do such a thing at a wedding,” Miroku exclaimed empathically. He froze when his wife crossed her arms and gave him an unimpressed look.
Suddenly, she laughed, and her mirth was infectious. Miroku drew here into his arms, and they soon forgot about their newlywed son and his wife. They disappeared off to their new home for their honeymoon, and Miroku and Sango became locked in their own little world.
“I’ve been wondering if you’d ever grow out that stage. Would you ever touch me like that when I’m twenty years older from this day?” Sango asked with uncertainty tinted in her voice.
Miroku grinned seductively at her. “Why my dear Sango, I inspected the suppleness of your backside only last week. I can even attest to its firm and shapeliness, which has not faltered from the passage of time.”
Sango blushed slightly and covered her embarrassment with laughter. “Yes, but that was last week, my husband. I’m asking if you’ll do that even when I’m old and gray.” Her voice trailed off and she leaned closer and whispered in his ear. “And will you still enjoy it?”
He slowly leaned down and captured her lips, deeply and sensually. Sango relaxed into his embrace, and he pulled her tightly against him. He walked her to the edge of the shrine and pressed her back. Reluctantly, he pulled from the kiss and stroked the line of her chin with his thumb.
“I will never tire of touching you. Never,” he replied.
The weighted truth of his words satisfied her, and she tilted up and placed a teasing kiss to his chin. “Promise?”
He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed his nose against her cheek. “Let me demonstrate how much.”
Then, he pulled her into another heady kiss before heading back toward their home, where their grown-up children would no longer disturb them. Daylight still remained on this warm summer day, and the heavy breeze that graced them earlier faded into a soft whisper.
Miroku stopped at their front door and lifted his wife into his arms, carrying her over the threshold. Sango let out a surprised gasp, and she could not draw her eyes away from her husband’s playful expression.
“That’s another thing I remember fondly,” she whispered. Miroku carried her down to their bedding and hovered over her. She freed his long dark hair from his pony tail, and he closed his eyes contently as she ran her fingers through it.
He growled against her neck, and she felt his breath tickle her skin. “But that isn’t the most important part.”
“Show me,” she said breathlessly, and she laid back and watched him with excitement. His hands fell into her clothes, and she closed her eyes as she felt the cool air against her bare flesh.
“It doesn’t even feel like twenty years have gone,” he said, and she saw his own clothes pool around him.
He brought her into his arms, and their bodies shaped together as they always had and intended to be. He pressed against her, and she exhaled from the return of his intimate touch. He covered her body with his, and she fell into the blanket of his familiarity. Kisses fluttered like butterflies over her skin and she felt herself reeling, like she was submerging back through time.
“I love you,” Sango said. “I feel like I’m marrying you all over again.”
Miroku chuckled. “And I feel like the luckiest man alive…again.”
They smiled and snuggled closer together. The day of their son’s wedding ended with a ritual of their own. Time changed, and seasons transformed within a never ending loop; the moon brightened and colored their lives with her moods, yet one thing never changed.
Each time they touched it was a rejuvenated vow of love that would never age.