#/throws sof' angst @ u

[dokusedai]

@yamisedai said :  he brushes the raven hair away from her back. a covered hand tracing her scar. lips press to the back of her neck, then trail down the back of her spine in a line. one hand caresses and firms itself on her hip while lips touch the scars that line her body. his head lifts and he places a hand beneath her chin to bring her lips to his. "you may not think it, taijiya. but you're more beautiful than any sight i've ever seen." he smiles, free hand tucks a lock behind an ear before his lips find hers.

                   She rests against him, fingers loose and explorative on his ribs while he traced lines and patterns on her back. Gooseflesh rose as the pads of his calloused fingers skipped lightly over branches of scar work; some of them numb and others just ‘tingly’ sensative.  A soft shiver rolls her shoulders and she catches the amusement it elicits from her monk. A blush rose and her lips tightened, but she didn’t protest the bloom of heat in her chest at just the sound of his voice.  His laughter. A dark and rumbling sound that was just as intimate as the caress of his touch down her spine. “People say that about dragons, hoshi.” She countered, adding a small dash of sas to her tone as he lifts her chin. His warm, strong hand soothing every frazzled instinct, nerve and thought she had. He chased them away with his touch; solid and sure.  Banished those abrasive thoughts and damnations within her mind and soul; and healed her with a kiss. A tuck of hair behind her ear.  Sango felt tears push past the seal of her eyelashes at how gentle and how succulent his advances and charms were. He ensnared her so effortlessly; and she had tried so very hard to dispel him. In fairness ; that had been their dance. 

In the beginning, it had been him to push her away with unwanted advances, an inappropriate touch --- then it had been her turn. Jaded and hurt, jealous and insecure, Sango had done everything in her power to push him away. Buried herself in the taijiya village, raising orphans and staying as far from Musashi as she could, when she could. 

Miroku always drew her back.  Sango always kissed him back. Softly, those tears would roll, warm and wet down her cheeks and blending a flavor of salt into their passion. Against his mouth, between kisses, Sango would try to speak and ignore the warming, comforting allure of quiet flesh on flesh. “Why...” A soft smack of lips in their kiss. “--then.” Hushed panting, as her tongue swept to taste the swell of his bottom lip. Teeth nipping and tugging lightly as her hands held the back of his head, fingers threading through black silk. Forehead pressed lightly to his, eyes open and weeping. 

                                   “Am I not good enough?”