A/N: Just a short drabble/one-shot to cataloge the inner musings of our favorite lecherous monk ;)

Disclaimer: I dont own Inuyasha, but I do borrow the characters from time 2 time.

The few remaining embers of the campfire basked the small Inu-taichi in a comfortable glow as each member made their beds for the night. Each languorous, even the brash hanyou radiated an odd calm, claw tips glinting as the half-demon clenched an unclenched his calloused fingers in a move that was far to absent minded to be startling.

Yes, in the final moments in what on record had to be the most peaceful excursion in their shard hunting history each and every one of the weary travelers were more then happy to just shut their eyes and rest…everyone that is except for Miroku.

The monk in question let out an exasperated huff subtly shifting his position against his current resting spot, lest he offend the ladies of their group with his current…erm…situation.

'But really' the monk grumbled inwardly 'How can you blame me' he thought cursed hand twitching as he found himself once again forcibly tearing his eyes away from Sango's currently lounging form.

Staring into the dirt before him Miroku inwardly began to recite a slew of Buddhist chants and was well on his way into the third hymn when his slayer let out a relaxed sigh and turned, giving him a fantastic view of her firm rump, the action cutting out all of the thinking ability in the monks brain as any available blood in his lean body traveled somewhere much further south.

Biting back a groan of despair and desperation Miroku tried all of his usual turn offs; Naraku, Master-Mushin, that little green imp thing that followed around Sesshomaru and when none of these worked the monk just settled for closing his eyes. Inwardly cringing at what would happen if Inuyasha even caught him glancing in Kagomes direction when he smelled the way he knew he did or worse if Sango somehow figured out his less then holy intentions for her and decided to just kill him right then and there.

Miroku let out another near silent groan even just thinking about the women made his stomach knot in the most delicious of ways.

He blamed Sango for his current predicament and he most definitely blamed her for his new affinity toward lush curves. Before meeting her the down-trodden monk had been more then happy with willowy geisha and the occasional leggy village girls. Now however Miroku could not eat, sleep or think without the thoughts and images or the voluptuous Sango making an appearance

He wanted her, would have her but by Kami if she wasn't making it difficult.

Hard? Yeah he stayed plenty hard proof of that fact was carefully hidden within the folds of his robes right at this very moment. However unlike all of his previous women when it came to Sango nothing went as intended.

Thanks to his usually irresistible charisma and good natured affable exterior Miroku usually only needed to make himself visible and women were interested and that was exactly the way he liked it…or that was the way he liked it before Sango had challenged him with her resistance. She didn't care about his overly romantic declarations or handsome exterior. No, Sango liked his loyalty to his friends and his unflinching desire to avenge his father.

Just trying to make headway with his slayer dragged up memories of his youth where he'd ask women to bear his children…and actually mean it. Now a days it was the last thing on the top of his to-do list. Miroku knew he wasn't a modest man and was unashamed of the reality that every once in awile a man got lonely and just needed to lose themselves in the softness that was a women's body. Being in his early 20s Miroku was more then positive that he'd been in this situation hundreds of times, so much so that it had begun to grow mundane.

Sango made it exciting again.

In fact she made practically everything exciting. Just talking with her gave him that energized buzz that he craved, laughing with her lifted his spirits and even just looking at her gave him pleasure (A fact that had obviously chosen to make itself known tonight) and usually ended up with his hand wandering and mind fantasizing about the moment she'd loosen up a little and let his hand linger or even better say yes instead of shrugging off his interest.

Traveling with her left him confounded, determined and sporting one bad case of blue balls after another. Yet even through all of this Miroku found himself completely helpless to the gaze or her dark brown eyes, with her thick fringe of lashes and the way he looked at him and seemed to really see him.

Miroku gave himself a quick shake and looked around camp extremely grateful to find most of his companies already fast asleep (Inuyasha as always was the exception to this rule) and as Miroku lost himself in the soft sleepy glow of the embers a small smile slowly began crawling onto his chiseled features. Sango hadn't given in yet but she would, soon.

Anticipation curved its way into his smile. Fighting it would do her no good.

Miroku played to win.

Well there you have it,

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