This is a prologue for yet another FluffyxMiroku fic. And yes, this time, Fluffy will definitely be the seme. (Unlike Silent Laughter, where Mirochan's technically the seme, but the roles are really rather fuzzy) Also, though this part is in first person, I'm hopefully going to be writing the rest in third. ^^
I'm not positive where I'm going with this. It may be sweet, it may be dark, it may be a little bit of column A... little bit of column B. Probably will be lemon-y or at the very least lime. As usual, no flames please. The story is yaoi and non-cannon, deal with it.
Anyway, enjoy, as I try to get the momentum necessary to finish SL! ^^
~*~
I knew he recognized me from the start. His eyes had widened slightly, he paused for a second, afraid. And then, he took a breath and came to me, dropped to his knees beside me.
The monk who always traveled with my half-breed bastard of a brother found me before my servant as I lay there, broken and bleeding, letting my body heal itself from yet another battle. And instead of finishing my life, he attempted to save it.
I remember his touch as light, sure and soft as he bandaged my wounds. His brow had furrowed with concentration as wisps of hair escaped the tight ponytail he had gathered it into.
Our conversation was brief, stilted. I was wary of him, even though his looks were full of warmth and kindness. He cheerfully chattered about nothing important, asking me few questions and revealing little about himself or his companions. The exchange would have been almost impersonal if it hadn't been for his warm smile, the way his lips hitched up into a lazy smile every so often.
He bathed and bandaged my wounds, laid a hand on my forehead, smiling slightly as he spoke a chant of healing for me. And then he left me, silently fading into the forest and leaving me alone.
I saw him again, of course. Every time I crossed paths and swords with my brother, the monk was in the background, ready to fight for the lives of his friends if need be. But, in my thoughts, he gradually became the center of attention. I would find his face in my head at the most inopportune of moments, even during my dreams.
Why would he throw his energy into healing an enemy? What could he possibly have gained from helping me that day? The question nagged at me every time I saw him. Eventually, I began seeking out their party, less to challenge my brother for the Tetsaiga, and more to study the human.
It became a favorite game of mine. Watching him and puzzling over him. I began to be fascinated with him. He seemed to be a man full of contradictions, full of both life and death, joy and sorrow. It was something that I couldn't quite comprehend., something that constantly mesmerized me. Somehow, in time I managed to make the transition from being fascinated with him to wanting him.
It took me a while to admit to myself that I wanted the monk. Wanted him badly. Wanted to take him apart, from the inside out. I needed to know how he thought, why he did everything that he did. I wanted to own him. I wanted him enough to ignore the part of me that shuddered at the thought of touching a human.
However, even once I had admitted my desire to myself, I wouldn't have done anything about it, if it weren't for pure, blind chance.
I'm not positive where I'm going with this. It may be sweet, it may be dark, it may be a little bit of column A... little bit of column B. Probably will be lemon-y or at the very least lime. As usual, no flames please. The story is yaoi and non-cannon, deal with it.
Anyway, enjoy, as I try to get the momentum necessary to finish SL! ^^
~*~
I knew he recognized me from the start. His eyes had widened slightly, he paused for a second, afraid. And then, he took a breath and came to me, dropped to his knees beside me.
The monk who always traveled with my half-breed bastard of a brother found me before my servant as I lay there, broken and bleeding, letting my body heal itself from yet another battle. And instead of finishing my life, he attempted to save it.
I remember his touch as light, sure and soft as he bandaged my wounds. His brow had furrowed with concentration as wisps of hair escaped the tight ponytail he had gathered it into.
Our conversation was brief, stilted. I was wary of him, even though his looks were full of warmth and kindness. He cheerfully chattered about nothing important, asking me few questions and revealing little about himself or his companions. The exchange would have been almost impersonal if it hadn't been for his warm smile, the way his lips hitched up into a lazy smile every so often.
He bathed and bandaged my wounds, laid a hand on my forehead, smiling slightly as he spoke a chant of healing for me. And then he left me, silently fading into the forest and leaving me alone.
I saw him again, of course. Every time I crossed paths and swords with my brother, the monk was in the background, ready to fight for the lives of his friends if need be. But, in my thoughts, he gradually became the center of attention. I would find his face in my head at the most inopportune of moments, even during my dreams.
Why would he throw his energy into healing an enemy? What could he possibly have gained from helping me that day? The question nagged at me every time I saw him. Eventually, I began seeking out their party, less to challenge my brother for the Tetsaiga, and more to study the human.
It became a favorite game of mine. Watching him and puzzling over him. I began to be fascinated with him. He seemed to be a man full of contradictions, full of both life and death, joy and sorrow. It was something that I couldn't quite comprehend., something that constantly mesmerized me. Somehow, in time I managed to make the transition from being fascinated with him to wanting him.
It took me a while to admit to myself that I wanted the monk. Wanted him badly. Wanted to take him apart, from the inside out. I needed to know how he thought, why he did everything that he did. I wanted to own him. I wanted him enough to ignore the part of me that shuddered at the thought of touching a human.
However, even once I had admitted my desire to myself, I wouldn't have done anything about it, if it weren't for pure, blind chance.