talonsage:

Perfect


With his eyes closed, he can remember being a little boy. He can remember being scared and hurting. He can remember what it felt like to cringe at the slightest raise in someone's voice or a darkening of their tone. He can remember what it was like to cry all alone, or hide, keeping so quiet that no one could find him. He remembered what it was like to be hungry. And trapped. And weak and cursed and little and insignificant.

He can remember being un-loved.


He couldn't say why he'd force himself to remember such things. But he did. He didn't want to forget that once...once no one had loved him. No one had cared if he were sick or scared or hurt. No one stopped the men from hurting him over and over again. No one heard his cries or answered his prayers.


Until him.

When he came into his life, it was like sunshine. At first he was scared of the warmth and the light. But slowly the sunshine eased it's way into his skin, warming him slowly, lighting truths that shadowed the lies he had been told all his remembered life. The sunlight held him with gentle arms and protected him with fierce rays. It led him away from there, and into the light completely.


"Are you still awake 'Yasha?" He smiled at the voice and opens his eyes to gaze at the mirrored ceiling. Miroku snuggles closer to him, yawning, his long, black hair tousled from sex and sleep.

"Yeah. I'm goin' to sleep though, don't worry." He pulls the other man, his Daddy, his lover, his life closer to him and buries his nose in that messy hair, breathing deeply. Sunshine. He always smelled of it. In this instance, sunshine and six hours of raunchy sex with a very obliging tranny lover of his. Cindy had left though, and just like always it was the two of them.

"Mmnnhhfft..." An indistinguishable noise to most, but Inuyasha knew that was a muffled sound of utter contentment.

"Go back to sleep Daddy," he murmurs. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"Nuh..." that makes Miroku turn his face upwards and open one eye. "Daddy, is it? You sure you're okay?"

He understands the question. He didn't often call him Daddy anymore. Usually during sex. Five hundred years together and they had plenty of pet names for each other. And they were so much more than father and son now. "Yeah." He kisses him softly. "I'm sure." He was comfortable, sated, and had his entire life wrapped up safe in his arms. He wasn't just okay.

He was perfect.