Title: Love at First Slap
Genre: Romance, Introspective
Characters: Miroku & Sango
Summary: Miroku's progression of feelings for Sango
A resounding slap reverberated through him. He held his hand up to the pinked flesh, she had slapped him. It wasn't the first time he'd been slapped, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. He was no stranger to rejection; he wasn't a strange to acceptance either. But this, this was different. It seemed she had applied just the right amount of pressure for the most even spread pain, the longest lingering sting. She had spirit; he liked that, a lot.
There was a certain thrill in the chase, the cat and mouse; the not-so subtle hints mixed with the subtle hints. All mixing together in a delicate brew, a concoction for love, you could call it. It'd worked in the past. When he really wanted something, he got it. Not with her, she seemed immune to his charm, that boyish smile, the "innocence" brush of her thigh or the not-so subtle cupping of her perfect rear. What was it about this woman? He was drawn to her like a moth to the flame.
He wore his bumps and bruises like proud banners. She'd beaten him, discouraged him, and slapped him more times than he could count. But each time he came begging for more, as if he was some eager masochist. What was happening to him? Other woman began to lose their luster, all paling in comparison to her beauty. She was a goddess, elegant, athletic… perfect. Sure he still chased after other woman; it was his duty to father an heir. But now he only did it half heartedly…
What is about a near death experience that seems to bring it all into perspective? Of course, how could he not have seen if from the first? She was all he wanted. She was all he needed. "Be My Wife" Those words had never fallen from his lips before, but no words had ever tasted sweeter on his lips either. He loved her, yes loved. Him, a lecher, a monk, cursed as he was. He loved and so deeply it seemed to burn. By the way she stared back at him, he knew, she loved him too.