Author's Note: I planned this to be a ten-chapter work long ago and got so close to finishing it, then drifted to other stuff and too much work and poof, it's a full YEAR since I began it! Urgh. Time definitely flies. Though I could have stretched this out further, the hints in the last few chapters that Inuyasha's memory was beginning to return led me to want to draw this to a concluding point. That said, it is more a period than an exclamation point and does not preclude either continuation or even future reinjury. Thanks to the wonderful readers and reviewers: hope you like the ending.

Finding Daddy

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Fucking Inuyasha was as much an experience of fantasy, of unreality, as of deep, bodily, and very real pleasure. The guilt of taking advantage of a child as he looked deeply into sweet, trusting eyes clashed and danced with the powerful arousal of a strong male body beneath him, welcoming and urging him on. Powerful hanyou thighs wrapped around him as he plunged inside, hilted himself with groans matched by the submissive moans of his partner, his boy, his everything. "Hou-shiiiii," Inuyasha panted, and he knew in the sound of it that, without doubt, it was not only boy but man he was claiming.

Climax loomed far sooner than Miroku wished, but the newness, the uniqueness, and the fragility of the moment made self-control impossible for either partner. From the friction of their bodies and deep, drugging kisses, the monk knew his hanyou was going to release first, and he was not disappointed. Inuyasha's climax was high, loud, and desperate. A whimper that grew into a howl that unleashed both pain and pleasure as Miroku pounded into him without pause. "Yes yes yes yes," the monk grunted, a chant that echoed the relentless thrusts of his slender, muscled frame.

The pleasure of afterglow in the beautiful red sunset of a terrible yet incredible day was withheld from the entangled pair, however. Miroku would have no opportunity to feel what it was like to reach his peak and discharge long pent-up emotion and seed in his Inuyasha. As the hanyou's orgasmic wail died down, it was replaced by another, familiar, and most unwanted voice.

"Is there no depth to which you will not sink, monk?" Sesshoumaru scoffed, voice so toneless that only his words betrayed the depth of his revulsion.

Miroku withdrew from Inuyasha's still-quivering form and crouched in front of him, protecting his lover from Sesshoumaru's eyes.

The inuyoukai made a small sound of disgust. "Clearly, Kagura was correct: my brother's injury is not so grave as to prevent you from molesting him. But he is obviously broken in mind if he if did not even attempt to fight off your pathetic advances." Sesshoumaru looked down at Miroku's glistening, wilting cock and scoffed again. "Pathetic," he repeated.

"Don't worry, Inuyasha," Miroku said confidently, reaching for his staff. "I won't let this ignorant braggart hurt you."

"When I choose to hurt that worthless hanyou bastard," Sesshoumaru coolly replied, "it will be when he is able, both mentally and physically, to make it worth my while."

"I am," replied Inuyasha, voice strong and full of anger. He leapt to his feet, grabbed his sword, and stood before his brother, battle ready, naked and sleek in the dusk.

Miroku looked up at him, noting his confidence, his power, and the keenness of his gaze. There was no question: Inuyasha was himself again. He gritted his teeth as his mind wandered to its own selfish questions. How long had he been the old Inuyasha? Who had he been when he came so beautifully and so violently, with Miroku's cock deep inside him? He silently admonished himself. Now was not the time.

Inuyasha growled low and vaulted forward, all rash bravado and taut, compact muscle. His sword crashed against Sesshoumaru's, whose speed was even greater and instincts honed to admirable perfection. But Miroku was far from admiring the intruder. There was no point to their battle—though there never truly was. And yet, once it ended, he would have to face the likelihood of a loss greater than he felt able to bear.

The brothers fought on, Inuyasha hurling his body and brazen insults in his familiar, overconfident snarl of a voice and Sesshoumaru keeping his usual haughty silence and parrying easily. Miroku sighed and headed for the nearby river.

In a pool deep enough to bathe in, the sun now fully set and the moon beginning to show itself, the solitary monk wondered exactly what he was washing himself clean of. A short dream of belonging in a way he never knew possible? A wrongness that somehow was more right than anything else in his short life? Guilt, anger, love?

He had relatively little time to contemplate his blessings or his sins, as Inuyasha soon appeared, still naked but now more dirty and sweaty than before, his robes slung over an arm and sword over his shoulder. His swagger made Miroku smile, despite himself. At the same time, he wanted to reach up and pick the leaves and twigs from his hair. Oh, his sweet, tousled boy. But no, this wasn't his boy anymore.

"I sent him off to mind his own business—whatever that may be," boasted Inuyasha. "Damned pompous idiot. Why the hell doesn't he just go lose himself somewhere?" He jumped into the waist-high pool and splashed Miroku.

"Hey, watch it," the monk snapped out of habit.

"Sorry, Houshi-Da—" Inuyasha stopped himself and looked away, splashing his chest with water.

"How much do you remember?" Miroku asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The pause lasted a moment and a lifetime. "All of it," Inuyasha at last answered, his voice seeming as emotionless as his brother's.

Miroku shivered involuntarily. What answer did he expect? What answer did he want? "I-I did the best I could…" he stammered, feeling foolish but not knowing what else to say.

"I know," the hanyou replied.

"You'd prefer we don't speak of it again, then?" the monk asked with a false ease, sounding hopelessly desperate even to his own ears.

"Probably for the best," Inuyasha replied. "The girls have been hurt enough, you know?"

Miroku blinked. Not only not-child but not even oblivious Inuyasha. Another new personality, a mature one? Very well, then, he would be mature too. "Very true."

"Besides, I've always been more into action than words, eh, monk?"

Miroku looked up into the unexpected sight of a wide, lascivious dog's grin.

With inhuman speed, the hanyou closed the distance between them, grabbed Miroku in his arms, and kissed him, long and hard. His hands roamed freely and possessively over the body he held. When he at last let his prey up for air, he licked his ear and then whispered into it: "Thank you for taking care of me…Houshi-Daddy-sama. Now let me take care of you."

Miroku groaned and melted into Inuyasha's strong embrace, nodding feebly. He wouldn't dream of ruining the moment with more words.