Fic! But not Halloween fic...
She knows it’s wrong. Knows it in her bones, knows it with
every fiber of her being.
And yet she keeps doing it anyway, regardless of the consequences.
She awaits him in her room, heart heavy with guilt and yet beating unspeakably fast; because she’s going to meet him, and as wrong and dishonorable as it might be, her body doesn’t care about anything else.
She is disgracing her name, her planet, her destiny and she knows it. She, of all people, should know better than to do such a horrid thing. She, as the Senshi of Ice, Princess of Wisdom, should know better than to lay awake in her room in the wee hours of the night, straining to hear the three subtle knocks on her door that will signal his arrival.
She should not be waiting for him. She should not be doing this, not with her wedding date not a week away. She is marrying someone else in six nights hence, and yet she welcomes him into her bed, beckons him to visit her one more time.
She wants nothing more than to run her fingers through his hair. His hair, longer that hers has ever been, cascades down his back like a silken curtain, curly and thick and perfect, and Athena looses herself in it. After they make love, they lay back on the bed, sated and exhausted, bitterness lodged in the back of their throats like a living thing. But she’ll ran her fingers through his hair, let it trail across her skin like a cloak and it’ll be better. Not good, but better. And then he’ll kiss her and she’ll taste herself in his kiss, and it will all come crashing down around her.
He should have been here by now, Athena thinks, watching the stars through her balcony window. What keeps him? Perhaps his own bride has claimed him for the night, she muses, and is not surprised at the sudden stab of jealousy that runs her through. Yes, his bride… because just as she is promised to someone else, he has also given his plight to another. Not by his own will, but his betrothal means just as much as hers does.
Peace.
Peace between their worlds, the hope for a brighter future by bringing the houses together.
But fate made it so they would be apart. And now they cannot be together, forever separated by the commitments they are about to make. All they have left are these midnight rendezvous, stolen kisses and fervent touches in the wee hours of the night as both his bride and her groom sleep.
The sound of knuckles rapping against her door startles her. It always does. But she rises from the bed and allows him in. When he draws her against him, hard and fast and desperate, Athena lets the door close behind her and kisses him. He kisses her just like he does everything else: with his whole body. His legs force hers apart and his hands are like firebirds, burning at her skin wherever they land. The hard planes of his chest are a nice contrast against her soft curves, and as he pushes her back against the very door she opened not three heartbeats ago, Athena lets a tiny moan fall from her lips.
He swallows it, drinking her in, crushing her against his body as if he wanted to come out the other side of her. She swoons against the onslaught of his passion, and some distant, logical part of her brain wonders if this is why she covets him like some people covet fine wine.
She has been called the Ice Princess, and it is not because she holds power over frozen water. Or at least not entirely because of that. She has perfected the cool, detached façade she presents to the world into an art form, and many wonder if the Mercury Princess even has a heart.
If they could see me know, whispers an insidious voice in the back of her mind, and she smiles into his kiss, drawing her right leg up against his thigh until he grunts in response. Oh yes, she knows exactly what he wants: has known it from the very first time she laid eyes on him.
His hands run up and down her body and she arches into his touch. His name rolls of her tongue, a feverish prayer as his fingers find the opening of her camisole and slip inside: “Nephrite…”
His name falls on him like an electric discharge and fuels him further. As her fingers entangle themselves upon his hair, thick auburn silk falling down his back, Athena wonders what her husband-to-be’s hair will feel like. Will Zoisite’s strawberry blond locks feel the same? Will they slide through her hands, or will they catch on the wedding ring she will wear that night? She doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to think about it, but the treacherous image forces itself on her and she closes her eyes in a last attempt to keep it away.
It doesn’t work.
She sees Zoisite on top of her, thin, effeminate body rising and falling above her on their wedding bed and she shivers. She wants this, wants him: wants his calloused hands brushing her nipples, his scratchy chin against her neck. Wants Nephrite to murmur ancient words into her skin, languages she should understand but cannot seem to remember, not when he is running his fingers across her waist.
Athena moans against his ear, delights in the way he grunts in response. Yes, yes! He is passion, raw, pure, undiluted passion and it awakens things in her that she has never thought she had before. He melts the ice core that envelops her heart, warms her cold body with his heat and makes her feel wild and free.
“Please”, she says, and she doesn’t know what she is asking for. But he seems to understand - he always does - and picks her up, as if she weighed nothing, carrying her to the bed. He throws her upon the silken covers and she can only squeal in joy before he is upon her, hard body and feverish kisses raining down on her as if the world was coming to an end.
Her vision fades, chased away by the onslaught of his desire, leaving her blind but oh ever so sensitive. Her entire body responds to him like the stars answer his call, willing and open and entirely his for the taking. And he takes it all, everything she has to offer and more, and then gives it back to her, with such force that it brings a scream from her throat.
She can feel him smiling, knows it pleases him to know he is the only one to bring such freedom to her tightly controlled body. “So loud, my lady”, he whispers against her breast, and she realizes those are the first words he has spoken since he came into her bedroom. “What would your maidens say?” he continues, pressing her against the mattress and she closes her eyes, the feeling of his weight upon her almost too much.
He coaxes her eyes open with soft caresses to her cheeks, and when she does, she finds herself staring into bottomless depths of Earth-sky blue. “They would probably report you to the Queen, my lord, what with you having your wicked way with me and all.”
She can’t resist the joke. And the smile he gives her is enough to bring forth one of her own, and soon enough they are both laughing. It is a strange sight: she is all but naked and yet he has yet to remove any piece of clothing whatsoever. And they are laughing loud enough to rattle the bed, not something they indulge in often. The weight of their betrayal is much too heavy for them to have such moments of levity, and yet the laughter feels good, feels right, and they let it come.
When it fades, Athena brushes a finger across his temple. His skin is so different form her own… whereas hers shines with marble tints; his has olive undertones, clear proof of his martian ancestry. Not that she has ever told him that, of course: he is extremely proud of his terran heritage, and to destroy his confidence like that would take a much colder woman than Athena could ever be. So she keeps that small secret to herself, confident that there is no need for him to know these things.
“I believe I am at a disadvantage here, my lord Nephrite”, she begins, making sure she shifts just enough so he is very aware of her state of nudity. It is amazing how incredibly brazen she can be when they are together: what a far cry of the demure, shy princess the court knows her to be. It is one of the things she loves the most about these little trysts of theirs-that he brings forth the woman she longs to be, not the one people expect her to be.
“You do?” he answers, placing kisses all over her neck and effectively distracting her. “And why would that be, lady Athena?”
She loves how her name sounds when he speaks it, his terran accent coloring it with exotic shades. It drives her crazy; so much so that she feels a little revenge is in order. So her legs slide up his trousers, the gray uniform impossibly soft against her naked legs. His eyes darken instantly, fire burning bright in his pupils and she gives him her best smile, the one reserved for him and him alone.
“Because while I seem to be properly attired for the occasion, you seem to be overdressed.”
He rises above her, held up by his powerful arms on either side of her. He takes a look down his long frame, and then back at her, a playful glint in his eyes: “Indeed I am. What should we do about it, my lady?”
She pretends to think for a while, tapping a finger against the side of her mouth. “Well, I suppose we could rid you of such clothing excess, but then where would we be? Perhaps-“
Nephrite cuts her off with an ardent kiss, and any and all thoughts fly away from her. She doesn’t know how - and she doesn’t really care - but suddenly she is holding on to him and he is just as naked as she is, and then the world dissolves into raw pleasure and her mind registers no more.
His hands cup her breasts, small and tight and yet exactly what he needs. She slides against him like water, touching him everywhere her body can reach-not for nothing has she been friends with Minerva for so long. Despite what her sisters - what everyone - thinks, Athena knows everything there is to know about bringing pleasure to the flesh… and she uses it now, everything she knows and everything he teaches her, until it seems as if she will die from ecstasy.
When his hands brush lower, Athena arches from the bed, back bowed and lips opened in a silent scream. He snickers against her skin, plating ardent kisses against her hipbones. But it is not there where she needs him to be, lower, move lower, her hands seem to say as they softly try to push him towards her burning center. He does not concede. Instead, he takes his time worshipping that exact spot where her leg meets her waist, and he makes her shiver and tremble in delight with just his lips.
Had she known there was this pleasure to be found in activities such as these, Athena would have exchanged her books for a bed a long time ago. And now, as she moans wantonly as his fingers skim across her nether lips, she wishes she had. But then his talented hands are finally where she wants them to be, and any and all thought flees from her mind.
He caresses her like she is the most precious thing in the world. She wants to weep at the amount of care he takes not to hurt her, but then he flexes his index finger and it’s in her, and the tears shift to a lustful cry.
She doesn’t have to look at him to know he is smiling. He enjoys driving her wild, enjoys peeling off the layers of ice and frost she keeps over her body, the aloof, detached façade the world wants her to be. A sudden flash of memory invades Athena’s mind, mimicking Nephrite’s motions as his finger is soon joined by another.
The very first time they touched, a bare contact of their hands as they strolled through the Moon Gardens… Athena has never asked him, but she knows he felt the jolt the same way she did. How could he not have, she wonders, if even now, months after it happened, it is enough to bring over that knife’s edge of pleasure she seeks.
She falls back into the bed, spent, but he is only beginning. His tongue replaces his fingers, and it laps soft, lazy patterns upon her quivering flesh and she dances on that fine edge that is pain-pleasure. She has half a mind to ask him to stop. But the tenderness of her body soon fades, and she finds herself spiraling back into infinity. Each lick elicits a throaty moan, each rub a flicker of pleasure. It mounts, a living, breathing thing that surges within her and this time, she won’t be going alone. She drags him up, steals a kiss from his glistening lips and tastes herself upon them. It is the single most erotic feeling she has ever felt.
“Please”, she asks him, but she really doesn’t need to. He is already shifting them upon the bed, her legs in sync with his motions until she can’t really tell where she ends and he begins. And then he is over her, in her, inside her and the sky explodes behind her closed eyelids.
He thrusts into her with abandon, confident that her soldier’s body will be able to hold his strength. And it does: despite her lithe looks, there is unparalleled strength in her, toned muscles and powerful limbs wrapped around him until this time, it is he who throws his head back and cries out.
Afterwards, they lay together in bed, spent and sated, and he holds her close. Strong arms engulf her and she has never felt safer that she does right at this moment. The sheets have pooled at her waist and the tickle of the night breeze is refreshing upon her heated skin, but nothing is as enjoyable as his fingers caressing her back. She is uncertain of how long it is before either of them speaks, but she must have dozed off because when his baritone voice awakens her, the sky shows the first signs of Earth-rise.
“I should leave.”
There is regret in his tone, but most of all the certainty that he must do just that. They cannot be found together: not now, not ever. And her maidens will be coming soon and should they find her in the arms of another man all hell would break loose. The rules of courtship are not strict in the Moon Kingdom: those pledged to one another can spend the night together if they wish to do so. It is not frowned upon when blushing brides welcome their husbands-to-be into their chambers, and no one asks when servants find not one but two bodies on the royal beds. All the laws demand is that only betrothed share such passion.
What would the court - the planet - do if word got out that they are engaging in forbidden affairs? Athena knows, and so does Nephrite, and it is that concern that forces them apart every morning.
And yet he does not move, and she makes no move to push him away either. They stay right where they are, his fingers resting against her waist, his hair draped across her body like a cloak.
“She asked me about you today.”
She can tell he did not meant to say it just from his tone of voice. A small inflexion in the pronoun, a tiny catch in his breath at the end-but the words are already out and she is already burying herself deeper into his embrace.
“What did she say?”
It is a sacred promise, the one they are breaking right now. A silent vow made the first night they lay together after their betrothals were announced: Juno and Zoisite are to remain away from this room, away from their minds and their thoughts while they are together. But now he is calling upon Juno, making her feel like a tangible presence in the bedroom, like a ghost materializing before them to reveal their sins.
“She is worried about the marriage. She thinks you-“ he stops, falls quiet. It is not difficult for Athena to finish his sentence. After all, it is what Minerva and Hera have already talked to her about, and it’s the same thing that haunts her every thought.
“I will be fine”, she tries to reassure him, but she can’t even convince herself of that. She will not deny the marriage - to do so is an open declaration of war, and she is much too honorable to bring death and war to her people just because she doesn’t really like the Queen’s choice for her husband - but she will not enjoy it either. Zoisite is not an unpleasant man: some would call him handsome, she thinks, and if Minerva’s appreciative looks are any indication, Zoisite is quite the catch. But it is not who she wants. She already knows who she wants, she is in his arms right at this moment, but it is the one man she cannot possibly have.
Perhaps the betrayal would not hurt as much if he were somebody else. It was quite the revelation the day she came to realize that it is not the thought of lying to her people, of spitting on her heritage, that keeps her awake at night. It is the image of Juno’s proud, strong eyes breaking as the truth is revealed that makes Athena’s heart ache. She wishes Nephrite was somebody else, anybody else… anyone but the man engaged to her best friend.
A soft caress upon her brow brings her back from her reverie. He is looking down at her, chocolate brown eyes strangely focused, almost as if he is memorizing every last inch of her. Concerned, her hand rises to cup his cheek and he jumps just the tiniest bit. She sometimes forgets he is a trained warrior, just like she is, ready for battle and with survival instincts ingrained deep in his psyche. But when he does things like these, watch her with hawk-eyes and react so strongly to casual, loving touches, she can’t help but remember it.
“Relax”, she tells him, her voice husky and low. She cannot really say if it is that way because of their previous exertions or because of the lump of fear suddenly clogging her throat, “it is just me.”
He sighs, blinks, and shadows dance across his pupils like strange dark puppets. She wants to chase that look away, to bring back the mirth they shared last night, but the moment passes far too quickly for her to do anything about it. He closes his eyes and plants butterfly kisses against her fingers, and when he speaks, his voice sounds cold and distant: “The stars are weeping.”
Once it would have surprised her to hear him say such things. But she has been in his company long enough to know that he does not speak in riddles because he wants to, but because it is the only way he knows how to explain the things he sees. He has the Gift, ancient power to gaze into the darkness of the sky and acknowledge it is actually looking back. His ability if not quite like the one Hera possesses; he does not need his element to look into the future.
Lately, there has been much talk about war. There are whispers, dark whispers coming from Earth, of an evil so great an entire continent sunk under its weight. Athena never had the chance to visit the wondrous Atlantis, city of spiraling towers and sparkling crystal. But its beauty was legend, only second to its mystique. Until one day, Terrans woke to thunder and storm, to shadows and lightning-when the sun finally broke through, Atlantis was no more. Gone, vanished into the very ocean, some said. Nobody had ever really learned what truth lay behind the disappearance of Atlantis - and its three million inhabitants - but soon after, Hera came with the first of her reports.
The fire is unsettled, she had said. Shadows dance in the flames.
The dreams had started little after that. Dreams of an empty wasteland, blood running through deep wounds on the ground, the screams of the dying echoing the beating of her heart. Athena had never experienced the full force of Hera’s visions-it was not in her power to do so. But somehow, through Hera - or perhaps because of her - the Powers were sending them visions, nightmarish images of the end of their world.
So when Prince Endymion and his four guardians came, telling of monsters and demons rampaging through the green lands of Earth, no one was really surprised. When Queen Serenity announced the engagements, though, they were. Who would have thought of celebrating such festivities when they were at the brink of war? Who would dare to insult the memory of the dead people that clamored revenge? The Queen had ignored all allegations and pressed the ceremonies forward, giving the young princesses but a month to adjust to the thought of marriage.
Athena closed her eyes. Yes, war had brought them to this place. And war will tear them from it, but she wants just one more moment, just one more kiss-
Screams come through the balcony’s doors, and they scramble out of bed in a haste. Athena wills her clothes back to her, and as magic ripples across her body, clothing her in her senshi suit, she can almost hear Nephrite cursing in his native language. He cannot control his power, not the way she can, so he must take his sweet time to dress up. She spares him a glance, heart torn between him and whatever evil lurks outside.
Nephrite looks at her, and their eyes meet for a single heartbeat. It seems to stretch on forever, and when he draws her towards him in hard embrace, she cannot suppress a shiver. Something’s wrong but she cannot tell what it is, because he is kissing her with fervent abandon, crushing his lips to hers and stealing the very breath from her body.
“Go!” he tells her in the end, and she can see some of her lipstick - part of her Senshi uniform, by some strange quirk of the Powers - smeared on his lips. She goes without another thought, knowing he will go to his Prince as she now flees to her Princess.
Had she known it would be the last time they would kiss, perhaps she would not have been so quick to leave.
Afterwards, when they meet each other across the valley of corpses Metallia left upon her wake, Athena wonders if she shouldn’t have kissed him at all. But then they are engaging in battle - real, honest to Goddess battle, swinging swords and magic - and she doesn’t have time to think at all.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The End.
*points to Smercy*
She made me do it! With her delicious snippets, and her amazing Ami/Nephrite interaction, and the hotness and the-- I'm an innocent victim, I tell you!
*goes back to lurking*
And yet she keeps doing it anyway, regardless of the consequences.
She awaits him in her room, heart heavy with guilt and yet beating unspeakably fast; because she’s going to meet him, and as wrong and dishonorable as it might be, her body doesn’t care about anything else.
She is disgracing her name, her planet, her destiny and she knows it. She, of all people, should know better than to do such a horrid thing. She, as the Senshi of Ice, Princess of Wisdom, should know better than to lay awake in her room in the wee hours of the night, straining to hear the three subtle knocks on her door that will signal his arrival.
She should not be waiting for him. She should not be doing this, not with her wedding date not a week away. She is marrying someone else in six nights hence, and yet she welcomes him into her bed, beckons him to visit her one more time.
She wants nothing more than to run her fingers through his hair. His hair, longer that hers has ever been, cascades down his back like a silken curtain, curly and thick and perfect, and Athena looses herself in it. After they make love, they lay back on the bed, sated and exhausted, bitterness lodged in the back of their throats like a living thing. But she’ll ran her fingers through his hair, let it trail across her skin like a cloak and it’ll be better. Not good, but better. And then he’ll kiss her and she’ll taste herself in his kiss, and it will all come crashing down around her.
He should have been here by now, Athena thinks, watching the stars through her balcony window. What keeps him? Perhaps his own bride has claimed him for the night, she muses, and is not surprised at the sudden stab of jealousy that runs her through. Yes, his bride… because just as she is promised to someone else, he has also given his plight to another. Not by his own will, but his betrothal means just as much as hers does.
Peace.
Peace between their worlds, the hope for a brighter future by bringing the houses together.
But fate made it so they would be apart. And now they cannot be together, forever separated by the commitments they are about to make. All they have left are these midnight rendezvous, stolen kisses and fervent touches in the wee hours of the night as both his bride and her groom sleep.
The sound of knuckles rapping against her door startles her. It always does. But she rises from the bed and allows him in. When he draws her against him, hard and fast and desperate, Athena lets the door close behind her and kisses him. He kisses her just like he does everything else: with his whole body. His legs force hers apart and his hands are like firebirds, burning at her skin wherever they land. The hard planes of his chest are a nice contrast against her soft curves, and as he pushes her back against the very door she opened not three heartbeats ago, Athena lets a tiny moan fall from her lips.
He swallows it, drinking her in, crushing her against his body as if he wanted to come out the other side of her. She swoons against the onslaught of his passion, and some distant, logical part of her brain wonders if this is why she covets him like some people covet fine wine.
She has been called the Ice Princess, and it is not because she holds power over frozen water. Or at least not entirely because of that. She has perfected the cool, detached façade she presents to the world into an art form, and many wonder if the Mercury Princess even has a heart.
If they could see me know, whispers an insidious voice in the back of her mind, and she smiles into his kiss, drawing her right leg up against his thigh until he grunts in response. Oh yes, she knows exactly what he wants: has known it from the very first time she laid eyes on him.
His hands run up and down her body and she arches into his touch. His name rolls of her tongue, a feverish prayer as his fingers find the opening of her camisole and slip inside: “Nephrite…”
His name falls on him like an electric discharge and fuels him further. As her fingers entangle themselves upon his hair, thick auburn silk falling down his back, Athena wonders what her husband-to-be’s hair will feel like. Will Zoisite’s strawberry blond locks feel the same? Will they slide through her hands, or will they catch on the wedding ring she will wear that night? She doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to think about it, but the treacherous image forces itself on her and she closes her eyes in a last attempt to keep it away.
It doesn’t work.
She sees Zoisite on top of her, thin, effeminate body rising and falling above her on their wedding bed and she shivers. She wants this, wants him: wants his calloused hands brushing her nipples, his scratchy chin against her neck. Wants Nephrite to murmur ancient words into her skin, languages she should understand but cannot seem to remember, not when he is running his fingers across her waist.
Athena moans against his ear, delights in the way he grunts in response. Yes, yes! He is passion, raw, pure, undiluted passion and it awakens things in her that she has never thought she had before. He melts the ice core that envelops her heart, warms her cold body with his heat and makes her feel wild and free.
“Please”, she says, and she doesn’t know what she is asking for. But he seems to understand - he always does - and picks her up, as if she weighed nothing, carrying her to the bed. He throws her upon the silken covers and she can only squeal in joy before he is upon her, hard body and feverish kisses raining down on her as if the world was coming to an end.
Her vision fades, chased away by the onslaught of his desire, leaving her blind but oh ever so sensitive. Her entire body responds to him like the stars answer his call, willing and open and entirely his for the taking. And he takes it all, everything she has to offer and more, and then gives it back to her, with such force that it brings a scream from her throat.
She can feel him smiling, knows it pleases him to know he is the only one to bring such freedom to her tightly controlled body. “So loud, my lady”, he whispers against her breast, and she realizes those are the first words he has spoken since he came into her bedroom. “What would your maidens say?” he continues, pressing her against the mattress and she closes her eyes, the feeling of his weight upon her almost too much.
He coaxes her eyes open with soft caresses to her cheeks, and when she does, she finds herself staring into bottomless depths of Earth-sky blue. “They would probably report you to the Queen, my lord, what with you having your wicked way with me and all.”
She can’t resist the joke. And the smile he gives her is enough to bring forth one of her own, and soon enough they are both laughing. It is a strange sight: she is all but naked and yet he has yet to remove any piece of clothing whatsoever. And they are laughing loud enough to rattle the bed, not something they indulge in often. The weight of their betrayal is much too heavy for them to have such moments of levity, and yet the laughter feels good, feels right, and they let it come.
When it fades, Athena brushes a finger across his temple. His skin is so different form her own… whereas hers shines with marble tints; his has olive undertones, clear proof of his martian ancestry. Not that she has ever told him that, of course: he is extremely proud of his terran heritage, and to destroy his confidence like that would take a much colder woman than Athena could ever be. So she keeps that small secret to herself, confident that there is no need for him to know these things.
“I believe I am at a disadvantage here, my lord Nephrite”, she begins, making sure she shifts just enough so he is very aware of her state of nudity. It is amazing how incredibly brazen she can be when they are together: what a far cry of the demure, shy princess the court knows her to be. It is one of the things she loves the most about these little trysts of theirs-that he brings forth the woman she longs to be, not the one people expect her to be.
“You do?” he answers, placing kisses all over her neck and effectively distracting her. “And why would that be, lady Athena?”
She loves how her name sounds when he speaks it, his terran accent coloring it with exotic shades. It drives her crazy; so much so that she feels a little revenge is in order. So her legs slide up his trousers, the gray uniform impossibly soft against her naked legs. His eyes darken instantly, fire burning bright in his pupils and she gives him her best smile, the one reserved for him and him alone.
“Because while I seem to be properly attired for the occasion, you seem to be overdressed.”
He rises above her, held up by his powerful arms on either side of her. He takes a look down his long frame, and then back at her, a playful glint in his eyes: “Indeed I am. What should we do about it, my lady?”
She pretends to think for a while, tapping a finger against the side of her mouth. “Well, I suppose we could rid you of such clothing excess, but then where would we be? Perhaps-“
Nephrite cuts her off with an ardent kiss, and any and all thoughts fly away from her. She doesn’t know how - and she doesn’t really care - but suddenly she is holding on to him and he is just as naked as she is, and then the world dissolves into raw pleasure and her mind registers no more.
His hands cup her breasts, small and tight and yet exactly what he needs. She slides against him like water, touching him everywhere her body can reach-not for nothing has she been friends with Minerva for so long. Despite what her sisters - what everyone - thinks, Athena knows everything there is to know about bringing pleasure to the flesh… and she uses it now, everything she knows and everything he teaches her, until it seems as if she will die from ecstasy.
When his hands brush lower, Athena arches from the bed, back bowed and lips opened in a silent scream. He snickers against her skin, plating ardent kisses against her hipbones. But it is not there where she needs him to be, lower, move lower, her hands seem to say as they softly try to push him towards her burning center. He does not concede. Instead, he takes his time worshipping that exact spot where her leg meets her waist, and he makes her shiver and tremble in delight with just his lips.
Had she known there was this pleasure to be found in activities such as these, Athena would have exchanged her books for a bed a long time ago. And now, as she moans wantonly as his fingers skim across her nether lips, she wishes she had. But then his talented hands are finally where she wants them to be, and any and all thought flees from her mind.
He caresses her like she is the most precious thing in the world. She wants to weep at the amount of care he takes not to hurt her, but then he flexes his index finger and it’s in her, and the tears shift to a lustful cry.
She doesn’t have to look at him to know he is smiling. He enjoys driving her wild, enjoys peeling off the layers of ice and frost she keeps over her body, the aloof, detached façade the world wants her to be. A sudden flash of memory invades Athena’s mind, mimicking Nephrite’s motions as his finger is soon joined by another.
The very first time they touched, a bare contact of their hands as they strolled through the Moon Gardens… Athena has never asked him, but she knows he felt the jolt the same way she did. How could he not have, she wonders, if even now, months after it happened, it is enough to bring over that knife’s edge of pleasure she seeks.
She falls back into the bed, spent, but he is only beginning. His tongue replaces his fingers, and it laps soft, lazy patterns upon her quivering flesh and she dances on that fine edge that is pain-pleasure. She has half a mind to ask him to stop. But the tenderness of her body soon fades, and she finds herself spiraling back into infinity. Each lick elicits a throaty moan, each rub a flicker of pleasure. It mounts, a living, breathing thing that surges within her and this time, she won’t be going alone. She drags him up, steals a kiss from his glistening lips and tastes herself upon them. It is the single most erotic feeling she has ever felt.
“Please”, she asks him, but she really doesn’t need to. He is already shifting them upon the bed, her legs in sync with his motions until she can’t really tell where she ends and he begins. And then he is over her, in her, inside her and the sky explodes behind her closed eyelids.
He thrusts into her with abandon, confident that her soldier’s body will be able to hold his strength. And it does: despite her lithe looks, there is unparalleled strength in her, toned muscles and powerful limbs wrapped around him until this time, it is he who throws his head back and cries out.
Afterwards, they lay together in bed, spent and sated, and he holds her close. Strong arms engulf her and she has never felt safer that she does right at this moment. The sheets have pooled at her waist and the tickle of the night breeze is refreshing upon her heated skin, but nothing is as enjoyable as his fingers caressing her back. She is uncertain of how long it is before either of them speaks, but she must have dozed off because when his baritone voice awakens her, the sky shows the first signs of Earth-rise.
“I should leave.”
There is regret in his tone, but most of all the certainty that he must do just that. They cannot be found together: not now, not ever. And her maidens will be coming soon and should they find her in the arms of another man all hell would break loose. The rules of courtship are not strict in the Moon Kingdom: those pledged to one another can spend the night together if they wish to do so. It is not frowned upon when blushing brides welcome their husbands-to-be into their chambers, and no one asks when servants find not one but two bodies on the royal beds. All the laws demand is that only betrothed share such passion.
What would the court - the planet - do if word got out that they are engaging in forbidden affairs? Athena knows, and so does Nephrite, and it is that concern that forces them apart every morning.
And yet he does not move, and she makes no move to push him away either. They stay right where they are, his fingers resting against her waist, his hair draped across her body like a cloak.
“She asked me about you today.”
She can tell he did not meant to say it just from his tone of voice. A small inflexion in the pronoun, a tiny catch in his breath at the end-but the words are already out and she is already burying herself deeper into his embrace.
“What did she say?”
It is a sacred promise, the one they are breaking right now. A silent vow made the first night they lay together after their betrothals were announced: Juno and Zoisite are to remain away from this room, away from their minds and their thoughts while they are together. But now he is calling upon Juno, making her feel like a tangible presence in the bedroom, like a ghost materializing before them to reveal their sins.
“She is worried about the marriage. She thinks you-“ he stops, falls quiet. It is not difficult for Athena to finish his sentence. After all, it is what Minerva and Hera have already talked to her about, and it’s the same thing that haunts her every thought.
“I will be fine”, she tries to reassure him, but she can’t even convince herself of that. She will not deny the marriage - to do so is an open declaration of war, and she is much too honorable to bring death and war to her people just because she doesn’t really like the Queen’s choice for her husband - but she will not enjoy it either. Zoisite is not an unpleasant man: some would call him handsome, she thinks, and if Minerva’s appreciative looks are any indication, Zoisite is quite the catch. But it is not who she wants. She already knows who she wants, she is in his arms right at this moment, but it is the one man she cannot possibly have.
Perhaps the betrayal would not hurt as much if he were somebody else. It was quite the revelation the day she came to realize that it is not the thought of lying to her people, of spitting on her heritage, that keeps her awake at night. It is the image of Juno’s proud, strong eyes breaking as the truth is revealed that makes Athena’s heart ache. She wishes Nephrite was somebody else, anybody else… anyone but the man engaged to her best friend.
A soft caress upon her brow brings her back from her reverie. He is looking down at her, chocolate brown eyes strangely focused, almost as if he is memorizing every last inch of her. Concerned, her hand rises to cup his cheek and he jumps just the tiniest bit. She sometimes forgets he is a trained warrior, just like she is, ready for battle and with survival instincts ingrained deep in his psyche. But when he does things like these, watch her with hawk-eyes and react so strongly to casual, loving touches, she can’t help but remember it.
“Relax”, she tells him, her voice husky and low. She cannot really say if it is that way because of their previous exertions or because of the lump of fear suddenly clogging her throat, “it is just me.”
He sighs, blinks, and shadows dance across his pupils like strange dark puppets. She wants to chase that look away, to bring back the mirth they shared last night, but the moment passes far too quickly for her to do anything about it. He closes his eyes and plants butterfly kisses against her fingers, and when he speaks, his voice sounds cold and distant: “The stars are weeping.”
Once it would have surprised her to hear him say such things. But she has been in his company long enough to know that he does not speak in riddles because he wants to, but because it is the only way he knows how to explain the things he sees. He has the Gift, ancient power to gaze into the darkness of the sky and acknowledge it is actually looking back. His ability if not quite like the one Hera possesses; he does not need his element to look into the future.
Lately, there has been much talk about war. There are whispers, dark whispers coming from Earth, of an evil so great an entire continent sunk under its weight. Athena never had the chance to visit the wondrous Atlantis, city of spiraling towers and sparkling crystal. But its beauty was legend, only second to its mystique. Until one day, Terrans woke to thunder and storm, to shadows and lightning-when the sun finally broke through, Atlantis was no more. Gone, vanished into the very ocean, some said. Nobody had ever really learned what truth lay behind the disappearance of Atlantis - and its three million inhabitants - but soon after, Hera came with the first of her reports.
The fire is unsettled, she had said. Shadows dance in the flames.
The dreams had started little after that. Dreams of an empty wasteland, blood running through deep wounds on the ground, the screams of the dying echoing the beating of her heart. Athena had never experienced the full force of Hera’s visions-it was not in her power to do so. But somehow, through Hera - or perhaps because of her - the Powers were sending them visions, nightmarish images of the end of their world.
So when Prince Endymion and his four guardians came, telling of monsters and demons rampaging through the green lands of Earth, no one was really surprised. When Queen Serenity announced the engagements, though, they were. Who would have thought of celebrating such festivities when they were at the brink of war? Who would dare to insult the memory of the dead people that clamored revenge? The Queen had ignored all allegations and pressed the ceremonies forward, giving the young princesses but a month to adjust to the thought of marriage.
Athena closed her eyes. Yes, war had brought them to this place. And war will tear them from it, but she wants just one more moment, just one more kiss-
Screams come through the balcony’s doors, and they scramble out of bed in a haste. Athena wills her clothes back to her, and as magic ripples across her body, clothing her in her senshi suit, she can almost hear Nephrite cursing in his native language. He cannot control his power, not the way she can, so he must take his sweet time to dress up. She spares him a glance, heart torn between him and whatever evil lurks outside.
Nephrite looks at her, and their eyes meet for a single heartbeat. It seems to stretch on forever, and when he draws her towards him in hard embrace, she cannot suppress a shiver. Something’s wrong but she cannot tell what it is, because he is kissing her with fervent abandon, crushing his lips to hers and stealing the very breath from her body.
“Go!” he tells her in the end, and she can see some of her lipstick - part of her Senshi uniform, by some strange quirk of the Powers - smeared on his lips. She goes without another thought, knowing he will go to his Prince as she now flees to her Princess.
Had she known it would be the last time they would kiss, perhaps she would not have been so quick to leave.
Afterwards, when they meet each other across the valley of corpses Metallia left upon her wake, Athena wonders if she shouldn’t have kissed him at all. But then they are engaging in battle - real, honest to Goddess battle, swinging swords and magic - and she doesn’t have time to think at all.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The End.
*points to Smercy*
She made me do it! With her delicious snippets, and her amazing Ami/Nephrite interaction, and the hotness and the-- I'm an innocent victim, I tell you!
*goes back to lurking*