Catching up on LJ: Fic!
So this was the fic I wrote for kink_las...two rounds ago. (Second round submission. Third round I skipped due to Jekyll & Hyde eating my life; fourth round is going up for voting soon, so I can't reveal what's mine. First round, for the record, was this.)
Story Title: Etude in E Major, Opus Posthumous
Fandom: Sailor Moon (live-action drama)
Character/Relationships: Mamoru/Zoisite, with a side of Usagi
Kink: Dominance/Submission
Notes: Spoilers to most of the series. Kind of rushed, as this fic wound up getting away from me; I was trying to cram a lot of story into the 1,000 word limit.
***
She heard the last few notes that Zoisite played as he died, and for years afterwards they echoed in her mind.
Death, she discovered, was gray and empty, and somewhere distant lay Mamoru, the person she loved most in all the world, but she was too tired to reach for him.
Death, she discovered, wasn't particularly final, at least not for someone like her, and the sun was bright and warm when she stepped out underneath it, into her friends' arms.
So when she heard those chords in the back of her head, as the years went on, she quietly hoped that he, too, would come back under the sunlight, like her and Mamoru, and join them in the living world.
***
This is how Zoisite composes music: every note encodes a memory. Note upon note cascading from his fingers, tiny droplets of sound, magic, and thought. In the warm liquid minds of listeners, they unfold like coiled tea leaves, spreading themselves wide, steeping their colors through the depths.
Under the witch-queen's curse, he'd forgotten his Master. Endymion, recinarnate as Mamoru, the person he loved most in all the world. He'd remembered everything, with time, and kept those memories as precious jewels, the core of his being, all the more treasured for their loss. As he died, he rolled them up and played them. His last melody, every note dedicated to Master, packed thick with memories of Master, sent across the endless ether to Master, where Master waited so far away.
Mamoru felt him die.
Usagi, by his side as he faded, heard the music.
***
Years later, the notes unfurl in her mind.
Endymion and Zoisite walk the tapestried hallways of the prince's palace, uncounted centuries ago, and Zoisite's silvery cloak hides their entwined hands. In hidden royal chambers, they kiss, Endymion's hands splayed over Zoisite's jaw, holding him still and yearning with love neither wild nor free. Endymion's hands fold back Zoisite's embroidered collar, and a silver ring shines around his narrow throat.
Usagi moans and turns over in her sleep.
Zoisite plays, perched slim and naked on the bench. Every note, every breath, dedicated to Master; their minds meet in the music, and Zoisite splays himself open, and Master slips through the musical forest of his emotions, draws up desire and slurs it together with submission, harmonizes it with chords of bliss.
Usagi dreams, vivid and endless.
Endymion almost never ties Zoisite's hands. They are finely tuned instruments, precious, delicate. He holds them back and says keep them there, and Zoisite is bound by his word, stretched bare and vulnerable. Hands immobile as he squirms, panting, cheeks flushed faintly as Endymion works inside him, and his surrender, tumbling into Master's care and dominion, is exquisite...
Usagi wakes, flushed and squirming.
***
Usagi never tells anybody. Because how, exactly, do you share that you're having sex dreams about the person your boyfriend was in his past life? Kinky sex dreams? With a man? With a man who'd been your enemy, who'd tried to kill you, but then died to save your life?
She hadn't understood that last bit for a long, long time. Not until Zoisite and the others came back from death, called back for unexpected battles, four years after that melody entered her mind. In the sunlight, Zoisite is pale in his white uniform, under his white hair, but solid and real, and notes echo through Usagi's mind as her heart clenches.
After the fighting is over, she runs up behind him, alone. "Ummm...Zoisite?"
He turns, hesitant. "Princess?"
She shakes her head, pigtails flailing. "Not anymore. I'm just Tsukino Usagi. I'm done with the whole princess thing. Anyway, I. Um. Never said thank you properly, back then, for saving me. So. Thank you very much!" She bows, hands clasped.
He looks faintly taken aback, and then nods politely. "It was the least I could do."
She straightens, brow furrowed. "But...why? I was your enemy..."
"For Master," he says, matter-of-fact.
Chords progress in her mind.
"Oh," she breathes.
He turns away again, and she skitters up and grabs his arm, beaded sleeve heavy under her hands. "Don't go!"
"Tsukino-san..."
She wraps her arms around him. "We missed you. I think Mamoru'd want you to stay. And death is..."
"Gray."
"Boring."
He steps back a little and looks at her, very carefully. "You heard my memories."
"I'm sorry!" she blurts. "I couldn't help it, I just keep dreaming. Stuff." She's probably blushing furiously, she realizes.
Zoisite looks studiously away from her, and says, quiet and sorrowful, "He's a different man."
She doesn't know what to say to that, because she doesn't know whether it's true, and even if it isn't, Mamoru's her boyfriend--fiance!--and does she really want...
"He does not need me anymore," Zoisite says, one hand touching his throat, and Usagi really isn't sure about anything, except that there's somebody hurting, badly, right in front of her, and she wants him to be okay.
"Ask him if he does," she says, frowning, and tugs him after her, all the way to Mamoru.
***
"Zoisite," Mamoru says softly.
Usagi lets go of his hand and backs up, heart pounding, unsure.
"Who are you?" Zoisite asks.
Mamoru looks faintly puzzled. "Myself. Mamoru, Endymion. I don't fight with myself, not like Usagi had to. And." Lust in his voice, but he stops himself and looks to Usagi with desperate bewilderment.
Usagi pouts at him, the man she trusts to throw a sword at her head and miss by an inch, and clutches her engagement ring. "He died to serve you. Don't be mean."
Mamoru's eyes widen, and he looks back to Zoisite, and nods. "I accept your memories."
Zoisite drops to one knee. "Master..."
Mamoru steps closer, and runs his hands through Zoisite's hair, and Zoisite rests his forehead on his leg, and if there are tears of relief on his face, they're hidden under long silver bangs.
Usagi hums, unwitting, an old melody.
Story Title: Etude in E Major, Opus Posthumous
Fandom: Sailor Moon (live-action drama)
Character/Relationships: Mamoru/Zoisite, with a side of Usagi
Kink: Dominance/Submission
Notes: Spoilers to most of the series. Kind of rushed, as this fic wound up getting away from me; I was trying to cram a lot of story into the 1,000 word limit.
***
She heard the last few notes that Zoisite played as he died, and for years afterwards they echoed in her mind.
Death, she discovered, was gray and empty, and somewhere distant lay Mamoru, the person she loved most in all the world, but she was too tired to reach for him.
Death, she discovered, wasn't particularly final, at least not for someone like her, and the sun was bright and warm when she stepped out underneath it, into her friends' arms.
So when she heard those chords in the back of her head, as the years went on, she quietly hoped that he, too, would come back under the sunlight, like her and Mamoru, and join them in the living world.
***
This is how Zoisite composes music: every note encodes a memory. Note upon note cascading from his fingers, tiny droplets of sound, magic, and thought. In the warm liquid minds of listeners, they unfold like coiled tea leaves, spreading themselves wide, steeping their colors through the depths.
Under the witch-queen's curse, he'd forgotten his Master. Endymion, recinarnate as Mamoru, the person he loved most in all the world. He'd remembered everything, with time, and kept those memories as precious jewels, the core of his being, all the more treasured for their loss. As he died, he rolled them up and played them. His last melody, every note dedicated to Master, packed thick with memories of Master, sent across the endless ether to Master, where Master waited so far away.
Mamoru felt him die.
Usagi, by his side as he faded, heard the music.
***
Years later, the notes unfurl in her mind.
Endymion and Zoisite walk the tapestried hallways of the prince's palace, uncounted centuries ago, and Zoisite's silvery cloak hides their entwined hands. In hidden royal chambers, they kiss, Endymion's hands splayed over Zoisite's jaw, holding him still and yearning with love neither wild nor free. Endymion's hands fold back Zoisite's embroidered collar, and a silver ring shines around his narrow throat.
Usagi moans and turns over in her sleep.
Zoisite plays, perched slim and naked on the bench. Every note, every breath, dedicated to Master; their minds meet in the music, and Zoisite splays himself open, and Master slips through the musical forest of his emotions, draws up desire and slurs it together with submission, harmonizes it with chords of bliss.
Usagi dreams, vivid and endless.
Endymion almost never ties Zoisite's hands. They are finely tuned instruments, precious, delicate. He holds them back and says keep them there, and Zoisite is bound by his word, stretched bare and vulnerable. Hands immobile as he squirms, panting, cheeks flushed faintly as Endymion works inside him, and his surrender, tumbling into Master's care and dominion, is exquisite...
Usagi wakes, flushed and squirming.
***
Usagi never tells anybody. Because how, exactly, do you share that you're having sex dreams about the person your boyfriend was in his past life? Kinky sex dreams? With a man? With a man who'd been your enemy, who'd tried to kill you, but then died to save your life?
She hadn't understood that last bit for a long, long time. Not until Zoisite and the others came back from death, called back for unexpected battles, four years after that melody entered her mind. In the sunlight, Zoisite is pale in his white uniform, under his white hair, but solid and real, and notes echo through Usagi's mind as her heart clenches.
After the fighting is over, she runs up behind him, alone. "Ummm...Zoisite?"
He turns, hesitant. "Princess?"
She shakes her head, pigtails flailing. "Not anymore. I'm just Tsukino Usagi. I'm done with the whole princess thing. Anyway, I. Um. Never said thank you properly, back then, for saving me. So. Thank you very much!" She bows, hands clasped.
He looks faintly taken aback, and then nods politely. "It was the least I could do."
She straightens, brow furrowed. "But...why? I was your enemy..."
"For Master," he says, matter-of-fact.
Chords progress in her mind.
"Oh," she breathes.
He turns away again, and she skitters up and grabs his arm, beaded sleeve heavy under her hands. "Don't go!"
"Tsukino-san..."
She wraps her arms around him. "We missed you. I think Mamoru'd want you to stay. And death is..."
"Gray."
"Boring."
He steps back a little and looks at her, very carefully. "You heard my memories."
"I'm sorry!" she blurts. "I couldn't help it, I just keep dreaming. Stuff." She's probably blushing furiously, she realizes.
Zoisite looks studiously away from her, and says, quiet and sorrowful, "He's a different man."
She doesn't know what to say to that, because she doesn't know whether it's true, and even if it isn't, Mamoru's her boyfriend--fiance!--and does she really want...
"He does not need me anymore," Zoisite says, one hand touching his throat, and Usagi really isn't sure about anything, except that there's somebody hurting, badly, right in front of her, and she wants him to be okay.
"Ask him if he does," she says, frowning, and tugs him after her, all the way to Mamoru.
***
"Zoisite," Mamoru says softly.
Usagi lets go of his hand and backs up, heart pounding, unsure.
"Who are you?" Zoisite asks.
Mamoru looks faintly puzzled. "Myself. Mamoru, Endymion. I don't fight with myself, not like Usagi had to. And." Lust in his voice, but he stops himself and looks to Usagi with desperate bewilderment.
Usagi pouts at him, the man she trusts to throw a sword at her head and miss by an inch, and clutches her engagement ring. "He died to serve you. Don't be mean."
Mamoru's eyes widen, and he looks back to Zoisite, and nods. "I accept your memories."
Zoisite drops to one knee. "Master..."
Mamoru steps closer, and runs his hands through Zoisite's hair, and Zoisite rests his forehead on his leg, and if there are tears of relief on his face, they're hidden under long silver bangs.
Usagi hums, unwitting, an old melody.