Bishoujo Senshi Sailormoon is the property of Takeuchi Naoko, Toei Animation, and Kodansha Comics. Some of the translation to the anime dialogue used in the text belongs to Arctic Animation.
By Gita Toronjil-Lee
"Kunzaito-sama?" I gasp, breaking the kiss. "Can we talk?" To my surprise, his eyes narrow at mine, and his forehead furrows.
"What could be so important that we need to discuss it right now, Zoisaito?" he mutters, his words thick and almost indecipherable, and presses his lips firmly to my neck, in that spot just under my left ear that he knows always makes me squirm. I don't break that tradition, and as he keeps suckling there I come very close to forgetting what I'd wanted to say.
"Iie, iie, Kunzaito-sama…" I finally groan, and somehow convince my fingers to stop clutching at his jacketed shoulderblades to push him away. This is only moderately successful: despite my efforts, his arms are still tight around me, caressing my lower back. I appreciate his gentleness, but the fact remains that I am trapped here. "I only just remembered; I… oh!" Rather than releasing me, one of Kunzite-sama's hands has chosen to change its position, back to front, still stroking. My vision blurs for a second as my eyelids flutter.
Kunzite-sama chuckles; he has told me before how much he likes the look on my face when he pleasures me unexpectedly. (I should probably, therefore, have learned to expect that by now…)
But I continue on, as best I can. My words are very nearly groans, but I can't help that, and at least they're somewhat understandable. "I… was going… to ask… y'if… dammit, Kunzaito-sama… hold up a second…"
He pulls back, finally, still chuckling softly, irritatingly, and my body instantly screams at me for denying it his touch. What little rational thought I have left at this point shushes at it and reminds it that it is mostly clothed right now, as is Kunzite-sama's; nothing much was going to happen between the two of them in the next few moments anyway.
"Okay, okay, what is it? And make it quick." Kunzite-sama tells me, and pulls lightly at a strand of golden hair hanging over my eyes.
I open my mouth to speak, and as I do so, he lets go of me entirely to unclasp his belt and ties, then smoothly wriggles out of his jacket. I shut my eyes… focus, focus… and try to ignore the heavy woolen thump of his top joining mine on the ground. Unlike me, Kunzite-sama does not wear another shirt under his jacket to protect his skin from being chafed by the rough fabric, and I know that opening my eyes would yield a half-naked lover in front of them to distract me.
So I talk with my eyes closed tightly, ignoring the sounds of Kunzite-sama's movement.
"I was g… going to ask you… but I haven't seen you all day today, really, and… " I'm stuttering, now, and I talk in a rush to overcome it. (plus, I'd really like to hasten when I can open my eyes and shut off my goddamned rational thought.) "…and I don't have any idea as to how to get Tuxedo Kamen's nijizuishou away from him, and I'm supposed to have a meeting with Queen Beryl-sama tomorrow morning and I don't know what t-"
Kunzite-sama cuts me off. Well, okay, I won't dance around what happened. Kunzite-sama tackles me. I am so going to be black-and-blue in the morning. I learned long ago to be thankful for our full-body-covering uniforms; they cover up for all sorts of embarrassing marks.
In a second I'm pinned to the bed on my back, large hands pressing my shoulders to the mattress, shins on my thighs as his kneeling weight holds me down. Dammit, why'd I have to go and fall for a lover so much larger than I am? Contrary to popular belief, I'm not that scrawny; rather, Kunzite-sama's the size of a house.
I open my eyes and realize that Kunzite-sama has taken all his clothes off, and is busily trying to do the same to me, releasing my shoulders to slide his hands under my black undershirt, massaging and undressing me at the same time.
I cry out. I can't help it.
Kunzite-sama makes a strange noise in the back of his throat that -- I think -- would be a laugh if he weren’t so caught up in… things.
I'm flattered, but at the same time I'm annoyed. "Kunzaito-sama, do you ever listen to me?"
He wraps an arm around my shoulders to lift me up as he uses the other to yank the shirt over my head, then he flings that somewhere. His shins slide off my thighs as he resettles himself over me, and that small movement is an enormous relief, because my legs were starting to hurt under the combination of his weight and his sharp bone structure. "I was listening," he says, as he sits back on his heels to yank my boots off, struggling a bit with the left, "but I can't quite think clearly right now. Later. Later." He's practically panting, now; I do find it exceptionally cute, but out of sheer principle, I complain, halfheartedly:
"Later you'll be sound asleep, snoring in my ear. I know how you are."
But, Kingdom help me, how am I supposed to really mean that now? Kunzite-sama's never had anything but utmost dexterity in dealing with my clothing, no matter how many buttons or snaps or zippers or flaps I may wear, and now he's taking advantage of it.
He's skilled at so many things that it's sickening.
"Aw, hell," I groan, and bury my fingers in his silky white hair, pulling him upward and kissing him as hard as I can, kicking off the pants from around my ankles myself. Rational thought sighs, throws up its hands, and storms out of the picture in frustration.
With it gone, I can't care about its absence. How could I? I've got a wonderful, gorgeous, very naked man in bed with me, kissing me, stroking me, rubbing against me, both of us now with the same one thing in mind, and look, now he's kissing down my body, coming up to let me kiss down his, and… hey, what was it my rational thought wanted me to find out from him?
He doesn't wake when I detangle myself from his arms and from our bedsheets -- the only recognition I get from him is that he stirs slightly. In my opinion, that's for the best; I don't want to disturb him. Quietly I bathe, dress, and carefully sit down on my side of the bed to pull on my boots.
That's when the large tanned hand wraps itself around my pale wrist.
I jump, startled, then turn to face him.
Kunzite-sama is still lying down on his stomach, stretched across the mattress languidly, his head facing my direction and resting on the elbow of the arm not holding on to me. His eyes beckon me to sit closer, and so I kneel beside him.
"Tuxedo Kamen," he says, almost casually, beautiful silver-blue eyes focused on the ungloved hand he hasn't yet let go of, "always shows up to protect the Sailorsenshi. Lure them into a trap, then use them as hostages with his nijizuishou as ransom. Then kill them all. That's what you need to do." He pauses, and toys with my fingertips a moment before releasing me. The blankets rustle, and he moves to sit up, demurely drawing the sheets about his waist. Cocking his head at me and favoring me with a slightly patronizing smile, he finally continues. "Similar to what you did with Nefuraito and his human girl. I'm surprised you couldn't think of that yourself, Zoisaito."
"I'm sorry," I murmur, averting my eyes and folding my hands in my lap, but that's when he leans toward me and kisses my cheek.
"Don't be," he whispers back, and my stomach flutters as he softly nuzzles my neck. "Now put your gloves on and go. Don’t keep Queen Beryl-sama waiting."
I feign confidence to Her Majesty, despite that still I have no idea as to how exactly I'm going to trap the Sailorsenshi, and after she is done telling me -- as she has done so many times before -- that this is my very last chance, I bow, close my eyes, and duly acknowledge her threat, seeking either further instruction or permission to leave. I'd much prefer the latter; she is obviously not in a good mood this morning, and the little demonstration I'd quickly prepared of Tuxedo Kamen's influence on the senshi seemed to upset more than persuade her. That was not what I'd anticipated, and frankly, Beryl in a mood like this one is frightening.
Then, suddenly, I hear booted footsteps, and following them, a voice:
My eyes open wide. I couldn't have imagined that, could I have? And I look to my side, to see, approaching…
"Kunzaito-sama!" I gasp. I know how I must look to Queen Beryl-sama, grinning like an idiot, but Kunzite-sama's never come to support me on his own; he's always had an order from Her Majesty to appear before her alongside me. After he salutes our sovereign he shoots me a sidelong glance that I cannot read.
"In order to lure out Tuxedo Kamen, you must also keep the Sailorsenshi away from him," he tells me, his expression and voice inflections completely businesslike and inscrutable, the way they always are when he speaks to me in public.
Physical appearance to the contrary, an uninformed observer would never equate this man, my haughty superior officer, to the amorous and insatiable lover with whom I spend my nights, or even to the gentle and affectionate partner who brings me such comfort at home. In truth, I myself find it difficult at times to believe that they are one and the same, to reconcile all these different sides together into one person, my Kunzite-sama. That is, of course, his intent: to constantly maintain a thorough separation of business and pleasure. I'm not nearly as disciplined as he in this -- or any -- respect, and here it shows; I still cannot completely wipe the dizzily happy look from my face as I listen to him, barely hearing his words as words, his deep voice a song in my ears.
When he finishes offering this bit of advice, he blinks, breaking contact with me (though I can't stop staring at him), and turns his eyes back toward the dais. "Queen Beryl-sama, allow me to carry out that plan."
She doesn't even seem to consider this proposition before she nods. "Very well. Bring..."
He's taking over for me! From anyone else I'd be insulted -- I think the entire Kingdom knows how much I hated Nephrite for trying to do such a thing -- but… this is Kunzite-sama, and everything is different when he's involved. He has a plan!
I try as best I can to pay attention, to listen to my queen, to bow when I'm supposed to, to make all the right motions and noises. But right now I'm so much in love that I can barely stand it. I'd do anything for him. Anything.
And now my rational thought keeps internally repeating this vow to myself, over and over; it helps me to fight off the urge to slap that obnoxious leering expression off his face. I only wish he'd stop looking so damned pleased with himself while he holds up the blue-skirted red-ribboned sailorfuku that glimmers with illusory magic... His plan is clear to me even before he begins to explain it. I suppose I asked for this.
I sigh aloud. "You're lucky I'm so forgiving," I say, and I feel ever so much better when I see him nod.
Notes: No, I don't know what I've been smoking. *grin* I chickened out of the lemon PWP I'd planned. But I came close; at least, I started with the intention. And... would you believe I wrote the first draft of this babysitting? I mean, the kids were in bed, but still... I think I need to be smacked -- less for the content here, which is, as I noted, not as bad as anticipated when I started this (a lot got left out on the mental cutting board!), but for the... thoughts... that went along with writing it.
One last note: I don't do first-person often, so this was interesting... but that's also probably why it's only slightly lime, rather than a full-fledged lemon; I'm not looking to do a self-insert! ^_^