Disclaimers: The characters contained herein are the property of Kodansha, Toei and Takeuchi Naoko, not me. The situations are mine, not theirs. So we’re even.
“Lose Control” was written by Adam Jones, who can be reached at email@example.com. Do write him and tell him he writes beautifully.
Visit his works, mine and several other fine authors’ at The Fanfic Revolution, because fanfic doesn’t have to suck.
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Reading further than this point is a legal affidavit of legal age. Do not read further if you are under 18 years of age.
And now, our feature presentation:
Makoto kicked the door closed behind her and laid the heavy grocery bags down on the counter. She stepped into the kitchen, grabbed a towel, ran it under cold water, and wiped the sweat from her face and arms. Although the temperature had fallen in the last hour the air was still thick and humid. The oppressive heat of a summer day in the city filled her small apartment, sucking the oxygen from the rooms.
Quickly, she put her groceries away, then moved into the living area. She could feel the thunderstorm coming, she knew it would break the heat, and she could hardly wait. She hated the clinging, moist air. It smothered her and made it hard to breathe. She glanced out the window and saw gray-green clouds sliding across the sky, massing to form a livid, darkening wall. Dusk was falling prematurely, and her apartment was getting dim. Not bothering to turn on the light, she stepped to the window and lifted the sash.
Makoto stuck her head out the window and sniffed the air. Ozone, exhaust, the Chinese restaurant below her apartment and dust. The smells of home. But there was an indefinable scent, a whiff of something cool and wet that attracted her attention. Glancing up at the greying sky, she sensed the storm that was soon to come. She left the window open, walked back into the kitchen, then stared at the range. She contemplated a cup of tea, eventually deciding against it. It was just too hot. Her body was once again sticky with sweat. She considered a shower, but admitted to herself that she was just too lazy to do anything. She stood in the middle of the room, allowing the day’s tension to flow from her limbs, as the gloom outside thickened.
A cold breeze wafted in through the window, bringing with it the smell of loamy earth and the mountains. Makoto breathed in the scent and sighed happily. Another current came in, this one carrying the scent of a powerful storm with it. The cool air brushed across her skin and gave her goose bumps. She turned back to the window and noticed how quickly the sky was darkening. Sitting down on a cushion by the window, she watched as the clouds billowed and roiled over the city. The temperature was still falling and she could feel her skin turn to gooseflesh with the touch of the cold wet air. She imagined the distant rumble of the storm to be the sound of hooves. There would be a chariot in the middle of the tempest, carrying a Prince clad in grey armor, and wielding the lightning as his spear. She closed her eyes and dreamed of this prince, her lover who would be carried to her on the wings of this storm.
A blast of wind gusted in through the window and Makoto leaned into it, letting it buffet her. She could feel her nipples get hard against the cloth of her T-shirt and one hand idly brushed across her breast. She closed her eyes and imagined her Prince’s hand running lightly up her breast, then sliding down, caressing the nipple. It felt lovely. She moaned a little, letting the sound rumble in her chest like distant thunder.
The storm was breaking now and she could hear the large raindrops splattering as they hit the street, the window, the people below. She watched figures scurrying as the wind increased, trying to avoid the oncoming torrent. The sweat was now dry upon her skin and the cold air seemed to have fingers of its own, teasing and caressing her.
Stepping back from the window, hidden in the apartment’s darkness, Makoto removed her T-shirt and bra, and let the cold air harden her all over again. She touched herself, rolling her nipples between her fingers, letting her body feel the rhythm of the rain as it beat a staccato pattern into the windows and roof of her building. Slowly she began to move to the rhythm, letting her hips sway to the percussion of the storm. When the first lightning bolt came she felt it run down her spine to her very core. The thunder that rattled the apartment building made her sigh. Her Prince had arrived. She could feel warmth building between her thighs with every howl and rush of the wind.
The rain was coming down hard now and Makoto moved closer to the window again, to feel the water as it splashed against the pane, cold and sharp like fingertips drumming upon her body. Another lightning strike and she threw her head back in pleasure. One hand slid down into her shorts, playing in the short hair and swiftly moistening cleft. Her moans were louder now, syncopated by the lightning and thunder.
Makoto stripped off her shorts and underwear and lay under the window, the rain striking her with red-hot intensity. She trailed one hand through her lower lips, and with the other, she thrust two fingers into herself, just as a bolt of lightning sizzled through the air. When the thunder cracked, she thrust hard into herself, feeling her body respond to the squall.
“Again.” she whispered to her storm lover, and again the lightning rent the air. She yelped as she thrust deeply into herself, playing one hand back and forth across her clit. The thunder shook her to her very core. One more and she would come. At long last the lighting came, the sizzle and spark of it practically deafening and blinding her at once. When the thunder rang out not even a second later, it masked the sound of her cries, as she shook and rocked in a building shuddering under the impact of fierce nature.
Ami sat back from her computer keyboard and stretched luxuriously, her arms over her head. She straightened in her seat and touched her fingers once again to the keyboard, but paused when the soft sound of bare feet on the floor made her look up with a smile.
“Are you almost done?” Makoto’s voice was soft and rough from sleep. She put her hands on Ami’s neck and began to massage it. Ami closed her eyes and reveled in the feeling of strong thumbs that knew all her pressure points.
“Almost.” she responded belatedly.
“It’s almost 1 AM, you know.” Makoto leaned down and read the words on the monitor. “It always seems disconcerting, reading my own name up there, watching myself do such pervyi things. Especially when you post them on the Internet.”
“I always change the name before I post them. But I know it’s you.” Ami turned around and smiled into Makoto’s sparkling green eyes. Ami reached up to draw Makoto closer. “You’re my inspiration – my Muse.” she kissed Makoto softly and the tall girl responded with a surprising passion. Surprising to anyone who didn’t know her well, that is. Ami was no longer surprised at the depths and heights to which Makoto’s passion and intensity could travel.
Their kiss lingered and deepened. Makoto pulled away, drawing Ami up with her.
“Come to bed.” she purred suggestively. Ami needed no second urging and quickly saved the story and shut down the program. As she wrapped her robe about her more tightly, she felt something largish and stiff in the pocket. She reached in and pulled out a pair of leather cuffs, lined with fleece. She held them up with a grin.
“Whose turn is it this time?”
Makoto turned around and glanced back, then grinned widely. “Yours, I think.”
Ami considered. “On one condition.”
“You wear your leather jacket.”
Makoto grinned even harder as Ami sidled up to her with a soft growl. She leaned up to whisper in her lover’s ear. “Don’t bother with the blouse this time.”
Makoto swallowed hard and nodded. She stopped by the door to the bathroom. “You go in…I’ll follow in a few.” and she disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door after her.
Ami sat on their bed for a little while, pondering how she would be best presented tonight. Completely or partially naked? Dressed? In what? She decided on the school uniform that she had kept, even though they were both years out of high school. There was something exciting about playing the good girl to Makoto’s tough…
When the door opened, Ami had arranged herself neatly on the bed, a book laid out on her lap, much as she had been through all her early years of school, when books were her only true friends. She did not look up as Makoto approached her,. She didn’t move, in fact, until a breath in her ear announced the presence of someone next to her. Very close. Too close.
Ami could feel the hair on her neck rise as Makoto slid her mouth close to Ami’s ear.
“Whatcha reading?” Makoto put on a “tough” accent, that made Ami want to giggle, but she ignored this instinct and simply closed the book, gazing up at the taller girl.
“Harrison’s Principles and Practice of Internal Medicine.” Ami couldn’t help smirking a bit as Makoto’s blank gaze told her she had been thrown for a loop by this title. Makoto took Ami’s hand in hers and turned the book over to see the cover. “Harrison’s Principles and Practice of Internal Medicine” met her bewildered gaze. Ami couldn’t help it, she laughed. She had just purchased the book this afternoon for Med school and she hadn’t yet shown it to Makoto. Makoto scowled at the book and took it firmly out of Ami’s hands, placing it behind her on the bed.
“Seems like an awful lot of words. I think you might need a break.” Makoto’s voice was low and suggestive and Ami’s skin prickled.
“Oh, no, ” she insisted, “I have a lot of reading to do.” Ami reached for the book, but Makoto’s grip stalled her as she leaned close to the shorter girl. Ami turned away, but Makoto’s other hand drew Ami’s face back towards her own. Ami could smell Makoto’s scent mixed with leather, and it was all she could do to resist the urge to kiss her.
Makoto sat down next to Ami and Ami could see the leather jacket belted and zippered about one third of the way up. Ami’s eyes fixed on the cleavage that the jacket showed to good advantage. It was Makoto’s turn to smirk. “You like medicine, huh? Maybe you’d like to play doctor.”
Ami cleared her throat, but kept her eyes on Makoto’s chest. “Maybe a short break would be okay….” Her voice cut out as Makoto leaned close, almost touching Ami’s lips.
“You know what they say, Doc, “Makoto teased, “All work and no play makes Ami a dull girl.”
“You sound like Minako…” Ami’s protest stopped abruptly as Makoto lowered her lips to Ami’s. Ami fought briefly then, in a gesture of capitulation, slid her arms around her lover’s neck and returned the kiss passionately. Makoto slipped her arms under Ami’s blouse, stroking the skin underneath. Ami moaned into Makoto’s mouth as hands caressed her back.
Ami pulled back and buried her face in Makoto’s chest, kissing the tantalizing cleavage the jacket revealed. She pulled the zipper down further and nipped at the skin she uncovered. Just as the jacket parted and Makoto lifted one breast to tease Ami, the blue-haired girl pulled back, turning her face away, ignoring the heat in her cheeks, and between her legs.
“Really, I have to study. I can’t do this now.” Ami’s voice was weak, almost as if she needed to convince herself of her “real” purpose. It was all too easy to slip back into this mode of thought. So many years study had been her raison d’etre, that it was still almost natural to express this conviction, even as her body ached for Makoto.
Makoto growled and grabbed Ami’s hands and bore down upon her, quickly cuffing her before she had a chance to resist. Ami found herself flat on her back, with Makoto’s solid form above her, as her arms were pinned, then the cuffs attached to a hook on the wall by a short chain. Ami pulled at the chain, but she was unable to pull herself free. She let her body enjoy the mild discomfort of the position, testing the chains by pulling at them, and testing Makoto by wriggling underneath her. At this, a wolfish smile crossed Makoto’s face and she pinned Ami’s legs underneath her own.
Unfastening the jacket completely, Makoto took one breast and fed it to Ami, who sucked at it hungrily, moaning into Makoto’s flesh.
“That’s better. Even geniuses need a break now and then.” Makoto laughed huskily and gasped as Ami bit her lightly. Ami’s arms felt stretched and her shoulders began to burn. She reveled in the feel as her body, fit and strong from years of training, began to push into its reserves. The endorphins that flooded into her body made her more sensitized. Makoto’s hands left energetic imprints on her skin that lingered as they stroked along her stomach and across her chest. When Makoto’s fingers brushed Ami’s nipples, Ami strained against her bonds, pulling towards the sensation, but Makoto had already pulled her hands away. Ami groaned with the loss.
Makoto kissed Ami deeply and slid her hand under Ami’s skirt. Finding her naked underneath, Makoto moaned and caressed the inside of Ami’s thighs. Ami pulled once again against the cuffs, arching her back, her muscles taut, as she begged Makoto to touch her.
Slowly Makoto moved down Ami’s body. Spreading Ami’s legs, she licked greedily at Ami’s pussy, sucking on her until Ami’s legs began to shake. Ami was babbling now, calling Makoto’s name and those of various kami. Makoto smiled as she stroked Ami with her tongue, speeding up slowly, almost imperceptibly. With a wail, Ami begged Makoto to enter her and the tall girl did, not removing her mouth from Ami’s clit. Ami’s climax was sharp and hard as she called to her lover to thrust into her more deeply.
As Ami relaxed backwards, blinking her eyes into focus, Makoto crawled up her body and laid upon the smaller girl. Looking down into Ami’s blue eyes, Makoto grinned. Ami smiled back, and closed her eyes in pleasure and exhaustion.
“Have I ever told you how completely unlike my old sempai you are?” Makoto giggled – it was an old joke between them.
Ami’s voice was grim, but not unhappy. “Good. The stupid fool had no idea what he walked away from.” She sighed. “His loss, my gain.” and she kissed Makoto lightly. Ami rattled her chain a bit. “Let me up, Mako-chan. My shoulders hurt and if I remember correctly, it’s your turn this time…” she grinned.
“Will you wear the leather jacket?” Makoto pulled the article off, draping it over Ami’s body, who wriggled at the feel of the leather. Makoto leaned over Ami to detach the cuffs from the hook on the wall. She rubbed Ami’s shoulders briefly, then unbuckled the cuffs.
“Of course, but for some reason,” Ami sat up as her arms were released, “I never make as convincing a bad girl as you do.”
Makoto laughed. “You’re bad enough for me.”
Ami smiled and draped her arms around Makoto’s neck. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” They kissed gently, lowering themselves slowly to the bed.
Later that night, Makoto lay with her arms folded behind her head, and stared at the ceiling. The apartment wasn’t fully dark, as they never are in cities, and she could clearly make out Ami’s form against the light from the street. Ami’s soft breathing tickled Makoto’s face, but she didn’t move, finding her lover’s proximity comforting.
She thought back to their first meeting, to the day that Usagi had introduced them. She remembered the curious blush on the smaller girl’s face. Makoto could feel herself smile in response to the memory. She had purred, ostensibly at Luna, “Cute kitty.” and Ami had seen right through her ploy. Still, nothing might have come of it if Ami hadn’t dropped that notebook. Her thoughts drifted to that day…
“Tomorrow same time!”
“Okay!” Makoto waved to Usagi over her shoulder as she headed down the Shrine stairs after Ami and Minako. As usual the blonde had flung herself headlong down the stairs and was pulling away rapidly. Ami moved more sedately, her head buried in a book as she walked, already studying for her cram school. Makoto watched her, noting the tilt of her neck, the way she moved. She knew Ami well enough to know that their resident genius was miles away – probably memorizing formulae for a test.
Makoto sighed and looked at her watch. “Ami, ” she called out, “It’s almost 4 o’clock – don’t you have to be at school early today?” With a jerk, Ami looked up at her, then down at her own watch, her face turning red.
“Oh! I’m late! Thanks Mako-chan!” And swiftly she began to take the steps two at a time, heading for the bus station at the bottom of the hill.
Makoto sighed again and put her hands behind her head. She had nowhere in particular to go to, no where to rush off to…the thought depressed her slightly. She put it out of her mind. It was a beautiful day, maybe she would pack herself a snack and take it out to the park…
As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she noticed a small notebook laying face down on the pavement, its pages open and bent. She leaned over and picked it up. The handwriting was clearly Ami’s – she must have dropped it as she sprinted for the bus.
“I’ll return it tomorrow.” Makoto said out loud, then without consciously meaning to pry, gazed at the words on the open page. Expecting it to be English, or Math, Makoto meant simply to glance at it. But as her eyes scanned the words, she stopped walking and her mouth opened in shock.
What is it about you that affects me so?
The play of sunlight on burnished auburn hair,
The storm-fire glitter in your eyes,
The touch of your fingers and
The heat of your breath?
I don’t know.
That scares me more than it should.
Every moment with you leaves me weak;
Help me… I can’t stop shivering.
My legs tremble at the merest thought,
My heart beats wildly,
Lying here in the warm, still night,
Desire my only guide.
I burn for you.
You make me forget who I am;
You make me lose control.
You dance through my dreams,
The ghost of a beautiful warrior,
Lonely and beguiled,
Can only follow
Makoto stood, staring at the words, and read them again. There could be no doubt about the meaning of the poem. She knew Ami wrote poetry, of course, they all knew that, but this…. Her breath rasping and heavy, Makoto read the poem a third time. Auburn hair? Storm-fire glitter? She couldn’t possibly mean…?
In all honesty, Makoto remonstrated with herself then. Later she would worry if she had done the improper thing, if she had been impossibly rude, but at that moment she had to know. She began at the beginning of the notebook and read a few more lines of Ami’s poetry. From the date inside the book’s cover, Ami had written these snippets in the month or so after they had met. That would be nearly a year and a half ago now, although it seemed much, much longer.
Tower of strength,
Storm that washes all clean
You scour me, leaving me
breathless in your wake
and again, on the same page
Like emeralds your eyes shine when you laugh
Like the sun on leaves after the rain
Makoto felt the heat rise from her neck up her face. There was no doubt in her mind at all, now. She felt terrible about intruding, but… “I can’t stand here and read it.” Her own voice startled her out of her reverie and she looked around guiltily. Well, at least Ami didn’t see me read it. If I return it to her tonight, she’ll never know. With a shock, Makoto realized that that was the most untrue thing she had ever thought. Ami would know just by looking at her. She squirmed internally thinking of looking into Ami’s trusting face, but she had to know. She had to know what was written in this book!
Makoto got on the bus clutching at the little notebook. Her head down, lost in her own thoughts, she almost missed her own bus stop.
Makoto sat down on her futon and with fumbling fingers began to read the poetry, short stories and snippets of thought the notebook contained. She lay there reading, never noticing time slip away, or darkness falling outside. When she at last looked up, she noted with a creeping feeling that it was too late now to attempt to return the notebook to Ami. She’d have to give it to her tomorrow at school.
Makoto looked down once more at the last entry in the book, dated that very day, and a flush of red colored her cheeks. Ami’s writing had become more focused, more precise. But the subject matter had never altered.
In a breathless whisper, Makoto read out loud:
A shock runs through me as you lower your lips to mine,
a spark of life that animates me
The current that passes between us makes me whole,
as we blend into one another
I am your canvas, you are my creator
Your hands paint me into existence
Your thought shapes me
My face, my back, my arms all come to life with a touch
My breasts, my stomach, my legs infused with your spirit
I remain partial until your hands enter me,
and then I am alive, filled with your power
Makoto stared at the page below her, no longer seeing the characters, nor the inscription below it, conscious only of the title – Supreme Thunder.
How long she sat there lost in thought, or even what she was thinking, Makoto could not say, but the doorbell startled her out of her trance. Glancing at the clock, she could see that it was nearly 10, and too late for anyone to drop by for a casual visit.
Glancing through the peephole made the hair stand up on Makoto’s neck. Ami, obviously on her way home from cram school, stood outside. She was standing with her arms folded across her chest, clutching her books, making herself clearly visible to the apartment’s occupant. Makoto stared for a moment, then pulled herself away and searched the apartment frantically. She was caught and there was no escape. The notebook burned in her hand.
Makoto stood, her hand on the doorknob, paralyzed with overwhelming and conflicting emotions. Perhaps she should sneak away, avoid Ami tomorrow at school, and just dump the notebook into Ami’s locker anonymously. Or she could lie and…no, Makoto shook her head with disgust. What an ridiculous thought! Like she could ever lie to Ami about this. Like she could lie convincingly at all. It is always better to face your fears, Makoto could remember her mother telling her. She put her hand resolutely on the doorknob and gave it a tug before her resolve could dissipate.
Ami gave her usual shy smile in answer to Makoto’s greeting and entered in response to her gesture, but Makoto could see instantly that there was something on her mind. Makoto offered tea, but Ami refused – a surprising breach of etiquette for her.
There was a moment of silence as Ami looked at the ground obviously trying to gather her thoughts. Makoto unstrung by unfamiliar emotions and unable to find a more polite form of address, blurted out, “I have your notebook.” She lowered her eyes and held the object in front of her.
Ami spoke quickly. “Oh! Good! I wondered where I had lost it.” Her tone of voice was intended to sound cheerful, but it the execution fell far short of the intention.
Makoto opened her mouth, trying to find something to say, but was interrupted by a sob. She glanced up at Ami and was horrified to find that she was backing away towards the door, her eyes brimming with tears. Makoto reached out and tried to grab her hand, but Ami backed away another step. Makoto stepped forward, and Ami retreated again.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Ami repeated as she moved towards the door. “I thought I could do it, but I can’t.”
“Wait! Ami-chan! Don’t go.” This time her grab for the shorter girl’s wrist was successful and she halted Ami’s retreat.
Ami stood as if reading herself for the executioner’s axe. Makoto let her hand loosen around Ami’s wrist, but did not break contact.
“I’m the one who should apologize Ami-chan. I had no right to read it, none at all. I’m the one to blame.” Makoto spoke with passion, as a drive built, almost imperceptibly, within her to bring the smile back to Ami’s face. She continued to speak, while Ami stared at the floor. “I should have run to catch up with you, not even looked at one page. If there is anyone here at fault, its me.”
Ami said nothing.
“Please don’t be angry with me, Ami-chan. I’m, well, I’m only human, and I saw a poem and read it, and by the time I finished, I wanted to know…I wanted to know who you were writing about, who it was you loved so much.” Makoto fell silent as one single tear dropped from Ami’s bowed head to the floor below. “I’m sorry Ami-chan!” Makoto almost yelled in desperation, mortified at Ami’s reaction to her confession.
“No, Mako-chan, no.” When Ami spoke her voice was soft, almost a whisper. She lifted her head and looked at Makoto’s stricken face. “I’m the one who should apologize. If I didn’t want you to find it, I shouldn’t have dropped it there.”
Makoto gazed down at the shorter girl, momentarily silent with shock. “You mean…you…”
Ami nodded, then reached up and brushed away the moisture from her eyes. “I shouldn’t have done it. I thought I’d be okay if you were angry, but I’m not. I’m scared either way. I didn’t know how to tell you. I still don’t. I’m sorry Mako-chan, I shouldn’t even have written those poems. But from the very first time I saw you…” she fell silent. Looking at Makoto’s hand still clasping her wrist she shook her head slowly. “I’m a fool. And a perverted one, I guess. I’m sorry Mako-chan, you’re probably not going to want to be around me much now. I’ll understand that. I just hope we can still work together as Senshi. Though it may take some time, please forgive me.” She disengaged her hand from Makoto’s grasp and turned towards the door.
Ami took one step when she felt herself crudely jerked around to face Makoto again. She could see the anger in the taller girl’s face and suddenly felt fear infuse her, settling low in her stomach. Ami had seen Makoto angry before, but never at her, or any one of their friends.
“You are not leaving here! Not yet.” Makoto’s eyes were hard and Ami shrank from them. “You set me up for this and now you’re just leaving?” Her voice was growing harsh with anger. Suddenly she seemed to notice Ami’s fright and stopped herself.
“I’m sorry.” Makoto ran a hand over her face in an effort to regain her composure. “I seem to be making things worse.” She released Ami’s shoulder and gestured once again to the interior of the apartment, “Won’t you please come sit with me?”
Ami moved into the apartment carefully, and perched nervously on the edge of the sofa. Makoto shook her head. “I’m not doing this very well, Ami-chan. I’m sorry. I’ve never been good at communicating – that was why I always got into fights. I guess I’ve never been good at expressing myself. Not like you. Those poems were, well, they were beautiful. I’m jealous, I really am. And I’m amazed. I can’t imagine that you’d want to write about me… Oh, I’m not saying this right!” Makoto gave a frustrated sigh, looked at her hands in her lap and sat, her shoulders bowed.
Ami looked across the sofa at her, astonishment in her gaze. “You mean, you’re not angry with me?”
“Well, no, I mean yes, I am angry at you but not because of the poems.” Makoto met her eyes. “I’m angry because you didn’t tell me sooner, and because, after letting me see those poems, you were about to deny them and walk away.”
“No.” Ami spoke firmly. “I was about to walk away, yes, but I would never deny what I wrote in that notebook. I meant every word.” Her eyes flashed, challenging Makoto to dispute her words.
“Even that last poem?” Makoto felt a small smile beginning to form at the corners of her lips.
“Especially that last poem…” Ami said, leaning forward slightly, subtlely challenging Makoto. Makoto found herself moving towards Ami in response. The distance between them closed slowly. Ami’s eyes, still challenging, softened. Makoto met Ami’s gaze and felt something hard in herself dissolve and flow away. Walls she hadn’t even known she had built, crumbled and blew away like so much dust.
They paused, savoring this moment, suspending it into an eternity. Looking into Ami’s eyes, Makoto felt herself moving inexorably into those infinite fields of blue, deep as the heavens. She didn’t want this moment to end. She could feel her anger alter, becoming anticipation, then an excitement she had never before experienced. She knew she stood at a crossroads that would forever change her life. A life that, perhaps, might contain as much happiness as her first 16 years had contained bitterness.
Their lips touched gingerly. Makoto reached out haltingly to draw Ami towards her. Ami allowed herself to be pulled forward into an embrace, melting into Makoto’s arms, a small sigh escaping her. Their lips pressed together more strongly and Makoto knew, without reservation that for this moment she had been born. Not to become a Senshi, or save the world as Sailor Jupiter, but to be a woman, and find love in the arms of Mizuno Ami.
Makoto leaned down and kissed Ami’s sleeping form on the ear. Wrapping the smaller figure in her arms, Makoto laid her head against Ami’s hair, closed her eyes, and still smiling with the memory of their first kiss, slept.
“That’s it?” Makoto’s voice was laughingly indignant.
“Yes, that’s it. Why, what were you expecting?” Ami sat back and took a sip of water. Reading the story aloud had made her thirsty and her back hurt from sitting so long. Standing, she handed the magazine to Makoto, and ran through a quick stretching sequence.
Makoto glanced at the story, still shaking her head in mock disapproval. “I can’t believe you stopped it there!”
“Why?” Ami’s voice was muffled against her leg as she stretched.
“Well, for one thing, I want to know what happened after they, I mean we, kissed.”
Ami straightened up, leaned forward and kissed Makoto on the nose. “You turtle, you know perfectly well what happened – you were there.” Makoto slid her arm around Ami’s head a drew it in for a longer kiss. When they parted, she sat back and put her feet up.
“I know *I* was there, but your readers don’t. And it’s not a fair story, anyway.”
“Fair?” Ami glanced at her, puzzled.
Makoto leaned close. “Well I made love to you, but…” she left the sentence unfinished.
Ami began to laugh. “That was on purpose.”
“You’d better have plans to make it up to me…” Makoto’s voice was dark, but Ami simply laughed and walked towards the bedroom. Makoto caught up with her, lifted her off the ground, spun her around and deposited the laughing woman on the bed with a thunk.
Ami grabbed Makoto’s collar and pulled her in close, kissing her hard.
“Let me get out of these disgusting clothes.” Makoto began to pull away, but Ami held her fast. The smaller woman began to unbutton the double breasted jacket.
“What did you make today anyway?” she wrinkled her nose at some of the stains on Makoto’s cooking school uniform.
“Don’t ask. Let me just say that I do not love French cooking.” She shucked the jacket, and after removing the reinforced shoes, her hideously checked pants. “Heaven forfend that cooking schools show any taste in uniforms…” she broke off with a gasp as Ami unhooked her bra and, sliding her hands under the sheer material, held her breasts.
Kneeling on the bed behind Makoto, Ami stroked her until the taller girl threw her head back, arching her back in pleasure. Ami drew one hand lower, caressing the soft flesh of Makoto’s abdomen, finally sliding her hand beneath the band of her underwear. Makoto moaned as Ami’s hand moved into her, sliding gently up and down, spreading her wetness, playing with her center.
Ami’s own head rolled back as she found Makoto’s clit and began to fondle it. Makoto’s breathing became more rapid and Ami encouraged this with the occasional squeeze to Makoto’s nipple, still under her hand. Ami leaned forward and curled her tongue gently into Makoto’s ear.
Supporting Makoto’s body with her own, Ami began to stroke her faster, and whispering in her ear asked, “Will you come for me, Mako-chan?” Makoto moaned and quickly, her moans became louder and more frequent. She grabbed Ami’s hand and forced it to squeeze her breast, then, through gritted teeth, moaned once more, the sound tearing out of her from deep within her.
Ami could feel Makoto’s body shaking with her climax. Slowing her stroking, Ami kissed Makoto’s neck until the taller woman relaxed backwards, letting herself go limp against Ami’s body. They lay down together while Ami stroked Makoto’s hair, and listened to her breathing.
“I like the story much better now.” Makoto grinned.
“Good, because its paying for your school next semester!” Ami smiled at her lover.
“It’s nice that we don’t have to worry about your medical school tuition.” Makoto rolled over onto her back. Ami lightly caressed the outlines of the muscles in her stomach.
“Even if I hadn’t gotten a scholarship, my mother would have paid.”
“I know, but I feel easier knowing we can make it on our own.” Makoto took Ami’s hand and massaged it gently.
“True, but just think, after winning this writing contest, even if I don’t become a doctor, “Ami ignored the rude noise Makoto made, “I can probably make a living as a writer.”
“All I’ve ever wanted to do was cook or work with flowers. I wish I could write.”
“You do, in a sense – you’re my Muse. You inspire me. And you are cooking. One more semester of school and you’ll be an executive chef. Then you can open up a restaurant, just like you always wanted.”
“Yeah, “Makoto drawled as she stretched. “So you’d better write more prize-winning stories – I’ll need the money!” She yelped as Ami smacked her with a pillow. They quickly devolved into a series of shouts and blows with weapons of equal fluffiness.
When they were at last exhausted from the struggle, they lay back, Ami’s head on Makoto’s chest, and reflected on their lives together. From the moment of that kiss, they had never looked back. Now, so close to their dreams, the fact that they would forever be Sailor Senshi, friends and guardians of the Princess of the Moon, and forever destined to fight for the Earth, was entirely irrelevant.