Sailor Moon Fan Fiction ❯ An Artistic Collaboration ❯ One-Shot

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

"An Artistic Collaboration"
A Sailor Moon Fanfic
By Bill K.

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Sailor Moon and all related characters are (c)2001 by Naoko Takeuchi/
Kodansha and Toei Animation, and are used without permission, but with
respect. Story is (c) 2001 by Bill Kropfhauser

As always, for those only familiar with the English dub:
Usagi=Serena
Ami=Amy
Rei=Raye
Makoto=Lyta
Minako=M ina
Haruka=Amara
Michiru=Michelle
Setsuna=Trista
Mamoru=Dar ien
Chibi-Usa=Rini

Finally, Haruka and Michiru are NOT cousins.
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The elevator opened onto the floor and Haruka stepped out. Her
jeans were caked with grease and dirt. Her tank top was smudged and
soaked with perspiration, as was her face and hair. She sighed out her
breathing as she walked down the hall to their apartment because she was
tired and spent. But there was a satisfied smile on her face. It
remained as she turned the knob and entered.

"Is it fixed?" she heard Michiru ask.

Turning to the sound of the voice, Haruka found her off in a
corner by the picture window that overlooked the bay. Her easel was out
and she was dabbing at a canvas with a long black brush with beige
bristles. Haruka stared for a moment. She could never understand how
Michiru managed to bring such devastatingly powerful artworks to life.
To her she was just randomly stabbing at a canvas with the brush, but
Michiru seemed to know intuitively just where to stab.

"It's fixed," Haruka said, her fatigue in her husky voice. "The
piston rings had carbon build-up on them and the plugs weren't in
sequence. I don't think the parking garage attendant appreciated me
ripping up the engine right there in the garage, but I hate to hear my
baby suffer."

"He'll get over it," Michiru replied. "I'm glad you were able to
help 'your baby'."

Haruka smiled. Her explanation, as did anything auto-related, had
gone right over Michiru's head, but Michiru had the good manners to at
least feign interest for her partner's sake. She walked over, leaned
down and kissed Michiru on the top of the head. Michiru's mouth curled
up.

Then her nose curled up.

"Ooh," she said softly. "Haruka dear, I love you more than life
itself, but you smell."

"Sorry," chuckled Haruka. "I'll get cleaned up." She started to
turn, then halted. "Care to scrub my back?"

Michiru froze in mid stroke. Her eyes hooded and the edges of her
mouth curled up again. She considered the notion for a few seconds.

"You know I can't resist the water," she rumbled. "You get
started. I'll join you after I've put my paints away and clean my
brushes."

Pausing long enough to retrieve a bucket from the kitchen, Haruka
went into the bathroom. She stripped down to her naked skin and stuffed
her soiled clothing into the bucket, then squirted in some soap with an
oil and grease breaking agent and filled it to the brim. Eschewing the
bath, she crossed over to the shower, her lanky frame unconsciously
radiating power as she walked. Adjusting the water until it was the
precise temperature, Haruka stepped in.

Allowing the water to fall down on her face and head and dribble
down her body, Haruka exhaled a deep sigh. The water was just warm
enough to be soothing and the impact of the droplets on her skin was the
next best thing to a massage. It was several minutes before Haruka even
made the effort to reach for the soap. Even then she luxuriated beneath
the spray, slowly soaping her arms and face, rubbing the lather into her
short sandy hair instead of searching for shampoo.

Unexpectedly, hands began caressing her back. Rather than jump,
Haruka seemed to tighten all over, then sagged against the hands with a
pleasant release. She felt lips press to a spot between her shoulder
blades.

"You are tired," Michiru's melodic voice floated up to her ears
from behind her. "You didn't jump."

"I was expecting you," Haruka sighed.

Michiru's hands worked their way up Haruka's back, the palms and
the tips of her fingers skillfully kneading the muscles as they worked
soap onto the skin. Haruka felt her spine tingle and a spot in between
her legs clench. She let out another sigh, one that seemed to come from
the depths of her being. Michiru's soapy hands slid down her arms.

"Turn around," Michiru told her. Haruka complied and found
herself face to face with her naked, wet lover. The water cascaded down
her back, rinsing the soap off of her. "Your face is still grubby," she
clucked.

Working a lather into her hands, Michiru leaned up on tiptoes and
began washing Haruka's face. Haruka didn't mind - - Michiru's touch was
always welcomed - - and extending herself caused Michiru to lean into
Haruka, causing their breasts to touch, which was also always welcome.
Haruka glanced down at her sea goddess and the look she gave back told
the woman that might have been the plan all along. Michiru's green hair
was wet and matted to her head. Her ivory skin glistened with the thin
sheen of water. Haruka breathing became shallow as she was mesmerized
by the sight. There was something about the way Michiru looked when she
was wet - - something primal, like an untamed sea nymph.

Michiru's hands glided down her lover's neck and began soaping her
shoulders. Haruka leaned back and rinsed off her face. At that moment,
she felt Michiru's soapy hands close around her breasts and the surprise
made Haruka gulp in water.

"Cough!" Haruka sputtered, amid the sound of Michiru's twittering
laugh. "Oh, that's the way you want to play it, huh?"

Before Michiru could react, she was seized and squeezed against
Haruka's sinewy frame. Haruka bent her backwards and began nibbling on
her neck and shoulder. Michiru dissolved into giggles as the water
rained down on them. Bent at that angle, she was helpless to do
anything to resist.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she squealed. Haruka let her up and she
nearly doubled over with laughter. When she recovered, she straightened
up and looked into her lover's eyes tenderly. "Let me make it up to
you."

"My favorite part," Haruka replied with that naughty boy's grin
that always made her knees weak.

Still in the shower, Michiru sank to her knees and steadied her
hands on Haruka's hips. She paused only long enough to shoot her
partner a sly look, then leaned in and began caressing the woman's pubic
mound with her tongue as the water beat down on her head.

It was as if someone had pulled the plug on the drain and all
conscious thought began to swirl out of her mind. Haruka's senses shut
off. She forgot where she was. She forgot who she was. She forgot
everything. All she could think of was the tingling sensation between
her legs.

"Uhh," she began, then couldn't remember what else she wanted to
say.

"Don't talk," Michiru said between strokes. "Just enjoy."

Haruka reached up and grabbed onto the shower head for support.
She bowed her head because it somehow helped her to breathe. Her free
hand reached up and began massaging her breastbone. What she felt was
so intense she wanted to scream or cry or something, and the feeling was
growing with every stroke. But she kept it suppressed - - and she
couldn't seem to make her mouth work anyway.

It was coming. It was coming. Haruka's rangy frame seemed to
contract into itself. She released the shower head and oozed against
the side of the shower. There was no strength left in her limbs. There
was nothing in the universe other than that spot between her legs and
its direct link to the back of her brain.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" wrenched from her throat. She sank to her
knees, Michiru catching her fall. Haruka grabbed the woman and clutched
her tightly to her body. She panted on Michiru's shoulder, eyes still
clamped shut.

"There, there, my baby," Michiru cooed into her ear, stroking
Haruka's back as the water continued to pour down on them. "I've got
you." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Haruka blush. Michiru
smiled, her lover that much more endeared to her.

When Haruka regained enough strength to stand, they shut off the
shower and stepped out. Michiru handed her partner a towel, then set
about drying herself off. As she passed the towel over her own frame,
Haruka's gaze drifted toward Michiru. She watched, hypnotized, as the
woman's lithe nude frame bent to towel off an extended leg. Haruka
noticed the way the light played on the muscles in her back, the way it
reflected on her soft skin, the way she maintained an aura of elegance
even when naked, something few people were capable of.

"The perfect spirit in the perfect body," Haruka whispered to
herself, amazed. She noticed the corners of Michiru's mouth curl up and
blushed again, forgetting just how good her lover's hearing was.

Haruka quickly dried off, while Michiru took her time. As such,
she was still working her body over with the towel when Haruka wrapped
her arms around the woman from behind. Michiru snuggled into the cocoon
without a thought.

"I never feel safer than when I'm in your arms," she sighed.

"We're a good fit," Haruka whispered. "So, you showed me what
your mouth is capable of. Want to see what mine can do?"

"I know what yours can do," she replied distantly, the edges of
her mouth turned up. Michiru felt Haruka gently nudging them toward the
bedroom. "Oh, you are such a temptation."

"Give in," Haruka whispered, kissing her neck. "No one's
looking."

When they reached the bedroom doorway, Michiru gently pulled away.
She took two steps, then turned gracefully and extended her hand.
Haruka took it and allowed herself to be drawn to the bed. At the side
of the bed, Michiru allowed Haruka to draw up close. Their bodies
touched. Haruka's arms went around Michiru's waist, trapping the two of
them together. Michiru draped one arm around the woman's neck and felt
along the side of Haruka's face with her other hand.

"You're so beautiful," Michiru said, her chest heaving with awe.
"You have to let me paint you some day."

"Only if you use water colors," Haruka replied, smirking. "Those
oils are hell to wash off."

Michiru giggled. "You're always teasing me. You're so silly
sometimes."

"I didn't use to be," Haruka replied, a brief flash of melancholy
flashing through her eyes.

Michiru felt a sudden ache in her heart. She pulled herself up
Haruka's frame and pressed her lips to Haruka's. The kiss was gentle,
respectful at first, but suddenly exploded with all the yearning she
suddenly felt for her lover. Haruka responded, cradling the woman
against her with her forearms pressed into the small of Michiru's back.
She kissed back, trying to merge her mouth with her lover's. Finally,
reluctantly, their mouths parted.

"You kiss great," Michiru panted, her head swimming. "Have I ever
told you that?"

"Let me show you what else I can do," breathed Haruka.

Ceding control of her body, Michiru allowed herself to be eased
down onto the bed. Haruka cuddled next to her and leaned in. She took
one of Michiru's swollen nipples in her mouth and lightly caressed it
with the skin of her lips. It was a taunting sensation, just heavy
enough to thrill, but tantalizingly light, to make a person want more.
Michiru felt her insides tighten and resisted the urge to squirm.

Using the tip of her tongue, Haruka swirled around the side of the
nipple, tracing the aureole. Michiru didn't moan, but her quick intake
of air was enough of a signal to continue. As she lavished attention on
the breast, Haruka's hand gently massaged her lover's midriff. She
could feel Michiru's fingers weaving through her still-wet hair.
Michiru refused to show it, but Haruka knew the woman was enjoying this.

"Mmmmmm," Michiru murmured elegantly. "Oh, Haruka," and the words
trailed off as her brain momentarily forgot how to speak.

For Haruka's hand had deviously slid down her lover's abdomen and
through the thatch of green below her waist. A single finger was
lightly caressing the skin in that region. Michiru's head rolled back.
Her cool reserve was showing cracks. She pulled herself closer to
Haruka, her other arm closing around the blonde's head.

The finger penetrated. Michiru emitted a low moan and arched
against Haruka. Haruka began rubbing the inner walls and Michiru became
as helpless as jelly.

"Ohhhh!" she cried. "Yes, right there!"

It was just the way she knew Michiru liked it: a slow, elegant,
relentless build to a peak that seemed to take over every nerve ending
in her body. And Haruka continued, slow and relentless, while Michiru
teetered on the brink for what seemed to her to be an eternity. Time
stopped, then kicked back into motion as a wave cascaded over her and
Michiru released a cry so high-pitched that it was barely audible.
Haruka continued for a few moments more, to cushion her return from the
heights, then held her lover as she clung to him. A sensation of
wetness caused Haruka to pull back enough to look at her.

"Michiru," she said, amazed. "You're crying."

"Yes, I suppose I am," she smiled sadly.

"Why?"

"Because it was so beautiful." She looked up and saw Haruka still
didn't understand. "There was one time - - I was on stage in Osaka. I
was playing competently, but not as well as I'm capable. That is, until
I struck this one note. It was a B sharp and it was perfect. And it
was so beautiful that I just started crying right there on stage. I
managed to finish the performance, but it was difficult. And I was
crying because I had achieved perfection. Achieving perfection kind of
makes me emotional."

"And just now?" Haruka asked.

"Um hmm. When we're together, it's more perfect than any note I
can play or any piece I can paint. It's ironic. I'm Michiru Kaioh, the
noted soloist and solitary painter, and nobody knows that my greatest
work is a collaboration." She caressed Haruka's cheek. "Never leave
me."

"Not even in death," Haruka replied and kissed Michiru tenderly.

END