Sailor Moon Fan Fiction ❯ Like A Dream To Me ❯ One-Shot

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

"Like A Dream To Me"
A Sailor Moon Fanfic
By Bill K.

Story is copyright 2000 by Bill Kropfhauser; Characters are copyright 2000 by
Naoko Takeuchi/Kodansha and Toei Animation and are used without permission, but
with love.

This story takes place during the second half of Sailor Moon S, after the
talismans are revealed, but before Mimet's "dismissal".

----------------------------------------------------- -------------------------

Mamoru.

You stand there in my bedroom and I want to hide. I want to pull the
covers over my head and pray you don't see me. I'm afraid. Afraid you'll turn
away, afraid you'll dismiss me, afraid you'll reject me.

Afraid I'm not good enough for someone like you.

I actually tremble, fearing at any moment the words will come or I'll hear
the door close and know you've gone and my one chance to know you is gone
forever. It couldn't end any other way. What could an intelligent,
sophisticated and oh so achingly handsome god of a man possibly see in me? I'm
just a fifteen-year-old little nobody whose orbit brushed his. I'm a sister to
him; a pet. He pats my head when I want him to caress my cheek.

Then a hand folds over mine. It's so large and so strong, yet so very
gentle. It has to be his. No other man's hand could be so gentle. It grips my
hand as my hand grips the sheets, taking polite control of it since I have ceded
authority. The sheets draw down, revealing me in my nightgown and my tiny,
insignificant form. I have the urge to run, to bolt and race far away. It's so
illogical. This is what I've wanted for the longest time and now that it's
come, I'm afraid.

"Peek-a-boo," he smiles warmly.

God, I'm so stupid. I can't even make my mouth work. I want to apologize
for being childish, for making him be here and put up with me. But my tongue is
leaden and my jaw frozen shut. I can only look into his eyes and hope that he
can read my mind.

"You look beautiful," he says, as soft and as gentle as a summer breeze.
I don't believe a word of it, but it's exactly what I want to hear at that
moment.

Like a dove landing, he sits down on the edge of the bed next to me.
There's kindness in his eyes and a warm smile on his lips and I'm mesmerized by
it. His hands grip me on the arms up around the shoulders and effortlessly pull
me up to a sitting position. I wonder, does he hear my heart thudding in my
chest? It seems so loud to me. It seems to echo off the walls. If he does
hear it, he's gracious enough not to say anything.

How like him.

It's hard to reconcile this Mamoru with the tenacious protector in the
tuxedo, top hat and mask. Gentle is not a word to describe him in that guise.
Yet, here he is, his strong hands supporting me, his eyes enveloping me with a
reverent gaze, his aura driving rational thought from my mind.

He moves to kiss me. He's slow and cautious, sensing my fear at being
overwhelmed by him, but his mouth draws inexorably toward mine. At that moment I
realize that I'm at a precipice. I want to do it. I want to do it so badly
that my loins ache, but there's still a skittering tremor of apprehension in me.
Part of me knows I shouldn't, the logical part that is just no fun. I'm too
young. I still have that nagging little voice in the back of my mind telling me
that once I give in he'll change and become inattentive or, even worse, cruel.
However, this isn't just any man - - this is Mamoru. The impulse to jump over
the precipice suddenly sweeps over me and I do. My lips rise to meet his and a
thrill passes down my breastbone.

His shirt is off. I don't know when it happened, but I'm glad it did.
Perhaps it happened during our kiss. It seemed to last only a few moments, but
I was gasping for breath when our lips parted. Perhaps I lost track of time.
Having your senses swim can do that to you. He has a fine chest, firm and
smooth. I bend down and kiss his chest, then peer up timidly to see if I've
pleased him. I have and joy fills me.

His mouth searches again for mine and I let him capture it eagerly. This
time I'm more aware of things: the warmth of his mouth, the intoxication of his
scent, the firm pressure of his hands against my arms. My hands come up to his
chest to steady myself, as if I needed to do so. I couldn't escape this grasp
if I wanted to, and I don't want to. Then one hand moves up my arm and lightly
brushes the strap of the nightgown from my shoulder. It tumbles half way down
my arm like a snowflake and is replaced by his caressing hand. His touch feels
so good on my shoulder that I melt, groaning softly into his mouth.

Our lips part and I turn my head, my need for oxygen momentarily greater
than my need for him. His fingers slide up my neck to my face. He caresses my
cheek. How it must burn his skin. To me, it feels like I've a temperature of a
thousand degrees. Turning to his hand, I try to press into it, to somehow join
with it. It's the only way I could get any closer to him. His first two
fingers trace lightly over my lips, a blind man reading Braille. My lips part
and encircle his fingers, then close around them. As my eyes flutter closed, I
catch a glimpse of surprise in Mamoru's face. I'm just as surprised as he, but
he doesn't say anything and I suck contentedly on his fingers. Part of him is
inside me and that makes me happy. A moan escapes as I keep sucking. His free
hand brushes the other strap of my gown down my arm, but I'm too busy to care.
I can feel the air tickle my nipples, now free from the cloth that covered them.

As one, his fingers slowly pull from my mouth and the weight on the bed
shifts. I look up, see him standing over me and suffer a pang. Have I
displeased him? Will he leave in the next moment, crushing my heart to powder
with his first step? At that moment I am deathly afraid. But he stands his
ground and moves to undo his belt.

What will he look like? Oh please let him be as beautiful as I imagined.
Gravity takes his trousers from him, followed close behind by his underwear.
And again my childish nature takes over. I avert my eyes in embarrassment. My
cheeks are burning red and I can't stop it. What am I afraid of? When will I
ever be a grown woman?

Hands press lightly against my shoulders and guide me down on my back. My
eyes seek his, again momentarily afraid of what I'll see, and find his desire
for me unflagging. Again he sits on the bed next to me and bends forward. I
think he's going to kiss me, but he aims for my chest instead. His mouth hovers
over my right breast and I peer down my body at him. He hovers, taunting me,
and then his tongue reaches out and grazes the nipple.

The hiss that escapes my mouth is so loud, I'm sure that it's heard all
the way to Juban Street. He must like the response, though, because his tongue
begins playing with the nipple and aureole in an effort to draw more from me. I
arch my back without thinking, trying to bring myself closer to him. It's
torture, but it's a good torture, a torture you wish would end and are instantly
sorry when it does.

Suddenly, I find that what I thought was torture was nothing compared to
the new things I feel. His hand - - it's - - down there! Rubbing, caressing,
probing with the skill of a surgeon and the curiosity of a little child. I bite
my lip, trying to keep the building groan buried in my chest. The muscles from
my groin to my chest draw so tight that I'm afraid they'll break. All at once
I can't contain it and the sound is almost a sob. But how can it be a sob when
I feel so good? My arms wrap around Mamoru's head to keep him to me and I wish
I could make this moment last a hundred years.

My body twitches and squirms. It's hard to keep it still, harder yet to
focus on anything except the warm body next to me and just what he's doing to
me. He's in bed now, lying next to me, cradling me against his strong, firm,
male body. His mouth has moved from my right breast to my left. My eyelids are
squeezed tight. I try to mold my body to his. I try to pull myself inside of
him, but I can't. My body is one huge clenched fist that his left hand explores
with impunity.

I wish I could please him the way he's pleasing me, but I don't know how.
I try by caressing his arm and back, by pressing my lips to the top of his head
and by moaning my ardor at him. Perhaps I can only please him by letting him
please me. Perhaps his pleasure will come later. But if he gains any
satisfaction from my groans, then I am making him as happy as he's making me.

In a moment of sheer greed, I whisper to him to penetrate with his
fingers. He obeys with playful dismay. My level of arousal ratchets up another
notch. It's suddenly hard to breathe because my ribs are locked in contraction.
I can't even groan for him. At last my clenched muscles release enough for me
to draw a breath. Then he inserts a second finger and the whole process
repeats.

It goes on like this until I think I might go mad. Can any human sustain
a level of ecstasy for this long? I know only what I've read, only what I've
heard. I'm momentarily, irrationally afraid of dying, of this much sustained
arousal stopping my heart dead in my chest.

What a way to go.

His hand presses against my inner thigh and guides my legs open.

This is it.

This is it and it's what I want more than anything else in the world at
that moment. To join with him, to feel him unite with me is the single
overwhelming thought in my mind. His mouth presses a kiss onto my breastbone.
I reach down to guide him in.

I feel it. And I can feel his masculine presence swallow me up and,
rather than panic, I give myself over to it. I can sense the world. I can hear
dust particles crash together like the clap of thunder. I am one with the
universe. And I can feel his heart beating in his chest as it presses to mine
and it's all too much. A single tear trickles down my cheek, I'm so touched by
this moment. My arms clutch him to me and I wonder if I will ever know this
kind of ecstasy ever again.
* * * *

"Ami," I hear my mother say, "wake up. You have to get ready for school.
Did you forget to set your alarm?"

My hands cover my head in frustration. I heard it. It ripped me kicking
and screaming from the best dream I'd ever had and deposited me back in cold
reality. Rather than get up, I stayed in bed and tried with growing frustration
to recapture that paradise of mist, but my sub-conscious has retreated back to
its lair.

It's had its fun.

I trudge to the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. The reflection
is that of Ami Mizuno, as I expected, and not Usagi Tsukino, though the
disappointed ache in my heart is evidence enough of just how much I wish I could
be her.

If only for just one night.

THE END