He fit my body like a one horse town
And I was drunk like a vagabond on his street
And I lay face down
And I rode his joy like a child on a merry-go-round
I was young in his eyes
I was sweet on his thighs
I was profound
I was shot like a bird in flight
To the ground.
Sophie B. Hawkins
Your Tongue Like the Sun In My Mouth

He was not surprised when his door opened and she stepped through in a dress that shimmered rainbow colours. Only her arms were bare but the material clung tenderly to every curve of her body and she had a lot of curves. His hands itched with the urge to explore them but he held back, reminding himself that it had been a long time, years. There were things to discuss, gaps to be bridged.

He smiled. “I hoped it would be you,” he said and saw her take a breath at the words. Their eyes met and they drank each other in, desert travellers who’d finally found their oasis.

“He couldn’t have kept me away,” she said softly, walking forward, sure of her welcome now. “He kept finding things for me to do but in the end… in the end, I wasn’t going to let him get in the way. Especially not after last time.” Her voice deepened at those words and he felt his pulse quicken slightly.

“Do you mind if I change?” she asked. “This is a little… confining.”

“Be my guest,” he replied and watched as the gown melted away to the familiar senshi uniform. She walked over to him, her heels clicking softly on the marble floor, her eyes fixed on his face.

“So here we are,” she said.

“Here we are,” he agreed, stepping forward so that there was only an inch between them.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” she whispered.

“You knew that wasn’t the end,” he replied, laying his hand on her neck. He smiled. “You wouldn’t let it be the end. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

She closed her eyes at his touch and tipped her head back, exposing more skin, answering his question without a single word. He ran his fingers down the curve of her throat and felt her pulse throb beneath the skin. There was an echoing beat in his body, but much lower down. Hard already. He wasn’t surprised.

“I hated him,” she said, so sudden and fierce that Kunzite stopped touching her.

“Him?”

“Artemis.” She opened her eyes, lilac-blue in the earthlight, the gold spots almost lost. “I know. You’ll say he was only doing his duty. I know that. I knew that. But it didn’t stop me hating him.” She laughed but there was an edge in her laughter. “In the end, you treated me like more of an adult than he did, despite all your protests about my age. Artemis has never said I’m too young for anything but he tries to protect me from everything.”

“It’s different for a guardian, Venus. You know that. We both know that. You are not an ordinary princess, you cannot be protected from ordinary things… most of the time,” he added with a small smile. “So when he can protect you, I imagine he does his very best.”

“He didn’t need to protect me from you!” She pulled back and turned to the window, hugging herself. “It was my choice. You were my choice. I chose you and he had no right to take that choice away from me.”

“He didn’t,” Kunzite said, gathering her hair in one hand and lifting the golden rope away from her neck. “He just delayed it. You haven’t changed your mind about me. I haven’t changed my mind about you. And now you’re here. We’re here. Nobody is going to interrupt us this time.” He pressed his lips to the nape of her neck and heard her breathe in at the touch. She took his other hand and slid it under the bow at the front of her uniform, fitting it over the curve of her breast.

“Yes,” she said, her voice low and full of desire. “Yes.”

He straightened and slipped his hand over the other breast, pressing her back against him as he caressed her through the material. She arched her neck and rested his head on her chest, high small sounds curling out of her open mouth. Then her hands suddenly slid over his trousers, finding him ready and willing, and she laughed deep in her throat.

“Yes,” she said again, then slipped one hand inside the trousers, and his mind almost dissolved at the first touch of her fingers.

“Venus —!”

She laughed again, delighted with his reaction, and opened her eyes, which were full of satisfaction. “This is what I want,” she said, with long deliberate strokes that dragged animal groans out of his mouth. “This is what I choose.” She took her hand out of his trousers, turned around, put her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth, chaste but firm. He grabbed at her, even while he told himself to go slow, gripping her hips and yanking them against him, thrusting. Even through the material, he could feel the heat of her, pulling him like a magnet. She cried out at the contact, wordless and primitive, and the sound cleared his brain a little so that he lifted his head and breathed in, trying to think. No use pawing her like an animal. Any man could do that. He had to do better, be better.

“Venus,” he began, looking down at her, but she was gazing at his trousers.

“Oh, you’re hard,” she whispered. She had the look he remembered from last time, a mixture of greed and wonder. Back then, it had been flattering; now, it bewildered him. The last few minutes had shown him just how much experience she’d acquired. An erect penis was no longer a mystery, so why this expression?

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” he pointed out.

“But this is you,” she replied, looking up with shining eyes. “That makes all the difference.”

Kunzite tried to work out the logic of this while Venus kindly stripped him of his boots, socks and trousers, but had to admit defeat. “Why does it make all the difference?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes up at him. “You must have seen a naked woman by now and you still touch me like I’m the most beautiful woman you’ve seen.”

“That’s because you are,” Kunzite said, amused despite himself. “And the female body in itself is beautiful. That’s why it’s celebrated in poetry and in stories. Nobody has ever celebrated the finer points of the penis.”

Venus snorted and put a hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh.

“It’s true.” He sat on the edge of the bed and unbuttoned his jacket, then slipped it off and hung it on one of the carved bedposts, leaving just his undershirt, fine and white. “Nobody has ever written a poem celebrating the beauty of the male organ and nobody ever will. That’s why they try and cover it up by calling it a sceptre and a… jade scimitar and other metaphors like that.”

Venus gave up and rocked back and forth, holding her stomach and laughing. It was the perfect laugh, joy condensed into sound, a golden scale rising and falling on a single note. It made you want to laugh as well but Kunzite enjoyed watching her too much to join in. “Lovely, laughing Aphrodite,” he said softly and she stopped, gazing at him with shadowed, sombre eyes. Kunzite could have kicked himself. “I’m sorry,” he said, pulling the undershirt over his head. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Nobody’s called me that name for such a long time,” Venus said, lowering her eyes. “I’d almost forgotten what it sounds like. Here, I’m Venus, just Venus. Don’t apologise,” she added as he opened his mouth. “I’m not angry.” She stood up and looked at him through her hair, shy and hopeful. “Will you call me that? Just for tonight? Because… you called me that in the orchard.”

The look reminded Kunzite so much of her younger self that his heart ached for a moment. He nodded and she smiled, slow and happy. “Good.” She raised a hand and pressed the brooch in the centre of her uniform. Strands of gold energy emerged and wrapped around her figure, turning her into a vision of light. Kunzite blinked and it was gone, and she was standing before him completely naked. His throat went dry and his heart pounded, just as it had done years before when he discovered her waiting outside his door. She smiled, restored to herself, and walked over to him with the light, graceful step of a panther.

“Now,” she said, her voice low once more, her eyes dark and desirous, “now I shall have what I want.” She put her palms on his chest and pushed and he found himself lying flat on the bed, his mind reeling as she straddled him. Curiously, she did not kiss him or caress him. She ran her hand over his stomach. Kunzite raised his head and she felt his gaze and looked up.

“You’ve still got the marks,” she said, pointing at the thin red lines that her nails had left under his skin.

He put both hands on her thighs and pushed them wider, making her slip further towards him. She gasped and put her hands on his ribs to keep her balance but Kunzite was looking for something. Then he saw them: two identical purple marks on the pale flesh of her inner thighs.

“Yes, they’re still there,” said Venus, following his gaze. “I’ve been asked about them, as well.”

“And what did you say?” he asked, remembering how she’d gasped when he bit her, the clench of her fingers in his hair.

“I said they were all I had left of my first love,” she answered. He looked up, speechless with shock, and she smiled.

He didn’t know if it was the words which released him or the smile. Either way, something relaxed inside him and he knew there was no need to hold back anymore. He rolled her onto her back and kissed her, open-mouthed, openly greedy, his hands wandering over her breasts. She kissed him back with a sigh of delight, sucked gently on his tongue, wrapped her arms and legs around him like ivy. “I never thought this would happen,” she whispered, catching the rim of his ear between her teeth and trying not to moan too loudly as he slid one hand between her legs. “I thought I would have to go through the rest of my life… dreaming of you… imagining you… now what am I going to do?”

“Enjoy yourself,” he suggested. She writhed under his probing fingers and he sighed. “You’re so wet, Aphrodite. So very… wet.”

She jerked as he slid one finger inside her and whimpered his name.

“Like that?” he murmured.

“I’d like it even more if it was your jade scimitar,” she retorted, the words dissolving in a moan as he gently stroked her. “Kunzite, please… I’ve waited so long…”

“You’ve waited?” he said with a crooked smile, withdrawing. “I’ve waited… I’ve waited for you to lie beneath me, moaning my name, begging me to…”

“Kunzite!” She lifted one fist and tried to hit him, but he caught her wrist and pressed the arm back over her head, chuckling. She flushed and her eyes seemed to darken even more.

“Admit it,” he whispered in her ear. “You like the fact I can hold you down, don’t you?”

Venus turned her head sideways and closed her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered, her body convulsing in pleasure as he pressed down on her. This was what she had dreamed of, though she wouldn’t tell him. This was what she’d treasured most of all: the memory of his refusal to let her dominate him, his ability to take control, his willpower. And her memory had not deceived her: he was just as strong, just as dominant as ever. And she loved him for it. But she would never tell him. She heard him laugh in pleasure at her admission and then he moved a little and she felt him, pressing against her, and it was all she could do to stop herself moaning his name. But she still had a little self-control left. She opened her eyes and looked at him, her heart thudding in anticipation and arousal.

“Now,” she said and he slid inside her, more like an embrace than an invasion. She closed her eyes and bit down on his shoulder to quell the moan rising in her throat.

“Marking me again, are you?” he murmured as he found a rhythm.

“Any way I can,” she replied, clinging to his shoulders as their hips met over and over again. She’d often heard this act compared to a dance but up until now, it had been her leading the men. This was coupling in the true sense of the word, both of them moving together, but it was he who set the pace, and it was so slow that it made her sob. She should have known that he wouldn’t be hurried. She should have remembered what he’d said back then: “I think before I speak.” And you think before you act, too, she thought dizzily, her head falling against the pillow as he slid back inside her and small spasms rippled all over her body.

“Go faster,” she whispered.

“I want you to remember this.”

“You think I could forget?” She lifted her chin, making an effort, and glared at him. “If you don’t start moving faster, I’ll go mad.” This would have been more convincing if her voice hadn’t broken into a moan on the last word as their hips connected again.

“Now we both know that’s an empty threat,” he murmured, his voice shivering down her spine. “You won’t go mad. You’ll fly apart, but you won’t go mad. And you’ll enjoy every second of it.”

Venus wanted to scream at him but she had no breath for it, no breath for anything except this slow, sensual dance and the low rhythmic cries that accompanied it. She wanted to tell him that she hated him but he would know it was a lie. Frustrated to the point of tears, she loved him all the more for being able to bring her to this. This was what she had seen in his eyes all those years ago, this dance on the edge between pain and pleasure. It made her blood sing. I'm so glad I didn’t know what I was missing, she thought.

“Faster,” she sighed, not expecting a reply.

“If you insist,” he said, making her blink, and slammed his hips into hers so fast that she stopped breathing for a moment. Then he pulled back and did it again, and this time she met him, the jolt shaking a scream from her body. He pressed both arms above her head, their fingers locking together as her legs locked around his hips, and then he kissed her as the dance began again, frenzied, a tarantella instead of a waltz. And it was not like the other times: she was present, almost unbearably so. She didn’t want to close her eyes and lose herself in fantasy, she wanted to stay where she was, kissing him, feeling her body jerk, feeling the spasms flow through her body and then return, centering down there. She could feel the bed groan underneath them, she could hear the smack of their bodies as they thrust against each other, she could smell his sweat and she wanted to bury her nose in his skin, to melt into him. She spread her legs wider, as wide as she could, and he sighed her name into her ear.

“Aphrodite, Aphrodite, Aphrodite…”

Tears filled her eyes and she wanted to beg him to stay with her, never leave her, but these were forbidden words. She could only repeat his name, muffled because she was pressing her face into his neck, and then suddenly her whole body shook, spasmed, and she screamed, arching upwards, unable to bear it any longer. Out loud she screamed his name, but in her mind she screamed words.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

She heard him cry her name once, so quiet in comparison, and then his hips jerked and caused another set of spasms as he let out a long, long groan. Venus pulled her hands free and wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he sank down, panting. She held him close, luxuriating in his heaviness and the wet ache beween her legs. Her body was still shaking and it took her a while to realise that she was crying. Hearing the sound, Kunzite pushed himself up (even through her tears, Venus admired the muscles in his arms) and carefully pulled out. He lay down on his side and gathered her in his arms, his tenderness producing more tears.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Aphrodite? What is it?”

I love you. I love you and I cannot tell you, ever.

“It’s been… so long,” she said, gulping. “I didn’t think… I’ve imagined it so many times and now it’s happened. And it was… it was wonderful.”

Kunzite couldn’t help feeling relieved. “Well, that’s something,” he said, and she began to laugh in the middle of her tears, which naturally resulted in hiccups.

“I don’t want this to be the only time,” she said when the hiccups had finally subsided. “I can’t… I can’t go back to someone else. Not after that. I don’t care how we manage it, but we have to manage it, Kunzite.” She looked at him, her eyes steely through the tears. “I’m not giving you up again.”

“What makes you think I’d let you?” he said and kissed her. He meant it to be a comforting kiss, but then she opened her mouth and that was an invitation he just couldn’t refuse. By the time the kiss was over, she was lying on top of him, moving her hips from side to side, like a cat preparing to pounce.

“I love a man with stamina,” she said softly, thinking this was the closest she’d ever get to telling him the truth: qualifying her love with a condition. “How long can you keep this up?”

Kunzite smiled. “I’d like to know that myself.”

“Ready?” she challenged.

“Always,” he replied softly, gripping her chin and bringing her down for another kiss.


DISCLAIMER: Neither Venus nor Kunzite belong to me. They belong to the marvellous Naoko Takeuchi. But they have fun.