Title: Midnight
Author: Nijuuni-gou
Site: www.sweetbane.com
E-mail: [email protected]
Disclaimer: Sailor Moon is copyright to Takeuchi Naoko. I own no
rights, nor am I making any profit.
One shot.
~*~*~*~
Dark eyes peered out from beneath a shock of black silk, weariness
and pain filling the cobalt depths. There was something painful about
standing there, something besides the latest injury brought upon him.
The bloodied sword fell to the carpeted floor quietly, the noise
muffled by the soft plush rug. He stepped forward towards the bed,
wincing ever-so slightly as the wound on his chest exploded in agony.
He did not cry out, though any other man would have easily.
Pressing onward toward the curtained bed, he let his hands drift to
his shoulders to unclasp his cape. It was torn and soaked with blood,
and it fell with a wet sound to the ground. He knew without looking
that the spot on the floor beneath it would be stained red, but he
didn't care. He moved deeper into the room, struggling with his black
metal armor. He was careful to avoid his wound, careful not to make
too much noise.
Soon, he stood draped only in the nightly shadows. Moonlight from the
windowed balcony -- the way he'd entered the room -- shone on the
floor, cascading over the closed curtain of the bed.
His heart pounded; he knew what lay behind the curtains. A trickle of
blood poured down his side, dripping onto the floor, but he barely
noticed. His strong, callused hand reached for the curtain, drawing it
back.
The breath he'd been holding was lodged in his throat. His tongue
seemed to swell within the confines of his mouth. His eyes darkened
and yet softened at the sight before him.
She lay on the bed, the blanket cast over her haphazardly, barely
covering her milky skin from the cold of the night. It was, actually,
rather cold. His fingers felt frozen, and his toes were icy. But his
eyes traveled over her sillhouette with a certain heat. She lay bare
beneath the blanket, he knew. Her silver hair lay fanned out across
the bed, liquid silver, pouring over the edges in tumbling waves. Her
lips were parted slightly, rosy and pink, begging to be kissed. Her
cheeks were pink as well, a permanent blush staining them. Her eyes
were closed, and the crescent moon sigil on her brow shone softly in
the filtering moonlight.
His battered body ached to hold her. He could no longer keep himself
standing, and if he did not reach the softness of her bed, he would
collapse and die on the floor. Stumbling forward, he climbed in beside
her..
His arms went on either side of her, and despite his weakened state,
he managed to somehow hold himself suspended above her. He could hear
her breathing; he could feel it on his arm. His body ached to feel her
skin against his, and his head bent down to capture her lips with his
own.
At first, the response was slow and sleepy, but soon he knew she
recognized the feverish need that his lips could barely restrain, and
a sigh released itself from her soft mouth. Everything about her was
soft, something he never quite understood.
Her hands smoothed over his shoulders and his arms, over his back and
his chest, until finally her fingers slid into the trail of crimson
that spilled from his torso. A cry of panic replaced the wonderous
sigh, and, hesitantly, he parted his lips from her own.
"You're hurt," she whispered, the concern spilling into her soft
voice. He wanted to groan at the sound of her voice. She sounded like
an angel.
"It's nothing," he assured her, wanting nothing more than to
alleviate her fears and return to his task of holding her.
"Endymion..." she murmured. He sighed dreamily.
"Say it again, angel," he mumbled into her ear, kissing her pale
throat softly.
"Endymion," she repeated. The worry in her voice was vanishing
slowly, and he was determined that the next time she said his name, it
would be gone entirely.
His hands roamed her body, moving hungrily over her delicate curves,
absorbing the feel of her silken hair between his fingers, of her
satin skin beneath his hands. He kissed her again, his lips trying to
erase the worry.
But her own small, tiny hand was at his wound, trying to determine
the severity. With a sigh, Endymion pulled back.
He felt her pale blue eyes on the wound as she assessed the damage.
Her fingers gently traced the outline of his injury, as though it were
merely another part of his godlike body. Her pale fingers were tinged
with blood.
"Endymion..." she said.
He grasped her hand and lifted her bloodied fingers to his mouth. His
lips encased her index finger, the taste of his own blood on her skin.
He licked the redness off of her white skin, and he could feel her
eyes fluttering closed.
When he had cleaned the blood from her hands, he pulled her to him.
He knew the blood was dripping onto the sheets of her bed, knew that
it was dripping onto her pale body. His own fingers wiped away the
blood, but this time it was she who licked his fingers clean.
Her lips were tinged crimson now, and he kissed them roughly. He
guided her body back to the softness of her bed, his hands caressing
her as softly as he could bear.
They made love gently as Endymion bled, and her small hand pressed
over the bleeding wound as his trembling lips met her shoulder. A
warmth spread outward from her palm, radiating into the wound, and he
felt it close softly. The blood was wiped clean, and there was no
trace left.
He held her to him in the afterglow, her small body trembling against
his own. Her forehead lay pressed against his hard, muscled chest, and
his fingers tangled themselves in her hair.
It had been the first of many battles, Serenity knew. This would not
be the last time Endymion wandered into her bed, wounded and hungry.
She knew that this would not be the last time that she used herself to
heal him. She knew that she wasn't merely healing him physically. She
was healing his soul.
He read her thoughts and pulled her closer, tightening his hold on
her. "I will protect you from the world," he whispered.
"How can you protect me from a world you are a part of?" she asked.
He had no answer.
"Endymion, it was a battle."
He could hear the fear in her voice. "It was a battle, Serenity."
"There will be more."
"There will be many more."
Her last thought was not voiced, but he knew well what she wanted to
say.
"I will return from every battle, Serenity. I will always come back
to you. The day I do not return is the day I die."
"No," she mumbled, kissing his skin softly. "The day you do not
return is they day we die."
"Then after every battle, the gods will give me speed to return to
you."
He kissed her, trying to calm her fears. But he could feel the tears
running down her cheeks, could see the memory of his blood fresh in
her mind.
"I love you, Serenity," he told her, trying to calm her once more.
"I love you, Endymion," she cried softly, "but I fear that the
battles have only just begun."
~*~*~*~
The next day, the Silver Millennium was attacked. One by one, the
soldiers fell, and Endymion was impaled to save his love. Serenity
fell upon Endymion's blade, dying as she lay her head upon his chest.
Their souls were sent to the future, in hope that they would find one
another again...
Author: Nijuuni-gou
Site: www.sweetbane.com
E-mail: [email protected]
Disclaimer: Sailor Moon is copyright to Takeuchi Naoko. I own no
rights, nor am I making any profit.
One shot.
~*~*~*~
Dark eyes peered out from beneath a shock of black silk, weariness
and pain filling the cobalt depths. There was something painful about
standing there, something besides the latest injury brought upon him.
The bloodied sword fell to the carpeted floor quietly, the noise
muffled by the soft plush rug. He stepped forward towards the bed,
wincing ever-so slightly as the wound on his chest exploded in agony.
He did not cry out, though any other man would have easily.
Pressing onward toward the curtained bed, he let his hands drift to
his shoulders to unclasp his cape. It was torn and soaked with blood,
and it fell with a wet sound to the ground. He knew without looking
that the spot on the floor beneath it would be stained red, but he
didn't care. He moved deeper into the room, struggling with his black
metal armor. He was careful to avoid his wound, careful not to make
too much noise.
Soon, he stood draped only in the nightly shadows. Moonlight from the
windowed balcony -- the way he'd entered the room -- shone on the
floor, cascading over the closed curtain of the bed.
His heart pounded; he knew what lay behind the curtains. A trickle of
blood poured down his side, dripping onto the floor, but he barely
noticed. His strong, callused hand reached for the curtain, drawing it
back.
The breath he'd been holding was lodged in his throat. His tongue
seemed to swell within the confines of his mouth. His eyes darkened
and yet softened at the sight before him.
She lay on the bed, the blanket cast over her haphazardly, barely
covering her milky skin from the cold of the night. It was, actually,
rather cold. His fingers felt frozen, and his toes were icy. But his
eyes traveled over her sillhouette with a certain heat. She lay bare
beneath the blanket, he knew. Her silver hair lay fanned out across
the bed, liquid silver, pouring over the edges in tumbling waves. Her
lips were parted slightly, rosy and pink, begging to be kissed. Her
cheeks were pink as well, a permanent blush staining them. Her eyes
were closed, and the crescent moon sigil on her brow shone softly in
the filtering moonlight.
His battered body ached to hold her. He could no longer keep himself
standing, and if he did not reach the softness of her bed, he would
collapse and die on the floor. Stumbling forward, he climbed in beside
her..
His arms went on either side of her, and despite his weakened state,
he managed to somehow hold himself suspended above her. He could hear
her breathing; he could feel it on his arm. His body ached to feel her
skin against his, and his head bent down to capture her lips with his
own.
At first, the response was slow and sleepy, but soon he knew she
recognized the feverish need that his lips could barely restrain, and
a sigh released itself from her soft mouth. Everything about her was
soft, something he never quite understood.
Her hands smoothed over his shoulders and his arms, over his back and
his chest, until finally her fingers slid into the trail of crimson
that spilled from his torso. A cry of panic replaced the wonderous
sigh, and, hesitantly, he parted his lips from her own.
"You're hurt," she whispered, the concern spilling into her soft
voice. He wanted to groan at the sound of her voice. She sounded like
an angel.
"It's nothing," he assured her, wanting nothing more than to
alleviate her fears and return to his task of holding her.
"Endymion..." she murmured. He sighed dreamily.
"Say it again, angel," he mumbled into her ear, kissing her pale
throat softly.
"Endymion," she repeated. The worry in her voice was vanishing
slowly, and he was determined that the next time she said his name, it
would be gone entirely.
His hands roamed her body, moving hungrily over her delicate curves,
absorbing the feel of her silken hair between his fingers, of her
satin skin beneath his hands. He kissed her again, his lips trying to
erase the worry.
But her own small, tiny hand was at his wound, trying to determine
the severity. With a sigh, Endymion pulled back.
He felt her pale blue eyes on the wound as she assessed the damage.
Her fingers gently traced the outline of his injury, as though it were
merely another part of his godlike body. Her pale fingers were tinged
with blood.
"Endymion..." she said.
He grasped her hand and lifted her bloodied fingers to his mouth. His
lips encased her index finger, the taste of his own blood on her skin.
He licked the redness off of her white skin, and he could feel her
eyes fluttering closed.
When he had cleaned the blood from her hands, he pulled her to him.
He knew the blood was dripping onto the sheets of her bed, knew that
it was dripping onto her pale body. His own fingers wiped away the
blood, but this time it was she who licked his fingers clean.
Her lips were tinged crimson now, and he kissed them roughly. He
guided her body back to the softness of her bed, his hands caressing
her as softly as he could bear.
They made love gently as Endymion bled, and her small hand pressed
over the bleeding wound as his trembling lips met her shoulder. A
warmth spread outward from her palm, radiating into the wound, and he
felt it close softly. The blood was wiped clean, and there was no
trace left.
He held her to him in the afterglow, her small body trembling against
his own. Her forehead lay pressed against his hard, muscled chest, and
his fingers tangled themselves in her hair.
It had been the first of many battles, Serenity knew. This would not
be the last time Endymion wandered into her bed, wounded and hungry.
She knew that this would not be the last time that she used herself to
heal him. She knew that she wasn't merely healing him physically. She
was healing his soul.
He read her thoughts and pulled her closer, tightening his hold on
her. "I will protect you from the world," he whispered.
"How can you protect me from a world you are a part of?" she asked.
He had no answer.
"Endymion, it was a battle."
He could hear the fear in her voice. "It was a battle, Serenity."
"There will be more."
"There will be many more."
Her last thought was not voiced, but he knew well what she wanted to
say.
"I will return from every battle, Serenity. I will always come back
to you. The day I do not return is the day I die."
"No," she mumbled, kissing his skin softly. "The day you do not
return is they day we die."
"Then after every battle, the gods will give me speed to return to
you."
He kissed her, trying to calm her fears. But he could feel the tears
running down her cheeks, could see the memory of his blood fresh in
her mind.
"I love you, Serenity," he told her, trying to calm her once more.
"I love you, Endymion," she cried softly, "but I fear that the
battles have only just begun."
~*~*~*~
The next day, the Silver Millennium was attacked. One by one, the
soldiers fell, and Endymion was impaled to save his love. Serenity
fell upon Endymion's blade, dying as she lay her head upon his chest.
Their souls were sent to the future, in hope that they would find one
another again...