Kouya couldn't say anything, caught as usual in Yamato's all-knowing gaze. Normally she was able to school her features, especially with the help of her glasses to hide behind, but in the dark, lying between Yamato's thighs, deception would be impossible for her. With her eyes, Kouya begged. Nagisa-sensei is up to something. Please run away, far away, where she can't hurt you. But she was still cowardly at heart. Please stay, I cannot live without you.
Yamato's knowing eyes glittered in the faint moonlight. She withdrew her hands from under Kouya's shirt and sat up, straddling Kouya's upper thighs. Kouya's eyes drew down, mesmerized by Yamato's spectacular form and then caught at the junction of her thighs, dark blonde hairs wetly curled. Yamato's hands then slipped across the top of Kouya's skirt, rubbing hipbones before lowering into her pockets. Kouya's breath caught in her throat when Yamato's hand quite obviously wrapped around the razor still in there.
The blonde pulled the blade out. The oddly curious look on her face seemed out of place, considering her position, and she quietly pushed one length of the blade out. It glittered brightly in the moonlight. She turned to Kouya. "Kouya, do you love me?"
Though she held a knife, Kouya felt no fear of her lover. "I love you, Yamato. More than anything." Her face hid none of her emotion.
Yamato smiled, gently. She took a hold of one of Kouya's hands. She kissed the scrapes from the tree, lightly blowing her miraculous healing breath across her knuckles. Then, she took the hand and brought it between her thighs. Slowly, purposefully, she pushed two of Kouya's fingers into her, letting her lover fill her again. She retracted the razor blade and threw the whole thing across the room into a dark corner where it clattered dully. "Then you will never need that," Yamato said, and began riding Kouya's fingers slowly, easing Kouya deeper, encouraging her with light moans.
Yamato, through her ragged breathing, unbuttoned Kouya's shirt, pushing it back and off one shoulder, revealing a bra already askew. With a firm hold on Kouya's chest, she manipulated her lover back, until Kouya was resting on her back, her taller lover grinding her into the bed. Yamato then reached down and pulled Kouya's shaking fingers from her center, though they twitched as if wanting to return to their warm home. She replaced that warm place with her mouth, licking the wetness from Kouya's digits, watching the play of Kouya's eyes, noting the rising of Kouya's body heat and the way she was shaking between her thighs.
Once her lover's hand was clean, Yamato began kissing down her wrist and forearm, noting the bonelessness of her arm and reacquainting her lips with the shape of Kouya's elbow and shoulder. Bent over as she was, mapping Kouya's alabaster shoulder with kisses, she reached behind her prone lover's back, unlatching her bra and pulling her breasts within easier reach. She drew lips and tongue around and up their peaks, acknowledging already painfully tight nipples with a light peck.
She moved down Kouya's body, skimming across ever stomach muscle and curve, dipping her tongue into her bellybutton in a way that made her lover squirm sideways. As if awakened, Kouya's hands grasped Yamato's shoulders, and then gripped her blonde hair when Kouya's mouth finished outlining her hipbones and plunged lower.
Yamato's mouth opened her, and her tongue delved deep. Her hands were sliding up and down her thighs and hips and buttocks, caressingly sculpting her, realizing into life every piece of Kouya's body. The final touch, her hands sliding down Kouya's calves, ended with her grasping her heels and guiding them behind her back, encouraging Kouya's thighs to squeeze tight.
Finally finding her voice, Kouya came alive and growled, pined, gasped, and shuddered to life. The final quiver had her nearly completely arched off of the bed, Yamato's tongue sharing intimate secrets with her core.
Exhausted, she lay limply, and Yamato stood, gently letting Kouya's legs settle against the side of the mattress. She stripped her dark-haired lover of her clothes, rumbled and sweaty, and pulled her legs atop the bed. She then settled beside Kouya, her eyes never leaving her lover's, eyes like glittering jade in the moonlight.
Kouya thought she was feeling Yamato with new skin as the blonde covered them with a blanket. Kouya didn't resist her urge to hug Yamato closer, and noted the pleased look on her face. Kouya rarely wanted to cuddle, and she felt Yamato bury herself into her neck and let out a satisfied sigh. She tossed a leg over her lover's hip and closed her eyes, never wanting to leave their warm cocoon.
She stroked impossibly soft, downy blonde hair. They would have to leave this safe place eventually, and face the unknown that was Nagisa-sensei's plans. Kouya couldn't be separated from her Sacrifice; the thought was impossible and choked her throat. There was no way that Yamato could ever think that Kouya could contemplate that possibility, and the Fighter wanted her to be sure of it. They were more than Zero.
"I love you" she whispered.
Yamato stiffened, pulling away enough to look Kouya in the eye. Kouya suddenly was struck with a punch of worry in her stomach: what if Yamato didn't feel the same way? Maybe Yamato played like such a kitten because she didn't expect these words, these feelings from her taciturn Fighter.
The blonde drew close, so close that she was breathing onto Kouya's lips, and her eyelashes were touching Kouya's cheek. "I love you, too," she whispered back, sweetly kissing Kouya until she felt a hunger returning to her body, making her hands wander. When she received a light gasp in response, Kouya decided that it was time to relearn every inch of Yamato's skin, beginning with the freckles on her shoulder. She mapped out constellations and predicted their future, one that included them together, forever.
She would die for that future.
END
Notes: I split this story into two parts to accentuate the two motifs of death and then rebirth. Obviously. But the story's so short it seemed ridiculous. Ah well. Plus I measure how good a story is by the amount of reviews divided by how many parts, and I didn't want to divide by two! Yes, I am that concerned with the math. So submit two reviews, if you wish, to help me with my average. Or even just one. Quality over quantity, my fanfiction friends.
Though, feel free to discuss how awful my summary was. Flame away on that piece of tripe.