Prompt: Haruka/Michiru, "Touch me gently"
Being a sailor senshi definitely had its perks, yes – Haruka could name several, from pretty astounding healing capabilities to the ability to have her hair always, always appear dashingly windswept. But having her fourth date in a row be ruined by a random monster attack, all of them stragglers from some failed invasion or other, was really grinding her gears. Didn't the Dark Society or Empire or whatever they liked to call themselves have days off? It certainly didn't seem like it.
It was supposed to have been a nice, calm day, damn it all! Almost no wind at all, not a single suspicious rustle – and, more importantly, nothing from the sea side of the matter. Michiru had assured her all would be well, and Michiru knew these things.
And yet here they were, back home much earlier in the afternoon than planned, not having tasted a single bite of the probably delicious fare that had been packed in their ill-fated picnic basket, victorious but needing to lick their wounds after what was likely the most embarrassing fight in recent memory.
"I hate needles," Haruka mumbled sullenly, sounding like a petulant five-year-old even to her own ears, her words muffled by the pillow she'd half-buried her face in. She was lying on their bed, naked and sprawled on her stomach, Michiru carefully going over her back and legs with a pair of tweezers and a disinfectant-soaked wad of cotton.
"I know."
"I really, really, really hate needles."
"Haruka, stop squirming. You're making this more difficult than it needs to be."
"Why did there have to be cactuses?" Haruka stilled, but continued her pillow-muffled raging, "and who even cares about botanical exhibitions enough to attack them?"
A moment of quiet followed as Haruka's questions remained unanswered. Michiru, who had managed to not land in a thicket of exotic flora and had thus evaded becoming a human pincushion, remained highly focused on her task.
"I hope Usagi is fine," Haruka piped up again, looking for a distraction as Michiru's inspection reached the lower part of her thighs.
"What do you mean? Why would she not be?" Michiru sounded just a tad too innocent, and Haruka felt her hackles rise at the very thought of the scene she'd stumbled on in the concert hall dressing room.
"That- that Seiya, I swear if he laid a hand on her I'll- ow!" she yelped and tried to twitch away from her torturer, as a particularly nasty needle came out with a twist and more than a twinge of pain.
"Oh my, sorry."
"You did that on purpose!"
"I did no such thing!" Michiru sounded almost offended at the implication, and Haruka nodded meekly, feeling her irritation and anger evaporate immediately upon seeing the look on her face.
"There, that was the last one," Michiru sighed and gave the woman laid out before her another once-over, just to make sure. Then, like flipping a switch, her worried and caretaking front was replaced with something far more alluring.
"Now, what was that you were saying in the park?" she wondered aloud, the playfully lilting tone colouring her voice by now very familiar to Haruka, "Touch me gently? Was this gentle enough, or did you have something else in mind?"
"I- no- I mean, yes, please."
Michiru's smile widened at the flustered stammering. Her fingers were clever and nimble, but always just slightly cold, even after hours of playing the violin and keeping gloves on during practice breaks. Right now they were small points of cool trailing down Haruka's back, soothing stinging skin and making her shiver slightly.
"Haruka? Forget Seiya Kou."
She did.