Salvete, omnes! I hope y'all had a wonderful week. It was my birthday on Aug. 15th and I celebrated by doing exactly what I wanted: lounging around with my room-mates playing Zelda and re-reading George R.R. Martin's newest installment until my eyeballs fell out. My mother called early in the morning and asked what special plans I had for my birthday and when I told her what I intended, she was flabbergasted. You'd think that after 20 years, she'd have figured that I don't like birthday parties. Thank the gods she lives almost 3,000 miles away and I was free to laze about in my boxer shorts.
Bliss. Pure, unadulterated, absolute sublimity.
I admit, that day I killed a few twilight creatures as Link in the name of Napoleon and then proceeded to eat unhealthily in honour of Natsuki since it was all of our birthdays. Fun Fact(s): Aug. 15th is also the day that Macbeth killed Duncan then died exactly a year later. It's also the day of the Japanese festival Obon. Oh! And apparently the tarot card for Aug 15th is The Devil. Soooo...Does that mean I, and all others born on that day, are but pawns in the nefarious scheme to summon forth the anti-christ who will rule the realms with an iron fist of wrought flame? Or have I just been writing/reading too much fantasy?
But enough of that! I have some wonderful ShizNat for y'all as well as some more plot and character development! I told y'all that the last chapter wouldn't have any ShizNat and still I got a few grumbles on the subject. I hope this alleviates your withdrawal symptoms :P
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Mai-HIME is not mine
When Natsuki awoke, it was to the soft sounds of Shizuru's breathing. her arm was wrapped comfortably around the woman's waist, her body pressed tightly to her, her nose buried in the back of her neck, their legs loosely tangled together. So, too, was Shizuru's hair slightly tangled from sleep, yet still so ephemerally soft. Emerald eyes slowly opened, blinking blearily to take in the scene. Natsuki was, in no way, surprised to find herself here. In fact, the first thing she did was give a sleepy smile and burrow her body further into Shizuru's with a good amount of contented wiggling, like a dog snuggling into a blanket. Shizuru did not seem to mind, however, for she merely gave a happy sigh and continued snoozing away.
After a minute or two of drifting between the realm of sleep and waking, Natsuki's hand that was draped around Shizuru started to move seemingly of its own accord, lightly caressing the Countess' stomach through her silk lavender nightgown. It slid back, gliding smoothly back and forth, lazily, over the swell of Shizuru's hip. Feeling foiled by the fabric, it slipped beneath the short hem and finally made contact with skin. Natsuki gave a pleased hum at the delectable contact and allowed her fingers to ghost over the warm skin in intimate exploration.
Had she really been afraid of this? It seemed not so long ago that she was terrified of being in the same room as Shizuru, and now here she was in bed with her feeling completely at ease. She did not know how this had happened. Not really. She remembered a sort of desperation clutching at her when she had heard Shizuru inform her that they would no longer be seeing one another. It had been a type of fear that had made her act then. Even now, she could not quite give it a name. Had it been fear of loneliness? That sounded a bit off, though it was probably the nearest thing to it. Before, she had had Mai but not much else. She was an orphan, and the only set of foster parents she had ever truly cared for and who had cared for her well-being had died a few years back.
Natsuki could remember living on a farm in Cheshire with the elderly Irish couple so many years ago. They had been the fourth family she had been with, and at that time in her life, at the ripe age of thirteen, she had been as recalcitrant and unruly as ever. If people thought her a delinquent now, they should have seen her then. She still had that god-awful stammer which had proved itself to be the greatest obstacle in her life until just recently (for now she viewed this whole ridiculous "nymph-of-the-sunset" business to be the most daunting, Herculean feat placed before her to date). Mary and Michael Moore had been patient people, however, and after a few months, they had finally succeeded in breaking through that otherwise unbreachable bulwark Natsuki always constructed around herself as a defense mechanism. Michael had taught her about animals, sheep mainly, and for the first year they had an old Irish Wolf-Hound by the name of Merlin whose main occupation was to curl up before the perpetually burning fireplace and soak up the heat into his old and feeble bones.
Natsuki could remember the nights there, the smell of recent rain seeping in through the old windows. She would use Merlin as a prop for her back when she lay on the floor, a book in her hands (usually something by Charles Dickens), reading aloud to Mary who knitted away on her creaking, ancient rocking chair and Michael who would be completely absorbed in the nightly task of cleaning his impressive collection of antique firearms, polishing and polishing and polishing with that same dirty old rag, raising the muzzles to admire their gleam in the firelight.
Mary had tutored her past her speech impediment so that she only stammered when particularly nervous or otherwise flustered. Michael had instructed her in the way of guns and other weaponry. After two years, by far the best two years of her life, they had had to give Natsuki up due to the fact that they could not afford to support her economically speaking, for the farm had hit a rut in the road so to speak, and the fact that they were becoming too old to handle such an energetic young girl. She could recall the day when Michael had taken his first fall in the fields and busted his hip on a rock jutting from the green hillside. It was soon after that incident, when Michael had been confined to a wheelchair, that Natsuki had been informed she would be returning to the orphanage to await another set of guardians, ones more capable of supporting her.
At this news, Natsuki had run away, taking refuge in the wandering hills nearby for a good few days, nearly scaring Mary to death with her prolonged absence. Michael had given her a fine tongue-lashing for such inappropriate behavior. That, in Natsuki's mind, had been the pinnacle of their relationship, for it was then that she had finally understood that they actually cared for her. Nobody had ever loved her before that. Not really. And if they had, they had never proven it. But during that most memorable scolding, Natsuki had seen the anxiety in their eyes, the all-consuming fear that had eaten away at their bellies, the fear of loosing her.
The day the social workers had come to take her away, to take her back to that hated London orphanage, was the worst in her life. She could not remember crying harder than she had that night, back amongst the shrieking hordes of pestering children and the silently judging nuns that watched their every action from behind pillars and the corners of corridors.
And then there was the other, unavoidable facade of her fear. The other part of her fear was that she was no longer human. Who else could possibly accept her for what she was: some freak of nature? Who else would not try to manipulate her, use her, examine her, kill her, even worship her?
That last thought made her shudder slightly. Natsuki was sure that there were people out
there who, if they were to discover her true nature, would try to worship her should she let them, or even were she to deny them that right. Quite frankly, that thought disgusted and disturbed her. She may house the spirit of a god within her, but that did not make her a thing of temples and cults.
On the other hand, Shizuru had not even stuttered when she discovered what Natsuki was. But, then again, why would she? Shizuru was in the same position. Somehow, she felt that Shizuru could see through every facade she used to keep people away from her. The only times Natsuki could feel comfortable around others was through that distance. And yet, Shizuru had sailed easily across that wide expanse, dismissively flicking aside any obstacles Natsuki raised to keep her away, even more easily than Mary and Michael had. Originally, Natsuki thought that such intimacy would be terrifying, and, in all truthfulness, getting to this point was quite scary. She did not like having her defenses slowly stripped away bit by bit, not in the slightest. Now that she was here, however, now that she had finally made it...She could not think of any other place she would rather be.
Her touch grew more firm and as she brushed her lips across the base of Shizuru's neck, she heard the Countess murmur appreciatively in her sleep. This was the other thing Natsuki had not been expecting to enjoy as much as she did. The idea of sex had always seemed so separate. She had sequestered herself from any such physical attachments to people for as long as she could remember. That wasn't to say that she had no libido to speak of. Far from it. She had just never indulged in that area of herself. She had never really given any thought to what gender she preferred. Sure, she could appreciate beauty and found both men and women to have their specific qualities that made them appealing to the appraising eye, but she had never dwelled on the matter much. It had just never concerned her.
Now, though, she had certainly gone through another 'awakening' of sorts.
To say that Shizuru was an exceptional lover was, in her mind, a bit of an understatement. Natsuki may have had little to no experience in the affairs of sex and human sexuality, but that did not mean she could not tell what was good. Last night and well into the early hours of this morning had been good. Really good. Really, really -
Pervert, she silently reprimanded herself when she felt her body temperature rise from just thinking about the events of a few hours ago.
That half-hearted admonishment did not keep her from becoming more daring with her touches in the slightest. Natsuki could never imagined that such audacity in these matters resided within her and yet now her hand was drifting down Shizuru's smooth upper thighs, rising back up to circle the dimples at the small of her back, then to count the notches of her spine. She could not hold back a shiver as Shizuru's breath hitched. Red eyes fluttered as Shizuru stirred. Seeing this, Natsuki lightly nibbled on the lobe of Shizuru's ear and her hand drifted over the silken rise of a shoulder.
Shizuru rolled over to meet Natsuki's mouth with her own and the girl eagerly acquiesced to the gesture. Natsuki just could not get over the soaring sensation of kissing Shizuru this way. The Countess' lips silently urged Natsuki to be bolder and so it was only doing as asked when she planted a knee on either side of Shizuru's waist, effectively mounting her while never breaking their kiss.
"Mmm..." Shizuru let loose a low moan before breaking off the kiss and finally opening her eyes to smile up at Natsuki, "I like being woken up in this manner."
Natsuki grinned and traced Shizuru's cheekbone with the tip of her nose, "Then I have Your Majesty's permission to rouse you like this every day?"
"Rouse. How apt," Shizuru teased, "and good heavens! 'Majesty'? I'm a Countess not a monarch!"
A theatrical groan escaped Natsuki, "It's too early for puns!" she whined.
"But not to early for rousing, I take it?"
At this, Natsuki could not help but chuckle, "It's never to early for rousing."
Shizuru's hips jerked as the girl atop her tickled her sensitive sides with those softly stroking hands, "Devoted student, indeed!"
Pausing between nipping at Shizuru's pale collarbone, Natsuki said jokingly, "You have taught your young padawan well."
A frown of confusion creased Shizuru's brow, "Padawan?" she repeated.
Natsuki realised her mistake in making such a modern reference, "Oh, sorry. It's from Star Wars..." and, seeing the bemused expression on her lover's face, she just shook her head and busied herself once more with Shizuru's body, "Forget about it."
That last command was soon followed through with, for Shizuru could think of nothing else but the girl's touch. Natsuki had to admit, she did indeed rather enjoy this whole teasing business. She licked and kissed, nibbled and sucked, gracing the Countess' endless curves with her hands, using her dark curtain of hair to tickle while her lips roamed. It was not long until she had Shizuru writhing beneath her, imploring with pleading moans, emphasising pleasurable places with sharp gasps and whimpers of delight. Natsuki had not removed the nightgown, leaving it rumpled at the base of Shizuru's breasts as she watched and listened to the many movements and sounds of Shizuru Viola with a shameless avarice. Nearing that fulfilling peak, Shizuru's arms wrapped around Natsuki's shoulders and pulled her forward to muffle her gasps in the sweet-smelling flesh of the girl's neck.
That turned out to be a mistake.
Natsuki did not think much of it when she felt a hard nip on her neck and when the Countess, hips still bucking, drew a deep shuddering breath. It was not until she felt a sharp pain there a moment later that she drew away slightly in bewilderment, "Ouch! What the -?"
Suddenly, she was thrown against the heavy wooden headboard of the bed and found herself staring up into scarlet eyes that burned with a wild, frenzied light. The rest of Shizuru's face was a blank mask, terrible to behold. The Countess slowly lowered her head and nuzzled at Natsuki's neck, keening like a lost kitten in the rain. It was just like that moment in the supply closet at Natsuki's work. Her hands were clamped painfully down on Natsuki's shoulders and though the girl knew that they were equals in strength, all of her limited experience as a newly realised immortal had fled, leaving her utterly defenseless. She lay there, frozen in a pit of her own fear, when she realised something that sent her mind reeling.
Shizuru was more afraid than she was.
Natsuki understood that that did not make sense at a certain level, but she knew it to be true. Shizuru's body was quivering even as it continued grinding mindlessly against her own. Piteous whines issued from Shizuru's mouth between hot-breathed pants and Natsuki could feel those keen fangs poised above the thin flesh of her throat. Shizuru was lost, lost in a part of herself Natsuki could not even begin to fathom. She had no doubts that in any other situation, with any other person, the Countess would not have faltered in taking what she wanted, in draining the victim of her dark desires dry, sucking out the marrows and tossing the bones aside with no regard to their humanity. Yet here she was, trying to restrain herself, near sobbing from the struggle, unable to deny her excruciating insatiability.
Not knowing what on earth she was doing, Natsuki slowly lifted her hands and tenderly placed one on the small of Shizuru's back, the other digging into honeyed locks, holding her head closer. The Countess gave a faint mewl in complaint, trying to pull away, but at the same time she breathed in deeply through her nose, taking in the girl's intoxicating scent. Natsuki simply held her as she battled internal demons before she could resist the overpowering allure of such a temptation as this.
A brief hiss of pain escaped Natsuki as the Countess finally gave in to her voracious cravings and, as gently as she could, sank her fangs into the girl's neck. Natsuki cringed, expecting the pain to linger, but her flinches were for naught, it seemed, as Shizuru pulled back immediately after she had broken the skin and began to draw the pooling blood into her mouth. Shizuru's hips jutted forward reflexively as she took that first taste since the incident in the supply closet. A long, drawn out moan accompanied her actions and shudders ran through the Countess' body as she sucked at the spot on the girl's neck until Shizuru's entire figure went taut and she gave a great cry of release.
Natsuki blinked in surprise, That's it? she wondered, I thought there would be more...blood. And pain. It just felt like getting a vaccine and a hickey. Not that it was enjoyable, just...not as bad as I originally imagined.
For a few long moments, Shizuru lay panting in her arms, utterly spent. When conscious thought eventually returned, animating her limbs, her head shot up and she scrambled back, a hand rising to hide her bloodied mouth and chin, crimson eyes wide. Panic and horror at her actions lit up her gaze and what Natsuki could see of her face. Were these the emotions, the expressions Shizuru had been hiding when something similar had occurred in the supply closet?
Shizuru began to babble, "I-I'm so sorry! I didn't -! I swear I didn't -!" she wiped frantically at the blood on her face, stammering, "I-I-I...Ignoscas mihi!" in her agitation she reverted back to Latin, "Ignoscas mihi..." she whispered, lowering her head in shame. (1)
"Shizuru," Natsuki began calmly though she still felt a bit shaken, "It's alright...I'm fine. See?"
When Natsuki leaned forward, reaching her hands out, Shizuru jerked away with a snarl. Isn't that supposed to be my reaction? Natsuki thought, perplexed.
"D-Don't come near me!" the Countess hissed, backing further away until she was perched upon the very edge of the bed like a nervous animal, a very dangerous, nervous animal.
"Shizuru..."
"No!" she all but screamed, covering her face with her hands, "Leave me! Just-! Just leave me!"
At this, Natsuki became irritated, "Oh, for fuck's sake!" she snapped, "Not this again!" and, darting forward, she snatched the Countess' wrists and peeled her hands away from her face, "Shizuru! Look at me!"
It took a few long seconds for Shizuru to calm down enough for her eyes to flicker apprehensively up to Natsuki's own, but they cast their sight elsewhere immediately afterwards as though fearful of seeing Natsuki's reaction. She had never looked so distressed, so demure. It did not suit her. Shizuru Viola did not cower.
"God damn it, Shizuru!" the dark-haired girl growled, "I said look at me!"
When that crimson gaze finally met her own, it was riddled with unspoken pleas, broken begging. Don't hate me, her eyes seemed to say, Please, dear God, please don't hate me. I couldn't stand it if you hated me.
Sighing, Natsuki stated firmly, "I'm not angry. It was an accident. You didn't mean for that to happen. You couldn't help yourself. I understand. And I'm fine," she added with a flashing glare for good effect, "I'm fine. And I'm sure as hell not going anywhere."
After the short speech, Shizuru just sat there looking completely stricken. She did not look away though, and Natsuki waited, waited for an eternity, it seemed, for the Countess' body to relax even though that anguished expression never truly left her countenance. It remained, lingering in her eyes where shadows danced with the dark, scarlet light. Finally, she spoke, her voice calmer, though still faintly haunted, "Natsuki should not be so nice to me."
"Natsuki will do as she likes," the girl retorted dryly, fain to continue holding Shizuru's wrists, even going so far as to allow her hands to drift downwards so that their fingers could intertwine, "and Natsuki will also do this," swiftly, she reached up and flicked the Countess squarely between her startled eyes, "because Shizuru was a total ass and deserves it."
Shizuru just gaped at her.
Natsuki couldn't help but chortle, though she knew she shouldn't under the present circumstances, "Honestly, it didn't even hurt much. I was just surprised, is all," she then proceeded to flop onto her back.
"N-Natsuki is not angry with me?" Shizuru asked incredulously.
"Well..." the girl grumbled, arms splayed gracelessly to the sides as she studied the dark, bruised curtains overhead, "Let's not make a daily habit of it, alright?"
Suddenly, she cursed and slapped at her neck, sitting up to look at the bed, "Shit! I think I stained the sheets!"
When she looked up, she saw Shizuru biting her lip, fiddling nervously with the hem of her nightgown which now hung, pooled about her thighs. Smiling softly and in a way she hoped was soothing, Natsuki held out her hand and ordered, "Come here."
Still hesitant, which Natsuki thought strangely endearing at this time, Shizuru took the outstretched hand and was pulled flat onto the bed where she found herself wrapped up in a warm hug. Of its own accord, her body tensed, but Natsuki soon dissolved such anxiety with hushed murmurs into her hair and tender patterns drawn onto her back with pacific fingers. At first, Shizuru was reluctant to rest her forehead on the girl's shoulder, but eventually her eyes slid shut and she soon found that she was beginning to doze off, seduced to sleep by this guileless deity of an eternal sunset.
(1) Ignoscas mihi: Latin. Loose translation is "Forgive me". The Romans didn't really have a way of saying "I'm sorry" just like they didn't really have a way of saying "yes" or "no". Normally, one would think to see the word "ignosco, ignoscere, ignovi, ignotum" in the singular imperative in this case, that being "ignosce". However, another common form that would have been used in Classical Latin is "ignoscas" which is the second person singular present active subjunctive as a jussive. So a more literal translation of ignoscas mihi would be "May you be forgiving to me." It sounds a bit awkward in English, and overall it's rather uncommon because those dirty, peasant Church Latin speakers tend to disregard this form and stick to "dimitte mihi" (note my overt scorn when I say the words 'Church Latin'. Note it!). Using the word "dimitto, dimittere" never made much sense to me, as it means more on the lines of "to send away" or "to abandon" or if you want to get really literal, "to dismiss" (dimitto, dimittere, dimisi, dimissus. Look at that last principle part: dimissus. If that doesn't look like "dismiss" then my name is Francois Rabelais). 16th century French satirists aside, I prefer ignoscas mihi, which is why I used it even though Shizuru, as a noblewoman raised on the Vulgate (*shudders*), would have probably used dimitte mihi. To the devil with that notion!
Hope you liked it!
-Kore
