AN In accordance to policy I removed the lyrics of this fic. A bit of a shame in my opinion, but I understand their reasoning. So there it is. If you want the lyrics, they can be found on the internet (just google around a bit) I don't know where you could find a translation though.

Zelfs je naam is mooi

(Even your name is beautiful)

I don't know how I managed my life without her. Usagi is truly the light of my life. I love her like no other. I don't know what it is about her that is so appealing (I think it's everything), but I do know that I would do anything for her.

I know I hurt her in the past, but I will never be as foolish again. Why trust dreams more than my own heart, even if those dreams were sent by my future self. Just because he was older, didn't make him wiser.

I'm sitting on the couch in the livingroom of my apartment, waiting for Usagi to be done dressing up. Motoki's birthday party is tonight and we were invited. It's been a few years since our last battle against evil. Chaos has been quiet ever since, no sign of the Star Lights and their princess, I guess they're all home, and Usagi practically lives here now. True, she still has here own room back at the Tsukino's, but the largest part of her wardrobe is here.

I love having her here. It's almost as if we're already married. Her father doesn't like the situation very much, but he settled back after his wife exploded at him about how Usagi wasn't a little girl anymore, but a responsible young woman of nineteen years old and that we were already engaged and Usagi didn't need to be protected by her daddy anymore since she now has me.

I really liked that last part. Even her mother thinks I'm worthy... well, at least capable of protecting her. Ever since then all Tsukino Kenji does, is grumble a little bit whenever Usagi rushes out of the house to spend another night over here. He doesn't say anything though. He knows he lost the battle and he doesn't want another argument with his wife.

Anyway, he has no reason to worry. We're very careful. We don't exactly want Chibi-Usa to be born before her time. And we're not ready to have a baby yet. I'm still in med-school and Usagi is still in college.

Yeah, meatball brains got into college. Thanks to me and Ami. But not so much. Ever since her second year in senior high she has become more responsible, taking her classes seriously and proving she does not have meatballs for brains. I knew I fell in love with a smart girl. She just never showed it. At first.

She has become more graceful as well. She still stumbles occasionally, like just now. Where did she learn such language? It's not that bad to stub your toe, right? Oh, unless you plan on wearing high heels, of course. Then, a woman prefers her toes to be intact.

Oh my god, she just walked in. She's still on bare feet, but she's got one hand around a bun on her head (she's trying to fix her hair by the look of the hairpins stuck in her mouth) and another clutched at the top of her dress. And what a dress it is.

This is simply my objective opinion of the article of clothing currently worn by my princess. It's a tube top knee length dress, fifties style, complete with petticoat that makes the skirt flare around her knees. The fabric is of a sky-blue color so much like her eyes that I have to check she still has them. They might have used them to color the cloth. No, she still has those gorgeous blue eyes.

But I'm sidetracking. The dress. It's supposed to fit the body. And boy, Does It Fit Her Body! The billowing skirt makes her slim waist seem even slimmer. Her bare shoulders and arms accent her swan like neck, which is graced by a simple silver necklace. And her legs are gorgeous underneath that fabric.

"Mamo-chan?" she says around the hairpins pressed between her lips and turns around. "Can you zip me up?"

Oh god. How can she think I can stand to see so much bare back without touching it? The zipper goes quite low, I can just see the top edge of her panties. And all of her back above it, is bare. There must be some kind of lining within the bodice of the dress, because there is no bra. Yeah for me. Hey, can I help it? There is a gorgeous woman asking me to close the zipper of her dress. How can I do that without at least looking at her back?

I get up and walk towards my little angel. "Sure," I say as I reach for the zipper. I probably don't need both hands for it, but what the heck. Her father isn't around. One hand reaches for the zipper. The other one brings the edges of the fabric closer to make the job easier. And to be able to run my knuckles up her spine, of course. Her skin is just so soft. As my hand slowly goes up along with the zipper I hear the softest of sighs escape my love's lips. My heart skips a moment. That such a simple touch can be such a pleasure to the both of us.

Both my hands reach the top of her dress. Before they leave her back I lean forward slightly and whisper, "As long as I can unzip it later."

"Maybe," she says slowly, knowing full well what I mean. "If you'll be really nice tonight."

I promise myself to be the perfect escort for my princess. I like the way she gets when she thinks I've been nice. I don't think her father would approve.

She turns back to face me. "You look good," she says, as she takes in my appearance. That's more of a complement to her than to me. She chose the dark blue silk shirt and the black trousers, after all. Not that I mind. I like looking good in her eyes.

She looks gorgeous as ever. Her hair is up in its usual buns. I really like those things. They were the first things I noticed when I saw her. Sailor Moon has them as well, of course. Ever since she became a popular hero, more girls began wearing that hairstyle, but none pull it off like she does. Her eyes sparkle and her lips shine. I would love to kiss her right now, but I know that if we go down that road at this time, we'll never make it to the party. So instead, I offer her my arm. "Your carriage awaits, my princess."

She smiles gracefully and glides next to me out the door, making me feel worse the lout than ever. How does she do that? There are no directions for how a man can act more like royalty, so why does she get them?

The drive to the Arcade is calm. She just sits in her seat, holding Motoki's present on her lap. It's the usual senseless little gift that has no use other than that it happens to be given by friends. Motoki will smile and thank us and a few years later it will end up with someone else. Are we growing old? Isn't this the kind of thing that happens among 'smug marrieds'? Can I help it? Usagi likes Bridget Jones, but she still struggles with her English a bit, so she asked me to help her out. Fielding's got a great sense if humor. And the second diary is even more ludicrous.

We're here. Motoki is turning twenty-three today. He decided to close the Crown and throw a big party with lots of people. Usagi, being Usagi, has been psyched about it for weeks, ever since we got the invitation. She loves parties and dancing and all that. And I love seeing her smile so I come along. I wouldn't want to miss her smile for all the gold in the world. Besides, if she goes to a party without me, she'll be asked to dance by other guys. And I don't want that.

The Arcade looks wonderful. It's decorated in blue and white ribbons. And Motoki is beaming like a nine month pregnant woman. Reika is standing next to him. They're talking merrily to some guests.

Time to socialize.

Usagi is beautifully slumped in the passenger seat of my car. The night was rather long and she danced until she couldn't use her legs anymore. And now I'm driving us home. Her eyes linger on me and she smiles one of those secretive womanly smiles. My stomach tingles every time she does that. That girls has no idea what effect she has on me, but I don't mind.

She was perfect tonight. She really was the belle of the ball. Maybe I'm biased. I mean, I love her more than anyone else, so naturally I would consider her the most gorgeous woman on the planet, right? Just like everyone else who has a girlfriend thinks about their girl. No. I can safely say, purely objectively and honest, that Usagi was the most gorgeous girl of the whole party.

She glowed. She danced. She glided over the floor as gracefully as a swan cleaves the air. I wasn't the only one to admire her, but I scared any single guy in there off. Nobody touches my Usako.

I watch the rise and fall of her chest from the corner of my eyes. Due to her position in the chair, the bodice of her dress has twisted, showing a little more cleavage than it already did. Oh my. I've never seen Usagi look so tempting. And she keeps looking at me. How does she do that? I'm absolutely beat, but all I can think about is getting her home and making love to her like there is no tomorrow. The night is still young, at least for us.

She smiles again as we pull in the parking lot. That smile gives me the creeps, I swear. She lets me open the car door and gets out. She sways her hips and tugs at her dress to straighten it out. Then she takes my hand and leads me up to the elevator.

"It was a lovely evening, wasn't it," she says, as her eyes follow the light showing what floor we're passing. "Motoki must have put himself through quite some trouble to be able to give such a party."

I smile and squeeze her hand a little. "I guess so. But one doesn't turn twenty-three every day. Besides, it's his first birthday as an engaged man. I guess that's makes it kind of special."

"Hm," she murmurs.

I love the sound of her voice. It's so soft and sweet, sweeter than the kindest lullaby. Of course, she can screech and wail at the top of her lungs, but normally her voice is calm and soothing and driving my mind senseless. On impulse I lean forward and press a kiss on her cheek. Her skin is soft beneath my lips. She sighs happily and leans against my shoulder.

The elevator dinges to sign we have arrived. The doors slide open and we walk out. The key turns smoothly in the lock (nothing is worse than fumbling with your keys in front of your girlfriend) and we enter. I put my keys down on the small table next to the door, while my eyes follow Usagi's form to the middle of the room. She turns and looks at me.

"I'm thirsty," she declares suddenly and heads for the kitchen.

I hang up my jacket and decide to join her. She sits at the kitchen table and sips from a glass of cherry coke. Filling my own glass I lean against the counter, looking at her looking at me. She puts her glass down and smiles again. Her elbows on the table she rests her chin in her hands. "You really do look good in that shirt."

"I guess you chose well," I answer. I'm glad she finds she did, because she dragged me all over the mall for it. Shopping is not something for men, I decided that day. Sure, it's fun to watch your girlfriend in all kinds of outfits of which you now she won't buy even half, because it's just not the kind of clothes she would wear, but it's nice to see her in that once, and store the memory of it. But I don't see how she found that pink dress too short. It came mid-thigh. And it looked perfect on her. Why can women dress men up, but not the other way around? We do have some fashion taste. I just don't like those fishnet shirts or tights. That is proof of actually having a taste for fashion, because those thing are just generally awful.

She moves her head from side to side, her hands still cupping her cheeks. "You were nice tonight."

That statement takes me by surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I promised you something if you were nice, remember?" She bites her lower lip.

Oh, yeah, that. A grin appears on my face. Slowly I walk around the table, approaching her from behind. "That's fine," I whisper in her ear. "But not in the kitchen." Without waiting for a reply I take her by the arm and guide her out of the stalest part of the apartment. The livingroom is scarcely lit and much more suitable for such occasions. The curtains are closed, obscuring us from anyone who has taken a position in the building across the street with a pair of binoculars. Not that I think there is actually someone crazy enough to sit out there waiting for a couple like us to start making out. What do you think I am? Paranoid?

Usagi's skin is pale in the moonlight that filters through the crack between the two fabrics. The moon makes her hair glow silver. I wrap my arms around her and hold her closely, grateful that such a wonderful being walked into my life and pulled me out of the dark hole I had put myself in. I owe my Usako so much. She is the one that broke the walls around my heart and taught me that taking the risk by letting people in your life is worth the burns you might get from trusting one or two people who don't deserve it. Just because some people misuse what is given them, doesn't mean all are like them. Life is about taking risks. Without that, you might as well start digging your own grave, because your life will be as eventful as the cemetery you end up at.

She leans back into my chest, confident I won't drop her. I won't. But I would like to get her out of that dress, no matter how good it looks on her. My hands dart upwards, along her sides to her back and the top of her dress. She bends her neck, allowing me continue. My hand follows the zipper down, parting the fabric as I brought them together only a few hours ago. I follow her skin all the way to her lower back. Goose bumps form on her skin and a slight tremor shoots through her body.

Gently I turn her body in my arms until she faces me. Again a smile. But this one isn't secretive. It's warm and inviting and I lean forward to taste her lips like I wanted to do earlier this night. Her lips part willingly underneath my own, but I want to take this slow, so I break away. A faint surprise glimmers in her eyes. I let my finger trace her cheekbone and then her jaw. She leans into my hand.

Now, I know every nook and cranny of that body before me, but she never ceases to amaze me. I can never get enough of her. I can tell you exactly how her sides and back curve. I know how every strand of hair falls. I know the precise color of her eyes, but please, don't ask me to describe her for you, because no words can grasp what is her.

I lean forward to capture her lips again and this time I do take her fully. I memorized her taste, but nothing can describe it, nor compare to it. My tongue caresses the insides of her mouth and a whimper dies in it. Her arms come up to encircle my neck and I'm glad she's wearing a strapless dress. That way, I don't have to make her break contact while I take it off. How we get that shirt off of me, is of later concern.

Okay, now she's really driving me nuts. She knows me like I know here, and she knows exactly what sets me off. But this is new. She's tracing my jaw with her lips ending at my neck just below my ear. Her touch is feathery light, but it burns upon my skin.

"That's very dangerous, you know?" I whisper.

"Really?" she asks, mischief dancing in her eyes.

"Really," I say and I lean forward to nuzzle her neck.

Again that soft sigh. "Otoh-san would get a heart attack, if he knew what we were about to do."

"He should have realized by now his little girl is all grown up now," I respond as I pry the bodice from her torso and gently guide the blue fabric over the petticoat until it's pooled around her feet. Now, some people might think that a girl wearing nothing but a petticoat looks ridiculous, especially at the end of the twentieth century, but I tell you, she looks hot. Seriously. Still, I wouldn't mind getting the petticoat off of her as well.

I move my hands to the buttons on the small of her back, when she stops me. What the..? 'Why not?' my mind whines as my eyes plea with her. 'Please, Usa, can I take it off?' they ask.

She smiles and shakes her head. "Fair is fair," she murmurs and begins unbuttoning my shirt.

Oh, I see. My hands on her hips, I let her do her thing. Every time her hands touch my skin tendrils of electricity shoot through me. Is she doing that on purpose? If so, it's not very wise. I have the tendency to act on such provocations. I control myself though. Patience is a virtue. And I must admit, I really like the way she looks at me. I like the feeling of her love. It's even more wonderful than loving her, if that's at all possible.

A smile plays across her lips. Her hands trace along my chest, teasing and taunting. But I control myself. I will not give in to her. If I do, she knows she has me in the palm of her hand.

But she's making it really difficult now. Her hands continue their torturous way across my skin, followed by her lips. I don't care whether she thinks I'm easy, but that petticoat is coming off. My fingers fumble with the buttons, until I simply tear them off.

How can she be so cruel? She not allowing me anything. Okay, I know I'm whining, but come on! If you were in my shoes, you'd consider this as unfair as I do now. But I won't say anything. I won't speak, I won't speak, I won't speak. To hell with pride! "Usa!"

"What?" she smiles innocently.

A growl rises in the back of my throat. "You're not being nice."

Her smile broadens. "Who said anything about me being nice? The deal was, if you're nice, you get to unzip the dress. The rest is bonus. So why don't you try to enjoy it?"

I hate it when she's right. I have no choice but to let her be. On the other hand, maybe this isn't all bad. If she likes driving me nuts, shouldn't that be enough for me? I never, ever, want to hurt her. I've done that enough already. And if I stop her now, maybe she'll feel rejected, though I wouldn't be doing that.

Aaaargghh! No fair! Why does she get all the fun! Oh, just forget what I said earlier, she's in trouble now. And she knows it too, judging by the look on her face. She has that sparkle in her eye, that she only shows me. She's laughing while her hands still linger on my chest, but I can feel she shifted her weight, ready to run away.

Ah, but where will you run, my sweet? My apartment isn't that big, as you know very well. Oh god, do I love that woman! She's simply amazing.

My hand reaches for her hips and my finger curls under the strap of black cloth crossing that creamy white skin. And she breaks away. How dare she? How Dare She! I chase after the blond seraph that has captured my heart and my sanity. She's fast and nimble and keeps dodging me. But she's also looking at me, and not at her feet.

So it isn't much of a surprise when she stumbles. Within a second I am by her side and my arms close around her waist. You didn't think I would let my love fall flat on her face, just because she doesn't allow me to make out with her, do you? Besides, I have her now, don't I? Oh yes, I have her. And I'm not letting go 'til tomorrow morning. Maybe not even then.

I gently pull her back on her feet and hug her closely, her back to my chest. Hm, that's a lot of skin contact all of a sudden. Not that I mind. I dip my head to her shoulder and softly trace her skin with my lips up to her ear. "I have you now, Sailor Moon. What should I do with you? What punishment would be appropriate?"

Her giggles reach my ears. The sound of bells escaping her throat weakens my knees and I have to hold on tighter to this frail girl. "I don't know, Mamo-chan. What do you think?"

"Oh, I'm not sure. I can think of a thing or two, but whether they match up to the torture you just put me through, I don't think so."

She turns in my arms and looks up at me, an adorable pout around her lips. "Maybe I can make it up to you?" she says.

That would be a start. But I'm not sure she would agree with what's playing through my mind right now. Oh well, deeds, not words. "Maybe," I whisper and I lower my head to capture her lips once more.

Her compliant form molds to my own body and I let my hands trace her spine. I know a spot, just in the inner curve of her shoulder blades, that makes her really easy meat, so to speak. My fingertips trace that particular part of her skin feathery light, almost impossible to feel. But I feel her knees buckle, when she clings onto my shoulders for support.

"Not fair," she breaths against my cheek.

"And you are?" I retort, my lips grazing her temple.

"Okay, but..." A soft moan interrupts what she had been planning to say. I know, I know. Maybe I should have let her finish, but that skin of hers is so inviting. And she has more spots like that. I just can't resist.

"You were saying?" I tease. My hands come to rest on her hips.

"Nothing," she gasps and I delight in the breathlessness of her voice. "Don't let me stop you."

Now that's sneaky. First she doesn't want me to do anything, now she's practically begging me to continue. And who am I to disobey my princess? This time she doesn't protest as I shed her from the last piece of clothing. Such a tiny bit of cloth shouldn't make that much difference, right? Like hell. If it were tied around her wrist - not a bad idea by the way - then it wouldn't make that much difference. But there is a whole world of difference between a woman wearing nothing but her panties, and a woman not even wearing that. Believe me, I have the proof of that right in front of me.

I distinctly remember me promising myself to take it slow. Well, fuck it, quite literally actually. I am not in the mood for games anymore. Let's get down to business. Her body still pressed to my own I simply lift her from the floor and walk in the direction of the bedroom. There are advantages to being much taller than your girlfriend, you know? One of them, is having an easier time overpowering her, like I'm doing now.

I smother her giggle with a heated kiss, showing my impatience. Her eyes are slightly dazed as I withdraw. This is going to be easier than I thought. I lower her on the bed and lay down next to her. She's so beautiful on those dark sheets. My eyes dart to her hair done up in the two buns I find so adorable. As much as I love them, I want her hair down. Now. So I start plucking the pins from them. As she begins tugging on my belt.

Now wait a second. I want to be in control! She's supposed to lie still and let it all happen. But, since I'm busy with her hair, I might as well let it slide, this one time. Who am I kidding? I always let it slide. And I'm never in control. She already tossing my boxers overboard and I'm still trying to unravel the first meatball on her head.

Oh look - well, don't, that would be perverted. But she's helping me now. Her little fingers are deftly maneuvering between my own, succeeding in where I failed and soon I can run my fingers through those luscious blond locks of hers.

She's smiling again. That wonderful loving smile of hers that makes my heart do flip-flops and is so kind and generous that it makes me want to cry out of joy. When she smiles like that, she shows her most selfless and lovely side. I don't want her to stop smiling like that, but I also want to kiss her, so I guess I'll just have to avoid her lips. That shouldn't be too hard. The hollow between her collarbones is just as inviting. Plus, it's one of those spots I mentioned earlier.

Success. I'm guessing she's completely under my spell now. Or is that too presumptuous?

Oh dear, it is. She's got me pinned down now, straddling my waist. How did she do that? When? Was I too absorbed in my own actions to notice? Damn, she always does that. Well, not always, but more than I like. I wonder what she's trying to do.

Oh, that.

Oops.

I guess I forgot I have similar spots.

Be right back. I'm a little... preoccupied right now. She's just... mind-boggling. And very, very bad, right now. What would her father think, if he knew what his little girl was doing? He'd probably shoot me, for starters. But I guess that's all worth it.

But if she thinks I'm just going to lie here, not doing anything, she's sadly mistaken. My hands dart upwards.

Of all the nerve! Instead of letting my hands go about their business, she trapped them with her own. Honestly, she grabbed my wrists, just as I was reaching my goal, and simply pushed them to the mattress. And she didn't even stop what she was doing. Not that I want her to, mind.

"Usa!" I say. Do I really sound as breathless as I think I do? So much for the power of persuasion. "That is really unfair."

She looks up from around my bellybutton. "What is?" she asks innocently.

"Why don't you let me be? That's no fun."

She tilts her head sideways and pouts. "I'm no fun?"

Oh, shit. Now what have I done? Have I insulted her? Well, of course I have! Why else would she be withdrawing! Way to go, Mamoru! You must be the biggest dickhead in the world. Now what do I do? I have to sooth her or else it's all over for tonight. I really don't want that.

She sits up and backs away. Oh, no she doesn't. I reach out and snatch her wrist. She is not getting away now. She should know she already is too far gone, or at least I am.

"You are too much fun for me to hold back." I suddenly pull her closer and look into those big blue eyes from only inches away. Maybe now she will realize it is unwise to taunt me. Time to really take control of things. My hand comes up to catch her neck and I slowly haul her in until our noses touch. Nervousness shows in those blue orbs of hers.

Yep, I've done it again. She's a goner. And all thanks to yours truly. And a little after party spirit.

No mercy this time, as I kiss her. I dominate the situation. And I love dominating when it concern our none sleeping bed matters. She whimpers and her nails dig into my back. That's gonna leave mark. But I don't care.

I twist to the side ad swipe the pillows away. Not too gently, but not too rough I hope, I push her down and take my position on top of her. Gazing down into those lovely eyes I realize something. There si not a woman in the world, whom I ever thought I would be doing this with, not even before I met her. It's like I've always been waiting for her to come into my life.

She smiles. That driving-a-man-senseless-by-looking-absolutely-irresistible-while-pretending- not-to-know-what-effect-I'm-having-on-said-man kind of smile. She locks gazes with me and says, "What are you waiting for?"

That is all the invitation I need, as I dip my head down to wipe that smile of her face. Her soft embrace clouds my senses and my last coherent thought is, that she probably got exactly what she wanted, while she pretended to be under my spell.

Yeah, she's really got me wrapped around her little finger.

AN There it is. No longer as embarrassed about it as I was when I wrote it. It's really quite innocent. don't know why I blushed so much. Perhaps because it sounds so personal, despite the fact that I'm a girl and the PoV character is a guy. Doesn't matter really. I tried to portray feelings and I like to think I succeeded in that. That's old news really. The story hasn't changed. I'm so incredibly vain that I think I got it right the first try. Ahem, okay, I'll just stop now.