Disclaimer: Maria-sama ga Miteru and all characters therein belong to Konno Oyuki, Nagasawa Satoru, Shuueisha, and Geneon Entertainment. I'm just borrowing them for nefarious (but nonprofit!) purposes.
Fifth set of drabbles: Sei and Youko.

Taste the Rainbow
Red cherry lips, set in a face framed by hair tinted orange in the flickering light of the candles. Kissing her skin, the faint tan a golden hue in the light.

I lift up on my elbows, surveying her against the backdrop of the bedding, its dark green color barely discernible in the sparse light. It is her eyes that hold me, the deep, magnetic blue; it is one of oceans and early evening skies, flecked with hints of a darker shade.

I apply myself to her skin once more; my lips traverse her neck, leaving purple in their wake.

Precious Doll
Sometimes Youko is amazed by how fragile Sei seems, at least in her own mind.

"Harder," Sei will gasp, her face contorted with pleasure, nearly breaking, nearly there; and Youko will find that a part of her is afraid to press harder, afraid of going too far.

She's found, to her own surprise, that she wants to take care with Sei when they are in bed together, wants to dote on her and touch her gently. She tries to curb these tendencies, for their mutual sanity; but sometimes she slips and Sei is like porcelain beneath her suddenly shy fingers.

Skin
Youko is addicted to Sei's skin. She can't get enough of it: the slightly salty taste on her tongue, the soft, silky texture under her fingers.

She could spend hours indulging her addiction, but she holds herself back. Perhaps it's some sort of instinctual self-preservation, or maybe it's because she's so unused to indulging herself when it comes to Sei.

One day, she looks up from her perusal of Sei's body to see her smiling down on her fondly, almost indulgently. And she wonders to herself if she's really that transparent, or if Sei just knows her too well.

Nuisance
"Twinkle, twinkle, little star," Sei sang softly, accentuating each syllable with a tap to Youko's (unfortunately somewhat ticklish) bare stomach.

"Stop it," Youko protested, squirming in discomfort.

Sei continued, oblivious.

Youko propped her head up on her elbow, looking down at Sei with a smile twitching at the edges of her lips. "You know," she said, trying to sound stern but completely unable to pull it off, "I do have ways of making you cooperate."

"Hmph," Sei snorted, but stopped.

"I'm bored," she announced a short while later.

"Find something to do," Youko muttered, barely awake.

"Twinkle, twinkle, little..."

Damnit.

Guilty
"How do you plead?"

"I plead innocent!"

Sigh.

"Sorry, sorry. Guilty, guilty."

Sigh.

"What, not serious enough? Your Honor, please have mercy on this innocent girl!" Bat, bat. Hand to forehead. "I have committed the terrible crime of... of... of stealing panties! I only did it because I was horny, I swear!" Laughter.

Sigh. "You know, I only went along with this because you-"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry. I couldn't help it, really! I'll be good this time, I promise." Bat, bat.

Sigh. "How do you plead?"

"I plead guilty. Guilty of wanting to go over to that bench and-"

"Argh!"

The Beginning
Note: You could think of this as taking place before Surreal.

That first drunken kiss was where it all started. Sloppy lips on lips and lips on necks and hands on bodies.

They were both too far gone to understand the consequences, or maybe just too far gone to care. It wouldn't matter once they'd both forgotten; they'd believe what they wished.

The next morning would have been more awkward if they weren't both suffering from massive hangovers.

Youko gathered up her things and left; the soft thuds of her footsteps and the door closing behind her assaulted Sei's throbbing head.

Sei just lay there, eyes screwed shut, feeling the pain.

Resistance

My hands are on her body, my tongue in her mouth, and still there is a part of her that resists this.

I pull away.

"I thought you didn't want to fight this anymore."

She pulls me back, kissing me more fiercely, as though she has something to prove. She is only deluding herself.

As her hands begin to unbutton my shirt, I still them and pull away again. I shake my head, and her eyes grow cold with rejection.

"Go home to your husband," I say.

She does.

I sit and stare out the window, remembering more innocent times.