title: belledame
summary: timeless sea-breezes, tireless wind of the night. — Neptune/Uranus, in the long, long ago.
raw word count: 470
notes: to avoid confusion, the planet Neptune is referred to by the direct translation of its Japanese name; Jupiter, as in ancient times, is called the Wandering Star.
notes2: my first time writing for BSSM...hopefully not the last. ^^;
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The night beyond the night is soft, like a song forgotten on a lyre, playing itself melancholy in absence of a living hand.
Neptune closes her eyes, listening to the phantom waves. The Ocean King's Star paints the white stone of the Castle in an abreal, pale indigo glow, and if she stretches just right she fancies she can feel the icy winds below pepper kisses on the bare skin of her throat, on the soft, wild tide of her hair.
"Lonely?" Uranus asks from somewhere behind her, and yes, that is the word, isn't it? Loneliness and guardianship seem to go hand in hand once you've crossed the Wandering Star's orbit.
"Wistful," she says, and thinks of the faraway Moon and its many maria, so much gentler than the ghost seas of her home. Her toes curl. "It's been so long since I've swimmed."
Uranus wraps lean arms around her, and Neptune knows that when she'll kiss her she'll taste pale blue, electric and endless and home, true home without longing to colour the closeness and shift it into something that is almost. Strange, that, she muses. Strange and so welcome despite it. "It doesn't suit you," Uranus says, her mouth on the shell of her ear, the sharp pearl of her teeth dancing between dare and desire. "Melancholy."
Neptune laughs. "The poets would disagree," she says, and Uranus' teeth bite in, seeming to settle on desire. Neptune makes a soft sound in her throat, plies herself into her lover's ribs, a bird in nesting. "A maiden's melancholy is what draws in the knight."
"Really," Uranus says, and her hands wander. Neptune lets herself shiver. "And what draws a knight to a knight?"
She hums. "Blood, maybe. Or maybe the graceful arc of one's sword hand." She turns in her embrace and oh, Uranus' eyes are so beautiful, deepened in her Star's light to the truest blue. There's nobody like her, nobody, nobody. She presses her fingers to those lips made for her own, traces the jut of the chin, the jaw, the great veins in the neck. "Why don't you tell me, hm?"
Uranus' hands come to cradle the low of her spine, perfect and cool, and ah, ah. "I don't think I can tell you, but I can show you," she says, and Neptune wishes she could see her smile in a mirror at this, because Uranus flusters, her blood coming up to dust the skin under her ears, the apples of her cheeks.
"I'd like that," she says, and yes, yes, she'd like that very much.
Uranus sweeps her up, her strong body a long line of lightning, and Neptune laughs all the way inside, all the way to the bed, all the way to that electric kiss that quiets the waves tugging at her heart.
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fin.