Note: You do need to know the end of episode 200 and have a decent
knowledge of Japanese to understand the beginning of the story.  But not
too too much.
More important note: This is a lemon.  Which means some people use it for
rather hands-on activity ^_^.  If you have something against that sort of
thing, look elsewhere.  But I won't be responsible.  Now enough smartass
comments from me, let's go to the story, darlings!


**


        "Mamo-chan...
                atashi no koto ga... suki?"

        He was surprised at the question, but answered it anyway.  Still,
the insistent tugging on his arm.  "How much?" she wanted to know.  His
heart melted.  Just turned to liquid right there and then.  Slipped out
through his bloodstream and quivered from toes to eyes.  "Ne..." tug, tug,
liquid heart in the veins of his arms, her hands pulling at them, that
meant she was tugging right on his heart.
        "Usako to issho ni naru, genki ippai."
        And she melted right over him.

        When two lovers' hands meet in the moonlight, an angel is born far
away.  And what meets next are their eyes, creating a perfect circle like
the spinning zodiac.  Spinning faster, faster, chasing its own end until
the lovers' lips meet, completing the circle and starting all over again.
        Miracle romance.

**

ALIVE

a Sailor Moon lemon fanfiction by Ivana B. Anonymous

**

        Mamoru dimly remembered a sleeping.  A sort of low candlelight to
let the absence of him know he was no longer there.  It had been the
presence (absence?) of less-than-nothingness.  It had been incomplete
death.  Death before he was supposed to claim it, and he couldn't pass
fully into either world.  So there was not much of him in either.  And
he'd struggled, or not-him had struggled, to find his way back to being.
But it was so long until the light had come-- so long, he almost couldn't
remember what life had been.  Sparkles of heaven still seemed in the air
when he appeared again to hold his angel and bid her come home to him.
Even here on this moonstruck night, with a recent kiss quivering in the
darkness, he wasn't sure it was real.  So he reached down inside himself
for something that was truth, something he knew.  And he found just one
phrase waiting.
        "Ai shite, Usako."
        For a moment he was afraid she was about to disappear.  The moment
couldn't be any more perfect, with the blazing moon caressing her face in
its fullest glory.  Isn't this the highest one can ride on the Ferris
wheel?  Isn't this the point in the circle where it all starts again?  He
did not want to repeat those years' worth of games and losses and
near-surrender to despair.
        But she was still there, pallid and lovely in the moonlight,
trembling, or was that his arms that trembled holding her?  For she fell
boldly into the protective arc of his shoulders, hands on his back and
neck, repeating and repeating in a tearful voice, "Ai shiteru, Mamo-chan,
ai shiteru, hontou ni ai shiteru..."
        How full his arms felt with her pouring all her warmth into them!
He frowned with the effort of just trying to contain the intensity of her
overflowing emotions.  This was ecstacy.  This was the perfect moment of
love.
        "Usako."  He whispered her name in a low rumbling voice.  The name
itself meant I love you to him.  Every time he said it, even when he was
chiding her, he was declaring his love.  It was the sacred syllable of a
meditation.  No one dared speak it but him.  Usako was the Excalibur of
love, and no one may wield it but the true Prince.
        "Mamo-chan!"  Were it anyone else, they would have sounded a
trifle silly, repeating each other's names over and over.  But these
weren't just names.  They were prayers and questions, reassurances and
declarations.  Mamo-chan (do you love me?), Usako (with all my soul).
Mamo-chan (I can't live without you), Usako, (will you stay with me
tonight?), Mamo-chan (tonight and all my life).  After a while, even the
words trailed off, and the silent caress of their eyes spoke volumes.
        He gathered her in his arms, folding yards of silken hair over and
over across his wrists, and pressed an ardent kiss on the top of her head,
then her cheek just under her left eye, then her mouth.  "Sweet Usako," he
murmured in rapture.  They walked together down the moonlit path.
        He felt as if his whole life were trembling.  Trees with dark blue
folds of secret leaf, shining pavement, all shaking.  His head was
pounding, but it was a delicious pounding the awareness of his whole body,
every cell, running through him with each pulse of pressure.
        She held herself so gracefully in his arms, like a dancer, like a
wild exotic bird with its colors all afire.  Yet despite her upturned chin
and purposeful eyes, she was warm.  So warm in his arms that he thought
his fingers must melt at the touch.  How she managed this balance was a
quandrary for his dizzy mind to spin on until they got home.
        His control dissolved in an overwhelming rush of we-are-alone-ness
as the door slammed shut behind them.  "Oh God, Usako--" He tilted her
head to kiss her, squeezing her frame tight against his own as he leaned
on the apartment door for support.  Not forty-eight hours ago he had been
dead.  And now he'd never felt more alive.  All he wanted to do was live,
live in the very pinnacle of life's joy, to be one with his Usako, to be
one with love.  He clamped her firmly to his body and let the taste of her
lips wash over him in waves.
        Her hands-- if they rested on his chest one moment longer, his
heart would leap from between his ribs to meet them!  One star-shaped palm
slid to the side, seeking out a spot on his hip where he was sure the rib
was extracted from Adam, it responded so to her touch.  The other hand
crawled like an impatient rabbit up his shoulder to the back of his neck
and poised itself at the very bottom of his neck, where dark hair met
smooth skin.  He groaned, loudly, not caring if the walls were paper-thin,
and kissed her harder, feeling the opening of her mouth spread shivers of
delight all through him, as if he was an adventurer poised at the entrance
to an undersea cave.
        Oh, Usako, he thought, and then said out loud.  A thousand years
and you still drive me crazy.  He kissed the curve of her jaw, bending in
to her slender neck, and delighting himself when her soft cries rang out
close to his ear.  He fluttered, then pressed kisses over the soft skin.
No shape in the world quite like her neck, no dish more appetizing.  He
flicked his tongue once across her ear, and she cried out in a higher
voice.  Pushing it slowly back and forth with his tongue, he quickened the
pace as her cries became more fervent, as her hands-- oh tiny dangerous
fingertips!-- played havoc with his hair and shoulders and side.  She
arched her body toward his, hips straining to meet him, perfect breasts
pressed up against his chest.  Her alluring voice drove him to
desperation, and he thrust his passion into her open mouth, trying each
time to slowly close his lips, but each time a wild shock sending his
tongue plummeting into her mouth again.  He was absolutely out of control,
and knew it, and savored it.  No sensation was too great.  He wanted to
saturate himself with feeling, to live and live until every cell pulsed
with the liquid quickness of need and ecstacy, to bring not just his body
and mind, but his soul, back into this extraordinary world of the living.
        The sweet angel in his arms was guiding him, moving backwards away
from the door, and he followed her lily scent and ardent sighs.  "Oh
Usako," he murmured into folds of hair the color and taste of honey, "I'll
never let you go, never, I'm never going to let you go..."  He felt or saw
or heard her smile, and somehow she fluttered out of his arms.  He reached
for her, afraid suddenly that she was a ghost, an apparition, but she
lingered just beyond his grasp.  Only one white hand anchored the vision
to him, and he held it fiercely.
        Some time later, he found himself alone in his bedroom, head heavy
on the pillow.  He dimly recalled a lavender-scented fairy laying him
down, asking him to wait a moment.  Now, alone, he gulped and tried to
bring his head back to earth, trying to ground the runaway kite of his
desire.  It all came to naught when she reappeared.
        At first he thought he was only imagining her as an angel all in
white.  Flowing gauzy gown, delicious figure swaying in the sheer curves,
arms and legs so slender and pale.  But time and touch proved she was, in
fact, wearing a tiny white nightgown, her hair loose and flowing almost to
her feet.  "Angel..." he stuttered in a voice nearly too choked to speak.
        She giggled, and her pale face flushed at this flattery.  Mamoru
felt his whole body pulsing.  "Are you for real?" he asked, meaning the
question very seriously despite the amusement that played across her face.
        "Oh, Mamo-chan," she teased gently, "of course I'm real.  It's me.
Usagi.  Remember?"  At the end of her sentence, she pushed a strand of
golden hair out of her eyes, a gesture so perfect that he couldn't bring
himself to believe her answer.
        "I want to touch you," he said, reaching out with both arms.  It
seemed the only way to tell if he was hallucinating or in a dreaming
death.  But when her hands slipped into his, he knew.
        Mumbling her name, he pulled her on top of him, holding her waist
so tightly to his hard stomach.  He ran his hands along her arms and legs,
just feeling as much of her as he possibly could, letting her warmth and
realness diffuse into him.  He drank from her lips again and again, hands
bolder and reaching under the folds of white and gold to touch her in
places that made her gasp, or giggle, or sigh.
        She was.  She was real.  Her jerky fingers played awkward
tug-of-war with his shirt, his belt, and seared when they finally brushed
skin.  He groaned at the sight and sensation of her undressing him, her
bumbling pulls somehow intensely erotic.  Her scent built up behind his
nose, and he took a sweet breast into his hand to make the waiting easier
to endure.  She moaned and rolled her head back, making for a very sexy
sight straddled atop him.  His skin was burning to touch hers.  He felt
like a helpless moth, driven to flame thought it might well kill him.
        Finally, she threw herself once more against him, and he kissed
and groped at her shamelessly, listening to the wonderful erotic noises
she made as a result.  The cool silk and warm skin against his own... dim
awareness of strands of hair everywhere, everywhere... the nibbles against
his lips... this was living, this was experience, this was the Essence.
        Silk was beautiful, but her skin was more so, and he hoisted her
slim body upward so his mouth was positioned under the swell and hollow of
her breasts.  He ran his hands from her thighs up to her shoulders under
the gown, and then tossed it off her in one fluid motion.  The gorgeous
breasts were such a sight.  He held her firmly and let her choose which
side would receive his attentions first.  After a minute pause, one little
pink nipple made its way toward his mouth.  She breathed hard and hummed,
wrinkling her brow as he flicked his tongue across it once, twice, three
times, and then tweaked it with his teeth, licked it with his lips, drew
more and more of her into his mouth, then retured to teasing in a pattern
so maddening and delicious.
        Oh, if I could die now I'd die a happy man.  The thought flickered
like an old, bad habit, and he buried it in between her breasts with an
anxious nuzzle.  Dying of pleasure was the cliche, but if anything, he was
in serious danger of coming to life.  Sensation and sensation, building up
till he thought he'd live.  Not die.
        Her form melted onto him, and the subtle lines of his body
accepted her curves easily.  How such pieces could fit so perfectly was a
maddening mystery, and he ran his hands along the swaying line where their
bodies met, merveling.  All this time, he realized breathlessly, she'd
been kissing the curve of his jaw right below his ear, and he hadn't
noticed until a tiny pink packet of sprinkling fireworks exploded near
there.  He sighed with the sweet ache of it, his need rising further.  She
giggled into his neck and grabbed him THERE, slippery fingers all of a
sudden all over him and--
        He rose with an animal snarl and rolled them both over, so she was
now lying in his shadow.  No way was he going to miss a single sensation.
She would not sneak up on him again, not tonight.  Tonight he met
everything head-on.
        She trembled, pale under his gaze, staring at those hard eyes with
a slight shaking somewhere in their depths.  Her own eyes traveled along
his broad shoulders, then down the column of his chest toward his bare
legs and what lay between them.  He put one leg over both of hers, tucking
her firmly in place.  And his eyes softened for a moment, pleading her
permission to succumb to the storm of desire rushing so hotly through him.
        She whimpered.  "Oh, Mamo-chan..."
        "Usako."  With a grimace that nearly turned stony.  But she arched
forward on the bed and brought her lips to his, kissing him so sweetly
that his face nearly dissolved into hers.  Now his tone was more of a
whimper too, a pleading, "Usako..."
        Slowly, she shifted under him, and he wondered for a moment what
he'd done wrong until he realized it: she was positioning himself beneath
him, so without a breath of movement he was already poised at her sweet
entrance.  Teasingly, oh God how could she be so gorgeous, she repeated,
"Mamo-chan..."
        The words came out in a rush.  "Iloveyouineedyousomuchusako..."
        Golden hair curled.  Her eyelashes fluttered.  He felt his whole
being quiver.
        "I want you," a seething whisper.  She was playing seductress now,
half-laughing at herself, but it worked. Mamoru's fists clenched,
squeezing little balls of bedsheets.  Sweating.
        She arched her head back, exposing the glorious neck so close to
him before it retreated, and she fell back onto the pillow.  "I need you."
Slanted eyes peeked up at him.
        He gulped.
        "Come to me, Mamo-chan."
        "Usako!"  He buried himself in her, thrusting with all that
pent-up passion inside her, and she writhed as the white-hot blaze roared
to life in that tiny space they shared.  Their hands and waists met again
and again in uncontrollable agonies of heat; kisses on lips and necks and
shoulders so fervent; so many wonderful sounds, a "Please" and a "yes" and
an "Oh, oh, God..."
        He drank them all in, let them fill up his face and chest and
whole body as he slid in and out of her sweetness again and again,
relishing the secret caress of her muscles, so tight and inviting all at
once.  Her legs everywhere at one time, wrapping around him so, wandering
hot hands and sweaty breasts as she arched her head back, moaning and
moaning, in a haze of rapture and perfection.
        He cherished this feeling of being inside her, being a part of
her, filling a space so intimately he felt like he belonged there.  And
the rest of him sought out crevices too, arms locked around her waist,
head nestled in the hollow of her shoulder, chest assaulting those
beautiful round swellings with the hard nubs that drove him to distraction
with their pulses of heat.
        "U... sa... ko..." he mumbled, lost in her, thoroughly lost in
her.  "I... need... you so... much..."  She gave a choking cry in
response, and the whole universe swelled dangerously.
        His hands found hers, and they interlaced fingers as the
unbelievably sweet dance went on.  A split second before flashdown, he
felt her clutches tighten, her arm muscles tense as everything went frozen
around him.  Then he was too enveloped in the white light as well, and
with a loud, strangled cry, he came to the edge of existence, falling
forward in a deepened, heightened reality, where everything gleamed.
Beyond the beyond.  Alive.
        Long they lay, pulsing into each other hotly, still too charged
with erotic electricity to speak except in sighs and moans as the little
aftershocks swelled and faded.  "Oh, Mamo-chan..."
        He kissed her neck deeply.  "Usako..." With a final bittersweet
quiver, they bid farewell to the night's madness, and settled into a
comfortable romantic lethargy.  He pulled his sleepy kitten close,
thinking in slow, fractured thoughts: how soft her hair, how round her
shoulder, how nice she is, how nice to be with, how nice.  She purred in
his grasp.  And though sleep stretched out its fingers to claim him soon,
Mamoru did not fear it.  Sleep did not bring with it the drowsy threat of
death. Even unconscious, he knew, he would continue to exist.  For in the
wake of absolute sensation, and with his love curled up beside him, he
knew without reservation that he had-- finally-- come back to life.

--fin--

Hello dahhlinks!  I finally succumbed and did a Mamoru/Usagi lemon... the
passion that these two share is so remarkable.  I hope I even began to do
it justice.  Now remember, as always, it's not my fault these characters
are so sexy.  If Naoko & co. didn't want people to write smutty fanfics
about them, they shouldn't have made them so sexy.  But I'm just enjoying
them, not claiming I created them... I hope you are all enjoying them too!
Au revoir!