Chapter Text
You Are
Sliding into the shower, she sighed, stripping off the layers that covered her skin bit by bit, relieved to shed them in a pool of fabric just outside the stall. She was just too drained to hang them up as she normally would despite despising wrinkles and ironing. Sliding into the shower, she sighed, stripping off the layers that covered her skin bit by bit, relieved to shed them in a pool of fabric just outside the stall. She was just too drained to hang them up as she normally would despite despising wrinkles and ironing. First were her gloves, peeled back withe bone-weariness, and last were the striped, cotton hip huggers that slid down her legs with a flutter.
The tension in her fists and jaw distracted her long enough to softly beat the baby blue tile of the shower stall, bitterly disappointed with herself.
Why was it so damn difficult to control her temper?
Jerking the water on, scalding hot just like she deserved, she viciously stepped under the spray, forcing herself to endure it. The skin on her arms itched, making her dig into it with nails until a trail of blood beaded up, reminding her she needed to be punished for bad behavior.
He was gone; why couldn’t she get past this need to hurt herself for him?
“Lady Minerva?”
Squeezing her eyes shut, she didn’t answer, silently willing the Celestial Mage to go away. No one should see her like this, pathetic and trembling with poorly managed frustration, blood smeared across her forearms like scarlet shame.
The curtain pulled back anyway, and Yukino peered in with concern shining in her eyes. She took a step forward, unmindful of the shower spray, with her fingers raised between them.
“Go.” Hoarse, sharp, embarrassed. A hand flew up in defense, threatening, even as Minerva hated herself for it and hated herself more for being unable to tear it down. The Celestial Wizard’s mouth was open in a surprised gasp but she quickly nodded her ascent. As Yukino turned to go, Minerva’s small noise betrayed her, making the other woman whirl.
Whatever the look on her face, it made Yukino pause, eyes wide and teetering between leaving as commanded and whatever it was drawing her back. Minerva didn’t fight her when she took the last few steps between them, pressing her against the slick tiles loosely, tucking her under the shower spray and holding her with a firm kiss, fingers fumbling with the knob to turn the water pleasantly warm instead of scalding.
Minerva froze with indecision, fingers curling in mid-air, eyes half-shut, torn between escape and surrender.
Her hand dropped, her body pressed against the wall.
“You’re so tense,” Yukino whispered with her lips ghosting over Minerva’s, hands exploring her shoulders and neck delicately, fingertips gliding across the skin in a trail of electricity that made Minerva shiver against her will. The hot puff of breath against Minerva’s ear caused more tension, as it suddenly occurred what sort of position they were in. This was far beyond the tentative stolen kisses and subtle touches the two had been exchanging over the past few weeks, testing what had started as a drunken game of Spin the Bottle on a dare to see if the sloppy kiss laced with chemistry could be something more.
Absurdly, the only thing that came out of Minerva’s mouth as a reply was, “Your clothing is soaked.”
“I’m not worried about that; I’m worried about you.”
Minerva turned her head abruptly, folding her arms between them across her breasts to buffer, and muttered crossly, now frustrated by both her own poor behavior and Yukino’s sweet concern. Shifting her legs discreetly, she tried to ignore the potent result of all that frustration and Yukino’s soft body building below in an uncomfortable but familiar sort of heat.
Her body loved to betray her; to take all that rage and channel it into lust. To twist it around until she was panting and writhing on her own excitement, begging for a release from her torments. But this was the first time out of battle she’d felt it rear up, looming menacingly, threatening to ruin what good she’d managed to claw out of her reform.
Yukino was too good for her. Too pure to touch such a tainted, perverse being.
“You shouldn’t be.”
The sweetest hum dropped from her lips in reply as she stepped back, eyes tracing Minerva’s naked body speculatively. Hugging herself closer, trying to shrink and hide, Minerva’s green eyes squeezed shut in shame, well aware of how ugly her body was even with the demon marks and horns gone. After all, she’d been told often enough growing up how ugly she was, how she should wear make-up, how clothing would cover her deficits. She dressed like a queen to tuck herself away in a fantasy world of silk and color, so regal and gorgeous, and so unlike her true self: hideous and weak.
The first touch had Minerva’s eyes flying open in shock and surprise. The second tore a soft whimper from her lips, barely there, lost in the spray of the water sluicing over them. The third one made her yank her arm away, skin burning and cheeks crimson at the sullying. But if her arms were away, her breasts were free and her navel was bare.
“So many scars,” the tone was wondering, respectful, as Yukino calmly reclaimed her arm with a gentle tug of the wrist. No mention was made of the shallow scratches, water washing away the evidence. A long, pleasant drag of Yukino’s lips painted a line across the thin, white slashes that burned like a forest fire, hot and wild, purging the past with flames and sealing the present with heat. Limp, fingers nerveless, legs shaking, another small noise tore from her throat, somewhere between a moan and a groan of appalled disgust, bottomless appreciation and shameless arousal. Each kiss burned hotter, the shower water ice-cold in comparison, as the stole up her arm and down her clavicle to her breasts. “Here too.”
Minerva didn’t look; didn’t want to look. It was etched into her, the way the pale criss-crossed marks covered the skin on the underside of her breasts and migrated down her stomach to wander and taper at the sides, the furthest reach of the lash, just enough to kiss and dig in for a perfectly oval pinky-peach mark. There were matching ones on her back, she knew, although she’d learned to hide them well enough with concealer and swathes of fabric.
Let them believe it was style, let them believe it was modesty, let them believe it was snobbery – let them believe it was anything but what it actually was.
Head thrown back, she panted, unable to stop it, voice lost to the memories and the desires at war within her. She wanted acknowledgement, she needed cleansing, but each drag through her nose and each pull of air, brought her closer and closer to panic.
“Shh, shh,” Yukino murmured, pulling away, but leaving her hands resting lightly on the other woman’s hips, rubbing small circles with her thumbs before pulling away. Minerva’s hand moved of its own accord, shooting out to grab her, to hold her, painful and desperate. Yukino tugged a little, trying to step back, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have…”
“S’okay,” the words were slurred, sloppy, imperfect. Never ever would such a thing leave her lips under normal circumstances. But haste drove her to speak, to beg if she had to, to keep Yukino’s safe presence there at all costs. Her dignity, her reputation, her pride – they would kneel for this, if for nothing else in this world. She’d bow her head and plead the Celestial Wizard with every breath in her body at that moment and time to keep her. “Pl-please, stay. Please. Please, don’t go.”
Don’t shame me.
Don’t abandon me.
Don’t scold me.
Silence hung heavy, heavy enough Minerva was forced to open her eyes. Yukino’s face was unreadable, perturbed, contemplative. One hand had returned to Minerva’s hip with a solid pressure, resting perfectly on the jut, but the other was stroking absently along the back of her neck and down her shoulder, sliding through the slick, wet hair and gliding over damp skin.
“Do you trust me?”
Wordlessly, she nodded once, dipping her chin and casting her eyes to the ground. She wanted to stare boldly, to show her resolve, but doubt made her quail. Would her eyes
betray her words? Would Yukino read the shadow of fear, the sliver of wariness she held for everyone, regardless of who they were? If she did, would she recoil in disgust at Minerva’s flaw, her inability to have faith?
Tepid, she noted absently, the water was tepid now. How long had they been here? Her pressed against the blue tiles, naked as the day she was born, bare and vulnerable, and Yukino taking liberties that few had before.
“You,” Yukino’s lips pressed to a tender spot behind her ear, making her arch in response, “Are,” another soft brush of the lips pressing open-mouthed kissed down her fine jaw line, “Safe here.” Shiver, whimper.
“You,” she continued, tracing the pulse line of Minerva’s throat slowly with her tongue, “Are,” a swirl dipping at the base of her throat, “Needed.” Fingers scrabbled against the smooth surface behind her, trying to find grounding, something to hold onto.
“You,” Minerva quivered as her mouth quested lower, but just as tenderly, peppering deeper kisses across her breasts, lingering over her heart for a long, silent moment before finishing huskily, but still matter of fact, “Are beautiful.” Ears ringing, brain sluggish with disbelief, she shook her head weakly in denial.
Hands roamed her sides and back, palms out and fingertips tickling, as Yukino pressed her ear to Minerva’s chest. Slowly, her arms circled around the small of the other woman’s back, clasping firmly, and drawing her forward to rest against the soggy cotton clothing.
Scarcely daring to move, Minerva ghosted her hands over Yukino’s shoulders before biting her lip sharply and committing to pressing down with what little courage she could scrape together, leaning fully on her, trusting the younger woman to hold her up when she was ready to fall.
Trusting her completely.
She felt the smile against her breast at the gesture, the content sigh drawn from Yukino at the touch rolling across her ears, the way the body under her shifted to brace her more comfortably.
Yukino straighten, pressing flush against her, hugging her tightly and brushing away the tear trickling down, “And you are loved, so don’t you forget it.”