Author: Serpentine Wisdom
Fandom: Sailor Moon
Characters: Usagi, Prince Diamond
Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon or any of the related characters, I am not making any profit from this fanfiction nor do I intend to.
Summary: It's wrong, so wrong she can't even imagine a more bitter betrayal, but she still kisses him with a passion that surprises her. Diamond/Usagi
Author notes: Sailor Moon was the first anime I ever saw, mostly because the only other anime available in my country at the time was Pokémon and Digimon. Recently I started watching the Japanese version out of boredom and a lack of anything else to watch and rediscovered my love of Diamond/Usagi and decided to write a little piece for it.
It's wrong, so wrong she can't even imagine a more bitter betrayal, but she still kisses him with a passion that surprises her, fiercely and desperately and he kisses her back with a ardent passion that made the sun's flames seem weak and paltry in comparison. There are no words between them, no sweet nothings only meant for a lover's ears, no darkly seductive manipulations. There is nothing besides the sounds of guilty pleasure echoing through the chamber, low moans and silk sheets sliding over moving bodies.
To her, speaking would finalise her betrayal, cement the truth of the treachery she has tried so hard to ignore. How would Mamoru feel, her conscience whispers, what would your friends say? It sends a cold chill down her spine when she imagines their reactions and the shameful selfishness of her actions grates on her soul. She has so much, friends, family and the most wonderful boyfriend she can imagine, she has so much that she can't even voice her complaints out loud because there shouldn't be any. How can she feel so disenchanted and disappointed with her life when there are so many people who would kill to receive even a fraction of what she has been given? It is just a small, dissatisfied feeling in her gut when she walks hand in hand with Mamoru with Rin tagging along that wonders if this was really it, if this would be her life for the next thousand years.
Her lover, her dark paramour, with hair as white as snow and dark blue eyes as hard and glittering as his namesake jewel… That this harsh, unyielding man who once inspired only terror in her would be the one to draw this strange need, this mad passion out of her when she can barely even imagine doing more than kissing with her boyfriend –her loyal, charming boyfriend who doesn't deserve this– is incomprehensible. His hands touch her reverently, as if she were a goddess descended from heaven and not just a foolish slip of a girl caught up in a destiny so grand she feels as if it is choking her. That is why she can trust him to never break the silence, to never intrude unforgiving reality into their little tryst. She feels it in the way his hands still tremble, if only for a small moment, when his hands touch her smooth skin as if she was a mirage who would disappear if he ever dared to believe she was truly there.
He loves her, she knows, has loved her for so long that this is a dream he cannot bear to shatter with the words he knows will drive her away. Wherever she goes, wherever she can escape to if she tries, he will follow like a man possessed. To leave him, the man who would willingly die a thousand deaths just to be able to gaze at her, is something easier said than done, and even though she knew this all too well even in the beginning she still fell into his arms without as much as a glance backwards. But even her dark prince knows that no amount of coercion can ever compare to even a minute of willingness and will not risk it for anything. He will let her keep her silence, knowing that it's to his arms she is embraced by and to his bed she always returns.
Although he loves her, worships her, above all others he is not a gentle lover, this man who was never taught kindness, but it isn't gentleness she wants from him. It doesn't matter if his embraces are a bit too tight, or his touches a tad too rough, that's just the price she pays. There are times after their carnal act, just a few of them, when he can relax enough even in her presence to sleep when she gets to see his face as it should be. Softer and less tense, in sleep it is no longer the cold, hard face of a man that has been forced to grow up too soon and too fast and it makes her heart skip a beat. It makes her wonder if she has come to love him or if she is just using him but as always she finds it is a question she can't answer. If she loves him, it is nothing like her love for her sweet Mamoru, her beloved Endymion reborn. It is a special feeling she can't put into words, almost as if uttering it aloud would cheapen the sentiment, but treasures all the same.
It's wrong, so wrong, and she knows it, but at the end of the day she is just a tired fifteen-year-old girl. A fifteen-year-old whose magnificent, overbearing destiny has robbed her of her hopes and dreams, a girl whose future has killed any breathless wonder and giddy anticipation. There is nothing to be done, her story is already written, her actions decided and all she can do is beat her hands against her gilded cage. It is strange, but she finds solace in the arm of this man worn down by a world that has only shown him how to hate. Perhaps it because they were never meant for each other or perhaps it is the way he looks at her as if she is his sole light in a dark and oppressive universe. Whatever it is, she knows it isn't destiny.
Maybe, just maybe, that's enough to help her live on in this world where she doesn't truly belong.