Demon Lover

BY : Sailor_Sol
Category: Sailor Moon > Het - Male/Female
Dragon prints: 2260
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Sailor Moon and all characters and settings are copyrighted by Naoko Takeuchi & her associates. I don't own them. Anything you don't recognize is our own invention, as is the plot and the 'background.' No money is being made here.

A/N: This takes place at the end of ‘Major Changes’, Chapter 9 of ‘Diamohns are Forever. I’ve seen a treehouse like the one I’m describing, and I’ll see if I can dig up pictures if anyone’s interested.


In the solarium of Aster’s house, Haruka wrapped her arms around Michiru as they watched the embrace grow more heated, before the two lovers climbed the stairs to the tree house.


Aster followed Kunzite up the stairs that curved around the old teak tree. She was brimming with excitement at the prospect of spending the entire evening with him. Often, he stayed until just before dawn.

She rushed past him, threw herself onto the futon, and then turned to see him climbing the last few steps to the platform.

She fully turned over onto her back and propped herself up on her elbows, her legs splayed out towards her approaching lover. She had no idea that the sight of her lying there was enough to strain his self control.

What do you want tonight, Kunzitosama?” she asked, smiling coquettishly. “I want to spend tonight pleasing you.”

“So you want to know what would please me?” he asked, unfastening his cape and laying it aside.

“Yes,” she said. “I do have some ideas, though, if you don’t.”

“Truly?” he asked, unbuckling his belt and removing it. He unfastened his tunic and removed it to put it with his cape and belt.

“I could … give you a massage,” Aster said. “I have everything I need here.”

“A massage sounds … good,” Kunzite said. “I think we should start with that, at least.”

“Then I will get things ready,” Aster said, climbing off of the futon. “You take off your clothing and lay face down on the futon.”

She knelt down in front of a teak cabinet and pulled out the items she needed. She quickly heated the oil and turned around with the warmed bottle in her hands, only to nearly drop it.

Kunzite had taken her at her word, removed the rest of his clothing, and was positioned as she had indicated, with his head pillowed on his arms.

She found herself unable to move, drinking in the sight of him.

She had seen many sculptures of men, and seen athletes in various stages of undress most of her life. It was the legacy of living in a cosmopolitan metropolis like Los Angeles and in an age that glorified physical perfection.

Kunzite could have been a sculpture to that glorification made out of marble or alabaster.

His face was turned away from her, but she had no trouble visualizing every detail of his features. His silver hair normally fell in a waterfall to just below his shoulders. He had plaited it and flicked it to one side to keep it out of the way.

She could see the muscles in his sculpted arms bunching and unbunching while he waited for her. His shoulders were hills and valleys of shadow and darker shadow that made her hands itch to glide over them.

The long groove of his spine between the molded planes of his back only served to draw her eyes down to the twin mounds of his buttocks, from their gentle rise from the bottom of his back to the arched curve where they met his legs.

His legs alone were enough to draw stares. They seemed hewn from solid stone, and then covered in pale silk. The few lights she had lit only served to highlight every dip and hollow, turning him into a carving of lighter and darker shadows.

His feet were two pale sculptures of their own, from his round heels and the curve of his insteps, to each oval toe lying on the dark cushion.

She did not know how long she stood there, drinking in the sight of him, before he turned his head, his ice blue eyes nearly glowing in the darkness.

“Should I lay differently?” he asked softly.

His voice was both enough to snap her out of her trance and to put her into a coma of desire. It was deep and rich and smooth, and it seemed to vibrate into her very core and coil there, making her melt with longing.

“No,” she said softly, still gazing at him unabashedly. “You are just fine.”

She approached with the bottle in her hand, suddenly unsure of where or how to start. This had to be perfect, and she was suddenly beset with doubt.

Finally, she climbed onto the futon with him, and then straddled his waist. She dribbled some of the oil into her hand to make certain it was still the right temperature, and put the bottle on a small table to the side.

She evenly distributed the oil onto her hands, and then lowered them to the well-muscled shoulders in front of her.

Gently but firmly, she massaged every muscle she could feel. She started with the tops of his shoulders, and moved down until she reached the bottoms of his shoulder blades. Then she moved back up, leaning forward and running her fingers into the muscles of his neck. She shifted back and forth as she worked, unaware of the effect she was having on Kunzite.


Having Aster straddling him, her sex like a silken flame against the skin of his lower back, was very much like torture for Kunzite. She was wearing thin clothing, and nothing underneath them. He imagined that he could feel every hair that grew between her thighs, and the outline of her labia. He felt his shaft grow and stiffen in response to what he was thinking.

He saw her pick up a cloth and then discard it, apparently to wipe her hands. Then, her slender fingers burrowed into his hair and began to massage his scalp. The questing fingers found aches and itches that Kunzite hadn’t known existed.

In order to reach his head, she had to lean forward, pressing her vulva more firmly against his back, and pressing her breasts against his shoulders. He could feel the two soft silk-covered mounds, with hard, puckered nubs in the middle. He groaned in appreciation, and then in growing discomfort. Who would have ever guessed that the nerve endings in his scalp went straight to his groin?

When she had massaged every part of his scalp, Aster sat up again, and then moved downward until her pert buttocks were perched on Kunzite’s. She reached for the oil again, only to have Kunzite wrap on large hand around her wrist, immobilizing it.

She looked down at him in surprise, and he took the opportunity to roll over under her so that she was straddling his groin, his hard length against her silk-covered sex.

“Kunzitosama?” she inquired softly, gazing fearlessly into his glowing eyes.

“Shh,” he said, reaching up with his other hand to cup her face. She leaned into the touch, like a flower following the sun.

Neither of them noticed Zoisite’s return.

Kunzite cupped Aster’s head and pulled her down for a kiss, bringing her body into full contact with his. He released her wrist and wrapped both arms around her, pressing her into his chest and against his throbbing shaft.

Aster lost herself in the feel of Kunzite’s lips and the taste of him. She pressed herself into him, undulating against him as power flowed between them, driving their arousal higher.

With a low growl, Kunzite rolled over, taking Aster with him so that she was pinned under his much larger frame. She offered no resistance, and even wrapped her arms around him as he settled onto her.

Zoisite sat in midair, watching. He had always known that this was what happened when Kunzite visited Aster. Even when she was a child, he knew that this was coming. He always expected to be jealous. He was surprised to find that he was stimulated by what he was watching, instead of repulsed and angry. There was something so natural and so fitting about the two of them together that it left no room for resentment.

“Kunzitosama,” Aster whispered, arching into him.

“Hush,” he whispered in return. “What is between us needs no words.”

“No,” she replied, and then moaned as he bent his head to run his lips along her neck and up to her ear. He nipped gently, drawing a gasp from her, before claiming her lips again.

Zoisite watched in fascination as Kunzite ran his hands down Aster’s arms to her wrists and then gently pulled her arms up over her head and pressed them against the cushions.

Without a word, he began moving down, unfastening her clothing and removing it. He kissed each spot of golden skin that he uncovered, He paused for several long moments to thoroughly nibble and suck at her breasts, drawing louder gasps and moans from her. Obedient to his silent stricture, she did not lower her hands, even though she gasped at the edges of the cushions to keep from doing so.

When Aster was completely naked, even Zoisite had to admit that she was the loveliest woman he had ever seen. She seemed to glow under the dim light, a warm golden light that contrasted with the white radiance that seemed to come from Kunzite.

Kunzite moved upwards again until he was once again lying on Aster. He raised himself up on his arms, and he maneuvered his hips around until the tip of his shaft pressed between the lips of her sex, but not at her entrance.

With a look of intense concentration, he began pumping his hips, pressing the head of his staff repeatedly against the bundle of nerves there, stimulating her even further. Sweat started to form on him with the effort, but he ignored it as he kept thrusting against her but not with the intent of penetrating her.

Aster arched into each thrust, trying to either increase the contact, or to guide Kunzite somewhere else. Her skin began to shine under the dim lights as her passion built, but slowly.

Finally, she looked down at him, her eyes pleading.

“What, aisuru?” he asked, a knowing smile on his face.

“I want you inside me,” she whispered, showing absolutely no self-consciousness in letting her partner know her desires.

“You wanted to spend tonight pleasing me,” he said. “What if this is what I want?”

“Is it?” she asked.

“No,” he said. He moved one hand to reach down and reposition himself before arching his hips forward again, this time to actually enter her.

Aster moaned and arched up, actually impaling herself a few inches on his shaft. He complied with her unvoiced request by surging forward the rest of the way, sheathing himself fully inside her.

Zoisite watched silently, aware of his own growing arousal, while the couple on the futon surged against one another, their movements punctuated by the sound of flesh against flesh, the creaking of the futon platform, and the rustling of the branches closest to them. He heard Kunzite’s grunts and Aster’s gasps, which turned to ‘oh’s as they both began spiraling towards ecstasy. He could almost hear their hearts beating together as they drove each other onward.

Finally, Aster’s face flushed and her entire body stiffened, even while Kunzite continued to thrust into her. Her head arched back and she let out a guttural cry as her hips left the futon for a long moment, and then she relaxed, sinking into the futon. Atop her, Kunzite thrust strongly into her a few more times and then let out a cry of his own, his face buried in her shoulder, as his body shuddered in his own release.

As Kunzite relaxed completely onto her for a few moments, Aster opened her eyes and met Zoisite’s gold to green. She smiled slightly at him and pursed her lips in a silent kiss.

Silently, Zoisite floated into the branches of the tree, so that Kunzite would not know he had been watching.


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