Current mood:	silly
Entry tags:	weiss_kreuz

Ficlet: Champion of Justice
mistressrenet: And...I want Mamoru. And Nagi. And smut. Because I'm just that predictable.

olympia_m: I'll now pretend that in the future Nagi finds Mamoru and they both spend many hours together dressing up as sailor moon...

So, as you can see, this is not my fault at all.

Title: Champion of Justice
Series: Weiss Kreuz
Pairing: Nagi/Mamoru
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Absurdity

Sequel to Still Not Your Friend and My Bodyguard.


Nagi never watched cartoons. Not even that giant robot angst-fest anime crap everyone at school had found so gripping. Not even when he was alone in Schwarz's apartment and Schuldig was suitably distracted and at least ten miles away. Certainly not now, in Takatori's house, under the eyes of a dozen security cameras.

And if he had watched cartoons, he would never have watched Sailor Moon.

"Are you sure?" Mamoru asked.

Memories of living with Schuldig made Nagi snap back, "Of course I'm sure," before he realized that Mamoru was not replying to his thoughts and that, in fact, the question had not been addressed to him.

He shut his mouth tightly and looked down at the table. It was actually possible to suppress a blush using his talent, but his control was not what it should be today, after so little sleep, and he was afraid of crushing capillaries. Fucking dreams.

Mamoru ended the meeting a few minutes later and politely kept his eyes on the files in front of him until everyone else had filed out. Only then did he look over at Nagi.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"You didn't sleep well last night. I heard you..." Mamoru had no blush-blocking super powers, and his complexion made that painfully clear. "Um. Moving around."

Humping the bed, Nagi mentally translated. Possibly moaning, too. Nagi almost never swore, but thanks to Schuldig and Farfarello, he knew the appropriate words. Recited silently, they formed a calming litany that let him answer more or less steadily.

"I was dreaming. You know what that's like."

Nagi winced inwardly as he spoke. Reminding Mamoru of his nightmare last week and what it had led to was not the best plan right now.

"I know." Mamoru paused. "I just thought...they didn't sound like nightmares."

Mamoru got up and left the room without giving him a chance to answer, and Nagi was obliged to follow.

Dusk was closing in around the compound, staining the edges of the sky pink and orange. Mamoru's grandfather sat out in the garden and waved as they passed by an open window. Mamoru didn't even notice. Nagi deliberately looked away, though not before he caught the old bastard's smile.

Not telepathic, Nagi reminded himself. The worst he could be doing was plotting Nagi's unpleasant demise, which he almost certainly would be doing if he knew Nagi's dreams last night had included his only living grandson in a Sailor Moon costume.

Mamoru had looked disturbingly good in it. Something about the boots, Nagi thought, and the way the bow emphasized his ass, especially when he struck that ridiculous pose and announced he was Sailor Tsukiyono, Champion of Justice!

The bow proved so distracting that Nagi didn't realize Mamoru was leading him back to their room until the door was already closed and Mamoru was looking at him with an unaccountably shy smile and his hair falling forward across his eyes.

Normally, Nagi would stay silent and wait this out, but two hours of sleep and a big red bow conspired against him.

"What?" he snapped.

"Nagi-kun..." Mamoru looked almost hurt. His voice was soft and made Nagi think of the last time he'd called him Nagi-kun, which was just before...

Well. Just before they'd had sex. Five days ago. Neither of them had said a word about it since. Of course, that might be partially due to the fact that Nagi had gotten up that morning an hour before Mamoru and been safely dressed with his own bed made by the time the alarm went off. If they'd woken up together, things might have been different.

He wondered if he could blame the dreams on sexual frustration. Schuldig would almost certainly have said yes. After he'd stopped laughing.

"I thought, maybe--" Mamoru started.

At the same time, Nagi said, "Are you sure--"

They both stopped. Mamoru smiled again, looking very much like he used to, despite the hair. Nagi couldn't make himself smile back, but he stroked an invisible hand across Mamoru's hip instead, and that seemed to be an acceptable substitute.

Mamoru stepped closer, closer, and Nagi barely remembered to make the door lock and the drapes slide closed before Mamoru kissed him. Wet and tentative, and a little clumsy, and Mamoru was hard against his thigh. Nagi slid both hands into Mamoru's dark hair and wondered if he'd been hard during the meeting.

He could have touched him, even from all the way across the table. Could have used his talent to stroke his thigh, cup the bulge between his legs... Mamoru had said it didn't freak him out anymore. He might have been lying, but Nagi tried it now anyway.

Mamoru leaned against him and moaned softly in his ear, hands fisted in Nagi's shirt, and that was--that--yes. Mamoru's breath was warm and smelled like the coffee he'd recently taken to drinking all day long. His lips pressed against the skin just below Nagi's ear, and his tongue poked out, a single point of wet heat.

Nagi bit his lip and moved them over to the bed more through abuse of his talent than any use of his muscles. Mamoru was not helping; clinging to him, barely shuffling backwards across the floor. Nagi pushed him across the bed and toppled down onto him.

It was a lot easier when they were both wearing pajamas.

"Just get rid of them," Mamoru said, after a few heated moments of struggle with belts and buttons and zippers.

Mamoru's turtleneck and slacks shredded easily, leaving him naked and looking up at Nagi with impossibly wide eyes. Nagi couldn't think of anything else to do, so he kissed him.

Mamoru's hands found their way into Nagi's pants, one cupping his ass, the other on his cock, and Nagi was too distracted to do anything serious in reciprocation.

His talent extended itself almost of its own accord, running ghost hands across every inch of Mamoru's exposed skin. This touch was more sensitive than his physical hands, and he could feel everything, every hair and imperfection, the unexpected hardness of new muscle, the softness of Mamoru's lips and the shiver when he touched them.

Mamoru's hand on his cock was steady despite everything. Nagi lasted perhaps two minutes, which was about a minute and a half better than last time.

He panted against Mamoru's chest afterwards, convinced he was never going to move again. But Mamoru was still hard, an insistent heat against his stomach.

Moving was still impossible. It was far easier to use his talent, to wrap an edge of power and will around Mamoru's cock and listen to him gasp.

Nagi squeezed lightly from base to head, stroking, sucking, feeling heat and hard and moisture at the tip. He'd done this to himself, but it was nothing like doing it to someone else, watching Mamoru's eyes scrunch shut and his bottom lip bitten red between his teeth.

Mamoru came quickly, sticky heat spreading between their bodies, most of it on Nagi's shirt. That could be washed, at least. Mamoru's clothes were useless, too small ever for rags. Nagi thought it was possible he should apologize for that, but he didn't feel sorry.

They lay together quietly, Mamoru's hand settling on the back of his neck.

"Nagi-kun?"

"What?"

"Did you know you talk in your sleep?"

Nagi stiffened. "I do not talk in my sleep."

Mamoru nodded obediently. "Of course not. But I wouldn't mind, if--"

Nagi locked Mamoru's jaw shut until the muffled sounds stopped and he was relatively sure there would be no end to that sentence.

"I do not talk in my sleep. And if I do, you...you shouldn't listen."

"It can't be worse than the stewardess uniform," Mamoru said.

"...What?"

Mamoru told him.

Nagi's dreams that night featured a slightly different uniform.