Bach and Motorcycles

Disclaimer: Sailor Moon characters are the property of Naoko Takeuchi and Kodansha. I am merely borrowing the characters for a while to indulge in my own whims. 

Bach and Motorcycles

"Ami..." The exhalation that was her name, caressed by the husky timbre that was Makoto's voice made Ami feel as if molten lava ran through her veins.

"Yes, Mako?" She waited with breath held unconsciously.

"I love you." The words once said, never failed to make Ami's heart race until she felt it would burst.

"I love you too, Mako."

She could hear the smile in Makoto's voice when the woman spoke the next words. "I know... I'll see you soon."

"Hurry..." Ami paused, imagining the breathy word sending one of Makoto's chocolately eyebrows quirking. If they had been face to face Ami would have seen the other woman react; she would have uttered a sweet laugh of delight at being right. Pleasure overtook her at knowing Makoto so well.

"I will. Bye love." In the background, in between the syllables spoken by the brunette, Ami could hear the rumbling of a motorcycle engine. Unbidden, the sensation of the vibrating machine between her legs sprung forth, and she almost gasped.

"Bye." Smiling as she ended the call, Ami placed her cell phone down on the kitchen counter before she glanced at the clock.

Nine-thirty p.m., the usual time on Tuesday when Makoto left the bakery for home and Ami was never more eager to see the woman's face. With traffic Makoto would not arrive until ten p.m. She knew Makoto could have arrived in fifteen minutes if she wanted but Ami had lectured the brunette on safe driving being one of the conditions for buying a motorcycle. Makoto listened patiently, with a smile on her face and when Ami's spiel wound down the brunette had bent and chastely kissed her on the cheek.

"I promise," Makoto whispered in her hair before she pulled Ami into her arms to bestow a heated kiss.

It was a hot summer night and the lack of air conditioning made it hotter in the apartment. Sweat dripped down her chest and pooled in between the valley of her breasts as Ami recalled the memory, recalled how the blood had rushed to her cheeks and her nether regions when the woman had finally let her go. The sweat did not annoy her as it usually did; each beaded drop caressed her as it slid down her skin, beckoned by gravity. A sensual feeling had slipped over her and she imagined Makoto's fingers and tongue following each salty trail.

Bach, Ami thought suddenly. She was in the mood for Bach and she stepped out of the kitchen, the skin underneath her bare feet tingling as she walked across the floorboards of the living room, unaware that her hips swung in an aggressively sexual manner as she placed one foot in front of the other. Her finger slid over the play button as she pressed it and the sonorous bass of a cello invaded the room.

Now for a shower.

Peeling the near-soaked shirt off her body and over her head Ami headed for the bathroom where she dropped the sweat dampened fabric. She left the door open in order to hear the music floating down the small hallway and into the tiled room. She turned the cold water on and shimmied out of her jeans, a sexy dance Makoto would have no doubt found entrancing had she been there at that moment. Exhaling quite audibly and with satisfaction, Ami stood under the cold spray. She reveled in the coolness, pink nipples perking as the icy drops stung her skin.

Washing herself quickly, she stepped out of the tub and dried off before donning a sheer green nightgown trimmed with lace that fell to her thighs. It's too hot for any other kind of clothing she justified as she slipped into a pair of matching panties. Despite the cold shower, the lingering heat in the air caused sweat to bead on her skin at once. She did not mind it at all, the nerve endings in her skin seeming to heighten in the heat.

The music with its lush sweeping sound penetrated her flesh along with the heat and her body felt alive with the sensuality of it all. Padding on naked feet back to the living room she sat in her favorite armchair, threw one leg over the over and bathed in the auditory feast surrounding her. She could hear no other sound but the Bach as she laid her head back and closed her eyes.

-x-x-x-

The motorcycle thrummed between her legs and Makoto gripped the handlebars tensely. Ami's hurry echoed in her head and for once the urge to let the powerful machine beneath her roar down the street grasped her and would not let go. But Makoto made a promise and she intended to fulfill that promise to Ami.

Unlike Haruka, Makoto cared not for the speed but the freedom riding a motorcycle allowed. She also loved the way Ami clung to her tall frame when they rode together. The wind whipped at Makoto's clothing and collided with skin that burned over flesh. She was feverish, afflicted with a malady that had but one cure.

Ami.

The streetlights approached and passed her one by one, blurs and streaks of light in the blackness of night. It occurred to her that Ami would enjoy a ride on a clear, cloudless night like this but then she nixed the idea. What she wanted could not be appeased by a mere motorcycle ride. She had an idea Ami felt the same. Especially after that one word:

"Hurry..."

-x-x-x-

Makoto approached the door to the apartment, her black helmet tucked under her left arm, a lone trail of perspiration slipping down her back. Now that she was no longer on the bike the sultry air crowded her. Strains of music filtered through the wood of the door and she grinned to herself.

Bach again.

Un-clenching the loose fist that held her keys she selected the piece of metal that would let her enter the apartment. As quietly as possible she opened the door, her ears immediately filled with the Cello Suites Ami was so fond of. Makoto had to admit classical music was not her first choice. Ami knew it as well but the brunette encouraged the short-haired woman to play it simply because she enjoyed seeing the pleasure it brought to Ami.

Makoto peered into the living room and immediately found her lover resting with her head thrown back and her eyes closed. Ami wore a lacy, gossamer concoction Makoto had never seen before, but it instantly became her favorite. The woman herself seemed oblivious to Makoto's arrival and the brunette decided to use it to her advantage.

Stealth aided by bare feet, Makoto stood in front of Ami. What a sight, Makoto thought to herself with eyes that devoured the luscious form in front of her. Ami looked quite relaxed, right leg thrown over the other. Ami was restless however, Makoto could tell with the way the woman drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Ami used that breathing technique whenever she was upset. She also used it when she was quite aroused and desperately wanted to stay in control.

I know she isn't upset, Makoto thought. The barely hidden rosebud peaks of Ami's breasts agreed with the brunette as Ami's chest rose and fell.

The burning intensified in her, as if drawn up from the warm floorboards through her feet, surging to the very ends of her fingers, all the way to the very top of her head. She wanted to touch Ami, to taste her, arouse her to feverish heights, to make her soar. Makoto was no musician but she ached for the instrument of Ami's body, to pluck, tease, caress until the other woman cried no more only to do it all over again.

Glinting beads of sweat on Ami's skin called attention to glowing limbs Makoto yearned to touch. A single drop of salty moisture rolled down Ami's neck and forest green eyes followed as it reached a clavicle. She bent, lapping the saline bead, trailing her tongue up Ami's neck and onto the jaw line.

A gasp flew from Ami's lips, cobalt eyes flying open the moment she felt Makoto's tongue on her collarbone. "Mako!"

The brunette placed a single finger over Ami's lips, mouthing the word hush as she completed the action. Their heads were close, Makoto bringing hers even closer, close enough to kiss Ami's right ear.

"Shhhh. Keep your eyes closed," she whispered and Ami did as she was told. Another whisper followed, a praise, "Good girl."

Ami moaned a low needy sound that echoed the sentiment flowing in Makoto. The brunette drew the woman's lower lip in between her own, softly suckling on the plump bit of flesh for a moment. It was the only physical contact between their bodies. Makoto stood with her legs apart for balance as she leaned over Ami's smaller frame, keeping a tantalizingly small amount of space between herself and Ami.

She could feel Ami's startled response when she finally placed her hot palms on Ami's knees, gently untangling the limbs before her hands started an agonizingly slow crawl north on slick, smooth thighs. The edge of her fingertips encountered the lace edging of Ami's diaphanous nightgown and her movement paused before flirting each finger against the edge.

In spite of the heat, Ami shivered below her. A moan rumbled forth from the arched column of a creamy throat and Makoto smiled with Ami's lip still caught between her own. The movement elicited a whimper as Ami slid her heated palms atop the backs of Makoto's hands before climbing past wrists to strong, cloth covered forearms, past the bent elbows to clutch tightly at biceps of sinews and muscles.

Makoto did not imagine Ami was trying to stop her, no if anything the woman was urging her on. She contemplated whether she should keep teasing or succumb to Ami's desires and decided she wouldn't be so mean tonight. Ami had waited long enough it seemed. And Makoto knew it wouldn't be long before her own willpower spiraled out of control either.

Her hands found their way under the wispy fabric, slipping to the sides of Ami's thighs as they went and it was not long before she encountered the lacy panties underneath the transparent gown. Sliding her fingers into the waistband she slowly drew the underwear off. Ami moaned again, lifting her hips, hot digits sliding on her skin as they worked to remove the intimate piece of clothing.

Makoto moved back, her lips parting to release Ami's succulent lower lip. Ami panted, her eyes still closed, Makoto noted. The push and pull of the cello reverberated in the living room, both women caught in its flowing rhythm. It swept into the room, creating invisible curlicues and wriggling lush lines, curling and coiling around and between their bodies.

Moving further back, Makoto took Ami's underwear with her, down past the woman's thighs, now knees, barely touching the calves and toes before tossing it over her shoulder. Dropping to her knees, Makoto grasped Ami by the hips and pulled her forward. Ami released her hold on Makoto's arms and clung to the cushioned arms of the chair instead, her hands clenched as she anticipated what came next.

Because of the brunette's height she was not quite eye level with the most secretive part of Ami until she bent her head low. Inhaling Ami's sweet, musky scent, she closed her eyes and dipped her tongue into the woman; the pace of the music dictating the movements of her tongue. Sheer fabric clung to turgid nipples as Ami's breasts rose and fell in an effort to breathe.

Ami's eyes remained closed through it all, electric shocks and bright blasts of light chasing away the darkness behind her lids as she came, Makoto's name the only sound issuing from between her lips.

When Ami regained enough breath to speak she slipped down into the tall woman's lap to straddle her. Their arms wrapped around each other, Ami kissed Makoto deeply and the tall woman returned it with great pleasure. Ami could taste herself on Makoto's lips and tongue. When they parted she grabbed the hem of Makoto's shirt.

"Mako, do you think we should invest in an air conditioner?" She asked while she removed the rest of the woman's clothing. The tall woman helped whenever she could, making quick work of the process, lifting her hips in order for Ami to help take off her jeans and undergarments. Between quick kisses to Ami's bare skin she slipped the risque night gown off the woman.

They were finally naked, a stripped Makoto lying on the floor while Ami continued to straddle her. Their hands and bodies slid against each other facilitated by trails of perspiration.

"I don't know...I kind of like the idea of coming home to you like this," Makoto answered finally, a thoughtful look in her eyes.

Ami kissed her and there were no other words except for the moans. The sound of Bach continued to weave around the room, casting its own spell on the writhing lovers.