Craving by Starsea

I met him out for dinner on a Friday night
He really had me working up an appetite
He had tattoos up and down his arm
There's nothing more dangerous than a boy with charm
He's a one stop shop, makes my panties drop
He's a sweet-talkin', sugar coated candy man...

Christina Aguilera, Candyman

It was a charity ball to raise money for diabetes charities. They had managed to find a way to stop HIV developing into AIDS, they had finally vanquishd TB and they were continually making progress with cancer, but the diseases of age proved more difficult to conquer. Unlike Ami, Makoto did not find this frustrating. After all, these diseases had been with humanity for centuries, they would not be solved with a snap of the fingers, no matter how clever the fingers.

The theme of the ballroom was sugar. Various bowls were positioned around the room, full of sweets: cough twists, peanut brittle, bonbons of all types, chocolate shells from Belgium and other assorted candy. Makoto wondered if this was in good taste, but it was Minako's idea, not hers. The drinks were all sugary as well: dessert wines, sickly cocktails, brandy and rum heavily featured on the menu.

Fortunately, the music had a little more spice. Minako had found a big band that did jazz and swing. Combined with the alcohol, this made for a raucous but good-natured evening. Unfortunately, she'd managed to have a fight with Susumu this afternoon, which meant that, even though they were technically here together, they weren't actually on speaking terms. Makoto toyed with her glass of rosé, knowing that it highlighted the roses in her cheeks and brought out the red in her hair. Men were looking: they'd been looking all evening, but not one of them had come up and asked her to dance. She was still too tall, too toned, too intimidating. It had been this way in the Silver Millennium, it had been this way when she was a 20th century teenager. Some things didn't change.

"Not dancing?"

She felt shivers race all over her body and turned to look at the man who'd spoken to her: tall, broad shoulders, chocolate brown eyes. The smell of leather and horses washed over her. It was amazing how the scent remained the same, she thought. Two lifetimes, thousands of years, loyalties changed, vows broken, but he could have been that same naive young man standing in the woods, staring at her.

"Most men prefer to have a partner who doesn't look down at them," she pointed out.

"Literally or figuratively?"

It was such a quick response, so unexpected, that she laughed out loud. "Both, I think!"

"Well, I don't mind a woman looking down at me figuratively."

She glanced at him sideways. He was smiling, neither arrogant nor timid, just a smile, warm and appreciative. Simple. There was never any ulterior motive with him. She thought that might just be his most appealing trait, especially when you considered his comrades: Zoisite was sweet but too clever to be this transparent; Jadeite seemed simple but used that as a way to get under people's skin; as for Kunzite... Well, at least he didn't pretend to be anything he wasn't. He was complex and unapologetic about it. Though that just made Minako's attraction to him even more mysterious.

"What are you trying to say?" she asked, smiling so that he knew she wasn't offended.

"Dance with me?" He grinned, daring her. "I won't tread on your feet, promise."

Makoto felt a warm glow and grinned back. "I'll hold you to that," she warned, putting her glass down and taking the hand he held out. He was wearing gloves as part of his uniform but they were so thin that she could feel the warmth of his skin through the material, as well as the strength of his fingers. As he led her onto the floor, she saw Susumu staring at them, white with shock. Serves you right, she thought with some satisfaction as she turned her back on him.

The band struck up a doo-wop beat, the trombones setting the bass line while the trumpets blared over them and the swooping lights picked up the sweat on the players' cheeks. Nephrite looked at her, briefly worried. "Can you swing?"

"Yes," she said, "can you?"

He laughed. "I guess we're about to find out." Then he threw her out and pulled her back in and they began to dance. Makoto was glad that Nephrite had muscles: swing required a lot of arm strength as well as agility and she wasn't sure that many men would have been able to throw her around like this, let alone flip her off their shoulders.

"You're good!" she said as he let her slide between his legs and twist back up.

"Thanks... you're not so bad... yourself," he replied as the music broke down to the snare drum and the singers.

Well, by now I'm getting all bothered and hot
When he kissed my mouth, he really hit the spot
He got lips like sugar cane
Good things come for boys who wait...

Boys who wait. Her mind went in two directions, thinking of Susumu, waiting for this dance to end; thinking of Nephrite, waiting for... what? She looked at him and noticed the happiness in his eyes. He wasn't waiting for anything. He was in the moment. In that moment, she envied him and she wanted that happiness for herself, to suck it out of him. She shivered, not liking this greed, this sudden desire to devour.

"Makoto-san?" He was looking at her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing..." She gave him a smile, knew that it didn't reach her eyes. "Just thinking."

He raised his eyebrows, spun her, and then the song was ending and people were whooping and clapping.

"You want some air?"

"That would be great," she agreed, taking his arm and almost marching away from the dancefloor, knowing that Susumu would be looking to get her alone at the earliest opportunity. He let her lead him without saying anything until they were outside, in the cool blue of evening, the garden rainbow-coloured through the crystal of the palace.

"What was all that about?"

"I'm sorry?" She turned away. Coyness was not her forte.

"You know what I mean. You stopped smiling in there, you lost all your light. You looked miserable. Why?" His eyes sharpened. "Another fight?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Typical... sweet as pie in there, but once you get what you want, you turn sour again."

"And what is that supposed to mean?!"

"You know what it means." He folded his arms. "You're avoiding him because you had a fight, that's fine. But do you really think walking out here with me alone is going to help? Go ahead and piss him off, but don't involve me!"

"You're already involved!" she snapped and then wished the words back.

"How can I be involved?" he demanded, more frustrated than angry. "I haven't done anything except dance with you, I wasn't there when you started arguing... unless you were arguing over me." He stared at her. "I thought you told him we'd resolved everything."

"I did."

"So why is he...?"

"I don't know!" she hissed, hugging herself. "And I don't like being interrogated."

"Is that what he's doing? Interrogating you about what happened between us?"

She nodded and drew a deep breath.

"Nothing happened." He sighed. "Do you want me to tell him that? Would that make it better?"

"No!" She shook her head, feeling the joy of the dance vanish finally. "No... he won't believe you. He'll just think you're hiding something."

"Oh-!" He ran his hands through his hair. "Like what?"

"Like this." She grabbed his collar and pulled his head down, pressing her lips to his, feeling her whole body shudder as she did so. He made a startled noise in his throat and then his hands grabbed her waist, pulling her against him as if they were about to dance again. She arched against him, liking the solid warmth, and he made another noise. He tasted sweet, she thought. The normal sugar from the candy was mixed with the dark tang of rum and she licked his lower lip, liking the taste.

"Damn it, Makoto-!" He lifted his head, his hands gripping her tightly, his eyes wild. "What are you trying to do?"

Makoto opened her mouth but didn't get the chance to answer because someone cleared their throat. She felt her heart sink and turned her head.

It was Minako.

Makoto sagged in Nephrite's arms, so that he staggered a little from surprise. "Don't scare me like that, Minako-chan," she said. "I thought it was-"

"Your boyfriend?" Minako finished dryly. "Yeah, I bet you did. You know, there are plenty of empty rooms in this place and you choose the terrace to have your little liaison? I thought you were smarter than that, Mako-chan."

Makoto gaped at her. She knew without looking that Nephrite was doing the same thing. "S-smarter?"

"I won't tell." Minako tapped her nose, grinning. "Just be a little more discreet next time, 'kay? Technically, you are still spoken for." She turned and swished back inside.

Nephrite gently straightened Makoto and then let go. "Did she just tell us to be more discreet?" he asked, bewildered. "This coming from the woman who-"

"Don't!" Makoto said, holding up a hand and closing her eyes against the image that sprang to mind. "It took me weeks to stop blushing."

"I remember."

She looked at him, then looked away, aware that she was now blushing again, if for an entirely different reason. "Well..."

"What was that about?" he asked, almost whispering the words.

"I..." She licked her lips and tasted him on them. She had so nearly ruined everything. And now her whole body was hot for him, aching, aching to be held, held down and filled. She put a hand over her face, pushing the thoughts away. Stop it. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

He was silent. She looked at him and saw that his face had gone blank. Nephrite's face was never blank. It scared her and the words rushed out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"I can't want you! Don't you understand? I can't want this!"

"Want what?" he demanded, the roughness of his voice surprising her. "The night? The dancing?" He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her against him again, chest to chest, hip to hip. "Or this?" Makoto closed her eyes, swallowing a moan as she realised she was not the only one having trouble with her body.

"That," she whispered.

"You shouldn't," he agreed, surprising her. "At least, you shouldn't want it if you're satisfied." His eyes caught her, held her gaze. "Are you satisfied?"

She tore herself away and went back inside, ignoring the feeling of disappointment when he didn't run after her. It was for the best, she told herself. It was all for the best.


DISCLAIMER: Makoto and Nephrite both belong to Naoko Takeuchi, they just occasionally come and fight inside my head sometimes. The song belongs to Christina Aguilera.