What is the Moon Love?
by woochann
Kazama/Chizuru one-shot

After many times of trying to re-write this, I gave up so you may all have the original version. I am sorry if it is a bit bland or weird, but I cannot rightly recall where my mind was at when this was written. However, I like some parts of it, and so here it is. Take what you will of it-either way, I hope you enjoy it. Please ignore all misspellings and typos (if any). No honorifics are used.

woochann.

…

She breathed in his sent and curved in his arms as he wrapped his right hand around her protectively. She creased her eyes in deep longing as he placed his left hand on her face, cupping it. He stroked her face before placing his forehead so it touched hers. A kiss.

She closed her eyes completely before touching his lips with her long fingers.

"How long has it been since I saw your face?" Kazama released her before sitting nonchalantly on the pillows beside them, "I fight many battles and still I long to see your face." He glared at her lightly before extending his body so it lounged comfortably on the pillows.

"I hoped the stink of war could remove your sent from me," he closed his eyes when he felt her rest behind him and wrap an arm around his waist shyly, "Why do you still grip me with nervousness?"

She spoke for the first time this night, "Because you say things that hurt me."

He lifted the hand that did not support his head and hesitantly placed it over hers, "Then you are not the woman I came to-" he stopped. He could not say it.

She dug her fingers into his kimono, "Do not do this to me." she whispered.

He intertwined his fingers with hers, "I will try not to…my love. I will try not to." She rested her head in the curve of his neck and wept quietly, "How I am breaking."

He gripped her hand tighter and gently rested his head on hers, "Love is a word that does not easily come from my lips. I have seen things fought for the name of love, but only seek hate. I have fed myself on things I considered love, but they were indulgences for my ears. It is hard to say 'I love you' when love is not something you grasp. I do not believe in things I cannot myself see."

Chizuru unwound their fingers and lifted her head from his neck. He frowned when he lost some of her body heat, and laid on the pillows, his back resting on their support. He saw her sit up beside him. When he glanced at her, he felt her throw herself on top of his upper half and press herself into him.

She looked for his eyes, and when she found them, they locked.

"My love for you is more than something I say. I touch you nervously because I love you too much to firmly grasp you. I do not wish to burden you. You hurt me when you speak to me as if you wish I were not with you. I lay with you at night and encircle you because my love is something that extends to you like arms that extend to something broken. Love does not need to be said, to be felt, but when you do not sit with me as you use to, or joke with me as you normally do-that love feels lost. I seek the words, 'I love you' because it is conformation for things I cannot feel from you when you are far from me. I want you to be uncomfortable because love is not easy. What I love about Kazama is that he tries to keep me with him even when he tells me to go. I love it when pulls his fingers through my hair even when he tells me that he hates being affectionate. I love that he loves me without realizing it." Kazama looked away, embarrassed. She pressed down on him further causing him to groan at the motion, "I love that he moves with me even when he is telling himself that he cannot love me. I ask you to tell me you love me because I want you to know, that you love me."

He wrapped his arms around her with fierceness, "If you keep pressing you'll cause me to lose control. Ease up on me" he grinned slyly, "I am creating a monster."

Chizuru blushed and hid her head in his chest. He placed his hands on her head and laughed lightly; causing Chizuru to appreciate her husband's toned body once more.

"You are twisted to think that by asking for my love you will help me acknowledge it. However," he ran his right hand down her back slowly, "this closeness causes me to groan despite myself. Never has any woman caused this stir in me as you have. My love, do not make me say such trivial things when you yourself said you can feel my love."

She placed her right hand on his thigh and turned her head to the side, enjoying the circular motions he made on her lower back, "Please tell me you love me. Declare it to me as you did that night many moons ago."

He sighed; a slight grin on his face, "I become enthralled by your voice when you use such poetic phrases. You know my love of poetry do you not?"

She smiled deeply, "How you bask in my love is like a cup to ones lips that brings the soothing liquid to ones throat. You bring refreshment when I am weary, and your surface is both delicate and rough. As I seek your pleasure once more, I am beside myself as I realize that I cannot take and take repeatedly without giving something in return. However, as my lips touch the cups lips it sings to me in shimmers, 'Oh do not remove me from your lips!' it cries, 'Do not take your cool face from my side! How many moons have I searched for lips that fit in mine! How sweet you are, and how quickly I have come to love thee.' I realize then that he needs me more than I first thought. I did not think that the simple act of drinking from his core that I was giving to him something much deeper. I was bringing to him the feeling of being needed, of feeling useful and nourished. I sought his comfort and he sought my love. From this then, how should we live our lives? Should one not be the cup that always brings solace to its bearer, and should not one be the taster who gave love unwittingly to its pair. I tell you my lovers that life should be both a cup and the lips that drink from the cup. You must be both the one who gives love and who receives it. How then shall the other be satisfied if one only drinks or if one only provides?"

Kazama ran a hand through her hair and pressed deeper into her back, "You dare to quote my favorite poet and novelist?"

She giggled and squeezed his thigh, "She knows her words. Do not always ask for my love and not give me any. I need more than glances to be loved completely." She looked far into the trees beyond the small pond in their yard, "I know I am selfish to ask so much of you and I know-" Kazama removed his hand from her hair and traced down her nose to her lips and lightly pressed his pointer finger on her luscious lips, "Speak no more, for I can feel the tears behind those words."

He grabbed her chin and pulled lightly so she would look up at him. When she did so he smiled the smile, only she had the pleasure to see, "I do not seek your tears, but your kisses. If telling you those simple words will ease you my love, the surely I shall put your mind at ease."

As he opened his mouth to say them, she quickly released his thigh and pressed her pointer finger on his mouth, stopping him.

"You never realized this whole time you have been saying it to me again and again. 'My love' you start, 'my love' you finish. I only tease you my dear, for you whisper 'I love you' to me with more than your actions. You whisper 'I love you' to me each time your mouth opens to speak to me. You say I love you each time you say anything. You voice is so deep that it vibrates through my bones, and causes me to stir with delight. I have only been teasing you, my dear. Only do I jest. I know that you love me, and I know you say things because you are such an awkward fellow." He looked away darkly, but not evilly. She knew the difference, he reasoned. When he felt her right hand creep its way down his chin and inside his kimono he knew she knew. Her touch on his side caused him to move into her. She smiled and blushed when his hand pulled at the fabric of her gown.

He turned back to face her and grinned wickedly when their eyes locked again.

"Then let me again prove my love to you in a way that will make you sing to the mountains of this love we share."

She smiled brightly at him, a glimmer in her eye, "I become enthralled by your voice when you use such poetic phrases. You know my love of poetry do you not?"

He laughed deeply again, his hand pulling at her fabric with more force, "As the moons light touches the surface of the water, so too is my love for you. It casts its beauty on you because it cannot help but see itself in you."

She knew he would be gone in the morning to do his work, but he would come back to be with her because as she slid off his kimono and he tugged at hers, she knew he would never have opened himself up to her if he had any inclination of never coming back.

She shuddered when he leaned in close to her, lightly switching her places, pressing his body into hers, "I love you."