Unchained Angel by Dianna Silver ------------------------------------------------------------- She'd done it, just like she knew she always would. After all, she was the panther, the silent stalker, the one that would, in the end, have her way despite whatever machinations the Student Council President and even the Ends of the World had in mind. Just as she had expected, she was still empty inside. White rose petals littered the Arena floor, the would-be prince defeated by one far better skilled. Silly child, to stumble into these games with hardly any experience and expect to let only her noble heart win the day. Nobility was for fools, just as miracles were for cowards. Leaving that castle in the air behind, Juri stepped out into the garden just past the massive, impressive rose gate that lead up to the spiral stairs that seemed to reach to the very heavens. She wasn't there, staring up at the sophisticated Student Council member with large, adoring violet-blue eyes. No, the one that waited there was someone something completely different. Just as she had expected. There were no miracles to be had. "I'm Anthy Himemiya, and I've been waiting for you. From this moment forward, I am your flower." "Come along, Anthy," Juri responded to the demure-looking girl who was the Rose Bride, the key to it all. Without a second look back at her new-won Bride, the tangerine haired woman stalked back to her room. "Yes, Miss Juri." Nearly silent footsteps indicated that the girl was doing as she was bidden, walking in the shadow of the triumphant, new Victor. ------------------------------------------------------------- Why was she still so cold inside? She'd won. She'd proven to herself that there was no such thing as the power of miracles. Nothing had changed. There had been no knock on the door, no breathless voice how cruel that sweet voice could be at times--did she ever truly know what it did to her?--saying that she was sorry, that there was no reason for her to look upon her childhood friend with such disgust. Yes, that's right. I could see the disgust in your eyes when you looked upon me, stealing my power for yourself, and I still slipped your picture back to rest near my heart. It didn't matter now. Nothing really did. All that would ever be there would be the coldness, the longing. There was no power of miracles, just as she'd always known. Juri turned her turquoise gaze to linger over the quiet girl busily tidying up her no, their room. The world had changed slightly, though. She did have the Bride after all. Seemingly aware of the scrutiny of her new Victor, the dark haired girl sat up from scrubbing the floor and smiled brightly at the other female. "Is everything to your satisfaction, Miss Juri?" Restlessly, the pantherine girl rose from her chair, her steps taking her toward the bathroom. "It's fine, Anthy." "That's good, Miss Juri," came the Bride's reply as the bathroom door shut with a sound that seemed to be so final to Juri's darkened mood. Still hollow inside. No matter what she did, it wouldn't go away. Clothing rustled softly in the silence as dextrous fingers unbuttoned and unzipped. A casual toss and the neat, trim, white and coral colored uniform fell to the floor, as rumpled as the rose petals scattered to the wind. Turquoise eyes stared back at themselves in the reflection of the mirror, then slid slowly down her nude form. Tall, slender, gracefully muscular, with all the requisite feminine curves and pert breasts just the right size for her body, she knew that her outward appearance certainly wasn't repulsive. It was just . . . female, and that was the problem. She wasn't interested in that. Even with the much-vaunted "power of miracles", had it existed, she still wouldn't be interested in that. The smallest of sighs; turning her gaze from the reflection in the mirror, Juri pulled her attention away from that. Reaching out, she turned on the water, listening to it as it fell like rain like tears against the tile and porcelain of the tub. Bowing her head, she stepped into the pristine, white tub and drew the curtain shut behind herself. Alone, with just herself, the water and the whiteness, she let the purifying liquid run over her, dampening her tangerine colored hair, her hand taking the bar of soap into her grasp. With every glide of the bar over her soft, wet skin, a part of her wished there was another there doing this, that she was in this closed-off, little world, fingers caressing over her. It was so easy to imagine . . . Short, damp, violet-highlighted hair clinging to a gentle, sweet face, violet-blue eyes half-closed in passion as her hands cupped the taller girl's firm breasts just so, palms rubbing against the stiffening nipples. The sound of the water drowning out the faint sighs as the caressing grew more intense, more pleasurable. Juri tilted her head back, the spray from the shower hitting the crown of her head as her own hands massaged the rounded swell of her chest. It was so easy, in this little world, to make for herself the way she wished it could be. Fingers tugging and rolling the flesh of one erect nipple, Juri slid the fingertips of her other hand slowly over her flat belly. I have always admired you, Juri. Always. The words are ones she longed to hear from her secret love, even as she longed after the touch of Shiori's hands on her body. I was just afraid to tell you that. The shower again drowned out the soft gasp made by the fencing captain as her hand found its goal. Bracing her feet apart slightly, Juri began to stroke herself intimately, matching the rhythm of what her other hand was continuing to do to one pert breast. Up and down, squeeze and tug . . . Each caress of her hands made the growing tension get just that much more tighter but it wasn't enough. The hollowness remained at the center of it all, veneered with the tingling arousal created by herself and her desires. If anything, the contrast between the arousal and the emptiness only made the nothingness more noticeable. With a growl of disgust, Juri let her hands drop to her sides. Pathetic. That's what she'd become. Even being the Victor hadn't changed that. Shoving aside thoughts of Shiori and her own arousal, the fencing captain coldly finished up her shower, her hands washing the rest of her body and then shampooing her hair almost robotically. Even so, she couldn't shake the heavy, leaden feeling resting between her thighs, no matter how hard she ignored it or how vigorously she towelled off her body and her hair. Angry at herself, angry at the world, Juri snatched up her silken robe from where it had been lying ready. A quick glance to the floor, however, showed her that her uniform was gone. Anthy . . . Had the Rose Bride come in here while she was . . . ? Faint patches of crimson tinged the cheeks of the fencing captain, but only for a moment. The mask fell back into place, reflecting the coldness lying there underneath the warm coil of desire. Well, since she was now engaged to the Bride, there must be something the girl could do that would make having her worthwhile. It certainly wouldn't be this non-existent power. Slipping the soft, ruffled robe on and settling it over her shoulders, Juri didn't bother to close it or tie the belt. Long hair flowing loose, no longer confined in the curls she had favored ever since Shiori had left the academy, the pantherine teen stepped out of the bathroom. "Did you have a nice shower, Miss Juri? I took your uniform to have it cleaned. I hope you don't mind." "No, I don't mind," she responded, turquoise eyes looking over the other girl. Slender, graceful, with large, leaf-green eyes and gorgeous dark hair alight with purple highlights, the Rose Bride was indeed a beautiful flower. There was a regalness to her that seemed beyond the earthly realm. Juri inwardly frowned, wondering why she'd not quite noticed that before. Something about her made her seem to be a little piece of heaven . . . And she was all hers by right of winning the Duel . . . Holding out a hand imperiously, turquoise eyes narrowing slightly, Juri's low voice carried through the room, though softly spoken. "Come here, Anthy." The smile faded from the Bride's lips, the casual atmosphere falling away like the shards of a shattered mirror. Slowly, the dark-skinned girl walked up to her angelic Victor, the green eyes searching the other woman's stony face. She could tell what the proud angel wanted, what she needed, and it was her place to do as the Victor requested. Stopping before Juri, Anthy looked up, green eyes meeting turquoise, hands clasped together before her. Allowing herself a faint smile, Juri reached up and gently took the glasses from the other girl's face. Setting them aside in order to keep them safe, her fingers next skimmed through the pinned up hair, releasing it to fall in long, rich skeins of dark silk. Her Bride was indeed a beautiful flower, and all hers. "So what if there's no power of miracles? You are certainly quite the prize in and of yourself, are you not?" she murmured, combing her fingers through the soft hair. "If you say so, Miss Juri," Anthy responded, her own voice soft as well. The faint smile remained. Slim fingers slipped from the dark silk, only to slide down over the curve of a shoulder and down the dark skin of an arm. Taking the Bride by the wrist, the fencing captain lead Anthy from the spot before the bathroom door over to where her comfortable bed rested up against a wall. Coming to a halt next to the bed, Juri shrugged out of her robe as she turned loose of the other girl's wrist. Absently gathering up the downy material and haphazardly folding it, she set it aside on the top of the dresser before stretching out her nude form across the top of the bed. Her tangerine hair splayed out around her, Juri looked up to the silent Bride standing there, watching, waiting. "Well then, sweet rose," she ordered, her voice taking on a sarcastic tone, "come please your latest Victor." They always seemed to come to this. All of them save Utena. Her leaf-green eyes taking on a distant, glazed appearance, Anthy crawled onto the bed. Lying down next to the angelic figure already there, she closed her eyes and pressed her lips against the other woman's mouth, a dark hand alighting onto the curve of one of Juri's hips. As the slender fingers stroked upward along the other woman's side to at last cover a breast and gently give it a squeeze, Anthy slanted her mouth this way and that over the other woman's lips. The leaden tension was back, with a vengeance. But the hollowness remained, a yawning chasm deep within. Angry at that, Juri reached up, burying her fingers in her Bride's hair, holding Anthy's head in place as she forced her tongue between the girl's petal-soft lips to take possession of her. The dark girl merely sighed into the kiss, tongue rubbing erotically against Juri's, fingers tickling along the side of the fencing captain's breast to finally give the erect nipple a firm tug. Lifting a leg, Anthy placed it on top of one of Juri's long, slender limbs, then started moving it up and down in a rhythmic caress that matched the one that tongue and hand were performing. Every nerve in Juri startled tingling, the tension within only getting more intense. Her demanding hold on the other girl's head lessened, her fingers combing through that fascinating mane once more. The Rose Bride took that as a signal to move on. Breaking the kiss with a gentle nibble to the other woman's lower lip, dark strands of her long hair dragging over Juri's fair skin, Anthy's mouth descended to give attention to the breast her hand had been massaging. The tip of her warm, pink tongue licked tentatively against the erect nipple, making Juri softly gasp at the pleasant sensation, before lapping a circle over the rosy aureole. The small breeze of Anthy's exhale only made the nipple pucker up a bit more; a shiver ran down Juri's spine at the intense feelings. Still running her fingers though the Bride's dark, wavy hair, the angelic Duelist shifted restlessly. Who knew that someone else's touch would feel so heavenly? She had long thought it would feel something like this had she gotten her wish and had won Shiori. Ruka had been . . . all right, nice, but not what she had yearned for. She had tolerated the other fencer simply because she had staked her honor on a bet and had lost. That she had just lain there and put up with his attentions had hurt him, but Juri hadn't cared. He knew who lived in her heart; it was only fitting that his prize for winning was something as hollow as what Juri had inside. But this . . . Was there something to the story of the Bride having special powers? No, it couldn't be true, yet why was every nerve singing with pleasure unimaginable as the girl worked her magic on her Victor? The feel of those petal-soft lips began to slowly wander ever lower, accompanied by the tickling stroke of long, violet-highlighted hair. From her breast now, down over the flat plane of her belly, Anthy kissed and nibbled a fiery trail over Juri's silken skin, pausing to nip lightly at the edge of the other girl's navel before rhythmically stroking the sensitive depression by pressing the tip of her tongue repeatedly into Juri's navel. Groaning softly, the fencing captain turned loose of Anthy's hair; one hand returned to squeezing and fondling a breast the one not given the Bride's attention while Juri turned her head to the side and tangled the fingers of her free hand into her own mane of luxurious, tangerine colored hair. The feel of Anthy's tongue and lips disappeared. The bedsprings creaked faintly as the Bride's weight shifted on it. Juri's breath caught in anticipation, her fingers tightening in her own hair. The touch that finally came was electrifying, making the lithe fencer's hips jerk upward involuntarily. Her hair draped over the paler woman's thighs, Anthy continued to stroke the damp cleft of Juri's femininity with her tongue, a hand lightly scraping fingernails along the sensitive skin of the Student Council member's thigh. Shivering and making little moans, her breathing rapid, the Victor spread her legs apart even more, silently pleading for more. The dark-skinned girl lifted her hand from the other woman's thigh, slipping it there to the object of her attentions. Gently spreading apart the delicate petals, Anthy caressed the hard nub now exposed with the warm, wet surface of her tongue. Back and forth, back and forth, then a circling of the sensitive little knob of flesh with the tip of her tongue before going back to rhythmically licking it. Her breathing coming in hard gasps, Juri turned her head to the other side, writhing from the intense sensations of pleasure. Those few times she had given in to temptation and desire and had touched herself were nothing like what the Rose Bride was doing to her. It was wonderful, the way this delicate, beautiful flower could play her as if she were Miki's piano. She didn't know how much more she could stand . . . "Come please your latest Victor" had been her request. Head positioned between Juri's fair-skinned thighs, her own dark hair spilling over the other woman's legs and the blankets covering the surface of the bed, Anthy was bound to do her best to fill the Victor's wishes. Still holding the delicate folds of skin apart with one hand, the Bride reached down to slip first one, then two fingers into the hot, wet, waiting sheath below where her tongue stroked. Pressing them in deeper, then pulling them almost all the way out, Anthy inwardly smiled as the panther-like Duelist gasped and groaned at the added sensations. Fingers continuing their motion, the Bride curled her tongue around the swollen nub, caressing it on nearly all sides at once with a back and forth stroke for a few moments before taking it into her mouth and suckling on it. Juri shuddered and bucked, crying out, almost mindless from the overwhelming ecstasy. It was frightening, being this out of control, reduced to pure sensation and reaction. Yet it was also attractive, in a dark, seductive sort of way. But this isn't me . . . This isn't how I am . . . Her body didn't care. It did as it saw fit, reacting to the blissful sensations, thrumming with the almost searing feelings. The heavy tightness was intense; Juri thought for sure that she would wind up dying before the end came. Come it did, though, at last, Anthy tenaciously continuing to suckle and lick, to tease and stroke as the most incredible sensations of release rolled through Juri's lithe form. The fencer's hips lifted into the air as she shuddered, the muscles of her feminine sheath clenching tightly around the dark girl's fingers and then relaxing over and over as the orgasm took control, the soft, wet sounds accompanying the movement of the Bride's fingers in and out being lost in the shuddering scream of pleasure wrung form the Victor. But like all good things, even that deeply satisfying release came to an end. Winded and feeling utterly drained, Juri laid there sprawled out over the surface of her bed, panting, her heart pounding hard in her chest. The air of the room was slightly chill against her sweat-sheened skin, the only reminder she really had that she was still alive; she could have sworn she had died and gone to heaven. The weight on the bed shifted again, the springs lightly creaking. The angelic Duelist was only vaguely aware of Anthy moving to lie down next to her again, could hardly feel the soft hands reach up and slide fingertips along the juncture of shoulders and neck. The wonderful afterglow had a seduction all its own. But when the little snick sounded, when the weight of the golden chain and its rose-decorated locket were lifted from her, Juri was swiftly and rudely dumped back into reality. Turquoise eyes flew open, a scathing protest welling up within her. As she watched, needing so badly to get that pendant back, Anthy merely gave her Victor a mysterious smile and clasped both hands around chain and locket. "See? You don't need her to feel good," the Bride said, opening her hands. To Juri's horror, all that remained of the precious memento were a handful of orange rose petals cupped in the palm of Anthy's hand. "No! What have you done?" Juri sat up swiftly, reaching out to the flower petals, but the wind from her movement made the orange petals scatter and dance out of her reach . . . ------------------------------------------------------------- With a gasp, the fencing captain looked around, turquoise eyes scanning over her room. It was still dark out, the silvery light of the moon filtering into her bedchamber and giving her some light to see by. Her hand rested at the hollow of her throat, feeling nothing there . . . and in that moment, it all came back to her. It was gone. Shattered by the strike from the Sword of Dios. After losing that, the Duel hadn't been worth it. She had chosen to end it, had ripped the orange rose from her chest. It had been a dream. Only a dream. "A dream," she whispered to herself, lowering her hand to grab at the covers still draped over her lap. There were no such things as miracles . . . So why was the hollow feeling now gone? You don't need her to feel good . . . "No, I don't," Juri affirmed, a slight smile curling up the corners of her mouth. Ruka had been right, as the rain from the heavens had washed over them all as they stood there in the sacred place of the Duelling Arena. "It'll be all right," he had told her, still caring despite the hollowness of his own victory. Somewhere, out there, there was someone. Shiori would never be what she hoped for. It was time, at last, to move on. Utena's nobility had certainly brought the Victor so far. Who knew what Juri could accomplish through nobility. She didn't need to be the Victor, or have a miracle performed, in order to find out. Slipping from the bed, the fencing captain walked over to the window of her room and looked up at the stars twinkling there in the early morning sky. "Thank you, Utena, Ruka," she whispered. It would be the only thanks she would ever express. She then turned away, ready to face the new day, an earthbound angel set free of the golden chains binding her . . .