Title: Cold
Prompt: Set during your favorite season
A/N: This thing is ancient. I wrote this for Season 4 of my Seasons of Kisses book, but I think I am going to go in a different direction for that book . . . if I ever get inspiration again. Anyway, have some more jaya.

It is always cold in the Samurai X cave.

Nya likes it cold. The cold keeps her focused.

Focus is imperative to completing important tasks such as inspecting and fixing armor, running diagnostics, and upgrading system operations for her mech suit and a myriad of other vehicles under her care for the team.

Focus keeps her mind from wandering to unhelpful things. Things like ninja clad in blue and silver armor, covering taut muscles not sculpted from vanity, but from dedicated athleticism and disciplined training. That radiate heat and an undeniable hum of electricity just below the surface, and tense noticeably whenever she gets too close or makes an excuse to accidentally brush up against them. Or warm eyes that light up with sparks of blue to match cheerful smiles. Or lips that curl up ever so slightly, a knowing tell, before taking advantage of blurting out a witty comeback in an opportunity too good to pass up. Those same lips, that would part slightly to let in a sharp but obvious stifled inhale, whenever she leans in close to steal a quick kiss on freckle dusted cheeks.

Definitely not those types of unhelpful things.

Nya pauses from her work to wipe the sweat from her brow, noting that she should check the climate control because it seems unusually warm in her not-so-secret-anymore lair.  The temperature readouts are the same as always. Cold.

Odd.

Distracted by her fading focus, she almost doesn't realize she's not alone anymore.  She senses the presence of another close by and curses herself for not noticing it sooner.  So much for a strategic advantage.  Fortunately for her, she does not sense a killing intent from the intruder.  She turns slowly, careful to conceal the wrench in her hand to use in self defense, and faces the other person in the room, who no longer is making any attempt at hiding from her.

"Hi," she says, trying to identify if the person is friend or foe, "I don't remember inviting you here."

"You didn't."

"Then why are you here?"

"You know why."

The mystery assailant steps forward in a slow gait until he is only one step away from her.  Nya curls her lips into a coy smile, finally recognizing him; the blue ninja.  Her eyes sweep over him in an appreciative glance.

"Funny, I was just thinking about you," she admits and looks up at him through her lashes, fighting against the growing smile that threatens to bloom across her face.

"I must be psychic then," he smiles back.

"Oh? What am I thinking now?"

He steps forward again to close the gap between them, purposefully not making any contact with any point on her body.  She should be able to feel his hot breath tickling her forehead, if not for his mask, but she can feel the warmth from him throughout her own form. 

It makes her shiver in more ways than one.

She hears a gentle hum, but she's not sure if it is from the white noise of the electronics in the cave, or from his elemental power dancing just below the surface of his skin, yearning to be let loose but kept at bay with practiced control. 

He leans in, ever so slightly, still not making contact with her save for his hands that find themselves resting lightly on her hips. In one fluid motion he lifts her off the ground and sets her down on the workbench, hands still on her hips and not once breaking eye contact.  She stares into his warm blue eyes, and he stares right back, as if waiting for orders.

"My shoes," she breaths, as if it were the most logical thing in the world.

"Of course," he replies, and leans away.

Gloved hands pull away from her hips and slowly trace their way down her lithe thighs, veering to the side to brush the underside of her knees, continuing down the supel curve of her creamy calves and coming to a stop at her slim ankles.  Fingers curl into the small gap between her heels and shoes, and pull them off delicately, one at a time.  The footwear falls to the floor with a soft thud.

One. Two.  Then instantly forgotten. 

Gloved fingers trace their way up the soles of her bare feet and over her toes, grazing the tops of her arches, gentle circles over her shins, splaying over her knees, palms flat on her thighs slowly pushing up until his hands are back to the same position, resting nicely on her hips. 

His warm blue eyes bore into hers and she parts her lips to release a breath she doesn't know she is holding.  Another shiver dances down her spine, and she convinces herself it is due to the chill in the cave, not because her nerve endings are on high alert.  Not because of a blue ninja in front of her who is close, yet keeping a purposeful distance.

Nya likes the cold. The cold keeps her focused.  Goosebumps are caused by the cold, not by ninja clad in blue.

She searches his eyes again, looking for a telling sign that he is just as affected as she is, any hint of wavering control, but is greeted by the same warm stare, as if waiting for her to make the next move.

So she does.

Her hands slide from her lap to the hands resting on her hips, then mirror his prior movements by slowly tracing up his forearms, grazing over his elbows, up his biceps with an appreciative squeeze, palms flat against his shoulders and fingers circling over his neck, coming to a stop and delicately cupping his face. 

Leaning in, she places a sweet kiss on his lips, still covered by the mask.  She pulls away and sees his eyes are still open, maintaining the same warm stare. His hands are still resting gently on her hips, no sign of flinching. 

Her thumbs hook around the edge of his mask, pulling it down, and she leans in once again, this time touching her lips to his.  She angles her face so she can kiss his lower lip, then upper lip, then darts her tongue out to trace the line between.  His lips part to suck in a breath and she takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss.  His warm blue eyes end the staring contest by finally fluttering close and his fingers twitch on her hips. 

It is all the invitation she needs.

Her legs swing up and wrap around him, pulling his body flush against hers. Her hands sweep the hood off his head so she can tangle her fingers in the hair on the nape of his neck. Her tongue slides fluidly into his mouth and brushes against his. 

It is all the invitation he needs. 

His grip on her hips tighten, thumbs rubbing absentmindedly over the silky dress and relishing the feeling of soft curves underneath.  Then his hands glide up the small of her back, fingers tracing out a pattern across her spine that says in some language that she's never learned but somehow understands to mean that he has missed her.  They come to a rest at the base of her neck, warm pressure on her skin, signaling to tilt her head to the side so he can lay a barrage of kisses down her jaw.

Her hands move on their own violation down his chest, fingers drawing out runes along the collar of his gi. She hopes he knows it means she has missed him too.  In response he deepens the kisses along her neck, smiling as she lets out a soft moan.  She responds in kind by tugging on his gi to gain access.  His elemental power shutters through his frame, and she feels the tiny hairs on her arms stand on end from the change in potential energy.

He leans forward, and she lays back on the workbench without much resistance. Her nerve endings light up like the emergency controls of the Samurai X mech as he climbs on top of her, legs brushing against her bare skin as gloved hands slowly hike up her skirt.  The gentle hum grows louder and the air feels super charged with electricity.  Fingers curl around the waistband of her panties, waiting for permission.

There is a loud sound, rhythmic and annoying.  She buries her head in his neck, wanting the sound to go away, but it gets louder.  The sound is distantly familiar, like the warning klaxons from the cave's security system.  She hits a nearby remote to deactivate the alarm system, but the sound persists. 

"What's happening?" she wonders, irritated that she can't stop the sound.

The blue ninja grins at her. "Time to get up."

Nya blinks her eyes open to the familiar surroundings of her dimly lit quarters.

She glares at her alarm clock, and it glares right back at her, flashing 6:00AM and chirping helpfully in perfect rhythm that is is in fact 6:00AM and she ought to consider doing something about it.

Nya rolls over and moans. She pinches the bridge of her nose to pull her mind from the foggy recollection of a dream she's starting to forget, doesn't understand, and quite honestly doesn't want to remember nor understand. Yet her body's reaction to said dream is completely unhelpful to her brain's early morning decisions. She vaguely recalls the ninja teasing each other with the term 'cold shower' from time to time, and although she pretends not to hear or brush it off as 'boys being boys', she figures it's a reasonable solution to her current predicament. Hormones. What a bitch. Begrudgingly she gets up and stumbles toward the bathroom for a cold shower.

Nya likes the cold. The cold keeps her focused.

The cold helps her forget about ninja clad in blue.