Eh? Aa, sou.
A/N: Inspired by the awesome PV.
Warnings: Sexual Implications
Disclaimer: I own nothing, other than her.
There's a reason for the blue necktie.
Late afternoon.
Friday.
A school classroom on the third floor.
She was a student. A young one. A minor.
She knows much—too much.
Her elbow perched upon the table, her feet atop the chair in front of her.
She was waiting.
And she waits.
A yawn escaped her mouth; she uses her free hand and shifts her glasses up. She then flips her shoulder-length hair back her shoulder.
She sighs, "It's taking him forever. . ."
Fifteen minutes pass, she shifts her legs and leans back the chair; "I swear, if he doesn't come i—"
A cough forces her to turn her head to the door, she smirks; "Took you long enough,"
"What can I say?" The visitor enters cautiously, sliding the door lock as he does, "We're busy people."
She removes her feet; she gets up and strides towards him, "Busy? You don't know the meaning of the word." She pulls him over and places her lips over his.
She grips his collar as he pushes her to the wall, his smirk evident on her lips; his hand on her cheek, and the other gripping the hem of her sweater.
"How wouldn't I know?" He pants as he pulls away from her, "I wouldn't be who I am if I don't know the meaning of the word, 'busy'."
"Right," She walks away, tugging the sleeve of his suit along with her, he follows along.
She sits on the edge of the teacher's desk—their desk, as they've claimed—and he stands in front of her, hands on her hips.
"What?" She pouts, cupping with cheeks with her sweater-clad hands, "At a loss for words?" She chuckles and kisses his cheek tenderly.
"This, this isn't right." He says, eyes suddenly filled with guilt, "We aren't supposed to—"
"Oh stop being a worry-wart, they wouldn't know anyways." She says as ocean blue connects with earthen brown, "They don't have to know." She says reassuringly.
"What if they knew? You know what they could do to us right?" He worries, looking away from her eyes.
"They will never know, I promise you, they will never know." Her thumb brushes below his eye as he leans in, she meets him halfway.
And just like every single kiss they've shared, it was electrifying cold at first, eventually turning warm, and then more so on becoming feverish and wanting—hot and wet even. . .
Her legs embrace his hips, her hands grip his hair and neck; his hand on her back pushes her deeper into him, his hand tugging her hair makes her whimper—much like they've done days before.
A pained gasp escapes her lips as she falls onto the desk, dark hair splayed everywhere; he dominates her, his arms caging her in.
"You haven't changed a bit," She compliments him, relaxing into the position.
"Who says I have? Now take off your glasses,"
"Only if you take off yours."
He smirks, a hand now underneath her sweater and her shirt. She gasps as he pushes the garment above her stomach, cold air rushing across her newly exposed skin.
"Hey! What are you—!" The last syllable goes into an extended moan as he kisses on her abdomen. For a while she is in a fit of giggles and laughter as he hits all her sensitive stops with his lips. In the process, he looses his glasses and she looses hers.
He removes himself as she follows right after, fluttering kisses along his jaw line at the same time loosening his tie. His mouth goes for hers—she groans at the sudden pressure (pleasure)—she undoes the first few buttons on his top, leaving his upper torso bare to her hands. She doesn't notice her top hiking and hiking higher, his hands now on the inside of her undergarment, gripping the skin tight—she groans into the kiss as his tongue prods the top of her mouth cavity.
He presses her down to the desk as he traces his lips down to her neck. She pants out incoherent words as she arches upward—pressing herself deeper—legs muscles tightening in pleasure around him, hands gripping his shoulders. He nips and sucks her neck; she squeals and whimpers at the contact.
He goes for the unusual; a hand caresses her thigh, rubbing and pinching it as she whispers for more. The other hand, beneath her shirt, traces figures on her chest; occasionally tracing on the skin itself—she gasps at the contact.
They stop, as the one of the last students exits the front gate. The giggle as no one seemed to notice them standing by the window. Their hair was disheveled, uniform a mess; buttons, ties and all—but their hands clasped around each other, fingers intertwined.
"Doesn't it feel like we're the only ones around?" She asks, "What if we're locked here inside the school? For the rest of the weekend?" She chuckles softly.
"We won't, the guards would check the rooms anytime now. . ."
"So we'd better get going then? Wouldn't want to get suspended or something, right?" She pulls he hand away from his and peck on his cheek, "I'm off!" She smiles, grabbing her bag, slinging it over her shoulder; she runs off.
That was the last time he ever sees her. . .
—physically that is.
She disappears the next week, but she floods his email and his phone inbox with messages; none saying why she left or where she is. She tells him she's alright and that she's having the time of her life wherever she is. He asks if she's dropped schooling due to financial business, she says no. He asks where she's schooling, she says somewhere decent. He asks if there's anyone new in her life, she answers with;
"What? Didn't we talk about this already? I'm not yours and you're not mine. But still, there is no one for me as there is no one for you. Our relationship follows our terms; sexual terms. And that doesn't have to do with our personal, emotional lives. We agreed that it'll only be physical right? As long as nothing happens, we'll remain as we are."
But something did happen, he loved her; physically, mentally, emotionally—he did, he loved her. No, he still does. The way he constantly worries for her academics, her projects, and her conduct— in a way that he shouldn't. He avoids all laws that he's already broken, as she does too.
He asks her if she's pregnant, she replies with a three points—". . .". He is shock, he immediately asks for her forgiveness, if she needs any form of help, support, or anything. She replies back with a loud exclamation that it was only a joke, she isn't pregnant. He sighs contentedly, before reading her next statement; "We haven't got into that, yet ;)" his jaw drops and hangs for a few second before he regained his composure.
She then asks him how he is doing; he replies that he's fine, but a bit lonely. . .
They continue in that pace for a couple of years, he matured, he didn't know what happened to her since she never posts any pictures or updates on her profile.
Until after three more years,
It's been a total of eight years since he's seen her, he made an anniversary especially for that date; the day he last saw her, the last day he held her hand, the last day he kissed her, the last—
He is interrupted by a rampant knocking on the door.
"Who could that be?" He asks himself, thinking that everyone was home at this hour.
He slides the door open, "Hello," He is shocked to see a girl—no, a woman, about his age; black, straight hair cut short to the neck, dark blue eyes, a black and gray uniform-like appearance overall, but a necktie, a blue neck tie similar to his. . .
He shakes it off as nothing as she greets him, "I would like to inquire about the school's current student policies, if that's alright at this time, uhm—" She reads his name pinned to his suit, "Kiyoteru-san?" She seems to meekly whisper.
"Uhm, alright miss, have a seat please." He motions her to sit on one of the chairs in front of his desk.
"Alright miss, what would you like to talk about? Attendance and—" He is cut off by a laugh coming from her.
"Miss?" He eyebrows quirk in curiosity.
"You honestly don't remember me? You're pretty stupid for someone who's been dubbed a genius." He looks at her eyes, dark blue eyes. . . much like ocean blue—
"Y-you?" His glasses nearly drop, "Eight years and you show up at this time?" He nearly shouts.
"Chill out why don't you, at least I came back." She waves her hand and smiles brightly, "So what have you been up to? See you're still teaching, huh? So, you have a girlfriend maybe? Or a few sexual favors here and there?" She chuckles loudly.
"No, there was no one, there was nothing. But I'm afraid that you've gone in everyone's beds." He could hardly believe that she was there, in front of him, and he wasn't touching or holding her in his arms.
"What? Ah, yes. . ."
And they continue from there.
A/N: Whew, 3 hours in the making. . . Here's a bit of designs for the girl; Before- /d/eaRJ, After- /d/eaVy.
Read and review please? First vocaloid fic! :) Should I continue with a sequel or not?