Haruhi wasn't quite sure how this had happened. She knew that there was some logic to the evening's progression, but the details were fuzzy. Being pressed up against her bedroom door with a hot mouth around her left nipple and long pianist's fingers trying to maneuver their way into her waistband wasn't helping her to remember either.

First, there had been the dinner. No, the car accident and the funeral. Seeing him surrounded by people sucking up to him, too preoccupied with currying favor to remember that he needed time to grieve. She had hugged him, despite the fact that she hadn't seen him in four years, despite the fact that he had spent a whole summer whispering pretty words like love and forever to her and then stopped answering her calls a month later. The funeral had been when she found out…

She tangled her fingers in damp blonde hair, pulling his mouth away from its work. He kissed her, sloppy in his eagerness. When he let her up for air, she spoke, "Tamaki, we-"

"I know." He agreed against her lips, "Tell me to stop. Tell me and I swear I will."

Then his hand reached its destination between her legs and she arched her back and gasped in his ear. "Don't."

After the funeral had been the dinner. It had been awkward, for all that he had been perfectly charming. But the dinner had been all business, and the professionalism between the young lawyer's assistant and the 25 year old, newly appointed head of the Suoh family had never faltered.

His free hand wrapped around her thigh and pulled her leg up to hook around his hip, giving him more room to work. She let her head fall forward, using his shoulder to muffle her moan. She kissed her way along his throat, reaching around to fit her palms against his perfect ass and pull his hips flush against hers, trapping his hand between them. His adam's apple vibrated against her lips in the shape of her name.

He scooped her up and dropped her on the bed, sliding her skirt off her legs, baring her to him. She might have been embarrassed if her fingers weren't so busy ridding him of his belt and worming their way into his (designer, no doubt) boxers to wrap around his length.

He thrust into her hand with a groan while she tried to push his sodden pants from his legs. He pulled away long enough to kick them off and then he was back, settling between her thighs, digging blunt fingernails into her ass to drag her closer. "Birth control?" He demanded between kisses, "Condom?"

"Birth control."

"Good." He needed no further invitation, and lined himself up and sank into her heat, his mouth open in a silent moan. He moved immediately, giving her no time to adjust, and hissed his approval against her collarbone.

After the dinner, he had walked her home, and the detached professionalism had evaporated, leaving behind only a bond that time had been unable to erase. It was during that short walk that she had been faced again with Tamaki's odd ability to talk about his own suffering as casually as one would discuss the weather. He had been smiling as he told her things that made her heart ache for him. It was also during that walk that it started pouring, soaking them both to the skin in short order. That was how she had ended up with a shirtless, lonely Tamaki in her apartment. Really, it was no surprise that he had ended up in her bed.

"Haruhi." He was close, she could tell, but gentleman that he was, he was trying to hold off until she got there too. The night had been all about heat and urgency, which combined to make this a quick lay. She wasn't getting off tonight. He was too eager; she, too distracted.

She tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled him down for a searing kiss. "Let go, Tamaki."

"But- mon dieu-" He swore when she squeezed around him. "You haven't-"

"I know. It's okay." She drew her nails down the back of his neck and he dropped his head against her shoulder, shuddering as he came.

He made no effort to move for a long time, breath coming in short pants against her skin. When finally he did roll off her, he didn't go far: he pillowed his head on her breasts and draped an arm across her waist. Haruhi combed her fingers absently through his hair and they laid together in comfortable silence.

She wasn't sure when they fell asleep, but she was still in his arms when she woke the next morning. His breath was tickling the short hairs at the back of her neck, and he was pressed flush against her back, with his right arm curled around her waist, his left beneath her head.

In the morning sunlight, the silver band on his ring finger glinted accusingly at her, reminding her exactly how wrong this was. It ruined the afterglow and she got up and took a shower, unable to face that ring. When she got out, Tamaki was gone.

Author's Note: Whoops. Guess that happened. So here's an AU, for your consideration.