Disclaimer: Kaichou Wa Maid-Sama belongs to Fujiwara Hiro, and I make no money from this.
A/N: So I did this mostly to get it out of my system. I made Maid Sama p0rn. I am so so sorry. I love Usui and Misa though 3 Hope you peeps like it. Cheers.
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She is working on the last of the paperwork when he appears in the doorway, still in his butler costume.
"Shouldn't you be outside, by the bonfire? I'm sure your fanclub is dying to proposition you," she mutters crossly, raking a hand through her unpinned hair. The bun that her classmate had carefully pinned up had long fallen down, and she couldn't be bothered to fix it again. He saunters over, fishing something out of his pocket, and drops it in front of her. Her favourite sweet treat, a strawberry-flavoured lollipop, bounces off the table's surface, landing by her hand. Scowling, she raises her eyes to his. "What is this?"
He smiles, sending a bolt of heat rushing through her. She is such a sucker for his dimples. "It's a lollipop, President," he informs her, picking it up again. His long slender fingers, encased in leather, peel off the wrapping.
"I know it's a lollipop," she snaps instead. "Please, I need to finish this report. Stop bothering me."
His bland smile infuriates her. "Am I really bothering you, President?" The way he uses her title as an endearment makes her heart race, but she would die first before admitting that.
Bringing the pink orb to his lips, he licks it. Her insides quiver at the sight, and she knows her face is bright red. He licks it again. Unconsciously, she licks her own lower lip. Summoning all her dignity, she ignores him, tallying the numbers in the report on the calculator beside her.
Folding his long body onto one of the chairs, he waits. She can feel his gaze on her throughout the entire time it takes her to finish the report. Glancing at the clock, she sighs. By now, all the festivities are over and people have started cleaning up the festival. She still has to submit this to the faculty room, and inspect the school before heading home. "You can leave now, you know," she tells him, arching her back to stretch out. "You don't have to stay here and babysit me. I've still got stuff to do."
He rises up, eyes the colour of a forest at midnight sending waves of heat through her system. "I could never leave you alone, President. It's getting late, and you're a girl." She realizes, then, that he is furious, though he stalks gracefully to her desk, taking a lock of her hair between two fingers. "Sometimes you forget that. Where are the rest of the student council? Why did they leave you alone?"
"I- ah… " Caught by his gaze, she is unable to look away.
"Don't tell me you told them you would do everything yourself, Prez. Haven't we talked about this before?" His voice is silky, but she can hear the steel underneath.
"I have to turn in this report to the-" She is cut off when he sticks the lollipop between her lips. The sweetness of the strawberries floods her mouth, but she can also taste the now-familiar flavour of him. Instinctively, she closes her lips around it, eyes wide. This is an indirect kiss.
"Lick it," he orders her, still holding the stick. His eyes darken when she obeys. "Again." His mouth is on hers now, kissing her with the candy rolling between their lips and tongues, and she is drowning in the sensation.
"The President is so sweet," he whispers, the lollipop now in his mouth. "You made it better." He cradles her cheek, tracing her lips with his leather-clad thumb. Need claws up her insides, alarming her. This is the Usui, after all. Grabbing the report, she flees out the door.
The hallways are now deserted; it is later than she planned to finish. The teachers are still in the faculty room, chatting amongst themselves. Her hands tremble as she hands the teacher the final numbers. He thanks her, reminding her to do one last inspection before heading home. She nods. Once outside the faculty room, she leans against the door, trying to catch her breath. Is he waiting for her still, in the Student Council Office? Her things are there, so he knows she will return.
She strides through the hallways, checking each classroom before locking it. When she gets to the top floor, he is waiting for her. "I'll give you a 30-second headstart, President," he announces, his face impassive. She stares at him, her heart pounding, when he throws her a smirk and starts counting, in that slightly accented voice of his. And then, though she can't explain it, she starts running.
Hide-and-seek, she thinks, biting back her grin, while the school itself is decked out in costume. Suddenly, there are a million places to hide. A part of her understands what he is doing, that he wants her to enjoy herself at the festival, too, as a student, and not a student council president. She dashes through the classrooms, one by one, checking for stragglers as she should. His footsteps thunder behind her, one or two rooms behind, echoing the pounding of her heart.
In the last classroom on the floor, festooned with a haunted house theme, she pauses. It is a classroom, even if the thought of ghosts terrifies her. These are all just temporary decorations, she tells herself, diving into the dark room. Crawling behind some curtains, she curls up against the wall, hugging her knees. At least from here, she can see the sky.
The door slides open. He is here. She pulls back against the wall, trying to control her breathing. Part of her wishes she had agreed to the student council's ridiculous costume plan. It didn't feel like a festival if one wasn't in costume. But they had wanted to dress her up as some video game character, with strips of ribbon passing for actual clothing. Stupid boys. There was no way in hell she was going to dress like that.
He is close. "President," he calls, his voice echoing through the room. "I'm surprised you would hide in here, since this is the cursed classroom. Why do you think the class made this the haunted house?" He is trying to scare her. He is, she tells herself, trying not to believe him, shifting uncomfortably in the space under the windows. "Do you know about the girl who hanged herself in here? This happened a few years back, remember?"
Okay, no, she believes him. With a whimper she runs out, straight to his waiting arms, burying her face in his shoulder. "Oh, President, what would the students think if they saw you like this?" he teases, nuzzling the back of her head. He is still wearing those gloves, making her shiver when he runs the tip of a finger down her nape. "That didn't happen in this school, remember? You're pretty gullible. I'm going to have to toughen you up, Misa-chan. It won't do for the fearsome Demon President to be afraid," he teases, releasing her.
Once they are in the hallway, she scowls at him. "Well, you didn't have to lie about that. Let's go home."
"Wait," he protests, clasping his hands behind his back like a young lord. Even in the butler outfit, he would never pass for a servant; he is too much a young master.
She pauses mid-step. "What?"
"I want my prize. I found you, so I win." The smirk on his face only serves to aggravate her.
"I never agreed to any- oh." Her protest is cut off when he slips a lollipop in between her lips. The strawberry flavor floods her mouth, bringing a blush to her cheeks. Great, now he's ruined her favourite candy forever.
He sighs loudly. "When you make that face, President, all my defenses fall. I'm completely at your feet."
"What defenses?" she mutters, sucking on the treat. "All you do is attack, you perverted space alien."
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he shakes his head, trailing behind her. "My reward, President. Watch out." He blindfolds her with what appears to be his necktie. Before she can protest, he scoops her up over his shoulder easily, carrying her upstairs to the roof.
"What are you doing? We aren't supposed to be here!" she hisses.
"Quiet," he orders, patting her butt soothingly. Now she is annoyed. "And keep the blindfold on," Usui adds. His gloved hands rest on the back of her knees, a previously undiscovered sensitive spot for her. She tries her best not to squirm or show how ticklish she is there, because she knows the pervert will take advantage of it. He sets her on her feet, steadying her with hands on her waist. "Wait, don't take it off until I tell you to," he warns, a rough note in his voice. "Do you have any idea how sexy you are, President?"
She feels a wall behind her, but she can hear teachers in the courtyard. "Usui, they might catch us," she whispers urgently. He swipes the much-smaller candy from her lips, disposing of it somewhere she cannot see. "I hope you didn't just litter- oh!" His mouth is on hers, conquering and banishing all traces of her resistance. Kisses are his specialty, she decides, her knees turning to mush as he devours her lips.
The blindfold heightens her senses, narrowing the world down to where Usui is touching her. Barely touching her, really, because his gloves are still on, and they skim her hair, her shoulders, her arms. She is supremely conscious of the gloves, though, fighting the urge to rip them off so she can feel his bare skin. No, she does not want him to see how desperate he makes her. Her fingers curl into his lapel, holding him close, pulling him closer as he parts her lips with his, invading her, until all she can do is surrender. The blindfold stays put; somehow it feels like a mask, a barrier, giving her a safe space to drop her inhibitions without having to meet his eyes.
His lips are on her throat now, and helpless, she tips her head back, offering more of herself. "Seems like the President is an exhibitionist," he taunts, gripping her wrists in behind her back. "Or do you like the possibility of getting caught?" She shakes her head in protest, afraid to make a noise, to even contemplate what could happen if they are discovered. She can feel his lips curve against her skin, a grin that both infuriates and arouses her. His teeth close around the edge of her ear, nipping her lightly. She sucks in a shuddering breath, biting back the whimpers that threaten to escape.
"President, do you like this?" he asks, flicking his tongue against her ear before sucking in her earlobe between his lips. She nods. "When you make that face, Misa, it makes me want to…," he growls against her, biting her harder on the shoulder. A shot of heat goes straight from the delicious ache on her skin to the pit of her stomach and lower, making her press her knees together. A whimper escapes against her will. "You liked that?" He pulls away, leaving her bereft.
"Usui," she breathes, her whole body vibrating from the delicious tension.
"You don't know how beautiful you are right now," he tells her, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She turns her cheek into his palm, feeling his warmth through the leather. The tie loosens and falls off, and now she can see him, gazing at her with so much emotion that she feels like crying. They are at their favourite spot on the roof, the same place he kissed her for the first time and told her he loved her, before jumping off to chase a picture.
"Will you let me touch you?" he asks, tipping her chin up to kiss her gently. She nods her assent, her cheeks on fire as she averts her eyes. This is Usui, who risked everything to be with her. It stings her pride to think that maybe she has met her match in him, but he does not lord it over her. Instead, he soothes her with light kisses, sensing the turmoil in her despite her assent. "Ah, I surrender," he sighs, with a chuckle. "When you make that face, I am defenseless."
It irritates her that she wants him so much. But the look on his face makes her stomach quiver; she has never seen so much need in his eyes. "President," he murmurs her title like an endearment, yanking off one glove with his teeth. "I need to touch you."
Their gazes lock as he cups her jaw, unwavering when his thumb finds the hollow of her throat and the curve of her collarbone. "Look at me," he demands when her eyes threaten to close, overwhelmed by his sure, unhurried contact. He touches her like he made her, like he formed every curve and bend and crease of her, like she was made of glass and gold. His fingertips glide over her lips and eyelashes, but when she opens her eyes again, the tiniest hint of a smile dances around the corner of his mouth.
He curls a finger around the loop of her regulation school ribbon, the creases flat and the bow knotted perfectly as befitting that of the student body president. "I fantasize about this," he tells her, tugging it open, until the ends dangle on her chest. "Unwrapping you like a present."
"Usui, we're in school," she protests, already falling under his spell.
"I think it's rather apt. We met here, after all, and did you know I've had my eye on you since the day you decided to run for the student council?" He rubs the knuckles of his bare hand against her cheek as he speaks. "That day so long ago, the first time I saw you. You had gotten in between some boys who were bullying a girl. You were so fierce and adorable, hissing and snarling like an angry kitten."
"What?" She is so distracted by this that she doesn't notice his other hand, freeing the buttons at her throat. "I don't remember this."
"I don't suppose you do," he agrees, working on her blouse. "You were magnificent, President. Such a fighter," he croons, leaning forward to press a kiss to the spot between her collarbones. "And you told them to their laughing faces that you would make them pay, that you would make everyone pay, and that nobody should be afraid of going to school. It was the first day of freshman year."
Now she remembers, in vague flashes; an empty hallway, two hulking seniors, and a terrified sempai who hid behind her back. She remembers the threats that she made, even as her knees quaked. Now she remembers the boy who had stepped between them, who had steered the other boys away by telling them a teacher was on his way. She remembers the flash of green eyes, as he glanced at her over his shoulder, the cold grip of the older girl's fingers digging into her wrists.
"Now you are the queen of this school," he murmurs against her throat, slipping his hands down to the bare skin of her waist. "But I am completely yours." Funny he should say that, when she is currently turning into a puddle under his hands. She should be afraid; nobody has ever touched her like this before. Her eyes focus on the stars in the distance, and her anxiety quickens her breathing. But the current running through her has more to do with anticipation.
She freezes when the conversations of two teachers echo through the courtyard. They must be heading home. She has no idea what time it is, and she can feel him smirking against her skin. "You should be quiet, they might hear you," he teases, pulling off his blazer. The snowy white shirt underneath fits him like it was sewn on him. Carelessly, he shoves the sleeves up his forearms, bunching them near his elbows. Even like this, he looks like he stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine, a lock of blond hair falling over his forehead.
Tossing the blazer to the ground, he helps her sit on it. Misaki is nervous now. Are they really going to do this, here? "We can stop at any time, President," he reassures her as he gets down on his knees, pressing a kiss to the back of her fingers. "Just say the word."
The love on his face makes her chest hurt. The awe and hunger and understanding that Misa never thought she needed is radiating from his eyes, and it scares her to think that this is it, that Usui is one for her. "You're thinking so hard, I can hear the gears grinding," he quips, pressing his cheek into her palm. "What's on your mind?"
"I'm afraid," she admits, "Of what's going to happen next. What if I screw everything up?"
"What if you're perfect?" Usui counters, bringing his face closer. "What if you ruin me for all other women, for the rest of my life? What if I can never love anyone else again except you, Misaki Ayuzawa?" He stops, just far enough for her to feel his warmth. The darkness hides the endless green of his eyes, turning them instead into inscrutable black, but she imagines she can hear his heart beating as loudly as hers.
"Are you planning to look at other women?" she whispers.
"No. You're it for me, President. And if you aren't ready now, that's okay. I will wait for you because you're worth it." he promises, brushing his lips against hers lightly."And it's okay to be afraid. I'm afraid, too, that this is too much, that this is too soon, too perfect to be real."
Suddenly, she isn't afraid anymore, gripping his shirt to pull him on top of her as she leans back. His hand is there, protecting her head from the ground, and he braces himself on his elbows. "Kiss me," she demands.
Usui is the only thing between her and the sky. She loves how his hands tremble as they slip the blouse off her shoulders, how he traces the dip of her elbow with his fingertips, counts the moles that dance across her arms with light kisses, how he takes the time to learn the texture of the goosebumps skittering across her belly button.
She closes her eyes, giving herself over to him while he unhooks the front clasp of her bra (she must have been thinking ahead this morning). The awkwardness of his fingers makes her smile, as does the quick intake of breath he makes when he succeeds. "President," he breathes, worshipping her newly bared skin with his lips. "You are exquisite."
The same, fair skin that has never known the touch of another, now glows with the knowledge of Usui's heat and the shame of being so exposed in school, of all places. "Last chance, Misaki." He lifts up his head, looking her in the eye. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
A word from her would stop this madness, and he would never hold it against her, she knows that much. "Idiot alien," she mutters, focusing on unbuttoning his shirt. "Who do you think you're talking to?"
His hand stills hers. "Promise me you'll tell me if I hurt you?" There is anxiety in his eyes, and that melts the last of her resistance. "I will stop immediately."
She smiles, loving him even more for his uncertainty. "No turning back now, Usui. You were so confident earlier, I won't let you back down." Tugging the glove off his other hand, she cocks her head at him expectantly.
Green eyes search hers as his fingertips glide up, under her school skirt. She wonders if he can hear her heart pounding, or if the teachers can. To break the tension, she winds her arms around his neck, kissing him. Now, she is the conqueror, tangling her tongue with his, sifting her fingers through his hair. His fingers make contact with the secret place between her legs, sending shockwaves through her system. "So responsive, President," he croons, nibbling on her lips. His fingertips delve under wet cotton, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves immediately. She jerks in reaction, unused to it. He smiles, rubbing the pad of his thumbs just so. Pleasure builds slowly, but Usui is a fast learner. In minutes, her toes are curling, her back is arched, and she is biting back whimpers. "Such a good girl."
Now he shifts her so she is straddling him, because he says he doesn't want her on the ground. A sense of guilt descends upon her, like she is crossing a line, though with her legs wrapped around his hips, she is helpless. His lips are on her neck, one hand between them and the other at her back, holding her steady. "Is it good?" he asks, raking his teeth across her jaw. She sees the dark satisfaction in his eyes when her whole body shivers in reaction, a whimper escaping her. "Hold on."
He does something clever with his fingertips, hitting the most sensitive spot on her body, that has stars dancing at the edges of her vision. "Come apart for me, president," he urges, stroking and circling and pressing, his eyes focused completely on her face. The sensations are too much. She shakes her head, pressing her fist to her lips to keep from screaming, but the trembling has started and she has no control over her body. No, Usui takes over and is relentlessly pushing her to the edge, until she cannot do anything but feel. She hurtles over the edge, her entire body trembling, and the only thing anchoring her is his arm around her waist.
"That's my girl," he mutters, raining kisses on her face and hair when she collapses into his arms, quivering helplessly. "That's my gorgeous, wonderful president. Did I hurt you?"
She shakes her head against his shoulder, too exhausted to talk. Her throat is sore as if she had been screaming, and the trembling still hasn't subsided. His hand is still there , too, soothing her with slow strokes. "I'm not done yet, Misa," he warns. "Hold on."
Now he slides a long finger inside her, though she cannot see. The unfamiliar fullness isn't quite pain, but it is uncomfortable. She bites her lower lip, not sure how to react. "God, you're so wet, but you're still too tight," Usui hisses through gritted teeth. She can feel her body fighting the invasion, clenching tight around his finger. The aftershocks of her first orgasm are still fluttering her muscles around him. "Does it hurt?"
"No," she whispers, suddenly shy. His thumb finds that button again, the exact one to push that makes her legs weak, makes her stomach jump, and the pleasure ripples through her suddenly, savagely, stealing her breath and her mind until she can only feel. "N-no," she gasps out, burying her face in his neck. "It's too much, please, Usui."
"It's okay, President, I've got you," he soothes, working in a second digit. "Tell me if I hurt you, Misa." He works her into a frenzy, his teeth grazing the exposed pink peak of one breast simultaneously while he pushes into her, stretching her.
"Usui," she cries out, overwhelmed by all of him. "Please!"
"Sshhh. President, you must be quiet," he teases, pulling her close for a kiss. "The teachers are going to hear you." She squeaks against his lips when he brings her close again, so achingly close to a second orgasm, her hips moving involuntarily.
Finally it comes, rougher this time, an explosion that has fireworks dancing in her eyes as the pleasure uncurls in her belly, causing her to almost lose consciousness. Usui curses under his breath as her whole body clenches and and unclenches around his fingers, gritting his teeth. When it is over, she cannot even sit upright. He leans her back down, until she is laying on his jacket, raining kisses all over her face. "Thank you, President," he tells her as he kisses her nose. "You ready for one more time?"
"What?" she whimpers. The last orgasm almost killed her, but she knows he hasn't taken his pleasure yet.
He kneels between her bent legs, his eyes gentle. "Tell me no, President," he orders, unbuckling his belt. Her eyes are riveted to his long fingers, wet from her, tugging down the tab of his zipper. "Now's your chance to stop this." He pulls out a foil package from his wallet, sheathing himself. She is mesmerized by the sight of him. He raises an eyebrow at her.
She shakes her head, drowning in maidenly fear and womanly hunger. He is a gorgeous specimen of a man, after all, and there's no turning back now. "You already said that, earlier," she murmurs, eyes sliding back to his green gaze. "Are you trying to get out of this?"
In response, he takes her mouth again, this time more confident, conquering her lips with his. She accepts him gladly, slanting her mouth beneath his as his fingers trace her throat. "Don't try to tease me, Ayuzawa," he whispers, kissing her jaw. "I'm close to losing control."
She whimpers when his fingers find their way beneath her open bra, pinching and stroking and tugging. "Quiet, President, they might catch us," he murmurs, sinking his teeth into her earlobe. She squeezes her eyes shut, a delicious shiver charging through her system.
Now his fingers are back under her skirt, tracing her, learning her. "So wet," he whispers, awe in his voice. "President, you're so tight, I don't know how I'm going to fit inside you." She can feel him now, nudging her, begging permission to enter. Her whole body stiffens, unused to the invasion about to take place. "Misa," he breathes, gripping her hips. "Look at me." Sucking in a deep breath, she meets his green gaze. "Darling Misaki." His smile is strained around the edges. "President, I might hurt you. I'm sorry."
She nods, pulling him close for a kiss. He inches his way inside, fighting to get deeper into her. It is both uncomfortable and more intimate than anything she has ever experienced before. Her instinct is to fight him off, to push him away, because she can feel her whole body rejecting this invader. She grits her teeth, shaking her head in a panic.
"You're perfect," he tells her, raining kisses on her face. "I'm so sorry, Misa." He stops moving, waiting for her to adjust to having him inside. It feels like she is being ripped asunder. The burning pain brings tears to her eyes, but she returns his look, trying not to cry out. He pushes the hair away from her wet cheeks, kissing her tears away, even as she clenches tight around him. He starts moving again, slowly, cautiously, stopping at the smallest sign of discomfort on her face. "I love you," he repeats, like a prayer, over and over again. She is lost in the dark of his eyes, and there is nothing else except him and the sky. Even through the pain, there is a quickening, a small spark every time he moves inside her.
The pain abates, leaving discomfort in its wake. "Go ahead, Usui," she tells him, bracing herself. "I can handle it."
"Are you sure?" The concern in his eyes helps ease her anxiety. She nods.
A cry wrenches out from her throat when he pushes inside her, filling her completely. He steals it with another kiss. Then he begins to move, keeping up a steady rhythm. She finds an angle where it doesn't hurt as much; in fact, with every thrust, that little spark deep in her center grows bigger and bigger until it eclipses the pain and discomfort. "Almost there?" he gasps against her throat. She nods, gripping him tighter.
His fingers wedge between them, finding that spot that makes her vision go white behind her eyelids. She can feel the explosion starting at the base of her spine, the intensity building and building until she is arched off the ground. "Come for me, President," he growls, pressing a kiss to her throat as he circles the sensitive knot of nerves with his thumb.
She breaks apart, her entire body quivering as the pleasure sweeps through her. The throbbing is still there as he drives himself into her, but this orgasm ripples through her from her toes to her fingertips, until she is completely wrung out. Above her, Usui exhales roughly as he comes, holding her tighter and tighter as he buries his face in her neck.
They lie trembling in each other's arms afterwards, gazing up at the sky while trying to catch their breath. His fingers thread through her hair, combing out the strands and rubbing her scalp. She wants to purr and stretch, though there are aches coming from muscles she never knew existed. She supposes this makes her a woman now. His heartbeat is still frantic under her ear.
"President," he whispers, kissing the top of her head.
"What?" she mutters, shy suddenly.
"This'll be a great story to tell our grandkids. How we made love for the first time on the rooftop of our high school," he chuckles, grabbing her fist before it can make contact. "Under the stars, after the school festival." He fishes in his pocket and hands her another lollipop. "A bribe," he explains. "Will you marry me?"
The world blurs as her eyes fill with tears. "Stupid perverted alien Usui."
"That's a yes, then?" he grins, peeling the wrapper off. She takes it from his hands and pops it in her mouth.
"That's a maybe," she grumbles, her mouth filled with the flavor of strawberries and Usui.
"I'll have to persuade you harder, then," Usui promises, completely unruffled. She cuddles against his shoulder, not bothering to answer. Usui is probably going to get his way, but she'll never admit it.
-End-