Title: The Night Will Go As Follows
Disclaimer: I do not own Gakuen Alice.
Dedication: sakuraheartz, for being a perv like me. You know you love me. ;) Enjoy your present, hon.
Summary: The night will go as follows: a heartbroken food critic eating the chocolate cake at Crimsons, where the hot head chef resides. A harsh critic follows, then a fight, which ends up with a night of passion.
Author's note: Read this first, please. If you're underage, don't continue reading. I understand that the lemon isn't too intense. I'm a newbie in this area, so forgive me. I'll try to improve, I promise. It's kinda rushed and all, but I honestly have no other idea on how to make this more interesting. Well, enjoy! Not beta read, so forgive me for grammatical mistakes, don't have the time to reread it.
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To say that I was pissed off would be an understatement. I wanted nothing more than to rip off the head of that jackass of a guy, who also happened to be my ex- fiancé. I wanted to bitch slap that slut who got behind my back too, honestly. Luna Koizumi was no longer my best friend and Tonouchi Akira was no longer my fiancé. Those two could go and rot in Hell, I wouldn't care.
I was bitter, of course, and I was angry. I was angry at myself for throwing away two years of my life for Akira, who turned out to be a complete jackass. But the worst thing was that I didn't feel sad at all. I thought I loved him, for God's sake. But no, turned out I didn't feel even a single ounce of love for him. Maybe I should be thankful that he had cheated on me, with my best friend nevertheless. Guys are pigs.
And so here I was, drowning my anger in Häagen-Dazs ice creams. And now I was running out of ice cream, which meant that I had to go out of my brand new apartment and got something else for my pity party. I glanced at the clock, noting that it was about 9 pm; the convenience store would still be open.
I scurried away to my room and changed into blue t-shirt and jeans, and tied my hair up in a ponytail. I looked at my reflection in the vanity mirror before I left the room: I looked haggard. But I didn't care, I was just out to get a tube of ice cream and I'd be back in the safe confinement of my new apartment. It had only been three days, I was still allowed in pity parties, right?
I headed towards the lobby of the apartment building, thinking of going to the convenience store near the apartment that was supposed to open 24/7. However, I remembered about that small but famous restaurant located just opposite of the apartment building and realized that I had yet to eat anything since this morning.
Crimsons was the talk of the town nowadays, mainly because of the great food and its famous chocolate cake. And because I was heartbroken, chocolate cake was the perfect pity food for me. The restaurant was small, located in a two story building, with the sign "Crimsons" put up in front of the building.
The restaurant, however, was deserted when I entered it. Heck, nobody even bothered to welcome the customer. This was so a minus point in my book. Oh yeah, I was Mikan Sakura, a famous food critic working for Gourmet Magazine. And I have yet to review Crimsons, so I thought I could kill two birds with one stone tonight.
"Hello?" I yelled at the empty restaurant.
"Oh, sorry, Miss! We're closed for the night!" a petite dark-haired girl said, appearing from the kitchen door.
"There's no CLOSED sign outside," I said matter-of-factly. I wasn't normally a bitch, but I was still bitter and felt like being a bitch. A girl could be a bitch sometimes, right?
The girl flushed. "Yes, but—"
"No buts. Don't you know who I am?" I asked sharply. I rummaged inside my purse for my business card, then showed it to the girl. Her eyes widened in recognition and I smiled smugly, knowing that I had gotten her.
"What's the problem, Aoi?" an alluring voice asked. I looked at the kitchen door and practically melted at what I saw. There stood the most gorgeous man I had ever lain my eyes on. His raven hair hung messily on his head, like he had just had sex, and his crimson eyes were fixated on me. I had never seen someone with those eyes before; they were beautiful. Not only that, the guy was tall and lean, and most importantly, he was wearing a chef outfit. God knows I've always had a thing for chefs.
Shit, I think I just wetted myself.
"Umm…" the raven-haired girl stuttered. The hot chef came towards her and snatched my business card from her hands, then narrowed his eyes at me once he had read what was written on the card. "What do you want, Miss Sakura?" he asked sharply.
"I just want to eat here, is that wrong?" I asked innocently.
"We are closed," he said.
"Like I said, I don't see a closed sign."
"What do you want?" he snapped.
"I want to eat here," I said matter-of-factly.
"And if we don't want to serve you?"
"I might accidentally write something bad in my review. That'd be inconvenient for you, wouldn't it?"
He gritted his teeth, clearly aggravated at my bitchiness. He looked like he was ready to hit someone, and that made him look even hotter than before. Oh my . . . "Aoi, you go home earlier. I'll take care of this," he said.
"B-But," the girl protested.
"Just go, I know your date is waiting," he said, still glaring at me.
"E-Excuse me then," Aoi said as she collected her things and left the restaurant in a haste. Hot Chef went towards the door and locked the door, then put up the CLOSED sign, probably as a measure to avoid annoying people like me. Then he turned around to face me, and he looked almost bored.
"Please take a seat, Miss Sakura," he said, motioning me to sit on the chair that he had just pulled for me. My, what a gentleman. He gave me the menu once I was safely seated on the chair. "What would you like to order?"
"Give me the house specialty," I said, not even glancing at the menu. "Oh, and the chocolate cake, please."
"Very well, Miss Sakura. Please wait for a few minutes," he said smoothly. Wow, he was suave, really. I watched him as he walked towards the kitchen door, and wow, look at his delectable ass.
And I waited, while imagining all the things that I could do if only he were my boyfriend. If only Akira was as hot as him. If only Akira was half as hot as him. Then I looked down at my ordinary outfit and realized that Hot Chef would not be interested in me at all. I was a mess, for God's sake. And I wasn't beautiful in any way. And I was a bitch.
"Enjoy your fettuccine with scallops, saffron and smoked salmon, with 1973 Chardonnay. And a tomato salad as the appetizer. Buon appetito," he said in a smooth Italian accent. Then he left me to enjoy the meal.
The food was tempting, really. I took the fork and tried the fettuccine first, which was practically Heaven. The taste was exquisite, nothing like anything I'd eaten before. I moaned as I devoured the fettuccine, glad that I hadn't eaten anything since this morning.
Hot Chef smirked when he saw me, a plate of chocolate cake in his hand. I scowled, not wanting him to know that I loved his cooking. He looked smug as he put the plate on the desk, but this time, he didn't go back to the kitchen. He stood there, arms crossed, looking at me expectantly.
I raised my eyebrow, was he going to be here all the time? Oh well, maybe I could use this opportunity to tease him, huh? I smirked inwardly, formulating my plan of seducing the Hot Chef.
I looked at the chocolate cake and even I had to admit that it was indeed delectable. The round-shaped chocolate cake looked crispy, and it was covered with hot chocolate syrup, with a vanilla ice cream on the side. I frowned; the cake looked too sweet and I bet that it would taste sickeningly sweet. I took the spoon and cut the edge of the cake, scooping a small amount of ice cream to go with the cake then ate it. Holy crap, I would die a happy woman if I could just eat this cake for the rest of my life! It wasn't too sweet yet not too bitter as well. The chocolate cake was rather mild, but combined with the bitter chocolate sauce and the sweet vanilla ice cream, it was heaven. If I were to rate this restaurant, this'd be five out of five.
But I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of knowing it.
"This is too sweet," I said nonchalantly.
"Are you kidding me?" he snapped.
"Which part of too sweet do you not understand? Are you the head chef here? What's your name?" I asked.
"It tastes perfectly fine, woman! And yes. Natsume Hyuuga."
Natsume Hyuuga. A hot name to go with a hot guy. "Well, Mr. Hyuuga, I presume that you already know who I am, and I don't go around making wrong conclusion," I said as calmly as possible.
He glared at me, and if looks could kill, I'd be dead by now. Oddly enough, I was too turned on to be afraid. This is wrong, Mikan, I told myself. "Now, may I have a quick tour of the kitchen, Mr. Hyuuga?"
"Well, Miss Sakura, I'd love to, but I think you're definitely mistaken with your review," he said through his gritted teeth. "Pray tell, why did you finish your dinner if you're not satisfied with the taste?"
I raised my eyebrow. "I appreciate the effort of someone cooking, Mr. Hyuuga. I don't waste food," I said. "Now, where's the tour of the kitchen?"
"Follow me," he said with a hint of malice in his voice. He turned around and walked towards the kitchen, with me following him closely behind.
The kitchen was modern and spotless, as I expected. "Hmm . . ."
"What?" he snarled. God, he was hot when he's angry.
"Nice kitchen."
"Oh, you can give out compliments too?"
I smiled. "I take that back. It's too clean, don't you think? It's like a hospital's—"
"What do you want, woman? Stop bashing on my restaurant. This is my pride and if you don't like it, go away. I don't give a fuck on what you write in your review," he snapped. He was clearly angry, his crimson eyes were blazing with anger and . . . holy shit, was that lust I noticed in his eyes?
"Wouldn't you like to know what I want, Mr. Hyuuga?" I asked in my best seductive voice.
"And what is that, Miss Sakura?" he asked, his voice dripping with lust. Oh God, my panties was absolutely wet by this point. You, on a platter, I wanted to say, but nothing came out. Why, oh why, couldn't I say anything to this Sex God in front of me? "I, for one, know what I want, which is to shut that little mouth of yours."
Oh, God, now I was scared. What if he had a psycho tendency and was going to kill me? I shouldn't have gone out of my apartment to get more ice cream. Dammit, I shouldn't have moved to that apartment in the first place, maybe. And I should've kept my mouth shut. Now he's going to kill me. Oh no.
He took a step forward and I took a step backward. The routine continued until my back touched the kitchen counter, which was when I knew that there was nowhere else for me to go. He looked almost predatory, with that chef outfit minus the hat. "Hmm, what shall I do to you, Miss Sakura?" he asked, his breath fanning over my face.
We were so close, our lips were only millimeters apart. Deciding to take the initiative, I grabbed his collar and pulled him towards me so our lips were now touching. And God, he tasted divine. He didn't respond at first, but in a few seconds, his hands were all over me, and somehow, I ended up sitting on the counter.
"Fuck, you taste so good," he said between kisses. I blindly reached out for his hair, pulling him closer to me. His hands traveled south, until he finally reached the place that I really ached for him to touch. I was really wet, soaked even, but I couldn't find it in me to be embarrassed about it. "You're so wet, baby," he crooned.
He stopped kissing me and his lips moved to my neck, licking and sucking on my sensitive skin. His hand ghosted across my stomach then tugged at my t-shirt. "This has to go," he growled. I put my hands up in the air, letting him remove my t-shirt, and finally, my jeans. I was laid bare on the kitchen counter, only clad in my matching blue underwear.
He eyed me from head to toe with his blazing crimson eyes and I squirmed under his gaze. "I've wanted to fuck you since I saw you and your pretty mouth. Too bad you're such a bitch," he spat.
"You know what? You'd be even more perfect if you could cook better," I taunted him.
"Don't doubt my cooking, Miss Sakura," he growled, his eyes still raking over my body. "And trust me, my skill in the kitchen is marvelous, and that includes fucking you in the kitchen."
"Shut up and prove it to me, Mr. Hyuuga." And kiss me, he did. He pulled the cup of my bra downwards, letting my breast spill out of the cup. He twirled my right nipple with his fingers, playing with it. His lips left my lips, kissing a trail downwards until he covered my nipple with his mouth, sucking and biting on it.
I pushed him away. "Get your clothes off," I commanded.
"Bitch," he replied. Nevertheless, he took his chef outfit off and threw it to the floor, along with his pants. He stood there, naked, except for his boxers, and I totally wanted to lick his chest. He looked so…fuckable.
And before I knew it, he had my legs spread and my underwear gone, along with his boxer. My eyes widened in amazement: his cock was huge and long, which made me worry if he'd fit me. Akira's was nothing compared to Natsume's. Holy fuck . . .
"You pissed me off. I'm not gonna be gentle," he warned, before slamming into me in one quick thrust, causing me to scream out his name. "Fuck, you're so tight." He continued slamming into me in a frenzied pace, nothing about it was gentle. He had his hands on both sides of my hips while my legs were wrapped around his hip as a motion to get him closer to me. And God, the feeling of him inside of me was too much. It felt right to have him inside of me. It felt good, way better than how it felt with Akira. Oh God.
My stomach clenched, I was close to my orgasm, but he stopped abruptly. His crimson eyes were fixed on me, and they were taunting me. He wanted me to take back my words, he wanted me to beg. If I were in the right state of mind, I wouldn't beg him, but I was hot and bothered. I needed him to move. "P-Please," I pleaded.
"Please what, Miss Sakura?" he asked smugly.
"Fuck me, Natsume. Please."
"Gladly," he said as he started moving again, this time even faster than before. The coil was back in my stomach and in a few more thrusts, I came undone, screaming his name as if his name was the only thing keeping me alive. He followed suit after two more thrusts and spilled his seed inside of me, groaning my name.
We stayed in silence for a few minutes, the only sound was our ragged breathing. He had his face buried in the crook of my neck and I was gripping to his shoulder for dear life. He chuckled then.
"What do you say about the restaurant now, Miss Sakura?" he asked mockingly.
I laughed. "Five out of five, definitely. Six out of five, if possible, since there's a really hot chef providing extra service."
The End
Author's note: I'm embracing my inner perv all right.