Ennui
Warnings: Explicit F/F, intoxication
Disclaimer: Don't own Code Geass
AN: So, Phoenix the Eternal left a review on one of my fics asking for a Shirley/C.C. story. I spent some time thinking up a scenario, and it ended up turning into a fairly sizable oneshot. It's not particularly sweet or cute like my other femslash fics. In fact, it's rather serious for a crack pairing. Anyway, I'd appreciate any sort of feedback or constructive criticism. Thanks. :)
Shirley always felt refreshed after swim practice. Following hours of school and what feltlike hours of Milly's shenanigans, it was nice to clear her mind and just swim laps. Yes, it was relaxing, the rhythmic motions, the slap-chop of water, and knowing she was in her element.
Then, the locker room.
"Is it just me or is our vice prez getting hotter and hotter by the day?"
"God, I would kill to see him in a swimsuit."
Shirley stifled a sigh as she shut her locker. Regardless of the day, time, or appropriateness, Lelouch was always topical amongst the female portion of Ashford's student body. It wasn't like she had room to talk, but sometimes all the chatter made her feel, well, uneasy.
She liked to think that she didn't have some sort of superficial infatuation toward him. She liked to think that she knew the real him. But sometimes she just didn't know. Did she really know Lelouch? Did she trulyunderstand him?
And it wasn't like she was the prettiest girl who had a crush on him. Or the smartest. Or the funniest. Or the—
"Woah there, Spacey. You off in la-la land again?"
Shirley looked up to see Sophie smirking at her. She plastered a smile on her face.
"Yeah, you know me."
As Shirley changed out of her bathing suit, she tried in vain to ignore her teammates relentless mantra of Lelouch Lelouch Lelouch.
Shirley regretted not towel drying her hair. It was chilly outside, and a breeze had picked up, causing goose bumps to form on her skin. Her entire body felt numb, and she looked forward to taking a hot shower and making some hot cocoa when she got back to her dorm.
She hunched her shoulders and folded her hands under her armpits, mentally berating herself for not remembering to bring a jacket. Sophie and the prez were right. She was spacey. She couldn't even remember the simplest of things. Because her head was always in clouds, she had not bothered to take notice that the fluffy, white clouds overhead had dissipated during the afternoon, leaving a slate-gray sky in their wake.
Her feet went crunch crunch crunchon the dewy grass, and the wind blew and blustered, causing the green leaves on the trees to wave like little hands and the green hair to wave like sea grass.
Shirley blinked.
Under an oak tree a few yards away stood a girl. The girl had very long olive-green hair that fluttered in the wind and fanned out like a flag. She wore an Ashford uniform, but Shirley did not recognize her. The girl did not seem to notice Shirley. When a breeze blew her skirt right up, she did not bother to pat it down. Instead, her eyes were fixed on some point up above, as if she was trying to solve an enigma in the dreary sky.
Without thinking, Shirley began to move toward her. Crunch, crunch, crunch. The grass seemed to echo piercingly from underneath her feet. Still, the girl did not look in Shirley's direction; she was completely engrossed by whatever she staring at.
When Shirley got a bit closer, her eyes widened in surprise. The girl's mouth seemed to be…moving. It was strange. It looked like she was having a conversation, but there was no one around. At least Shirley thought there was no one around. Shirley turned to the left. Turned to the right.
No. No one in sight.
Just that girl, and her mouth continued to form syllables and sounds – none of which Shirley could hear. I should leave,Shirley thought. This is probably something private.
…And that was when the girl locked eyes with her.
The girl's eyes were hard and gold, and they shone like ingots. Her face was composed and astute, and Shirley suddenly felt very self-conscious. Had that girl been praying? Had Shirley interrupted her? Should she leave? Should she stay?
After a moment's deliberation, Shirley began to make her way over to the girl. Shirley figured the girl had to be an underclassman. After all, she prided herself for knowing the names of everyone in her grade and most of the student body. And, as a member of the student council, it was important that she was sociable and forthcoming toward all the students. It was only right that she introduced herself to this girl after butting in on her. Walking away would just be rude.
The girl stayed rooted to the spot, eyes unblinking as Shirley crunched toward her. The hair whipped the girl's hair this way and that, but she did not bother to brush it out of her face. When Shirley finally stood a mere few feet in front of her, she did not offer a smile or even a nod.
"Hi," Shirley said, upbeat and smiling.
"Hello," said the girl. Her voice was cool and clear, and her breath painted the air with a thin, vaporous wisp. She still did not smile, and Shirley figured she was probably just shy. She knew freshman on the swim team who had been like that at first. It just took a while to break them out of their shells.
"What are you up to?" Shirley asked. As soon as the words left her mouth, she internally winced. Did that sound too nosy? She didn't want to pry…
But the girl remained collected, unflappable. She looked Shirley straight in the eye and said, "I'm lost."
"You're…lost?"
The girl nodded. "I don't know my way around here very well."
That's when it hit Shirley like a ton of bricks. So, that'swhy she didn't recognize her.
"Oh, so you're a new transfer student?" Shirley continued on before giving the girl a chance to answer. "Well, don't feel bad about it. When I first arrived here, I had no idea how to get around. I practically thought about installing a GPS into myself." Shirley giggled at her own joke, and the girl continued to stare at her blankly. Oh, right. Introductions. "I'm sorry! I completely forgot to introduce myself. My name's Shirley Fenette, and I'm a member of the student council."
Shirley extended her hand, and, for a moment, the girl stared at it in…amusement? No. No, that couldn't be it. But the girl eventually shook Shirley's hand. Her grasp was light and delicate, like gossamer, and her lips curved into the barest of smiles before retracting her hand.
"Celeste."
That was a…pretty name, and it fit this girl. "Nice to meet you, Celeste," Shirley said, smile bright and big. "Welcome to Ashford."
It was then that the wind picked up again, and Shirley shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. Celeste blinked and then began to unbutton her uniform jacket.
"Aren't you cold?" Shirley asked, her eyes widening.
Celeste shook her head. "No." She removed the jacket and offered it to Shirley. "I don't get cold easily. You should wear it."
"Oh, no, it's fine." Shirley smiled even as her skin felt like it would freeze off. "I was planning on going right back to my dorm anyway so—"
"I was wondering if you could give me a tour."
Shirley's eyebrows shot up. "…A tour?"
"Yes," Celeste said, voice light and airy. "A tour of Ashford. I don't know my way around that well, so I was wondering if you would mind showing me where everything is."
Shirley's smile reappeared. "Oh, sure thing! I'd be happy to show you around."
"Then take this."
The jacket was shoved into Shirley's hands. Shirley bit her lip; she felt a bit bad about taking it. The weather was extremely chilly, and she should have known to bring her own. Just a couple days ago, she had to borrow Kallen's while they were chasing after Arthur. She didn't want to be a mooch…
"Are you sure?" she finally asked.
Celeste fixed Shirley with those eerie, gold, level eyes. Her expression was inscrutable.
"Of course."
The first place Shirley took Celeste were the fountains in front of the school right by the marble statue of the headmaster. Shirley prattled on about the founding of Ashford and pointed out where many students sat and ate their lunches.
Celeste appeared altogether indifferent. She did not bother to nod her head or make eye contact while Shirley talked. Instead, she perched on the end of one of the pearly white fountains and remained completely still. She looked like a statue herself.
Shirley attempted to make it more interactive.
"So, what do you think about Ashford so far?" she asked, smiling reassuringly.
Celeste sniffed and blinked, looking more like a girl again and less a part of the scenery. "It's…large."
Shirley nodded. "I know, right? It's a little overwhelming. In a way, it's almost like a little community. There's a fitness center and a horse riding pasture and a chapel. It's really topnotch."
"There's a chapel?" Celeste's gaze was piercing, almost unnerving, but Shirley swallowed her unease and continued smiling.
"Yeah," she replied, "you can visit it whenever you want."
Celeste cocked her head to the side. "Do you ever go there?"
"What?"
"To pray."
"I…" Shirley trailed off, losing her train of thought as Celeste continued to stare at her. Shirley averted her eyes before continuing. "Um, sometimes. I like to think that my prayers are being answered wherever I am, though."
Celeste's expression turned thoughtful, and she smiled. It was a small, forlorn, and fleeting smile, and Shirley couldn't help but wonder if this girl's grins and beams and smiles were always so transient.
Now, Celeste's mouth formed a straight line, and her eyes were on the sky like before. "My prayers are never answered," she stated matter-of-factly. She turned toward Shirley, and her lips curved into yet another ephemeral smile. "Now where to next?"
The student council room was still rather messy from Arthur's welcoming party. The floor, couch, and table were covered with multi-colored cat costumes, pipe cleaner whiskers, and attachable felt tails. Celeste was seemingly unfazed by the scene.
Shirley cleared her throat before beginning. "At Ashford, you're required to join a club, but there's a lot of fun ones you can choose from. There's the equestrian club and the gardening club and the culinary club and—"
"Do they ever make pizza?"
Shirley turned toward Celeste. The other's girl's face was completely serious, eyes narrowed and unblinking
"…What?"
"The culinary club – do they ever make pizza?"
That was a…strange question. "I'm sure they do sometimes." Shirley laughed nervously. The girl didn't even crack a smile. Maybe she wrong about her being shy… "That's probably something you'd have to ask them yourselves, though." Shirley turned so she was facing the room again. "Anyway, this is where the student council meets to make school-wide decisions. The president is the headmaster's granddaughter, Milly, and the vice president is Lulu."
Celeste raised an eyebrow. "I thought the vice president was a boy."
Oh, had she said Lulu? Shirley's flushed in embarrassment. She had meant to introduce him as Lelouch. "Oh, you're right. The vice president is a boy. His name is Lelouch. Lelouch Lamperouge. It's just that Lulu is a nickname I have for him." Celeste looked skeptical, her eyebrow edging toward her hairline; Shirley's face turned pinker. "Um, anyway, it seems like you know Lu—Lelouch."
"Yes, I do."
That made sense. Lelouch was very popular. He was practically a celebrity at Ashford, an icon.
"Are you two friends?" Shirley asked cheerily
"Ostensibly." And Celeste smirked as she said it, and there was something feline about the way her lips quirked upward, and her eyes narrowed into slivers of gold. She suddenly looked much older, not like a lost little schoolgirl at all. Shirley felt her heart stop. Ostensibly? What was thatsupposed to mean? Did that mean…could it mean…was this girl…
"Are you Lulu's girlfriend?"
As soon as Shirley blurted that question out, her face turned scarlet, and she slapped her hands over her mouth. Celeste's smirk faded, but she did not look angry. She pursed her lips and cocked her head to the side.
"No," she said, "I'm not. What would make you think that?"
"I…I…" Shirley knew she had to be as red as a tomato. She fixed her gaze on the carpet (anywhere, anywherebut those eyes) and focused in on the individual threads. "I'm sorry. I was just…jumping to conclusions."
Shirley's face continued to burn in mortification. She felt like such a little kid. She could be so immature sometimes, so infantile. Her jealousy always seemed to be getting the best of her. No wonder Kallen was so annoyed with her. She was just being invasive and paranoid.
"Are we going to continue the tour or not?"
Shirley's head snapped up. Celeste was resting a hip against the door, her arms crossed over her chest, her expression impatient.
Shirley supposed that meant she was forgiven.
It smelt of stale sweat and body odor. Not even Ashford's extravagance could mask that.
"This is the fitness center," Shirley said, attempting to sound pleasant even as the stench nearly made her eyes water. "It's free of charge and open any time between and after classes. It's great if you want to get a quick workout in."
Celeste surveyed the empty gym with both eyebrows raised, running her gaze over every inch of equipment from the treadmills to the ellipticals to the dumbbells.
"I suppose Lelouch does not come here very often, does he?"
Shirley could feel her face heating up once again. "Um, no, he doesn't," she said, trying to keep her voice even. "He's not really the exercising type." Celeste looked amused. Change the subject. Change the subject. "Suzaku comes here often, though, and he's also a part of the student council. Do you know him? He and Lulu are good friends."
Celeste nodded, eyes trained on a barbell left on a bench. "Yes," she murmured. "It's a quagmire."
Shirley did not know how to respond to that, but Celeste did not seem to mind. She sat down on the bench, and Shirley ludicrously wondered if she planned on doing a bench press right here and now.
Instead, she merely ran her pale, delicate hands along the weights and bar, and she did not look at Shirley as she said, "Lelouch told me you swam."
Shirley was not sure whether to feel flattered or unnerved that Lelouch had bothered to tell this girl that she was on the swim team. Regardless, she ended up leading her to the indoor swimming pool.
It felt strange seeing it so barren. The water was clear and free of ripples, and no one was standing on the diving boards. Shirley was so used to seeing her teammates in their swimsuits and caps that it felt almost disloyal being here on her own.
Celeste acted like she owned the place. She kicked off her shoes and socks and sat on the rim of the pool, dipping her pale legs in the water. After a moment's hesitation, Shirley did the same, folding Celeste's coat and her own clothing into a neat bundle before joining her.
Although it was frosty outside, the room was toasty from the heater, and Shirley enjoyed the feel of the cool water on her calves. She waved her feet about, watching with mild interest as lazy circles formed and dissipated into little swells. When she felt something brush up against her leg, she let out a gasp of surprise before noticing that it had been Celeste's small, white foot.
"Why do you swim?" Celeste asked.
And it was then that Shirley realized that Celeste's foot brushing up against her leg had not been an accident. It was currently roaming lower, the toes poking her ankle. Shirley swallowed.
"I…it's fun, and I like being part of a team, and it can be relaxing. Sometimes I just feel very free when I'm—"
"Skinny-dipping?" Celeste's foot was now rubbing against her own, soft and cool and insistent.
"W-what?" Shirley's face turned beet-red. She spluttered and kicked, and many small, lazy circles gave way to swells.
Splash!
She apologized numerous times when it happened, blushing profusely and blaming her klutziness. On the walk back to her dorm, she gave C.C. her coat back and continued to apologize, giving various instances of her clumsiness as if she were on trial and was giving a testimony. When they reached the room, she handed C.C. a warm, fluffy robe and a towel to dry her hair, never ceasing with the 'I'm sorrys.'
C.C. was amused.
The girl was a complete prude. When C.C. shifted her shoulders, allowing some of her cleavage to spill through the opening in the robe, Shirley flushed and averted her gaze. C.C. continued to be amused.
"Do you want soup?" Shirley asked. "I'm not very good in the kitchen, but I can make soup. I'll go make you some."
And so C.C. sat on the girl's bed and waited for soup she was not hungry for. There was a picture on a nearby desk of this girl—Shirley—smiling brightly and a blonde-haired girl with a hand on her hip and a boy wearing a helmet and a small girl with glasses and Suzaku grinning with teeth, his arm slung over Lelouch's shoulders.
And Lelouch was smiling a small, close-lipped smile. But he looked happy. He really looked happy.
C.C. felt a strange knot in the pit of her stomach; she turned away, raising her arms over her head and yawning. She could hear Shirley banging around in the kitchen. From the noise, C.C. figured she would take awhile, and so she decided to explore.
The dorm contained two beds: the one C.C. was currently seated upon and the other presumably for a roommate. C.C. stood up and looked under the roommate's bed.
There was another bang from the kitchen, but C.C. did not jump. Under the bed were magazines with half-naked women plastered on the covers. They wore sultry, wanton expressions and possessed gigantic breasts and airbrushed bodies. C.C. snorted. Whoever Shirley's roommate was, she certainly had a healthier libido than Lelouch.
She moved onto Shirley's bed. She expected not to find anything interesting, but she was bored so she stooped down and…
…Oh.
C.C. felt the corners of her lip twitch. It seemed Shirley Fenette was not such a prude after all.
"You're plotting something, aren't you?"
C.C. stifled a sigh. Sometimes she wished Marianne wouldn't jump to conclusions. As it was, she was not plotting anything. No, she was not like Marianne in that respect. This was out of boredom, not spite. Why would she bother to follow in the footsteps of Marianne or her son? She was manipulative and selfish, but she was unconcerned with social climbing and domination, and she was not hell-bent on revenge. There was no point to C.C.'s life. It was merely an accumulation of events.
This wasn't a plot. This wasn't a scheme. No, this was merely an observation.
"I'm done!" Shirley's cheery voice called out.
C.C. pulled out the bottle of champagne and stood up. When Shirley entered the room, soup in hand, C.C. said, "You have very refined tastes."
Almost instantaneously, Shirley's eyes widened, and her grip on the soup bowl tightened, her knuckles turning bone-white. "I…I confiscated that!" she spluttered. "Rivalz brought it for a party since he has a bartending job, and I-I told him we're underage, and so I had to wrestle it away from him, and I've been meaning to get rid of it, but—"
"We should have some. To celebrate."
Shirley looked at C.C. as if she had grown a second head. "…Celebrate what?"
"My first day at Ashford." C.C. cocked her head to the side. "Or do you think that's not occasion enough?"
Shirley blushed and shook her head, her hair whipping around her head like a fire. "N-no, it's not that. It's just…"
"It's just what?"
Shirley visibly swallowed. Her eyes were as wide as saucers. She gripped the soup bowl as if for dear life.
"Maybe a glass or two wouldn't be so bad."
After only a couple glasses, Shirley's face turned pink, and her fair complexion only served to highlight that fact. Also, she was hiccupping.
C.C. might have found it funny if it wasn't so pitiable.
"I—hic—think I drank—hic—too much."
C.C. raised her own glass to her lips. "Have you ever drank before?"
Shirley shook her head and then hiccupped. "Never. Do you—hic—drink a lot?"
"No, not frequently." C.C. drained her glass and smacked her lips. "Does Lelouch ever drink?"
Unsurprisingly, Shirley's face turned pinker. "No, I've—hic—never seen him."
"Interesting." C.C. set her glass down on the desk, obscuring the smiling faces of Lelouch and Suzaku.
Shirley's eyebrows knit together. She looked bemused. "Why's—hic—that interesting?"
"It seems," C.C. said, leaning back on the bed and allowing her robe to expose more skin, "he's able to transform himself into a completely different person."
Shirley was outright pouting now. C.C. thought it was somewhat cute, how easily flustered this girl became, how indignant she became when someone spoke ill of Lelouch. "What—hic—are you—hic—talking about?" She most likely intended to sound menacing, but the hiccupping ruined the effect.
"When I told you I wasn't Lelouch's girlfriend, I wasn't lying." C.C. smiled, and it was sinister. "I'm not his high school sweetheart or even some girl he casually dates." C.C. leaned forward so her face was inches from Shirley's flushed one. "…I'm his mistress."
When the glass fell to the floor, it made a deafening crack before shattering and splintering. Shirley did not notice. Her eyes were the size of saucers, and her mouth was open and gaping. This was predictable. More than anything, C.C. was surprised Marianne had not bothered to comment.
"You dropped your glass."
Shirley blinked several times before looking down. "O-oh, sorry," she whispered, hiccups gone. She knelt down and began to pick up the shards. "Ouch!" She had pricked herself. C.C. watched as blood bubbled from the tip of her finger, crimson and bright.
Before Shirley could react, C.C. grabbed her by the wrist. Shirley's eyes widened even more, and her lips moved, but no words came out. Then, unceremoniously, C.C. stuck the wounded finger in her mouth.
Shirley's eyes were large and frightened like those of cornered prey. C.C. closed her eyes and suckled until…
"What do you think you're doing?" C.C. felt the finger being yanked out of her mouth, and opened one eye and then the other. Shirley was standing over her, her wet finger pointed at C.C.'s face. Her eyebrows were knit together, and her nostrils were flared. "And…and what do you mean by that?"
"By what?"
Shirley's face reddened, and this time C.C. figured it was not from embarrassment. "You know what I'm talking about! What do you mean when you say you're his…his—"
"Mistress?" C.C. crossed her legs and raised an eyebrow. "I mean just that. Specifically, I'm a member of his harem."
Shirley crossed her arms over chest. "That isn't a very funny joke."
"I'm not joking." C.C. looked Shirley straight in the eye. For a few seconds, she was strong. She held C.C.'s gaze, but, inevitably, she wavered. Crumpled. Her lip wobbled, and she looked off to the side.
"You…you're lying. Lulu isn't like that. He isn't some kind of playboy. He wouldn't do that kind of thing." Shirley looked up, emboldened, eyes fiery and defiant. "Deep down he has a kind heart!"
"He really does have you fooled."
"No, he doesn't!" The girl was reallyangry now. Her hands were balled into fists; her forehead was creased. "The person he cares about most is his little sister, Nunna. He doesn't fool around with girls at school!"
"That's because he doesn't go for high schoolers."
Shirley's eyes widened. "But…you…"
C.C. cocked her head to the side, eyebrow still raised. "Have you ever considered that Lulu might have more sophisticated tastes than teenage girls?"
"You area teenager!"
If only. "I age well."
"Then why are you wearing a uniform?"
"Lelouch gave it to me so I could sneak in."
"Why would you tell me this?" Shirley's eyes were uncharacteristically narrowed.
"Because I think you deserve to know before you get yourself in too deep."
This struck a cord. The girl's eyes reverted back to their protuberant, doe-like state, and she took a step back. She stared at C.C. as if she were some unfathomable enigma, someone never to be understood.
"I know Lulu gambles," Shirley finally said, quiet and solemn. Like a church, C.C. thought dimly. "But he doesn't…"
"What's to stop him? He's handsome and charismatic, and he gambles because he needs the money to fuel his…interests."
"I don't believe you," Shirley whispered, staring at her hands.
"What point would there be for me to lie?" C.C. asked. "What could I possibly gain?"
"I – I don't know!" Shirley was twisting her fingers together as if they were a mess of tangled strings. "I don't understand why you would say such things."
"Because it's the truth." C.C. shifted. More of her robe fell open. "If it makes you feel better, he says you're a sweet girl – just inexperienced."
It was quiet for a long while. The girl continued knot and unknot her fingers, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. She was biting her lip, and it was turning white from blood loss.
Then, "How many?"
"Hmm?"
Shirley looked up, and she looked very, very young. "How many girls?" she whispered.
"It's difficult to tell," C.C. said, voice level and deadpan. "There's smoke and drugs, and the bodies begin to overlap."
Now the girl resembled some sort of injured baby animal. Maybe another person might have taken pity, but all of C.C.'s pity had been used up. It had all been replaced.
(With ennui.)
"But…" The girl's voice was quavering. "You're experienced?"
Centuries and centuries. Stake burnings and guillotines. Consorts and concubines. Hot flesh and wet kisses. Worship and slavery. Rope burns and welts. Fire and moans. Death and decay. "Yes," C.C. said, "you could say that."
"Then, can you—can you— " The girl's legs were shaking. She was blushing hotly, tripping on her tongue.
"Yes," C.C. said, "I can teach you."
And the girl did not resist when C.C. stood up and pressed her lips to hers. She froze, yes, but that was to be expected. This was probably her first kiss. She was young and naïve and took stock in unimportant things like firsts. First kiss, first boyfriend, first fuck, first love. C.C. could not name any of her firsts.
When the girl pulled back, her lips were swollen, her face was red, and she was frowning. "I was saving—" she started.
"Sweet, but you don't want to embarrass yourself," C.C. said, cutting her off. "Use your tongue."
She did. Cautiously. C.C. had to coax her out, but, eventually, Shirley's tongue was pressing against hers. Hesitantly. C.C. smiled against her lips.
Shirley pulled back again. "I don't feel like I'm doing it right," she murmured
"It doesn't matter. It's the sex that's important."
"…W-what?"
"Lelouch," C.C. said, reaching out to caress Shirley's cheek, "doesn't like to play games."
That was a lie. He did. He delighted in them. It was C.C. who had no patience for them.
But Shirley did no know this, so she allowed C.C. to push her down against the bed. She allowed C.C.'s hands to travel down her body, and she allowed C.C. to kiss her deeper and harder. Lulu didn't like to play games. Lulu liked experienced girls. She could be that for him. That was what the girl thought.
Shirley's cheeks were flushed, and her breath was coming in gasps. Her body was prone and unresisting. She did not put up a fight.
(Nothing like Marianne who thrashed and wrestled as if sex were a battle. Marianne the Flash was as bellicose in bed as she was on the field. She bit and left bruises and never surrendered. Never.)
"Celeste," the girl whimpered.
"You really chose the most ironic of aliases," Marianne piped up, sounding amused.
There was no denying that. Celestial meant belonging to the heavens.
(And the only place C.C. wanted to belong was six feet under.)
C.C. slipped her hand up Shirley's skirt, and she could feel that the girl's panties were already damp. Shirley gasped and keened, and she grasped the front of C.C.'s robe. It fell open, baring her breasts, and Shirley squeaked in embarrassment.
…But that squeak transformed into a mewl when C.C. slipped her fingers inside that lacey underwear and began to rub. C.C. doubted Lelouch knew where the clitoris was even located. This girl was truly too credulous, too trusting, too…
"Ah, Celeste."
A second time. Well. C.C. smirked. "No," she corrected, lowering her hand and feeling the wetness pool against her fingers, "Lulu."
Shirley looked slightly disoriented. "Lulu," she murmured.
C.C. shook her head. "You need to be louder. He's an arrogant boy."
"Lulu!" More conviction, and she raised her pelvis off the bed. "Please just…"
C.C. lowered her fingers even more, beginning to caress her thigh. "Command him," she said.
"More!"
Rather vague, but C.C. understood. She pressed a finger inside Shirley, and the girl's eyes shocked wide open. Another finger. Shirley gasped.
Although C.C. wore a poker face, she could feel an uncomfortable wetness between her own thighs. She shifted and focused in on the girl in front of her. C.C. did not need gratification, after all.
Shirley groaned and moaned, and she gasped once more when C.C. removed her fingers and suckled on each one as if she were enjoying the remnants of a snack. She let out another small sound of surprise when C.C. pulled down her lacy pink panties, allowing them to pool around her ankles.
…And she looked absolutely horrified when C.C. reached under the bed and pulled out the object that had been lying beside the champagne bottle.
Shirley blanched. "It's not what it…I didn't…" Her cheeks colored. "Milly gave…"
"It's purple," C.C. noted, running her fingertip along the shaft.
A deeppurple—probably more accurately, violet—and it was fairly big in relation to length and girth. C.C. switched it on before thrusting it inside the girl. Shirley gave a little yelp.
"You need to be louder," C.C. said, shifting again, ignoring the wetness between her legs again. "His ego depends on it."
The buzzing of the vibrator was drowned out by Shirley's moans. Her eyes fluttered shut, and her fingers blindly scrabbled against C.C.'s robe. C.C. carefully placed Shirley's small hands on her breasts. Her nipples began to peak as Shirley's hips began to buck.
And Shirley just got louder and louder, a crescendo, like a volume switch being slowly turned up. Her hands were fisting the sheets, and her mouth was open wide. And C.C. had to wonder what Lelouch would think, seeing this friendly, polite schoolgirl, who blushed at the idea of kisses, writhing and visceral.
And, when the girl came, she did not call out for Lulu. Or even Lelouch.
No, she cried out to the heavens.
When C.C. returned, Lelouch was a nuisance.
"Where have you been?" he demanded, eyes narrowed.
"Around," C.C. said blithely, flopping down on his bed and wrapping her arms around her Cheese-kun.
Lelouch was dressed in lavender-colored silk pajamas, and he was glaring, attempting to appear as intimidating as the high and mighty Zero. But he was panicking. C.C. could see it in his eyes. He had become more on edge since the cat-mask incident.
"That's not…" He bristled. "That's not an adequate answer. What if someone saw you?"
C.C. shrugged. "I wore a disguise. And, even if I didn't, who would recognize me?"
"Suzaku!"
Lelouch was legitimately furious now. His nostrils were flared, and his hands were balled into fists.
That made it all the more hilarious.
"What are you going to do?" C.C. asked, raising an eyebrow. "Lock me up?"
For a moment, Lelouch just stood there, fuming and on the edge of lashing out. C.C. waited patiently. Was he going to say she belonged in her straitjacket? That she was a careless witch?
Instead, he turned around and muttered, "Get dressed for bed."
C.C. smirked and stripped out of the uniform, replacing it with one of Lelouch's button-down shirts. She cleared her throat to indicate she was decent, and Lelouch turned back around and flicked off the lights. They crawled into bed together.
Lelouch always faced away from her, giving the appearance that his hair faded into the shadows of nighttime. He was always soundless, never snoring or moving about.
But, when C.C. pressed her foot against his own, he jolted and hissed.
She rubbed in soft, peaceful circles and pressed her breasts against his back. She wrapped her arms around him in a soothing embrace.
"What do you want, witch?"
C.C. almost felt like laughing. Almost. "You," she whispered, pressing her lips against the back of his neck, "have gullible friends."
Sighing, Lelouch broke away and moved farther to the other side of the bed. He grumbled something unintelligible into his pillow.
Marianne laughed.
When Shirley awoke, her head was throbbing, and Sophie was sleeping soundly on the opposite bed.
She flushed as her memory returned, remembering what she had done, why she had done it, and whose name she had—
Her cheeks burned. It did not matter, she decided. It had been a mistake, and no one would have to know. She could go back to the student council room today, and deal with Milly's teasing and listen to Rivalz's dumb jokes all the same.
Shirley's eyes widened. But what if that girl told Lulu? What would he think of her? Would she have to lie? Justify herself?
But, in the end, it did not matter because Shirley never saw that green-haired girl again, and Lelouch claimed not to know anyone by the name of Celeste. And, when Shirley confronted Milly about Lelouch's secret harem and alcohol-fueled orgies, the other girl just laughed and told her she had an overactive imagination.
"You can't believe everything you hear," Milly said, wagging her finger. "Some people make up the strangest gossip."
Shirley frowned. "Why?"
Milly shrugged. "They're bored. They have nothing better to do." She placed a hand on her chest and grinned. "And, if Lelouch was sleeping around, don't you think I would have been the first to hear about it?"
"Yeah," Shirley murmured, "I guess you're right."