A/N: Okay, I can't believe I made it to Chapter 10. Well, here we are. This is where the story gets a bit steamier, and I'm bumping the rating up just a bit. (Nothing too explicit) Thanks for your patience, as I wrangle with the crazy world of adulting.
Many many thanks to theboldnbright, who fought hard for there to be smut. As you can see, she lost for this chapter, but we will have many skirmishes in the future so you can go kiss her feet in gratitude. As always. Please let me know what you thought of it, I would appreciate reviews or favs. You guys are awesome for sticking with me thus far. I reckon we are about 1/2 through though my goal is to finish soon. Love you all.
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He wakes to the sound of the waves. Sleepily, he rolls over, remembering that he doesn't have to go to school today, and there are no activities planned. Then, his fingers brush skin and hair, and he hears a sigh.
His eyes pop open, to find Misaki asleep beside him, curled up in a little ball. Bolting up, he backpedals until his back hits the headboard.
She doesn't stir, lost in whatever dreams are holding her captive. The dawn light hits her just so, making her look like she stepped off the pages of a fairy tale book.
Just like this, he thinks, I wish time could stop and we could stay just like this.
These are dangerous thoughts. He catches himself, and frowns. This girl is not his. He reaches over, but hesitates when he catches sight of the bruise on her cheek. He decides to let her sleep for just a bit longer, pulling the blanket over her.
Before he knows it, he is asleep again.
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The second time, a sound wakes him. He sits up, glancing beside him automatically. The bed is empty, but a breeze blows into the open balcony doors, wafting the curtains. Takumi checks the bedside clock. 8:12 AM.
The skies have turned grey and cloudy, and the winds have picked up. He pads to the doors, and catches sight of Misaki, elbows on the railing, gazing out to sea. Self-consciously, he shoves his hands into his pockets, striding barefoot across the cement floor.
"Ayuzawa." Misaki, the voice in his head corrects him.
"President," she greets. "Isn't this fantastic weather for spring?"
"It feels like a storm is coming," he calls out, watching the wind whip her hair around her face. She nods, closing her eyes to inhale the salty air, and his heart gives a little skip. It terrifies him, the grip she has on him. Every time he sees her, he sees a different side of her.
Not yours, he repeats to himself. Don't even think about it.
"Let's go inside," he says aloud. "You just recovered from a fever, and it looks like it's going to start raining." A crack of thunder emphasizes his words, and the corner of her lips goes up.
"Okay," she agrees, walking inside. She watches him struggle to close the doors against the wind, and seconds later, the rain hits. Suddenly, the world outside the glass windows is a blur, and the sound of the droplets drowns out all the other noise.
"Can you still go home in this downpour?" Takumi asks.
She shrugs. "They can always send the car for me if I ask for one. But I'm at the Igarashi House, so my father doesn't care too much."
"Incidentally," he asks, crossing the room to sit on the bed. "Why are you here?"
"You owe me a day, President," Misaki quips, her gold eyes gleaming amidst all the grey light. "I won it fair and square."
So she did. He takes inventory of her; the circles around her eyes, the full pout of her lips, the petite but stubborn chin. "Yes," Takumi says finally, slipping on his butler persona. "What would you like me to do, my lady?"
"President, I want to talk to you."
Aren't they already talking? "About what?"
She smiles, a genuine grin that spreads across her cheeks and makes his heart stutter. "Everything."
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They talk for hours, curled up next to each other in bed, while the rain beats down on the windows. This is a rare luxury for Takumi too, a day where he does nothing.
Clearing his throat, Takumi starts to share about his own life, with a father whose head is buried in the past, about his fears for his little brother and his dream of going to law school and providing for Sasuke.
He talks about how his mother came back when he was ten, dressed differently and in a fancy car with a driver. She had come for Sasuke, ordering him to stay and take care of his father. That was the first time he had heard the word mistress from his father, who had drunk himself into oblivion.
Misaki lays her head on his chest as he talks, and it is oddly comforting to feel her tears soaking into the cloth of his shirt. With his other hand, he strokes her hair, and the words come spilling out.
He talks about how Sasuke showed up, a few days after his mother had taken him, feet bloody and clothes muddied, and how this became a pattern, with his brother fighting to come home to him every time she reclaimed him. Eventually she stopped coming for him.
His voice breaks as he recounts Sasuke's words, forever burned into his memory: "You're my brother, and you don't have anyone else to take care of you."
"Your mother loves you too, I'm sure she does," she insists.
"It's okay, Misaki. I've long accepted that she doesn't give a damn about me. I probably look too much like my father or something." He gives her a tired smile that makes her eyes fill with tears. "I've stopped asking why."
Finally, she begins. Misaki talks about a lonely childhood spent on an estate, with only her tutors to educate her while her only friend was Tora Igarashi. She tells Takumi about how her engagement to Tora was the only thing that saved her from her father's rage at having a daughter instead of a son. At some point her hand creeps into his, as natural as breathing.
Her eyes are dry as she tells him about her father's lightning quick mood changes, swinging from an affable, affectionate, doting father to a furious man who can slap her over a dropped pencil or a hair out of place.
She describes moving to that empty apartment as the first breath she had taken in a long time.
"Tora hadn't understood what it was like for me, leaving the trappings of this life, but if I hadn't gotten encouragement from- if I hadn't left, I would be living a half-life," she whispers, her eyes meeting his. "I would be afraid to breathe around my father, and it felt like I was suffocating, and he would never notice. I visit with him weekly, and I never knew what would set him off."
A half-life. This, he can understand. Then his gaze falls on the fading purple of her cheek.
"Yesterday. Why did he-" Takumi swallows the swearword, indicating the bruises on her wrist. She turns her head away, but he can see her jaw set.
"I don't want to talk about it," she states, her fingers going cold in his. "But, President, you've been working so hard. I'm sorry for bringing all of this mess to you, for getting you involved in my troubles."
Only the hitch in her breathing and the moisture on his shirt tells him she is crying. Misaki Ayuzawa, no, Genji, has mastered the art of crying silently, and that fact breaks his heart.
Misaki is crying for him, when he should be the one crying for her. At least he had his brother, but she was all alone. He tightens his hand around hers, noting how small it is compared to his. How could anyone hurt her, as delicate as she is?
No. He remembers how she had beaten up the upperclassman in school. She isn't defenceless at all, she is a black belt in aikido. His heart breaks even more when he realizes what it must have taken for her not to raise a hand against her own father, to take his abuse. She is practically an adult, and her reflexes must be ingrained in her. She chooses not to fight back, out of respect, or out of love.
"Misaki," he murmurs, stroking her scalp with his thumb. Her ears are delicately pink, a diamond stud winking up at him in the dim light. "You've had to be strong for such a long time, haven't you?"
Her shoulders shake from her sobs. He sits, pulling her into his arms as she cries harder. "Let it out," Takumi tells her, resting his chin on her head. "I won't tell anyone."
The storm outside grows more violent as her tears subside. He doesn't even wonder what time it is. Holding Misaki close, he wishes time would stop.
Eventually, she sits up, eyes swollen and lips red, cheeks wet and bruised. Even in this state, she still makes his heart skip a beat. Completely inappropriate, he scolds himself, Stop hoping. She's out of your league.
Reaching up to wipe her tears with his thumbs, he forces a smile on his face. "Feel better?"
"Yes." His heart twists when she hiccups, wiping her eyes with her knuckles like a child.
When she looks up, he realizes how very very close she is to him. Just a little further, his traitorous heart tells him, and you can taste her again.
She nibbles on her lower lip, averting her eyes. "President, I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice a little hoarse. Butterflies flutter in his stomach, and he is finding it difficult to breathe in her scent. "I have inconvenienced you again."
"Misaki," he sighs.
"Yes, President?" Her eyes are full of guilt, and underneath that, hunger.
"Stop me." His mouth is on hers before she can reply, and he can taste her tears again, just like the first time. Her lips are softer, probably swollen from her tears but he can taste the faint traces of her strawberry lip balm.
She exhales, her fingers sliding into his hair, and whatever control he had left is gone. There is nothing except her lips, parting slowly to give him access to the secrets within. Rising to her knees, she straddles him, taking charge as she slants her mouth over his.
He drops his hands to her hips, supporting her. There is a desperation in her kiss, an urgency that has her deepening the contact, her tongue demanding more from him. She trembles under his hands when he answers with his own, licking and stroking until she whimpers against him.
Unable to help himself, he pulls her even closer, nipping at her lower lip. She responds with a moan, raking his hair with her fingertips. His heart races, trying to keep up with his head. He is falling off a cliff, losing all rationality and control with her.
"Misaki," he groans, ripping his mouth off hers. Leaning his forehead against hers, he tries to catch his breath. "Please, I need to-"
She cuts him off again with her lips, and her fingers are sliding under his shirt, now on his skin. Her touch is cold, and he can see the nervousness in her eyes, matching his own. But her hands on him make him groan, because it feels like he has waited his entire life for her to touch him.
"Misa, are you sure?" he asks against her lips.
"Stop talking, President," she growls back, biting his lip sharply. Of course she is taking charge, and Takumi grins, rising up to the challenge.
He rolls them on the massive bed until he is leaning over her, and her legs are locked around his waist, devouring her lips, learning the shape of her with his fingers. He loves the broken sigh she makes when he strokes her ear, the way she exhales when he finally leaves her mouth to scatter kisses all over her throat and neck.
Takumi has kissed her once before. Once. And now he learns where her intoxicating scent is the strongest (the base of her throat) and how sensitive her navel is when he brushes his fingers over it.
Her golden eyes darken and slide down to half-mast as he nibbles on her fingers, pressing a kiss to her palm. He holds her gaze as she unbuttons her dress from the front, heart pounding in his ears. There is uncertainty in her eyes, an unexpected shyness.
"Misaki," he breathes, awed as she parts the dress, revealing creamy skin covered in goosebumps, and black lace. "You're beautiful." Now a flush spreads across her skin, and he follows it with his lips, until he is back at her mouth, tasting her again.
She pulls his shirt up over his head, and he pauses long enough to get rid of it. He knows she has done this before; Igarashi mentioned that she was not a virgin. But, damn it, it is her first time with him. He will make this good for her, or die trying.
"President," she whimpers, arching her back beneath him.
Out of nowhere, Igarashi's words come back to haunt him. "I want you to break her heart."
Takumi stops. What is he doing? In her fiance's house, no less.
Misaki's eyes open, unfocused at first. "President?"
Gently, he kisses her, cupping her head in his hands as if she was made of glass. She responds, confused at his change of pace. He brushes his lips against her belly button before closing up the front of her dress, planting a few kisses on her throat and lips.
Her eyes are filled with tears again. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No, no, you are perfect," he assures her, holding her close.
"Then why did you stop?" Her voice is small, like a little girl's, and her cheeks are hot against his bare chest. "If you say it's not me, it's you, I will punch you."
He has to smile at that. "Misaki, I'm a virgin."
"So?" she snaps, wiping her eyes. "I thought all guys wanted to get rid of it. What are you waiting for? Unless you're one of those guys that wants it to be with someone you- Oh." Misaki goes still in his arms. "I see."
"Wait, what do you see?" He asks as she pulls away, dashing the tears away from her cheeks with the back of her hands.
She turns her gaze on him, and he can see fury and humiliation shining in them. "You should have said something earlier. I'm sorry for throwing myself at you over and over. I didn't know…"
He drags his shirt on, chasing after her before she can reach the door. "Misaki, what are you talking about?" With a hand above her head, he slams the door shut.
Immediately she drops into a crouch, throwing her arms protectively over her head. His heart breaks as he falls on his knees, reaching for her.
"Misa, I won't hurt you." His fingers hover above hers; he isn't sure what is going on at this point. "Please, talk to me."
She lifts her head, lowering her arms slowly. "I- Ah, I'm sorry, it was more of a reflex, I didn't mean to…"
"Stop apologizing," he tells her, helping her to her feet. "You did nothing wrong. But what did you mean?"
"President, do you like Tora?" Her question throws him for a loop. She continues, averting her gaze. "You didn't have to force yourself to kiss me. I'm sorry. That... I shouldn't have tried to make you like me…"
"What are you talking about?" Takumi feels like he is banging his head against a brick wall.
Finally, she meets his eyes. " You're gay, right? And it's Tora, not me, that you like, right?"
"No!" he protests, tumbling on his butt from the shock. "I'm not gay."
"Don't worry, President, I won't tell anyone at school." She gets to her feet, cheeks red.
"Misaki," he hollers, twisting to avoid the door that she yanks open. He scrambles to his feet, sprinting out into the hallway. "Misa, wait."
He catches her turning the corner, wiping her eyes. She is athletic, after all, and she knows the lay of the land, so he runs faster to catch up with her.
At the next corner, he comes to a full stop. She is nowhere in sight, although he is now by the study, where he met Igarashi the day before.
The door opens. Is it Misaki? He strides to the entry, and comes face to face with an older, blond man.
"I'm sorry," he blurts out, bowing low. When he straightens, he gets a good look at the older man. It is uncanny how much like Igarashi the man resembles, from the blond hair to the wolf-yellow eyes. Igarashi never mentioned a brother, so this must be his father. Takumi bows again. "Pardon the intrusion. I am the president of Seika High School and my name is-"
"Takumi Usui." The older man's voice is gravelly. "What are you doing here?"
How does Mr. Igarashi know his name? He pastes a smile on his face. "I'm sorry, I'm not quite clear on-"
"Tora brought him here," Misaki interjects, appearing out of nowhere. The man and Misaki exchange a long look, and then he glares at Takumi again.
There is a movement from behind him in the study, and a woman's voice calls out. "Hideo, what is it?"
"We were just on our way to Tora," Misaki announces, forcing a smile. "We apologize for interrupting you, Father-in-law." She bows again, and herds him down the hallway before the older man can react. Once they are far enough, she takes his hand and runs.
He turns back and sees the head of a woman, exiting the doors. "President," Misaki snaps, the urgency in her voice grabbing his attention.
"Wait, we need to talk," he tells her grimly, the woman forgotten.
Voices echo in front of them. She drags him into the nearest doorway, which turns out to be a closet. They wait for what sounds like a herd of maids to pass, Misaki's face pressed to his shoulder.
"Why are we hiding?" he whispers.
"Because they're starting preparations for tomorrow's party. You cannot be seen with me, President, do you understand?" she hisses the question in his ear. The proximity to her sends his stomach flip-flopping, though her words hurt.
"No, I don't understand," he shoots back. "Why can't I be seen with you?"
"I'm trying to protect you, President,," she sighs, frustration evident in her voice. She must be exhausted, because God knows Takumi is. "I can't tell you why, but please please stay away from me from now on."
"We were about to make love less than an hour ago," he reminds her. "Now you're telling me to stay away?"
"That was before I found out you were gay," she snaps, poking his shoulder.
"But I'm not gay," he growls.
"I told you, I'll keep your secret safe. I'll even help you with Tor-" In his frustration, he pushes her against the door, covering her mouth with his in a kiss that goes on and on until she is boneless in his arms.
"Wai-," she gasps, but he kisses her again, taking command of her with slow swipes of his tongue. He swallows her moan, loving the way her fingers dig into his shoulders.
"Presid- oh," Her hand flies up to cover her lips as he makes his way down her neck, pressing his tongue to where her pulse is pounding frantically. She trembles under his hands, leaning her head back to give him more access.
In the sliver of light from under the door, he can barely see her, but he is so attuned to her, so aware of her that he doesn't need to look. Dragging his teeth over her collarbone, he is so intoxicated by her that he cannot even tell which way is up now.
"Takumi," he whispers between kisses. "Say my name, Misaki."
"P-pres…" she stammers, then muffles her scream with a hand when he sinks his teeth into her shoulder, nudging the strap of her dress to the side with his nose.
"Say it," he demands, tasting the skin underneath. "My name."
She is quiet, her gasps echoing in the closet as he explores her. Suddenly he needs to hear it, his name on her lips.
"Misa," he croons, closing his lips around her ear. "Say Takumi." She shudders and writhes in his arms, stifling her lips. He is getting damn close to begging, he thinks, but getting to that point, having her so helpless in his arms is worth it.
"Okay, okay, Presi- Takumi," she exhales, pressing a hand to his face to keep him from kissing her again. "Takumi."
"I'm not gay," he repeats, kissing the palm of her hand again. Her breath hitches.
"No, I believe you," Misaki exclaims, pushing him back. "Then why did you stop?"
Reality comes flooding in when the door opens, revealing an amused-looking Tora Igarashi. "Well, well, my fiancee and my new best friend. Here you are. I wondered what had happened to both of you."
Misaki pushes past him, her cheeks blazing. Then she stops, and looks at the other boy. "Your father saw him. I told him you brought him here."
If anything, the other boy's smile widens. "Good, good. Well, your butler is here, looking to retrieve you. I'll see you tomorrow, my dear?"
She avoids Takumi's eyes as she nods. "Goodbye. Thank you for my day, President."
Igarashi turns to him, raising an eyebrow. "So what have you been up to today, hmm?"
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