Hot. It was the only word that Misaki's mind could process.

She woke up slowly, gradually assimilating where she had slept last night. She recognized the bare walls, the immaculate floor, the glass façade, but it was only when she realized a certain boy's arm clung tightly to her, that she finally comprehended she was in Usui's apartment. He was the source of heat, after all.

She tried in vain to shake him off; as a result, the grip on her waist tightened even more. She should've known that this was bound to happen. Ever since their relationship reached the intimacy necessary for them to sleep together, she discovered a fact, that sometimes was rather annoying – but also cute, she couldn't deny – about her boyfriend: his awakening was slow and fussy. He treated her like a pillow, and he wouldn't let go until he was fully awake. And boy, how long did it take! The raven haired, once, came to stay for almost twenty minutes embracing him. She had woken up as he slept, and when she got tired of waiting, she slept for forty more minutes – and he still hadn't awakened!

She couldn't understand how the blond's skin had gotten so warm – if the temperature in the room hadn't been close to fifteen degrees, she'd be sweating. She stopped fighting, however, because the heat and the shelter were really comfortable. Also, she didn't intend to wake him, since the boy stayed in a foul mood whenever someone did. She cuddled up to Takumi, closing her eyelids to join him in his sleep , but stiffened when she felt a pronounced bulge press against her tail.

Was he aroused?

Her question was quickly clarified: the hand that had rested on her belly before, was now caressing her slowly and gently through the fabric, his face buried itself deeper into the curve between her shoulders and neck; his breath brushed against her like a light but deep mist. But there was something odd in his slow actions: they didn't seem to be deliberate, like when he usually teased her; they were instinctive.

Taking advantage of the greater freedom of movement the boy allowed her, she turned around to face him, curious. Had he already woken up and he didn't tell her? She was ready to give him an earful when she took a glimpse at his face: his eyes were still closed! As she neared her face to his to confirm if he was still asleep, she was surprised when he wrapped his arms around her waist, restricting her to a rather uncomfortable position – partially lying on top of him.

Aware of the fact that any attempt to loosen herself from his grip would only end up in an even firmer hug, she whispered his last name a couple of times, trying hard to not awake him harshly. Due to her unfortunate location, her lips were very close to his – close enough for them to almost brush against his mouth. And, still lost in the immensity of sleep, Takumi's body seized the situation in the wrong way: closing the gap between them, he sealed his lips on hers.

Like the previous caresses, his kiss was slow and gentle – and the reason was easily understandable now: he has not awakened yet from his unconsciousness, or he had only partially. And Misaki confirmed that he was a good kisser even in his sleep; she didn't try to pull away this time, she only shifted her hips to achieve some comfort. Eventually, she straddled him with her legs, and thus, she felt his erection pressing against her makeshift pajamas; her hormones dominated her this time.

And her reaction, which was previously compatible with the gentle kiss he had given her, became vehement and eager: she moulded her tongue to his, deepening something that had begun in an almost chaste way. The enthusiasm of her response probably woke the boy, because he also happened to match her actions with a hot voracity. His long fingers wandered through the girl's back, in a slow pace, but with great intensity. And with her arms freed, the raven haired could move her hands to the thick and gold hair of her boyfriend's head.

And just like that, they remained still for several minutes after, brushing tongues and lips without any urgency – without any notion of time or space. They parted, however, trying to make up for their lost breath. Misaki suspended herself on her arms, and upon seeing him face her for the first time that morning, she understood the situation in which they were currently in: she sat on top of him, wearing only the worn out shirt he had lent her to sleep (because she had forgotten her own pajamas). However, this wasn't what made her cheeks turn red: Usui was a groping beast in the morning!

"Good day, Ayuzawa." he greeted her, still sleepy. His voice was slurred and he soon stifled a yawn with his hands. How did he manage to do that, even after all the making out they had done? It was either that his slumber surpassed the boundaries of his arousal, or, what Misaki thought was the correct choice, he was a pervert even in his dreams.

"Morning." she mumbled in a contained tone; her cheeks still burned, slightly pink.

After tousling his already dishevelled hair, he lazily stretched his extremities; finally, he assimilated mentally the vision that his girlfriend offered him. He stared at Misaki: her position, her clothes, her cherry tainted cheeks. Takumi smiled genuinely; he still felt the echoes of the drowsy lethargy, and it was enough for him to not think of any provocations.

"You could wake me up like this every day." he muttered without malice. However, it wasn't that way she interpreted his sentence:

"You started it, idiot." she accused, although she felt a bit responsible.

"And you responded, Misa-chan." he countered the same way, returning to his usual mocking tone, as the effects of indolence slowly disappeared.

"Just get out of bed, you lazy arse!" She complained, disconcerted because he had touched a crucial point. Upon seeing him arching his eyebrows, she finally realized she was still on top of him.

"Are you asking me to carry you like a princess, this time?" He asked, now fully awake and full on his teasing mode. While pushing himself on his arms, he hoisted himself to sit. Now, they were both at the same height.

"Not at all." she denied, irritated. Takumi again laced his arms around her to prevent her from escaping, upsetting her. "I don't wanna be carried by a stupid alien who can't stop being a pervert, even during his sleep."

"How cruel, Misa-chan." he lamented, concealed. His mouth tickled Misaki's shoulder and sent chills down her spine: "It would be hard not to dream about such things after last night."

As his voice turned serious, memories of the night before passed in her mind in a flash: the apron and the lingerie, her conquest, the boy's disarray. She rose mechanically when he released her from the embrace, and despite being a bit embarrassed, she was surprised at her own courage that she had previously managed to summon. The blond patted the top of her head in an involuntary gesture, before making his way to the bathroom. She busied herself with the pillows and sheets that covered the futon, so deep in thought she didn't notice Usui returning until her back collided against his chest.

"Misa-chan, you scatterbrain." he whispered in his ear, playfully. "Want me to describe my dream for you?"

She spun on her feet to face him – his rebel blond locks were at least presentable now, water had extinguished in him the last remnants of sleep from his face. And, as it had happened several times on the past, he had managed to follow her line of thoughts: Misaki was wondering if he really had an erotic dream, and by the look on his face, the blond boy confirmed her suspicions.

"It's not necessary" she shoot, decisive. "It is easy to imagine what goes on in that perve..." She interrupted herself, blushing.

"If you say you can imagine what I think..." He could barely contain his grin as he placed his forehead over hers. "Then you're a horny devil too, Ayuzawa."

"Do not compare me to a maniac like you." she said, furrowing her brows. That bastard! Her face reddened even more and not only with shame this time, but with rage. And her anger meter increased dangerously when, as he stepped back from her, he thanked her for her words. "It wasn't a compliment!" She explained, exasperated.

"That's your point of view, President." he enunciated in a tender tone and then headed to the kitchen.

"Why can't you act like a normal person?" She insisted, though her tone now expressed her struggle on dealing with a quarter british alien, illegitimate son of a wealthy and prestigious family.

"Define normal." he requested, while looking for some utensils inside one of the kitchen's cabinets.

"Normal people don't do or say stupid shit." she claimed, simply.

"But that's not being normal." he refuted, simulating a childishly and annoyed tone. "That's called being lame."

The raven haired huffed, frustrated, and strolled to the bathroom to take care of her morning hygiene. Temporarily, she had desisted – there was no one else on this planet that could piss her off as much as that idiot she had fallen in love with. Maybe that was the way – rather sadistic, by the way – of the world keep itself in harmony – balancing love and wrath, affection and provocation; opposite feelings, in the end, in one same individual. The curiosity she felt towards his dreams, impelled by his inconvenient question, ratified her reasoning. When she returned to the room, this doubt clouded all of her thoughts.

"Yo, Usui" she called him, prying to know more about her boyfriend. "What do you dream about?"

"That's an ambiguous question, President." he joked, though he was surprised. Before she could retort telling him that it was obvious she meant mental images during sleep, and not his expectations of the future, Takumi replied: "I sometimes dream of my childhood." He kept his hands and eyes busy while cutting the ingredients for their morning breakfast. "Sometimes about Maid Latte, and Seika..." he continued, pouring the sliced pieces on a small pan. "Sometimes I dream that a gigantic bucket of white slop haunts me." He chuckled when she gasped, outraged. He turned in her direction to look at her, she seemed very anxious reclining on the counter. Ah, she was too cute. "But often, I dream of you, Ayuzawa."

Misaki flushed involuntarily, but despite being embarrassed, she was particularly flattered. She felt very happy as she acknowledged this fact, not only because she occupied his mind to the point of being the main star of his unconscious fantasies, but also because Usui replied without much difficulty. She remembered the time she had to literally clock him in the face for him to tell her about his past, because of his introspective nature, and she was glad to see that he had gradually changed.

"How about you, President?" He asked, as he put over the kitchen bench a dish with some tasty looking food.

"I don't usually remember my dreams." she murmured, leading, from the marbled surface to the small coffee table in his living room, a pot that contained a delicious dessert prepared by the blond. She completed, now kneeling on the wooden boards of the floor: "And they are all mixtures without any nexus of everything that has happened to me during the day."

"They must be very interesting." he said, as he brought in a tray with the rest of what he had cooked. "And you don't remember any of them?" And there it was, his impression of a stray puppy, that always managed to make her do unwanted things. She scolded herself for her irrepressible honesty.

"I remember one, yes" she said with a sigh, because she couldn't deny him anything when he appealed for that kind of subterfuge. "It was before we went on our trip with Sakura and that Kuuga guy. I dreamed that you confessed to me." A light and subtle smile covered Misaki's lips, something that didn't go unnoticed by the boy. "But then president Igarashi put a mini sized you in a cage and said he would take you with him, and then Miyazono-sensei appeared, saying that she was my rival. Then, out of the blue, she was naked..."

A riotous male guffaw interrupted her. As she described her dream, Misaki's words gradually became rushed and higher in pitch, perhaps because she was channelling the despair she felt at the time she dreamed. That, added to the surrealistic frames she narrated, was hilarious to Takumi, who could not suppress his laughter any longer.

"Don't laugh at my nightmare, you twat!" She snapped, enraged. "You look like a kid when you laugh like that." She dropped it, finally, recognizing that there was nothing she could do to make him stop.

"And you look like a kid when you sulk like that, Ayuzawa." he replied, still humorous.

Morning meal was entwined with laughter, insults and retorts, as usual. During that morning, they had forgotten completely about their contest, or anything foreign to them at that time – they were together for once, enjoying each other's presence the only way they knew: arguing. And the discussion continued when the blond remembered hearing her call him by his first name in his dream, just like she had done the night before. He whined over the fact that she only called him by his family name, when he clearly had a proper name to designate him.

"I don't hear you calling me by my name, either." she dodged his accusation.

"Misaki." he whispered, staring at her almond-shaped eyes. His voice was deep, filled with the meaning of only one name: her name. He proceeded, in a lighter tone: "See? It's not that hard."

"It's because you are an alien who doesn't understand the meaning of personal space." Her face completely reddened, she didn't comprehend the intensity of her own satisfaction when she heard him pronounce those three syllables.

"I think I've broken your so-called "personal space" a lot of times now, Misaki." he pointed out, this time maliciously. He extended his fingers to touch her face, and continued in a soft tone: "And last time, it was you who said my name. I want to hear it again."

She remained silent, but not only because of her shyness: she didn't want to stutter his name in front of his face and make a complete fool of herself. She wanted to express herself without any limitations – to prove herself that she could face him without any restrictions. She mentally prepared herself to say it, but that single word could not get pass through her throat.

"Come on, Misaki." he encouraged her, trying to liven up the situation, as he noted his girlfriend's nervousness. "Pronunciation is not so hard."

"Ta... ku... Taku..." Damn! she cursed internally. "Taku... mi."

And the blond captured her lips with his, in a warm and passionate way. He kissed her sweetly, completely defeated by his woman, that fascinated him so much. When Misaki pulled him to close their distance even more, he laid her on the floor as he stroked her neck and her dark hair – and her hands left his hair to twine around his back, in a gesture that showed her desire to keep him in her arms as long as he she could. When the separated, he eyed her with an explicit longing, and she translated it into words:

"Takumi." she repeated before kissing him again.