DISCLAIMER: SKIP BEAT! and its associated characters are the creations of Yoshiki Nakamura. This author claims no ownership of Skip Beat or any of its characters. All other rights reserved.
*WARNING: NSFW. Explicit content. Reader discretion advised.*
NOTE: Please skip chapters 16 and 17 if you do not wish to read explicit content.
Thank you to Mimagren/Mimagfan for the beta-read!
Additional Author's Notes at bottom of the page.
Chapter XVI: Splendour in the Grass
愛はいつも
陽だまりの中にある
He had her hand in his again, threading his fingers through hers as they walked through their forest. Their forest, now, not just hers. His time at the ryokan was drawing to a close in just ten days, and he had asked her for another picnic by their rock. A perfectly innocent picnic, not terribly different from other times they'd snuck off into the forest before. Perfectly innocent.
She was trying as hard as she could to prepare herself for inevitable heartbreak, but he was so persuasive, so sincere, so irresistibly adorable she couldn't wean herself off of his company. He had her heart in those big hands of his, he could crush it without even noticing. She was scared, but there were times when he made her laugh so hard she forgot to listen to that little voice in her head that reminded her again and again that she was plain, boring, and unloveable. It was as if he knew when that voice got louder—that would be when he would kiss her hand…or her cheek…or her, in general, and then the bitterness would melt away into a joy so bright she was afraid she'd be burned by it. It was so easy to just…spend time with him. He only ever asked her to be herself, he made her feel as if her words mattered, acted as if he actually enjoyed her company. And he kept doing things for her for no reason—except it wasn't just chores now, it was…everything else. He'd do small things and large things and things she never imagined anyone doing for her, and everytime he did, she got his message. I love you, said the peeled orange at breakfast. I love you, said the folded origami flower at her door. I love you, said the arm that steadied her as she almost stubbed her toe on the forest path. Just this morning he'd refused to allow her to carry anything for their picnic.
"Kuon!" she'd protested, "at least let me carry the blanket."
"Nah uh," he responded, taking it all in his right hand. "You made the food and you planned everything out, I'm carrying it and that's fair." When he reached for her hand with his left, she readily gave it to him. She had begun to accept that her hand belonged in his, even though part of her screamed each time she did it.
Her heart felt like it was in constant overdrive; it would race every time their eyes met. And when he took her hand in his—as he had just done—it would skip a beat in a way that would make her catch her breath. Traitor, she told it as they walked hand-in-hand. Her entire body was traitorous, reacting to him in a wanton manner. She would get goosebumps for no reason whatsoever.
If she'd been a stronger woman, she would've protested; insisted, perhaps, that he act more like a Japanese person and restrain himself from the shameless way he would kiss her for no reason, or come up behind her and enfold her in his arms. But she wasn't. And she didn't, not so much because she couldn't, but because she simply didn't want him to stop. The memory of the night on the balcony played in her head on a loop—the feel of him touching her, the taste of his mouth, the desperate way he'd latched onto her breasts—it colored her days and poisoned her nights, leaving her in a state of uncertainty on how to act. She could feel them circling around a certain possibility. A lewd, shameless, deeply intimate possibility. She even admitted that it wasn't just possible but probable, and her shameless thoughts made her want to crawl into a little hole and hide for a hundred years. How could she tell him that she wanted to do that again? How could she tell him she wanted more? How could she even think it?
She was a pervert. That's what it was. No one had ever touched her like that before, but her reaction surely meant she was a pervert. What would he think of her if he knew what she was thinking?
=.=.=.=.=.=
Kuon was trying to commit this place to memory. Of course, he remembered it from when he was a child, but those memories had faded in the rose-colored way childhood memories seemed to do. Months from now, he wanted to remember this—the path, the bamboo forest, the river beyond, the feel of her hand in his, so delicate and small. So close to so many of Kyoto's mythic tourist traps, and yet so far away. Kyoto was humid and hot, but under the waving leaves of bamboo, it was cool. Kuon was watching her carefully as they walked in companionable silence. He never got tired of it—Kyoko's reactions were always so…unique. She was preoccupied with something, and he didn't have the courage to ask her for her thoughts. Kyoko is a flight risk, he told himself. Do not get carried away. Do not do it, Kuon Hizuri. If gentle devotion would win her, that's what he would do. Kuon wasn't Ren Tsuruga, but he sure as fuck had plenty of practice being Ren Tsuruga. If that stick-in-the-mud could be of any use, it would be now. Kuon made sure to keep his kisses strictly clothed, pulling himself away at the end of every evening through sheer brute force. Last night, he'd come close to attacking her again—he was kissing her neck and he heard her moan a tiny little moan and he almost devoured her. He was certain he would go insane, but he had to focus on the long game. He would keep helping her with chores. He would make her crowns made of clover and call her queen. He would even read her poetry, for fuck's sake, but he would not, under any circumstance, attack her the way he did that night. And so long as she didn't run off, it would be a victory.
The morning after 'the chase' (as he thought of it), he'd woken up cold and somewhat sore on the bare floor of Kyoko's room, his body cradling her as if she were a life raft and he a shipwreck survivor on a stormy sea. It hadn't mattered to him that he was on a floor without so much as a sheet to cover him—he had her in his arms and it was a warm night, who gave a fuck about sheets? They'd fallen asleep after a long night talking—he'd tried to tell her how much he loved her, how much she meant to him. She'd accepted his confession, but something in her eyes told him that she didn't quite believe him. Even after everything he'd said—even after everything she'd said—she didn't believe him. Not really. Not down deep on the inside. It broke his heart and galvanized him at the same time. If his words wouldn't convince her, then it would simply have to be his actions. Even if he started every day from scratch, he would show her every single day how much she meant to him, how his love was not the 'love' that Sho Fuwa had given her. That morning he watched her sleep for god knew how long, watching each breath she took with the devotion of a true believer, until her eyes finally fluttered open and focused confusedly on him. He gave her a shy smile, which she took in but did not return.
Seeing that uncertain, unsmiling face made him realize how utterly unfamiliar this situation was. In truth, having to woo someone was an entirely new experience for him. In the past, girls had simply...appeared. Sex had been a given, conversation was secondary. His first lover had been significantly older than he was—though he looked much older than his age, he'd only been thirteen. She'd taught him 'the ropes' and he'd been an eager student. Pleasing women—making them writhe with his tongue and his hands and his cock—had been as much an academic pursuit as it had been one of pleasure. But Kyoko was wholly different. He wanted—needed—her desperately. Not just her body, but her love. He could sense her fear and her uncertainty, and he didn't know how to show her that she needn't be. Not only had he never been with someone so unwholly tutored in the arts of love—he'd never been with someone for whom he cared so much. If she was far from his first, he was determined she would be his last. But losing her just when she'd agreed to a relationship with him felt like a very real and present danger for him.
So the days after the chase had been spent in a kind of torturous bliss. He would grab at her hand and she would let him hold it, shyly entwining her fingers with his and avoiding his gaze all the while—but she wouldn't let him go, either. She yielded to the kisses he still felt like he was stealing, but she never took them further and he never tried to take her as far as he had that first night. She fulfilled her promise to help him with the Ring Doh 2 script, learning it with the kind of thorough voraciousness he'd come to expect from her. He'd brought out more scripts for them to work through, and many happy hours had been spent acting, again. He was determined to speak to Lory about her at some point. Surely something could be done. A talent like hers should be polished and shown off, not hidden away in the kitchens.
The path ended and they were at their river again, he helped her lay the blanket down and they sat companionably reading through a few scripts Yashiro had sent him for consideration as they ate lunch. The day was another warm one, and they enjoyed the waving of the grass and the cool air off the river. I wish this would never end, Kuon thought. Dammit. Lory and that intuition of his. Kuon hated admitting Lory was right, but he was always right.
"This one, Kuon," Kyoko said, holding Midnight Strikes. Kuon groaned. Of course she'd pick that one as my next drama, he thought.
"What?" she asked, looking up at him. She pouted at the look on his face."Why not?"
"Is it because it's a fairy tale retelling?" he responded.
Kyoko gave him a sideways glance and rolled her eyes.
"Maybe? But I thought it had an interesting premise—Cinderella as a dispossessed princess? Finding refuge in a neighboring kingdom as a servant? It's a little more like a 'Cinderella plus Thousandfurs' retelling, though."
"Eh. The prince part seems a little one-dimensional," he observed.
"Will Cinderella be played by a famous actress?"
Kuon shook his head. "Last I heard, they were going to have actresses audition for the part." His mind's eye couldn't help but picture Kyoko as the Cinderella, and just picturing it made the entire saccharine mess much more palatable. "Production's not scheduled until the spring, though," he continued. "The producers wanted a high-budget production. Costumes, special effects, everything. That takes a little while to do, plus I have one or two projects I have to shoot beforehand."
"It sounds like it would get a lot of attention."
Kuon snorted. "I'm sure. But the role isn't terribly challenging. Plus I'd have to kiss the Cinderella."
"Oh." Kyoko looked thoughtfully at the script, a tiny frown forming on her face.
Kuon, observing it, kept himself from grinning. She's jealous, he thought with some satisfaction.
"Well, if the prince role is so one-dimensional, then why was it in your pile for consideration?" she asked.
"Yashiro, probably," he said ruefully. "Apparently they offered me a fortune to play the prince. And, frankly, things have been in a slump. He thought I could use a fluffy part where I could…oh, I don't know…sit still and look pretty." Kuon sighed. Yashiro had said much more than that, actually. 'You need to remind people you're a heartthrob, Ren," he'd lectured. "The Gorgeous Star. What better way to do that than as a prince? You'll get re-elected as Japan's Sexiest Man in no time." Kuon had protested he didn't care about that stupid poll, but Yashiro had given him a look. So Kuon had taken the script and promised to give it serious consideration.
Kyoko took a look at his face and hardened her resolve. Kuon was going to have to kiss pretty actresses, it was part of his job. She knew this. It could be that his next leading lady would be his true soulmate, and it was not any of her business to interfere. She felt herself descending from the cloud she'd been sitting on, picturing it. "I'm…I'm sure the kissing part will make lots of people fall in love with you, Kuon," she said. "Um…"
Oh no, he thought. Nope, not going to let this happen. He could see her start going down into her labyrinth of doubt and self-devaluation, and he was damned if it was going to happen on his watch. Don't push things! he told himself. In a few years, perhaps, she'd stop trying to tell him that he 'deserved better.' But until then, it was up to him to show her what love and devotion were like. "Nope," he said, and he grabbed her easily until he held her overhead, spinning her around and then peppering her face with kisses. "Nope. I can tell what you're thinking. Acting kisses aren't kisses. These are kisses."
And he kissed her.
"Kuon!" she giggled, giving him a token fight and shoving gently at his shoulder, but he persisted. He kissed her until he felt whatever dark shadow she'd been entertaining leave and then he set her down on their blanket and kissed her again until they caught their breath looking up at a sky that was blue and boundless and eternal. He had her cradled on his chest, tucked into his arm, and when their conversation quieted, he grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth, brushing her knuckles with the briefest of kisses. She had no defense when his eyes caught her own. She felt his long fingers entwine with her hand, his pinkie finger curling around hers as if they were children on a playground making promises. She felt him release the yubikiri with a tiny smile, only to look down as he slid a ring made of flowers on her ring finger. When had he made that? she wondered.
"My father would make these for my mother all the time," he said.
She smiled hesitantly. Again, she thought as she looked at it. He's doing it again. Promising her things. Giving her things. Acting like they had a future. None of this could be happening, could it? This entire strange, blessed summer existed like a magic time apart for both of them, as fragile as a soap bubble in the wind. She looked back up at him and found he hadn't looked away. Her breath caught in her throat. Her heart felt like a trapped bird trying to escape out of her chest—
"Soulmates, Kyoko."
On his lips the words sounded like a prayer.
"Kuon," she said, almost reproachfully. "That's just a story they tell silly young girls."
"It's true, though. Look at me and tell me I'm wrong."
She looked at him and stayed silent but couldn't bring herself to disavow it. Yes, her heart said, yes, you are mine and I am yours and I love you I love you I love you…
"You still don't really believe me, do you?" he asked. "That I love you. That I want to marry you. That this is real." If she'd been anyone else, he would've been frustrated. But he knew all too well about the cycle of abandonment and abuse that she'd lived through, and he'd be damned if he let it get in the way.
Still no response. It made him raise his head to look at her, and she said, "But you might change your mind. And that would be OK. Maybe not anytime soon, but…someday. And I would understand." Her heart was in her eyes.
He sighed. Someone had conditioned her to have this reflex. At least she's not offering to bring me escorts anymore, he thought. How could he expect her to believe him so easily? He'd made her grand promises, and it had only been days. Patience, he told himself, actions AND words AND time. He wasn't willing to give up so easily. "Not me," he said, "I'm not changing my mind."
His hand crept up her arm and rose to cup her face gently and she was drowning in his emerald eyes.
"Would it really be ok if I did?" he asked. He knew he was on dangerous ground. What would he do if she said yes? He didn't really believe she'd disavow him so easily, he could've sworn she cared for him in return. He was so close to her, watching the fluttering of her eyelids and the flush on her cheek.
She was going to lie and say 'yes, of course it would be ok' but the look in his eyes stopped her. Please don't, they pleaded, please don't say you'd be ok. His eyes stopped her in their tracks, and she realized telling him it was OK for him to leave was tantamount to saying she didn't care. She had been telling herself she'd made the Little Mermaid's choice—be with him until he got tired of her, dance for him even though it felt like knives were cutting up her feet, smile for him even when he left her for another Princess as she disappeared into foam. Her plan was to have him use her and bear it all silently, telling herself that men were fickle, changeable, inconstant, prone to exaggeration, and that she was stupid but helpless because she couldn't help herself in loving him. But as she looked at him, she couldn't say it. This golden-haired fake fairy of a man had spent his summer patiently waiting on her, and she couldn't find it in herself to tell him that she couldn't believe in him after all. No, it wouldn't be OK if he left. It wouldn't be OK for him to abandon her the way everyone else she'd loved had. She didn't want to stand by and see it happen, and now, for the first time since he'd come back in her life, she knew she wanted him to stay—enough to fight for it. Because he was hers, and finally, now, she could own it.
"No," she told him quietly, "it wouldn't be OK."
He smiled at her—one of those tender, beautiful, heavenly smiles that lit up his entire face and made him look angelic. The world stopped and she could see them as if from a great height. She was falling into him and he was all she could see, smell, touch, hear. The moment carried through her like a massive tide bringing her under as he whispered a breath away from her lips.
"I love you," he breathed, and kissed her.
Control yourself, he thought, but then she short-circuited his mind with her touch. She pulled him to her and he could feel her want calling out for him like a siren song. His resolve to be gentlemanly disintegrated like wet tissue paper. One minute they'd been laying side-by-side and looking at blue sky; the next, he had her pressed against him, his body was flush against her skin and his hands were wound up in her hair as he pinned her against the ground. She was clinging to him, her small hands clutching his hair, her arms winding against his neck as she gasped aloud. Her mouth welcomed his tongue and for a few moments he managed to be slow and sensual as he explored her slowly. He wrung little gasps from her as he nipped at her lips, and then he swallowed her moan as she deepened their kiss. This act—the evidence of her desire—drove him forward. Control? What was that? Any ideas he'd had of taking it slow were annihilated, he didn't even know why he bothered with trying. He didn't want her to feel pressured, wanted her to feel cherished and loved—there were stray thoughts of spiriting her away to a place where he could lay her down on a bed of roses. But instead he had her pinned against him under the open sky, her mouth making guttural sounds that drove him insane as their kisses grew more heated and more desperate.
He thought he'd go out of his mind if he couldn't have her now, but restraint was the better part of valor. Instead, he gave free reign to his hands, which began a relentless exploration of her body. They wandered down and then slid up under shirt, raising it slowly until he managed to remove it over her head. He made quick work of her bra clasp, and then his tongue was free to make its way down from her soft, yielding lips, to her neck, and then down to the hardened nipples on her breasts, newly puckered under the open sky. She yielded to his touch and he satisfied himself, first flicking the hard nub of her nipple and then circling lightly, his other hand cupping the other and fondling it. And then he let his hand descend past the tender flesh of her belly, skipping to her knee and then caressing upwards to her thighs as he gently parted them. Lightly, he traced the outline of the elastic of her panties, hearing her pant under his touch. Tentatively, he cupped the mound of her sex as she whimpered. When his fingertips reached the gusset of her panties he groaned at the wetness he found there.
She felt his gentle touch on the other side of the drenched cloth and felt him trace the outline of her vulva, softly, just with the pads of his fingers. Each point of contact sparked madness in her, promising some kind of ignition, and her hips moved of their own accord towards him. "Kuon," she cried out. His touch was electric. No one had ever touched her there, not like this—not even herself. She felt his hand slip underneath the elastic, and then there was nothing between them—not even the flimsy guise of a single layer of fabric. The fingers continued their inexorable march and she could hear the low rumble of his throat as he found himself covered in slick wetness. He tentatively moved a finger over her clit, palpating it gently before beginning a slow friction with his thumb. As she arched towards him, he gently pried apart her inner lips with his middle finger, slowly entering her for the very first time. "Ah!" she gasped, and he cradled her body with his other hand, deepening his touch inside her as her back arched to the open sky.
His arrival had opened her eyes to an undiscovered country—she had never thought of her body as an instrument of pleasure. She was learning desire under his tutelage now, learning the ways and means of its deployment and its receipt. His kisses and caresses had merely fanned an aching emptiness down there, and his hands felt impossibly large and long as his finger filled her. It was an invasion, but she had already surrendered and offered up her body for plunder. It felt right. He added his forefinger and curled his fingers and soon enough she was gasping and moaning as he began a rhythm, moving slowly and deliberately at first and then faster as she gave herself up to his ministrations. She was heading towards something…a cliff, perhaps, an explosion—some kind of self-erasure that she knew she wanted but hadn't yet experienced.
She gasped as his fingers suddenly left her—only to clutch tightly at him as he lifted her hips off the ground. "Please," she moaned, "please…" She was only half aware of what he was doing, and felt a rough hand slide her underwear down past her knees and off. She didn't resist as he laid her down on their picnic blanket. For a brief second all she saw overhead was a boundless sky, and then he was hovering over her body and descending to kiss her lips again. Gently he spread open her thighs until he was ensconced between them. She was aware that her naked sex was spread underneath his clothed body, aware that her hips were rising and falling to a rhythm that somehow felt instinctive, aware for the first time of the hard length of him that was still trapped behind his own clothing. As his tongue entered her mouth she instinctively ground herself against that hard length, feeling, for the first time, how inadequate textbooks were about the delicious possibility such a member promised. But before she could think about it overlong, his lips were descending down her body, past her neck, which he licked and sucked and bit, past her breasts which were tender from his prior ministrations, down past her belly and then finally, to that aching center of need that was begging for his touch.
Kyoko felt indecent and wanton and exposed, feeling cold air against her center. Without him covering her upper body, she wanted to hide, bringing her hands to cover her sex and her breasts. But she felt him grab them and before long had them pinned under her as he spread her legs even further. His hands felt huge as they held her thighs open. She was confused, she didn't know what he was doing, only that she wanted to beg for something she didn't understand. She didn't understand until she saw his head descend to the apex of her legs, and felt his breath against her dripping pussy. She saw the tip of his tongue, and then felt it as he brought himself down to her. There were no preliminaries. "Look at me," he growled. She had closed her eyes under his onslaught, but she met his gaze as the length of his tongue licked her slit from top to bottom. The feel of it—the lascivious bliss of it, the filthiness of it—forced her to arch herself against him again. To him, it felt like she was offering herself. She cried out as his lips descended on her sex, cried out as his tongue was joined by his fingers. He was tasting her, kissing her down there the same way he kissed her mouth, his tongue was circling her outer lips and then thrusting into her before teasing a place she hadn't even known existed. She wasn't even aware of the sounds she was making, just that her hands were trying to push him away and pull him to her at the same time as her legs trapped him in between them.
He was merciless, abandoning his efforts to hold her down as she bucked against him. He felt her rise to a frenzy, his fingers pushing into her depths while continuing his assault on her clit. She heard herself begging him, she didn't know what for, but when he curled his fingers inside her and then sucked on her clit the world fragmented into shards of fire. She felt herself explode and then collapsed against the picnic blanket, her fevered body slick with the sheen of sweat and her chest rising and falling with labored breath. She looked at him hazily as he removed his fingers from her sex, too exhausted to react at the sight of him licking her juices from her fingers. He kissed her gently with a mouth that tasted of her ecstasy and she closed her eyes. She had no intention of dozing off, but she felt so warm and loved and safe. This was their place, their magic island, and it only felt right to fall asleep in his arms here.
He watched over her as she drifted off into sleep, still hard and aching for her. As desperately as he wanted to take care of it, he didn't want to wake her or push this further than he'd already taken it. It didn't matter that he smelled like her, or that her body was still pressed onto his. Her pleasure would always come first, each and every time, and he wasn't going to rub one out like a pervert just when she'd fallen asleep on him in such a trusting manner. He did not regret what they had just done. He hoped she wouldn't, either, though it was the fear of her regret that ultimately calmed the erection that had been driving him insane.
He contented himself by watching over her, smoothing her shirt and fixing the obscene way her floaty skirt had bunched around her waist. He cradled her, nuzzling into her neck and breathing her in, and was just about to fall victim to the afternoon's soporific lull when the quiet was broken by a stray bird call. She woke with a start, and he watched with dismay as her face exploded into flame.
"Kyoko?" he asked.
"Kuon…I.." She couldn't look at him! He'd…been down there! She didn't know where to hide so she burrowed into his arm further, wanting to hide her face.
Kuon just tightened his arm around her and kissed her on the forehead. "Are you OK?" Hesitating, he pulled away from her enough to look at her square in the face. "Did I…I didn't…did I go too fast? Was it too much?"
Kyoko's face turned an even deeper red than he thought possible, but she scrunched her eyes closed and nodded her head no. He smiled at her in relief and then moved to kiss her throat. She tilted her head and moved to avoid him.
He looked at her, alarmed and confused.
"Butyouseemawfullyexperienced," she mumbled.
Ah, he thought. There was no good way to prevaricate on that. "Yes," he said seriously, "I am." She looked up at him in surprise, not expecting such a matter-of-fact acknowledgement. "And I don't regret it," he said shamelessly. And then he grinned. "All that practice was helpful after all. Especially if I managed to make you cum like that."
A new vocabulary, Kyoko thought, so many new things. She pushed the thought of Kuon practicing on other women away. She'd known he was experienced before, and she trusted him. She felt like she ought to feel appalled, but somehow she just felt intensely mortified by the way she was acting. "Playboy," she said, sticking out her tongue.
"Your playboy," he said. He meant it, too.
She was getting up and beginning to clean up the remains of their picnic, pretending that she couldn't feel the way his eyes followed her every move. Or the way she could still feel how his fingers moved inside her. Her panties had gone missing, and she blushed to think that he'd taken them off of her. He was shocked when she stopped mid-stride and spoke, her face turned away from him. "I'm…I'm not very experienced, Kuon," she said to the open air. Actually, I have no experience at all, she thought. "But will you teach me?"
"Teach you?"
"To do…that? To you? To please you?"
Kuon had fought with dedicated zeal against letting his blood rush to his member, but the idea of teaching Kyoko how to 'please him' had him instantly hard. Does this girl know what she's asking for? he wondered. Seriously?
His silence must've worried her, because next thing he knew she was backtracking. "Um…wait—no, nevermind, Kuon! Um…" She looked up at him. "Do you…do you think I'm a pervert? Is this…bad?"
Fuck no, he wanted to yell. But somehow he managed to keep calm. "No…I don't think you're a pervert," he said with a small laugh. "Speaking of perverts, though, can I keep these?" He had her panties scrunched up in his hands, grinning at the way she went white and then red.
"You…!" she said, dropping the corner of blanket she'd been folding. "You…you PERVERT!"
He laughed and held the offending underwear up where she couldn't reach, teasing her as she jumped after them. He caught her in mid-flight and gave her another small kiss and her legs reflexively crossed around his back. "You don't need to learn anything, Kyoko," he said. "The fact that you're pleased is enough for me."
Her face was nestled into his chest, but she pulled back and pouted. Oh god, he thought, she's learned how to do the puppy-dog look too. "I want to," she said. "So promise me, ok?"
He nodded his head helplessly, wondering what he was getting himself into. They finished packing and then he grabbed everything again to walk back to the ryokan in what might have been the most awkward position in his life.
=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=
Kuon was being driven slowly insane. The mornings—no, scratch that, the days—were torture, leaving him frantically stroking himself like a madman or a pervert, thinking of nothing but Kyoko, Kyoko, Kyoko. It had been like this for a while now. During his time as her would-be handyman he'd managed to keep himself relatively together. She'd felt so distant then that it had been more like a vain hope than a promise of things to come. He thought he could control himself, and for the most part, he'd been able to. But after yesterday? He was a thread—a mere thread—a cunt hair, as Rick used to say, from completely and utterly losing it and ravishing her. And he knew he couldn't. She deserved better. She deserved the roses, the sensual bath, the candlelight dinner.
But the girl wouldn't even let him take her out on a date. He had a few theories why, and none of them made him happy. She claimed to be worried he'd be recognized, first. Then she claimed she didn't want to go out, second. And then there was the third, most probable reason: that sneaky, sad look in her eye when she claimed she had nothing to wear and wouldn't 'look right' standing next to him. In the meantime, there was a constant craving, a constant need. His body was crying out for completion, and there was no relief to be had. Too much had happened. He was worried they were falling too fast and too quickly, he was worried he was somehow pushing her into more than she wanted to do, but when she cried out underneath his touch he was powerless to prevent himself from giving—and seeking—more.
So in the mornings before she arrived in his room, he frantically sought relief. Sometimes in the shower, thinking of the taste of her, sometimes in bed, thinking of the sound of her, sometimes overlooking the river where they'd had their first kiss, thinking of the sight of her writhing and helpless and open underneath him. And today…oh god, today…he could add the very, very real feeling of her cunt pulsing her orgasm on his fingers to his all-too-lurid fantasies. He could see the look in her eyes when she'd asked him to 'teach her,' and his imagination had gone crazy, thinking up scenario after scenario. Each time he'd go too far in his mind, thinking of how she'd feel around his cock, tight and wet and pulsing against him as he ground himself into her, thinking of pumping his cum deep inside her and then holding her naked body against him as they dissolved into post-orgasmic bliss. But he had no intention of asking this from her—yes, she'd offered herself to him on the night of the chase, but he didn't want her to think he was only interested in fucking. Sex with Kyoko would never be just plain fucking. He had every intention of being a filthy, perverted, debauched sex fiend with her—someday!—but even that would never just be fucking.
He moaned into the empty air, the motion of his hands quickening. She would be here soon, he had to get himself together, he had to cum, or else he'd go insane. He was rock hard, his body clenching, and he heard himself say her name and then…
"Kuon?"
He grunted in frustration. The interruption stopped the relentless push to his release, and his eyes flew open in shock as he took in the sight of her, her eyes surprised but quickly darkening with lust.
=.=.=.=.=.=.=
Kyoko had opened his door without knocking as she'd done for a little while now. He'd asked her to. Had even encouraged it, telling her cheerfully that she was his girlfriend and not housekeeping, and that she was welcome to join him any time. He'd said that last bit with a little wink, adding "and that includes the shower, Kyoko-chan." She was going to him in a bit of a rush to tell him that she was going into the city with Yayoi-san today, and would he mind very much if she joined him for dinner instead of their usual breakfast? Nevermind the fact that the conversation with Yayoi just minutes ago was one of the most embarrassing she'd ever had in her life. She'd never expected to discuss these things with Sho's mother, of all people, but Yayoi had been surprisingly supportive. A was found and an appointment was made. Kuon would simply have to be told that she would be off the premises today, and so she'd gone to tell him.
But the vision that greeted her burned itself into her retinas and left her mouth dry.
It was bad enough that he occupied every waking thought. It was bad enough that she had spent all of last night tossing and turning and finding herself wet down there. After yesterday's tryst she could scarcely think of anything else. Her lust scared her. It was indecent, but she craved him—she craved his presence, his touch, his taste. The thing she called her thing ached, begging to be filled with more than just his fingers. She remembered what it was like to have his fingers inside her, wondered what his thing would feel like, fantasized about it driving into her the way his fingers had.
But how was she supposed to survive this? She heard him moan her name just as she opened the door, and when she looked up, she found him lounging by the wide window overlooking the river. He was in an untied yukata which hung loosely off of his shoulders, baring almost all of his chiseled chest. He was leaning his torso on the wooden column of the window, his long limbs were stretched outwards on the long banquette. His eyes were closed.
Kyoko had been modest all her life, had never even looked at a man without his shirt on. But today? Today her eyes were drawn to the expanse of his flesh on display. He looked like a ronin, if ronin could pose undressed for a French fashion magazine. She could see the defined muscles of his body, saw his chest rise and fall as if he'd been running. She followed the line of his arm and saw its motion gulped. She had felt him before, certainly. She blushed as she recalled the feel of his…his thing yesterday as she ground her hips against it. But she'd never seen him like this, sprawled and unclothed as if for her delectation.
As she stepped further into his room she couldn't look away from it. Her eyes flicked to his cock and then back to his face. "Kuon," she said, and then she was within reach of him.
Those impossibly green eyes opened and looked straight at her. He radiated lust and danger, staring at her lewdly with eyes that looked as if they could peer through her clothing. Eyes that looked like they belonged to a man at the limit of his restraint. No one had the right to look like that, much less look like that at her. Still, with the memories of yesterday fresh in her mind she felt the need to reciprocate somehow. She was certain that there was a way she could do for him what he had done for her.
"Kyoko," he choked out. Her body was drawn to him of its own accord, and she saw nothing but him as she came closer.
He was frozen as she took her hands and felt his chest for the first time, frozen as she felt each ridge of muscle, frozen as she got up on the banquette to straddle him and then kiss him hungrily. She was moving on instinct, aware that somewhere inside her there was a pure Japanese maiden who was quite possibly sitting in a corner and screaming. Was this really her? If he'd done anything, it was to make her a wanton, lustful woman. Before his arrival this summer, she wouldn't have even been able to imagine doing such a thing, and yet here she was, clambering over his mostly naked form and offering herself to him. His hands released his cock, which was still hard and throbbing, to clutch her against him as she kissed him. She didn't know much about seduction, or pleasure, or sex, but she slid down his body in the same way he'd done to her yesterday, finally coming to rest on her knees beside the low bench.
"Kyoko," he choked out, "I—you—don't—"
But her hand was hovering near his cock and she looked up at him again, all innocence, "May I…please…can I touch you?"
"Fuck," he said, but her hand had closed around his cock.
To her, he looked obscenely large. Thick enough so that her small fingers barely closed around him, soft skin covering hard, hard, steel. She knew from textbooks that this was supposed to fit inside her, but his fingers yesterday had made her feel so full she had no idea how she was to take this inside her as well. She was looking up at him as she tentatively felt her way along the shaft.
"Teach me," she said simply, staring up at him with eyes that were lustful and innocent in equal measure.
"Move your hand…up and down," he managed, groaning as she did. "Yes, like that…God fuck, Kyoko." He wasn't going to last long, not like this. "Faster…ah…"
He was going to somehow stop before he made a mess on her, he was going to stop because he had to, and then he felt her take a tentative lick on the head of his cock and he nearly lost it.
"Teach me," she said again, more insistent this time, keeping her hand on him. He groaned again. This was going to be a losing battle.
"Take it in your mouth," he said, "Don't scrape with your teeth…take it…Ah!" And he gasped as he felt the very tip of her tongue touch his cock again.
Kyoko opened her mouth, her tongue running along the underside of his shaft and then back onto the head of his cock. Her eyes were gazing up at him and he was transfixed at the view—her lips, reddened with his kiss, her hand around his cock, her tongue driving him insane as she moved to take him deeper. "Suck it," he said hoarsely, and she moaned around his length, feeling him restrain himself as she clumsily moved.
"Like this?" she asked, and began a rhythm moving his cock in and out of her mouth. She paused and looked up at him, uncertain. "Show me," she whimpered, and his control broke. He stopped, paused, assessed, breathed. A summer full of fantasy-filled nights hadn't quite prepared him for that request. Her tongue lapped at his head, and he found himself bucking forward as a reflex. The eyes he looked down into were eyes that were as glazed with lust and want as his own. His hand found itself in her hair. Gently, he showed her a rhythm, moving into and out of her mouth.
Her natural precocity would be the death of him, he decided. He started slow but their rhythm grew faster; he could hear himself moaning as she moved with him. She was stoking the fire and he felt himself thrust harder and faster than he had ever intended—but his body was moving on its own and he was building towards cumming with an intensity that scared him.
There was something powerful about seeing him frenzied like this. She could see that he was entirely lost in the sensation of whatever he was doing, and she was holding onto his hips for dear life as he thrust into her mouth. He was so large and hard that she could only take a part of him, but though she gagged around his cock she felt an answering pulse in her core. There was something primal about it, an animalistic urge to submit to the hard pace he was driving. The idea of being entirely his to use in this wanton fashion made her thighs clench, and her arousal at his frenzy was almost painful. It wasn't long before she could tell he was building to something as the cock in her mouth got even larger and hardened even more, his hips were moving erratically and faster…
"Kyoko, I'm going to cum," he grunted, trying to pull away. He didn't want to surprise her like this. But she held onto his hips, moving his cock as deep into her mouth as possible.
He couldn't extricate himself quickly enough. His hips were bucked uncontrollably as he came. She choked, swallowing by instinct, and then before she knew it he was lifting her up roughly in his arms and then she was on his bed under him.
He was moving like a wild animal, he knew this. He knew that he shouldn't be so rough with her, but her legs had opened for him instinctively and all he knew was he wanted to see and taste and touch her bare skin. He was still hard—cumming once into her mouth had only made him want more, but he wasn't about to let her leave him without returning the favor.
"Kyoko," he said, pinning her underneath him. She was reacting on instinct, now, whatever thought had been in her mind long gone. He wasn't slow or gentle the way he'd been yesterday, and when he kissed her he ground his bare cock against her panties and felt her hips move in tandem with his. Oh god, I have to be careful, he thought desperately. It would be all too easy to push the gusset of her panties aside and enter her with his cock, so fucking easy, her legs were spread wide open for him and he could feel how wet she was through the cloth. But it was too soon and he didn't want to take her so carelessly. But she was kissing him back and rolling her hips against his cock in an effort to find her own release. It was tortuous, feeling her wetness through the cloth. He could feel the outline of her pussy with his cock, but it was her mewling and her moans that drove him forward. On and on, pushing her higher, he teased her nipple with his hand as he ravaged her mouth and ground himself against her clit.
"Kuon!" she cried out. She was shuddering against him, her legs wrapped around his torso. She let out a long, loud cry as she came down from her orgasm.
He moved to cradle her from the side as her shuddering breaths calmed, taking care to hold her and run a reassuring hand up and down her body.
"Good morning," he said. He was worried he'd been too rough—it was her first blowjob, after all, what was he doing losing control like that? "Are you ok? I'm sorry…I got a little carried away. Was it too much?"
She nodded 'no' and he sighed in relief. In a whisper, she added, "No…I…um…Ilikedit."
Kuon felt his cock twitch as he blushed in shock. In a flash, a thousand torrid scenes played out in his mind—all of them involving Kyoko, and some of them in extremely…compromising…positions.
Kyoko took one look at his face and panicked. "I…I'm sorry! I didn't mean to…burst in on you like that…and…and…"
Kuon laughed. "And seduce me?"
"I didn't seduce you!"
"You did. You most definitely did."
"And…you're still…" Kyoko could feel his cock against her ass, still hard despite her ministrations.
"Yes. You have that effect on me."
"But I thought…" I thought it was supposed to go down after…that, she thought.
"Nope, not always," he responded, anticipating her question. He was still grinning at her, looking like he was taking a great deal of satisfaction from the questions she was asking him.
But now she was unsure. Surely he'd had better, more experienced women do that to him, and maybe he was wishing she were better at it. "Did I…did I not do it right?" she asked.
This girl is going to be the death of me, he thought. "You were amazing. I'm hard just thinking about it all over again." And it was the truth. The sight of her kneeling in front of him with his cock in her mouth was going to haunt him for the rest of his life, and he was probably going to have to masturbate again just to be functional for the rest of the morning.
She extricated herself from his arms and he whimpered at her playfully, wishing for a few minutes more. "Stay?" he asked.
She shook her head no, blushing again. "I…um…I came to tell you that I won't be able to have breakfast with you this morning. Yayoi-san and I are going to the city…I'm going to have a doctor's appointment…"
He looked at her worriedly. "A doctor's appointment? Are you feeling alright?"
This was bad. Almost as bad as Yayoi cornering her and giving her a lecture just a few moments ago. "I'm fine, Kuon," she said, trying to convince him not to pursue the issue with a bright smile.
"Bullshit," he said, "Kyoko. Is something wrong? Why are you going to a doctor?"
Kyoko had hoped she'd get away without him prying overmuch, but it couldn't be helped. He would find out eventually. "Birth control," she muttered. She couldn't look at him while she said it. She was entirely too aware of what the implications were.
He was staring at her as if she'd dropped a bomb on him. He could easily acknowledge that their relationship had 'leveled up' in recent days. But this was the first time either one of them had alluded to sex overtly. Kyoko had revealed herself to be a willing partner in their play, and he had assumed that there would be sex someday—perhaps even someday soon. But Kyoko going to the doctor to get a prescription for birth control was altogether too real. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish caught on a line before he said, "I would not have rushed you into anything," he said, almost apologetically. "And I would be happy to wear condoms if you preferred them." In fact, he'd never not worn a condom before. There just hadn't been anyone he trusted enough to do that with.
"I know." Kyoko was looking down at her feet. "But I think I should go. And…" She trailed off into silence as Kuon saw another look of deep mortification on her face.
"And?"
She scrunched her eyes closed. "I think I would prefer you without a condom," she whispered.
Well, he thought, and then promptly shut down his mind's eye. Aloud, all he said was, "OK." He didn't trust himself to say any more.
In a way, he was glad she had to leave, because that conversation would require another session with himself. He was glad that she'd managed to separate herself from him because his self-control was at its limit and having her stay in his bed for any length of time was likely to result in…additional intimacies.
Time for a change of subject, he thought. Any more down this line of conversation and he really would lose it and ravish her.
"I'm asking Etsuro-san to help me learn how to cook today," he reported to her brightly. "Remember? Our conversation that one day? You said I could take you on a shopping date if I made you dinner?"
Kyoko gave him a long look, as if to acknowledge that the doctor matter had been dismissed, before responding, "Yes. I remember. And I appreciate that you want to take me shopping, Kuon, but I still don't understand it."
"Is it so hard to understand that I want to spoil you?" he asked. "You said last time that you didn't have anything to wear—and you would look good in whatever you have, Kyoko, but please…I want to show my girlfriend off to the world and she won't let me."
"Hrrmph," Kyoko said. "Fine. But. You do have to successfully cook a dinner, Kuon."
"Nice to see you believe in me," he said, grinning. He hopped up, and Kyoko could hear him muttering to himself in a sing-song voice, "I get to take Kyoko shoppppppping…"
"Is it a normal thing?" she asked.
"Normal?"
"To take your girlfriend shopping?"
"Well…it's a commonly acknowledged fact…" Kuon trailed off, "that when a man buys a girl clothes it's because he wants to have his way with her…"
Kyoko eeped at the Emperor smile he was giving her. "KUON!"
"What?" He was grinning at her again, teasing. "Ms. 'Please-teach-me-oh-god-Kuon-oh-mmmm-oh-yes-please-more'?"
"That was not gentlemanly!" she responded in a huff.
"In case you didn't hear, the gentleman Ren Tsuruga is on vacation. It's just me here," he said. "And I definitely do want to have my way with you, Kyoko." He was creeping up on her and she was stepping back, and when her back finally hit the wall he trapped her against it and kissed her, forcing himself to pull back before he went further. Again.
"You'd better go before I go insane, love," he said. "I love you."
Kyoko nodded, kissed him chastely on the forehead, and left the room.
=.=.=.=.=.=.=
That evening, he proudly served her a portion of what he'd worked on all afternoon: hamburger steak with egg, complete with a bowl of fluffy rice and a small salad. The shock on her face told him everything he needed to know.
"So it's good, huh," he asked, quirking an eyebrow up.
"Yesh," she replied, her mouth full.
"So I get to take my girlfriend shopping?" Kuon was bouncing up and down, looking like a little boy.
"I confess—I didn't expect you to do this so well…" She looked up at him sheepishly, "It's…it's really good, Kuon…" She probably should have calibrated her expectations. Kuon had learned to play Chopin just by looking at his teacher's hands for Dark Moon, after all, what made her think he'd be unable to follow a few simple instructions?
Kuon hummed in pleasure. "Honestly it's so good even I want to eat it," he said.
"You're getting ahead of yourself, sir." She was rolling her eyes.
"But it's time for you to honor the terms of the deal," he said. He felt a little bit like a loan shark, but the prospect of a day taking Kyoko out was irresistible.
"Next…next Saturday, perhaps?" she asked. His mouth went dry. Saturday was the day the implant would become effective. Is she attempting to distract me on the day the implant would be 'effective'? he thought. She had no need to distract him. He had no intention of rushing her. She was holding her arm rather gingerly, wincing whenever she rested it against herself. She'd surprised him. He figured she would go on the pill and they'd have a month of anticipation to look forward to…but she'd informed him that she had opted for the implant, instead.
"Next Saturday is fine," he said. "Kyoko?"
"Hmm?"
"You know that just because it's effective in a week doesn't mean that we need to have sex in a week, right?"
Kyoko choked on the water she was drinking. She had anticipated doing it sooner rather than later, but Kuon's directness on the matter continuously shocked her. She hadn't been thinking of it at all, though now that he'd mentioned it, she was sure she was going to count down the days.
"I…I know," she said. "I just figured Saturday would be a good time to go shopping. There's a sale at one of the grocery stores, and I figured we might as well stop there since we'd be in town anyway…So I figured you could help me carry stuff home!" she said brightly.
Kuon sighed in relief. He'd been afraid Kyoko was feeling pressured. "I have to go back to being Ren Tsuruga that Monday, though. BUT!"
"But?" she asked.
"I've arranged to stay here longer while the movie shoots," he said. "So you're not getting rid of me that easily. We're actually pretty close to the set here and I don't want to stay with the rest of the cast anyway." He winced, thinking of Ruriko and her vapid unprofessionalism.
"Oh…" Kyoko said. She didn't like the idea of the summer ending, and yet here it was. She knew it had to end…she knew that along with his return to being Ren, he'd have to leave and they would lose this unfettered time to just be with each other. And she had to return to school. But the fact that he would stay at the ryokan during this film's shooting relieved her greatly, though she didn't want to admit it. She wasn't prepared to lose him to the outside world just yet, and Tokyo seemed so far away.
Kuon sighed. "I don't want summer to end either," he said. "But I won't be going away, and even when I go back to Tokyo, I'll come back." He had to remind her of this, and follow through. Yashiro wouldn't like it, but Kyoko was more important than work.
He'd had an intensely awkward call with Lory earlier that day, right after he and Etsuro had finished, informing him that he was going to stay at the ryokan as Ring Doh 2 filmed. Lory had assented quickly—too quickly, really, Kuon thought. The man was probably getting reports from Yayoi, because he hadn't asked Kuon for details. Commuting to and from the set from the ryokan would be a little more difficult than staying with the rest of the cast and crew in their designated hotel, but it was totally worth it. Yashiro would have to be told—about the change of venue and about Kyoko, but Kuon had a feeling he'd be an ally where Kyoko was concerned.
When the meal was ended, he almost begged Kyoko to stay. But she shook her head and began piling up their dishes. "I'll see you tomorrow, Kuon," she said, kissing him on the forehead.
It was going to be a long night.
=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=
Author's Note: THANK YOU for reading. Seriously. This is my first foray into citrus, so I hope you liked it. Yes, we will go further in Chapter 17. It's just that this part was already so long and I'd started and stopped and deleted and re-wrote so much I was like 'enough!' Um. Tell me what you think? I tried to keep OOC-ness to a minimum (even OOC-ness with respect to DoK's Kyoko, who's quite different from canon-Kyoko).
1. Splendour in the Grass - from the poem of the same name by William Wordsworth:
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass,
of glory in the flower
2. 愛はいつも/ 陽だまりの中にある: "Letter" by True, from the Violet Evergarden Special
Ai wa itsumo
Hidamari no naka ni aru
Love is always / In a sunshine-filled place