Her nails leave red lines on his skin, vivid against the tan he acquired lately; her sharp teeth stain him with her mark, scar, and bruises, here and there the dark mark of blood. Her heart hates him; her body desires him; no other would dare ridicules her openly like him, give her the challenge that she desires.
She struggles when he pins her to the wall of his room, when he forces his lips to hers when his hands lock around her wrists. But he will never bruise her, never leave a mark, never leave a risk that someone might see the evidence of what they do. Not that she that much about a hickey or two. It infuriates her until she tries to scream, but his hand clamps over her mouth or he presses her down into the silken pillows of her bed, sometimes on his bed, to muffle her. Sometimes it feels good to release her anger. This felt more personal than her usual snide remarks at the school.
Today, another handsome student with his foppish ways and self-absorption has tried to woo her. Or not even that: tried to claim her, as if he need only write his name on some line of a contract or letter to take her as his. They would never work for her, let alone fight. How about Hayama? He can't. Ever since he and the Ice Queen get engaged, arranged engagement at that, she can't see him as to how she sees him before. Even after she finally knows about his true nature and personality, she can't truly hate him. He just wants the status quo to be maintained at all costs. She understands that.
"Tonight," she murmurs to Hikio as she passes him in the school corridor, and does not stop to see if he smirks. It does not matter. He will come.
He pulls her hair to tilt her head back so that he can suck on her throat; he wrestles her down to the floor to remove her skirt and rarely, pants. She punches his chest, scratches his arms, even slaps away his cock as he first tries to enter her. In return, he squeezes her breasts until her nipples are so hard that it aches, and fucks her until she has bruises on her thighs to remember him by. She tears his robes; he throws her onto her bed and gives her no warning before his fingers force themself into her ass.
She cries out against the sheets; it might be his name, might be wordless. But it will not be asking him to stop, he knows that. They both know it. So he fucks her, slow at first to let her feel the edge of pain alongside the overwhelming fullness of pleasure. He builds his pace, and between them they hold the pretense that this is for his pleasure while Yumiko is the one screaming, pounding her fists on the bed as his fingers leave bruises on the cheeks of her ass.
It does not matter how many times she comes, her body shaking, eyes glassy and dark, and focused on some distant thing that Hikio does not ask about. Always she will round on him as he finishes, slap his face where the bruises will not be shown, as her slap lack any power behind it, just anger and malice in her slap. She will sneer at him that he is creepy and order him to leave. Not before she kissed him ferociously, as if that is their last kiss.
Both ways he desires her: angry and vicious; desperate and begging. She is the same. And though neither of them will say it, they both know that they need this, a place and person to inflict the pain a creepy loner should not desire to inflict, a place to lust as a queen of the school should not lust. They hide their bruises beneath their clothes and their desire beneath their anger, and only in the shadow of the night do their bodies find each other.
(If someone asks her whether she loved/like someone, she will answer with yes. She loved AND hate Hikio.)
(If someone asks him whether he ever dreamt of him fucking the Fire Queen, he will answer with no. Not even once. Not even the said Queen's head is between his leg.)