Chapter Three
Kyoya was determined to be better prepared next time. He had to keep reminding himself that while Haruhi may have been woefully inexperienced and naïve, she was not some wilting flower that would fall over at the first sign of trouble. And by this point, she had to know he was trouble. So he would approach this with a level head and try to avoid being either too aggressive or over-cautious. Cool, Kyoya, just stay cool.
Like hell. Since the laundry room, he hadn't approached her that way. To his mild irritation, she hadn't initiated a similar encounter, either. But she had started to pepper their normal time together with touching, and that was much, much worse. She would lay a hand on his shoulder as she set a dish in front of him. She'd tap his hand or knee to get his attention if she had a question. When they were both studying, she'd reach across the table and brush a bit of hair out of his eyes. Once she'd even companionably bumped his thigh with her hip while they were standing next to each other waiting for his driver. It was all he could do not to swoop his arm around her waist, swing her around to face him, and march her backwards until she was pinned against the wall of the shallow alcove that protected the door of his apartment building from the rain. He would have liked to hold her against that wall with one hand on her shoulder, his thumb extended across her throat in a threat or maybe a promise, grasp the offending hip with his other hand and lift to create the space for him to show her just what she was doing to him with all her goddamn casual touching.
Instead he had stood next to her with his hands to himself like the perfect gentleman he was trained to, well, act if not be. At the rate he'd started grinding his teeth, he was going to need dentures by 30.
And Haruhi seemed so fucking happy about everything. He could have gleefully killed her, he thought as he glared daggers at her across the table. She was thoughtlessly tapping the eraser of her mechanical pencil against her mouth, but she stopped when she noticed him looking at her. He smiled his easy host smile and she grinned. She kicked him lightly under the table.
"What's got you so peeved?" she asked innocently.
"I'm smiling," he gritted out pleasantly.
"Ha! Like I can't tell when you're faking it."
"Well, what's got you so upbeat lately?"
She shrugged. He knew everything she had of interest to tell. She had done well on her first end-of-term exam, and she had two interviews coming up in the next few weeks for internships. The only thing she hadn't shared was which companies were pursuing her as an intern, since she was concerned Kyoya would interfere. Positively, sure, but she wanted to know she'd done this on her own.
Kyoya dropped his fake smile, his arm raising to press thumb and middle finger on either side of the back of his neck in an attempt to ease the tension there. It helped a little, and he closed his eyes in relief. Honestly, what was she so chipper about? Usually when she was in the middle of exams and had something promising she was working toward like this internship, she knuckled down and got extra serious. He wasn't certain he didn't resent this smiley Haruhi.
Suddenly, warm fingers wrapped around his wrist, moving him out of the way so Haruhi could rub his neck and shoulders properly. He held himself perfectly still.
"Haruhi, what are you doing?" He was careful to keep his tone mild, never mind if she knew it was fake. Even fake was better than the truth it hid.
"Relax, senpai. I can tell how tense you are. You spend so much time reading; it's got to be tough on your neck."
Completely ignoring that she read just as much, he noted wryly.
"No, don't clench your jaw again, that just tightens everything back up." She poked his cheek playfully. He hissed out a breath, put a lid on his unjust anger with her, and forced his muscles to loosen. "Better," she approved, moving the cheek-poking hand back to his neck to work in tandem with the other. Her hands were small but strong, and the work they did on his aching muscles seemed like magic. She eased her way down his trapezius from the point at the base of his skull, out to his shoulders, and then angling down to the middle of his back. That complete, she glided her fingers back up his spine to the side of his neck to soothe his levator scapulae. He hadn't realized just how much those had been bothering him until they started to loosen.
"Where did you learn this?" he mumbled, relaxed almost to sleep.
"Mmm. Sometimes Dad has to wear these ridiculously huge headpieces at the club."
Kyoya chuckled. "Thank god for Ranka and drag clubs."
Haruhi patted his shoulders. "I think that's about all I've got. My fingers might fall off." He grabbed her hand from his shoulder before she could remove it—and herself—from him and pulled her into his lap. After a brief "oof" of surprise, she settled in, tucking her head under his chin. She could feel his breath in her hair, and it tickled in a nice sort of way. He was warmer than she expected, and something in her chest felt suddenly, comfortably, bigger.
They sat that way for a long while, his heartbeat and breathing so slow and even that she thought he had fallen asleep. Then he nuzzled his nose down closer to her ear, murmuring, "You haven't kissed me again, Haruhi."
She smiled, more than a little sleepy herself. "I kissed you last time. It's your turn." She felt his lips press softly to her temple and hummed in response. "That doesn't count, you know."
"Smug," he grumbled with good humor.
Haruhi heaved a sigh and reluctantly stood. "It's really late. I should get home, and you should get some sleep."
He pulled her back down. "Just a little longer. You can stay. Use the futon I got for when Tamaki invades."
She rolled her eyes at his choice of words but relaxed back into him. "In the living room? I can't sleep in your room like Tamaki-senpai does."
He chuckled. "Well, we wouldn't want to be improper now, would we?"
She had never woken in Kyoya-senpai's apartment before, not if you excluded both of them falling asleep during their studies and waking in the middle of the night before she hurried back to her dorm—or more likely, was driven there at Kyoya's insistence because of the hour. She always felt terribly guilty, dragging his driver, Tachibana, out of his own bed at such an hour, but she knew Kyoya worried about her walking home alone so late.
Still, this was the first time she had woken there in the morning. She never bought breakfast groceries, which made her wonder if he either ate out or ordered in every morning. She dug through the kitchen cupboards for coffee and was amused to see a somewhat dusty container of instant coffee. It was mostly full. Clearly he didn't partake in much of it himself; he probably only kept it around for when Tamaki-Senpai visited from Boston. It might be stale, but it would have to do. She busied herself heating water and finding some travel mugs they could take with them to school. Especially for Kyoya—she'd heard the other hosts describe what he was like when he first woke up, and she figured he wasn't likely the type to linger over a cup of coffee and listen to the news on the radio before leaving for the day.
Speaking of which, she needed to get moving if she was going to get back to her dorm with enough time to clean up for class. She made do with a bit of Kyoya's toothpaste on her finger for now—she'd brush her teeth properly at her dorm, but she didn't want to go out with stale morning breath. She'd just finished rinsing her mouth when Kyoya stomped in.
Ah. So he was the sort to wear just his underwear to bed. Laundering his boxer briefs had always been mostly a non-issue for her, but seeing him in them turned out to be something else entirely. It seemed she couldn't move.
This posed no problem at all for Kyoya, who simply shoved her out of the bathroom and closed the door in her now-burning face. Gathering the tattered remains of her dignity around herself, she grabbed the coffee she'd prepared for him from the kitchen and waited by the bathroom door so she could hand it to him the moment he came out. Clearly he needed it.
She supposed she shouldn't have expected thanks. He grunted at her instead as he nearly ripped the mug out of her hands and disappeared back into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Haruhi smiled a little at his unrepentant grouchiness. For a guy who prided himself on being in full control of his emotions…
She made quick work of packing her school bag and tidying her hair as much as possible with Kyoya's limited supplies. That did give her enough time to linger just a few moments with her own coffee—long enough to begin worrying that she didn't hear any movement from his room. She bet he'd fallen asleep again. At this rate, he'd be late for class.
Hoping he wasn't too angry in the morning, she sidled up to his door, debating her best course of action for only a moment before screwing up her courage and knocking.
"Senpai? Are you awake in there senpai? I think you probably need to get moving if you are going to make it to class on time. I sure hope so, because I've got to leave to catch the bus."
There was a sound. Did he just—did he just roar at her? Oh for goodness sake, that didn't sound very much like an alert Kyoya-senpai at all. She knocked again.
"Uh, hello in there? I think you're probably not awake, so I'm coming in. Please don't be naked, and please don't eat me, okay?"
Wincing, she eased the door open. No idea why she was trying to do it quietly when he needed to be awake—other than her own cowardice, of course. But it turned out she had nothing to worry about. Kyoya was indeed back in bed, and seemed to be in a deep sleep, with his coffee cup steaming away on the bedside table beside him. Wasn't he too old for this kind of behavior?
A little irritated now, Haruhi crossed the room quickly and shook his shoulder. "Kyoya-senpai! You need to get up. You're going to be late! Mmmf!"
Before she knew it, he had her pinned under him on the bed. He snuggled—snuggled—into her with a contented sound and was back asleep in an instant.
She slapped his shoulder and shouted. "Senpai! I can't breathe!"
He growled. "Good. Don't need to breathe to be quiet. Shhhhh." He patted her head none-too-gently.
Okay, being noisy didn't work. Maybe she could make him want to try to listen to her? She turned her head toward him, putting her mouth right by his ear.
"Kyoya-senpai." She just barely whispered it this time. "Kyoya, we need to go."
He moaned. Not the moan of the grumpy-to-wake-up, either. But one eye popped open, so, progress? "Haruhi? Why are you…? Unh. Never mind. Hi." And he kissed her.
This was not the innocent press of lips they'd shared earlier. Nor was it the sloppy push of inebriated lips and tongue that she had experienced outside her dorm room. It wasn't even the forceful demand she had expected from Kyoya-senpai, knowing that his cool exterior probably hid some pretty intense passion. Rather it was lazy, and it was sweet, and it was very entitled. He did this thing where he opened his mouth a little, pressed his upper lip to hers, and nodded upward, and she found her own upper jaw following, leaving her lower jaw hanging slightly open. How had he done that?! But she had no to time to think about it, or to think about anything, because he was kissing her like she had never even imagined. He was gentle, and though his tongue stayed inside his own mouth, she could taste his breath, a mix of morning breath and coffee, and it should have been unpleasant, but it was Kyoya, and how could she care when his mouth was drinking from hers, worshipping it like she was divine and he was her most devout servant? She felt divine.
He had lifted some of his weight off of her onto one elbow, freeing his other hand to cup her face. His fingers feathered over her temple and cheekbone in a way that made her eyes flutter shut. Those fingers then drifted lazily down her jaw, over her neck, and lingered at her collarbone, sweeping from the hollow of her throat to her shoulder and back again, over and over until it was all she could do to keep breathing. Another pleased sound escaped him at her panting. Kyoya's mood changed suddenly, and there was the possession she had expected, and oh, that was nice too. Instead of worshipping her mouth, he made demands of it, requiring her to respond. He nipped her lower lip and left her, pulling away just enough that she had no choice but to follow him, rising to wordlessly plead for him to continue, and he did. At the same time, he dragged his hand from her collarbone to the side of her breast, fingers just hard enough to cause little shocks to follow in their wake. And he shifted, his hips gently pushing to one side then the other, and now, now he could settle just there…
She gasped beneath him, and Kyoya really heard it, heard her. He felt her hips rise to press against him, but also the way she used her feet to push her body just a tiny bit toward the headboard, away from him. She was excited, but she was scared, too.
"Haruhi." He wasn't sure if it was an apology or a prayer or just awe of her, her responsiveness, how even her body was honest. With effort, he stilled his hips, gentled his hand and brought it back to her face. He squinted his eyes shut and took great, heaving breaths as he wrestled to regain control of himself. Then the shame snaked in. He rolled off her, throwing the arm that had been pawing at her over his eyes in disgust.
He tried again to speak. "I didn't give you the chance to- I just grabbed you and—" Christ, what could he even say? He had pretty much mauled her in his sleep, very nearly finishing what he'd threatened to start way back on that trip to the beach. What good would an apology even do at this point? "Are you okay?" he finished lamely.
Haruhi took a moment to answer as she seemed to analyze how she felt. "A bit twitchy, to be honest."
Oh god, he was a pig.
"But, Kyoya-senpai?" She waited for him to look at her, then dragged his arm off his face. "About the kissing? I think…"
That we ought to call it quits. He prepared himself to be calm, reasonable, fair. To call Tachibana to take her home. To acknowledge she wouldn't be coming back.
"I think that counts. Now, get up! We are going to be so late!" She sat up and slapped his chest lightly. "UP!" And she trotted away.
What? Was that really… okay? Was she really okay? Kyoya sat up, rubbing his face in bewilderment. How…? She poked her head back in and seeing he still wasn't out of bed, threw his school bag at his face.
Okay then.
And… Had she called him just Kyoya?