It had not been Haruhi's best day ever. Ruiko-san had still been in their room when Haruhi had come in, and she'd taken one look at the clothes Haruhi had left in yesterday and her particularly disheveled hair and dazed look and had said, "Whoa. Am I witnessing a walk of shame?

Haruhi's cheeks burned, but she answered, "Oh no. Got stuck at work so late it made more sense to spend the night there. But I overslept.

"You never oversleep," Ruiko-san murmured. And didn't she work as something like a housekeeper for a single guy? Suspicious, but she let it slide. She didn't really know her short-haired roommate all that well, despite this being their second year of rooming together, but she knew the girl worked impossibly hard. Everyone deserved to let loose once in a while.

Then, though she had hurried as much as possible, Haruhi still had to slink in to her first class late. It was so out of character for her that the professor had asked after class if everything was okay. Since no convenient sinkhole opened up for her to fall into, she had to settle for nodding sheepishly and repeating her excuse about oversleeping.

"Okay, if you're sure. But I hope you let me know if anything is bothering you that I can help with." The professor smiled at her kindly, but obviously dubious. She continued, "I've been teaching here a long time, and I know a student with great potential when I see one. Don't let that slip away." Haruhi's face burned, and she couldn't escape fast enough.

It was a Tuesday and she usually didn't come that day, so Kyoya was surprised when she stomped in and glared at him like he was the devil. Honestly, he was surprised it had taken her this long to realize that was pretty much the case.

She beelined for him, pointing and silent until her finger jabbed into his chest. "Everyone noticed I was weird today, and it's all your fault."

Kyoya cocked an eyebrow and slowly removed the offending finger from his person. "Most people who know you would argue you're a bit odd every day, Haruhi. Surely it's not fair to blame me for the faults of your personality."

"I could kill you."

"That would likely have a negative impact on your plans to become a lawyer."

She huffed and rolled her eyes, and she left to heat up yesterday's leftovers for them, pausing to put hang Kyoya's jacket and bag on the hooks by the door. Honestly, how did he think it was easier to bring them into the living room and toss them onto the coffee table than just hang them up right when he walked in? Stupid Kyoya.

He stared at her, not even pretending to be engrossed in his notebook like he usually did. It was terribly amusing to see her so annoyed, even while she went about preparing their dinner. She still took her time to consider what spices to add and how much to liven up the leftovers, and she paused holding the soy sauce with one finger on her lips while she debated whether to add a bit. She did. When the contents of the pan began to sizzle and emit a savory smell that made Kyoya's mouth water, she efficiently cleaned up the things she had used to prep the meal so far. That done, she whooshed out a great sigh, leaned both hands onto the counter, and let her head fall forward.

"Sorry I snapped at you, senpai. I had a bad day, but it wasn't your fault. I shouldn't have blamed you."

He was behind her then, placing his own hands, so much larger, on hers. "It was my fault, a little bit," he rumbled into her neck where he had buried his nose in her hair. "I believe I put you off balance this morning." She felt him smile against her skin. "You put me a little off balance as well."

He whispered his lips across the sensitive spot behind her ear, not even a touch so much as the barest hint of his body heat and moist breath. "I found myself quite distracted, Haruhi. I had to ask for a classmate's notes because I couldn't pay attention." There was warning in his voice now, but if the light bite to the upper tip of her ear was meant to be a punishment, Kyoya had for once failed exceptionally. He smiled again at the hissing breath she dragged in, the way she leaned her head a little to give him better access. As her hair fell forward, he noticed she had a tiny mole, more of a freckle, really, midway between her ear and spine, just peeking out of her hairline, and he couldn't resist tasting it. What other little secrets was she hiding? He groaned at the thought and kissed his way down her elegant neck. He moved slowly, often doubling back to ensure he relished every inch. When he finally reached the junction of neck and shoulder, he felt her go limp, and he just couldn't stop himself. He bit her there, hard.

"Ah!" There was pain in her cry, but her body arched into him. He soothed the spot with a much gentler kiss and wondered if there would be a bruise. He was a bastard for it, but he hoped so. He took a deep breath, tightened his hands on hers, and ran them up to her shoulders, squeezing there too before forcing himself to step back. She looked at him blankly over her shoulder.

"The food is burning," he pointed out.

Immediately, her full attention was on saving their meal. She was relieved to note it was only just starting to overheat; she wouldn't have to throw any of it out, though it might be a bit dry. She her the clink of dishes being moved and turned to see Kyoya setting the table. Well, that was new. Of course he knew which utensils to use for which courses, but it had never occurred to her that he would know where to place them. Not that it was hard when all they needed were plates and chopsticks. Still, she noted he placed the chopsticks very precisely next to the dishes, and she'd have bet anything that if she had googled it, they would have been exactly the proper distance from the bowls. It was kind of a useless thing to know, really. Then again, knowing the fastest way to get to the supermarket so she could make it in time to catch a flash sale probably would have seemed stupid to him, given that he reimbursed her for groceries. It did save quite a bit of her food money, being able to eat with him so often. At first, she'd tried to insist on paying for her share of the food they shared, but he'd said that he'd just be eating out if she didn't cook, so she was still saving him money in the long run. But she rather suspected he just liked helping her out.

She didn't bother to transfer their dinner from the pan to a serving platter; no point in making extra dirty dishes. And Kyoya didn't seem to mind, as long as it was just the two of them. There was only one time she'd been here that he'd had a guest, his sister Fuyumi. Haruhi had made and served dinner but had slipped out while they were eating so as not to disturb them. She'd liked seeing him with his sister. He was relaxed and took her ribbing good-naturedly. There was a lack of pretense between them that had made her happy. The only other guest she'd seen at the apartment was Tamaki-senpai, but Kyoya didn't like her doing chores there when Senpai was around. The two rarely spent much time there on those visits anyway, spending most evenings with whichever host club members were available. (The Hitachiins always made themselves available, but Mori-senpai and Hani-senpai took their responsibilities more seriously. The twins were too rowdy for Kyoya-senpai's luxurious, but efficiently small apartment.) It was kind of funny that he didn't like Senpai to see her working around his apartment. It wasn't a secret that he had purchased her debt and how she was paying it off.

Sitting down to eat, Kyoya said something that made her think he was reading her mind. And here she was still struggling to contain the heat she still felt from his ministrations to her neck.

"Did you hear Tamaki is coming this weekend? He has no class on Monday and Tuesday, so it will just be a short visit."

No kidding. She'd never been to America, but she knew the flight had to be very long. She couldn't believe Tamaki-senpai had the money to waste on just a long weekend.

"He'll be staying here with you again?"

Kyoya nodded. It seemed Tamaki had finally come to the realization that his grandmother would never accept him and couldn't be bothered to be civil. It caused fewer problems if Tamaki stayed with Kyoya and just met his father somewhere for dinner rather than staying at either of the family's local mansions. With the exception of one ill-fated "sleepover" at the twins' home, this had been the standard since Tamaki had gone to Boston.

"And he'll be flying in sometime on Saturday?"

"In the evening," Kyoya confirmed.

"Okay. I'll drop by Friday with a bunch of 'commoner' snacks then. And more instant coffee—what you have isn't really fresh anymore."

"I see no reason you shouldn't come Saturday afternoon as you usually do." Kyoya always set his chopsticks down entirely when speaking to her, even for quick comments. "You generally mop the floors then, and I'd prefer it not be put off until after the weekend. And I'll have more laundry that will need washing. Tamaki will provide enough disruption to my routine as it is." He was pleased to see her cheeks pinken a little at the mention of laundry.

"If you say so. I'll probably have to leave after dinner, though. I never manage to get much studying done when Senpai is around."

Kyoya flashed a threatening smile. "Senpai will behave."

Huh. What was with the emphasis on "Senpai?" Haruhi always called Tamaki-senpai that, just like Kaoru and Hikaru called him Tono. And it wasn't like she wasn't respectful to Kyoya-senpai, too. Maybe he thought that now that they were all in college, she should start using more casual honorifics.

"Kyoya-senpai. Would you prefer me to call you Kyoya-kun? Or, uh… Kyo-kun?" She winced a little saying both. They just felt wrong.

"Dear god, no. Where did you get such an outlandish idea?"

"Oh, okay. Never mind. That's good then."

He was staring at her. She knew he often looked at her when he thought she wasn't looking, but he was usually more subtle than this.

"Is there something you need?" she asked without looking up from her textbook.

"You're tapping your pencil."

She stopped. "Oh, sorry, it's a habit. I used to tap it on the table or a book, but the noise could get annoying. I didn't realize you could still hear it this way."

"That is… not the problem." His eyes hadn't stopped glaring at the offending writing instrument, where she'd paused it—against her mouth.

"Oh."

"Oh, indeed."

How was it she could feel so warm when he was only looking at her? She felt like a character in a poorly-written ecchi manga. This was not her being practical and focusing on her studies.

"Are you done?" he asked abruptly.

"Tapping? Yes. I said I was sorry."

"Studying," he corrected.

She leaned back a little to consider her progress. "I should probably at least finish reading this section; there's less than a page left."

He stood, closing his laptop. "Close enough. Come along, Haruhi." She followed him to the living room, where, instead of settling in his usual chair, he sat at the end of the couch. She perched beside him on her side, wondering suddenly when she'd started thinking of it as hers. The couch was his obviously, like everything else here. Was he going to kiss her again? This morning was exciting, but it was really intense, and it had made her both late in the morning and distracted all day. That wasn't really the sort of thing she could allow in the middle of exams.

"I'd like you to clarify something," he said. "This morning, when I asked how you were, you told me you were twitchy. What, precisely, did you mean by that?"

"Huh?" After the way he'd kissed her neck in the kitchen, she'd thought he'd set aside his concern about their actions that morning.

"Did my actions frighten you?"

Ugh, for such a manipulative guy, he sure didn't allow for other people's secrets. She was pretty sure other couples their age didn't need to hash out every last detail like this. Not that they were a couple. She felt her face flush.

"Uh, not exactly?"

His glasses flashed at her. She was positive he'd had the trendy pendant lights hung at the exact heights to do it on purpose, since he could get it to happen whether he was standing or sitting. She also knew he meant it to be intimidating. She wasn't intimidated in the slightest, but she could see he wasn't going to let her off the hook.

She continued, "I guess it was more like… what was happening inside me. I didn't expect it to take me over like that. Yeah, I suppose it was, but only a little scary. But it wasn't because of you!" she rushed to add.

Oh, it wasn't because of him, hmm? He rather thought the way she'd felt had something to do with him.

"I'd like to try it again, if you don't mind, senpai. Not in your bedroom, of course. But I think maybe if I knew to expect it—"

"Very well, Haruhi. I'll follow your lead then, shall I?"

"Yeah right, she thought. Like he was even capable of giving up the lead. But she saw that he was holding himself still, the slight tension of his fingers where he gripped his knee the only signal that it wasn't effortless. He was sort of cute like this.

She leaned in to kiss him, but the couch was big, and she was farther from him than she'd realized. She had to scoot a little closer before she could try again.

Haruhi still wasn't sure how to kiss rather than just be kissed, but the memory of the laundry room, of his thumb on her lip popped into her mind, and she tried to simulate it using her lips instead. He let out a soft sigh, which she took as a sign she'd done something right. She moved to his upper lip, taking it softly between her own. It prompted him pull her lower lip a little, the tip of his tongue sliding across it, and she thought she rather liked that. Without thinking, she nipped at him.

Kyoya huffed out a single bark of frustrated laughter. "You aren't exactly making it easy to go slow, you know."

"Oh, shush. I'm figuring this out as I go, you know. Can't you just hold still and think of account statements or something?"

"That is rather unlikely," he deadpanned. With that, he slid his fingers back into her fine hair and pulled her back in. Pacing, pacing, he chanted silently. They needed to go at hers.

This time, she also lifted her hand to his head, holding him close, and the other rose under his arm to cling to the back of his shoulder. She'd twisted a bit to face him and get a little closer. The position pushed her breast into his chest, and he forced himself to let it stay there, unexplored by his fingers. He knew now, after this morning, that it would be high and firm, the slight curve up and away from her ribs something he was sure could only be appreciated by touch. He broke away to catch his breath. She occupied herself kissing along his jawline toward his ear. When she'd nearly reached it, she reversed directions, dragging her teeth across his skin. Christ.

He used his hand in her hair to pull her back before he lost his mind completely. "Haruhi," he rasped. "I'd like to touch you now. If there is anything you don't like, you can let me know. Is that okay?" She licked her lips as she nodded, and he nearly died. "And you can touch me if you like, too. Whatever you want."

Though he'd gotten her permission, he didn't move his hands just yet, simply kissed her again, focusing on her reactions, looking for her unconscious signals that she wanted him to continue. After a time, she skimmed her hand from his hair to his arm, fingers tentative as she learned its landscape. He began tracing her spine, soothing and exhilarating her all at once. When his hand drifted over her shoulder blade, she shivered and shifted even closer, making him lean back against the arm of the couch.

Haruhi Fujioka was leaning over him as she kissed him. Haruhi was pressing herself into him, bringing her knee up next to his hip to hold herself above him. It was a bit awkward with both his legs to the side, half-seated and half-reclining as he was. He didn't dare move, except to slide his free hand to her side. She was so small. His thumb rested on the forward-most point of her illium, and his fingers fell just short of her backbone. It was a lovely area to touch, a fascinating topography of delicate bone, firm muscle, and soft flesh. God, her skin was soft. He hadn't really meant to place his hand above the waistband of her pants and under her shirt, but as always, her shirt was baggy and so the bottom hem had gapped away from her body when she had moved above him. That baggy shirt was Kyoya's greatest blessing in that moment.

"Kyoya-senpai. You can't possibly be comfortable like that." If anyone else had said it, it would have sounded suggestive, not unlike the "why don't I put on something more comfortable" cliché. But her voice was matter-of-fact. "Do you need to move? Do I need to move?" She started to sit up, so Kyoya took advantage of his hold on her side to yank her back down to him.

"I'll manage," he growled, and he did somehow shift his legs onto the sofa without displacing her.

"Better?" she asked, meaning his legs.

"Better," he agreed, meaning the way she now straddled his hips, even if she was hovering a few inches above him. Her pace, he reminded himself again.

Their momentary pause had seemed to trigger some self-consciousness for her; her brows had knit together and she was looking away. He trailed his hand upward, thumb stopping short of the underside of her breast, and then swept down across her belly. She shuddered and scrunched her face in complaint.

"That tickles!"

"What about here?" His hand now rested higher, fingers on the bottom of her sternum. She swallowed.

"That's okay."

Still upward his fingers crept, traversing the space between her breasts. "And here?" She jerked a nod.

"Good, good," Kyoya muttered, not paying much attention anymore to what they were talking about. His fingers danced along her clavicle, and watching her closely, inched downward. He ached with the urge to take but restricted himself to a slowness that made her close her eyes and sigh. And then he was there, and she was just barely enough to fill the cup of his palm. He imagined that beneath the light lining of her bra, her nipple had tightened. He was dying to find out its shape and color, and her expression was still so dreamy and relaxed. Kyoya was absolutely delighted with himself. He contented himself there for several long moments, learning the way she got goosebumps when he ghosted down the outer curve and the way she strained ever-so-slightly toward him when he scraped over the crest of her. Pleased with his own studies, he hoped she was ready for a new chapter—not that he meant to skip to the last page.

"I wouldn't mind a bit more room to move, Haruhi. Would you mind if we switched places?"

She had a moment's panic as she wondered where their limbs would go if they tried to move, but he solved the problem by simply guiding her back toward the other end of the sofa. Unlike that morning, when he'd snuggled sweetly into her—and nearly crushed her lungs at the same time—now he simply held himself over her. The way his eyes devoured her belied his gentleness, and somehow, that was sweet, too. She knew he'd have liked to go about this much faster, but he held himself back for her comfort. Trusting him completely, she watched him back, waiting to see where he would take her next.

His hands were back at her waistband, this time inching up her shirt, and she had a moment to be glad she'd had the foresight to start wearing prettier underthings when they'd come to their arrangement. He hummed his approval upon revealing her pale pink bra. The band and straps were printed with darker roses, and she was curious to know if he, too, thought it looked a bit like the pattern on his tea set. If it occurred to him she'd thought of him when purchasing the garment. She'd had it quite a long time.

Easing her in as he'd been trying to do all evening, he began kissing her rather primly at the top of her bra strap. He ambled along the path it created, angling in when it transitioned to cup, and punctuating soft lips with nibbles and small tastes. Fingers eased first one, then the other strap off her shoulders, and they gently caged her at her elbows. An immediate urge to reach beyond the bonds surged in her. She reached for him, gripping his shoulder with one hand and the other threading through his hair, knocking the earpiece of his glasses slightly askew on its way. He paused to yank his glasses off and fling them away.

Haruhi grimaced as they clattered against something hard. "You glasses," she admonished. "You should be more careful, senpai."

"Fuck the glasses." Couldn't she see all his self-discipline was focused on her? Dipping fingers into the cup of her bra, he applied teeth almost roughly to the flesh he'd exposed, just to remind her. The fingers that had been butterflying up and down her sides, fingernails scraping if her goosebumps started to fade, came up now to tug more, their goal to unveil her completely. Her pebbled nipples were larger than he'd expected, and they demanded his attention. One finger came to rest on one with reverence. Who the hell had performed the miracle of designing a bra with roses the exact color and size of them?

He bent his head as if to pray, and the heat of his mouth exploded into her like a bomb. Unthinking, her fingers tightened almost painfully in his hair, whipping him on to egg her still higher.

"Fuck the glasses," she agreed breathlessly. His responding chuckle vibrated into her, and she couldn't help the small sound that escaped her. The vocalization tore at something within him. Before he'd realized it, he'd jerked her knee up and ground his hips down into the space he'd created, pistoning hard and fast, desperate to see if he could feel her heat through their clothes if he just pushed a little more.

She whimpered. "Kyoya, I don't want—" whatever she meant to say next was overridden by her yelp when he rolled a nipple between thumb and forefinger and then pinched roughly.

Don't want. He slammed to a stop, teeth bared with the force of his grimace. Her fingers, surprisingly cool given the flush and light sheen of sweat on her face and chest, swept across his temple soothingly. Her honest eyes held compassion and something more heated.

"I don't want you to stop," she clarified. He stared.

"I'm sorry," he said anyway, once he'd collected enough of his humanity to speak. He'd lost control, he'd pushed her too hard, too fast. The nipple he'd pinched was red from the abuse.

"I don't want you to stop," she said again. Her hips lifted as much as the negligible space between them would allow.

His head dropped to her forehead. "Fuck. Fuck. Haruhi, I don't know if I can—"

She interrupted him. "I trust you." He nodded dumbly but didn't move, petrified he couldn't control the monster within demanding he take when he knew she was asking him to give. His muscles ached with the effort of keeping his reason in the driver's seat of his body. He nearly quivered with it.

Her smile was soft now, and she pressed his chest lightly, signaling him to move away. "It's okay. We can hold off. I can see you're uncomfortable, and I'm sorry I've made you feel that way."

Kyoya shook his head and buried his face in the crook of her neck, his weight carefully held on a forearm and his knees. With his free hand, he squeezed her side, wordlessly reassuring her. His palm began dragging softly up and down her abdomen, fingers tracing nonsense patterns that nevertheless spelled out his concern, his dedication to her comfort and pleasure. He kept his hips deliberately away from her own, and in spite of her enjoyment of his touch, part of her missed the heat, friction, and pressure of him pressing into her, the way his weight settled there had felt so oddly comforting despite his frenzy. She'd no sooner had the thought than his hand was there, molding itself to her most feminine curve.

"Okay?" She couldn't have said if he'd even made sound with the query, or if he'd just impressed the shape of it into her skin. She sighed her confirmation. She heard him rake in air, then he began to move against her, the heel of his palm rocking lightly over her clit, his fingers pressing against, manipulating the soft flesh surrounding her entrance, intimating penetration. The tenderness of his ministrations had her floating higher, higher, the heat within her expanding and building even as her world contracted to just him, then just his hand, and finally, she knew nothing but the sensations he coaxed out of her. Her climax swept through her veins with a wave of warmth. It sparkled over her skin. It hummed through her voice and into his mouth as he kissed her softly, collecting her sound and glow and warmth, returning them to her when she came back to herself.

She smiled against him, tugged him down as she turned and scooted to make room for him on the sofa, which he only managed when she wove their arms and legs together, knitting him to her. She chuckled soundlessly, sleepily.

"Hmm?" he intoned. A hand flopped a half-hearted pat to his back.

"You did it. Good job."

He snorted out a laugh, shifting to ease the ache of his trapped length. Some part of her must have noticed, because she murmured, "Owe you one. Next time. Just need to…" She drifted off and away into sleep. Kyoya shook his head, amused and amazed at her. Then he nestled her into him more securely. Sleep was far away for him, but he had plenty to keep his mind occupied.