2.Sleet

Sleet: In Britain, rain mixed with snow. In America, ice pellets formed when snowflakes pass through a layer of warm air, partially thaw, then refreeze on further descent.
There were no candles left when they began. It was the light from the lamps reflected on the snow what led Kyouya's hands through the wool and cotton barrier.

She trusted him, though he was deceiving. For example, his face. It was serious, concentrated, focused on her eyes and on her nervousness. It radiated strength and power. Though, by all means, he should be nervous too.

His hand caressed her hair, combing the strands between his fingers. It swayed back and forth over her nape, her back, softly stroking her over the clothing.

Haruhi laid down and he trapped her legs with his knees before not-smiling. She noticed that his eyes had a beautiful form, slanted and longer on the sides, shadowed by thick lashes.

He sled his hands over her chest, so quickly that she doubted the action had taken place. And then, still not-smiling, nor-kissing, he undid the first button.

She gasped. The cold draft that came through a creak in the windowpane menaced her body and her breasts hardened.

He tilted his head when two dark spots grew at the other side of the shirt.

Kyouya undid the second button. Haruhi breathed in. Kyouya pushed her head back by the chin, and widened the gap between the cloth and the skin. There was a line of snow from her mouth to her pelvis. At the south some kind of warmth was starting to brew.

It was strange to be almost bare-chested under his eyes.

There was nothing soft about that gaze.

And yet, when his hands lifted the two sides of the shirt and her small breasts were kissed by the brisk air, the trust remained. Haruhi looked up and found him fascinated. His glasses reflected her white torso against the dark sheets. She felt like a butterfly about to be dissected, her wings pinned to the futon so the owner could admire them in its full beauty.

She shivered when he leant in and kissed her front.

He then slid her jeans down with her panties, without bothering to unzip them. As they were pushed down, he slid his fingers over the just-exposed skin, leaving traces with his nails.

The jeans fell from the futon. Kyouya stood tall and dark, still wrapped in his layers of thick wool and cotton, observing the body between his knees.

She was so delicate. That night at the beach, ages ago, he had thought the same. She seemed so small, fragile, made of air and bones, her eyes so big and dark and hungry, like a bird. But to see her pale skin, the slight mounts and dales, the triangle of the pubic hair and the somber nipples, the blue vein that begun in her heart and was now visible in her chest, in her neck. How could something so tiny work and live? There was something morbid about the whiteness of her flesh, in the way it showed off the red marks of his nails. She hadn't complained about it. But, when did Haruhi complain about anything? He caressed the inside of her thin thighs. It should be dangerous to have such a soft skin; how did she stand the cloth against it? How did she manage to not fall apart?

Kyouya pulled out. Haruhi's eyes widened. She sat up, and trembling, unexperienced, lifted his sweater. When her hands crawled up to his chest, he gave in. He buried his head in the corner of the neck, inhaling her scent, licking her pulse, biting into the warm flesh. She felt his mouth trailing down to her nipples, but that sensation didn't make her spine arch like the sight of his head in her bosom and the twirling of his tongue around the belly button with his lids half-closed while she wanted, and feared, and desired and quivered to be devoured. His hands griped her hips and pushed her upward, until her head fell from the futon and her cunt was exposed. She guessed that his look would be the same one that he shot her that summer night, so long ago, when he bowed a little, so their faces would be leveled, and whispered his offer about the flowers. That was the scariest moment of the night; the turning point when she had a glimpse at the power that Kyouya held and used to his advantage every day.

His tongue gave a flat, long stroke and she didn't reminisce anymore. A soft cry escaped her throat when that same tongue twirled, and she felt him breathing out, smiling wide, satisfied.

Haruhi had desired before. Sometimes, when she found the twins tangled around the spots that sent chills down her spine; Kaoru's breath blowing behind her lobes or Hikaru's lips an inch too close, always a bit too humid, when he took food directly from her mouth. Or in the rare occasions that Tamaki behaved like a hero instead of a fool, when she felt this urge to hug him, to press her chest against his back or touch his golden hair. Kyouya had been right before, the need came in stronger waves when she watched Mori, but didn't every girl in the third music room harbor the same troubled waters for him? They were just too intimidated to swim in them. It was easier to let the twins love each other, or to listen to Tamaki's praises. It was easier to ignore Hani's famished eyes altogether.

But this. This was her blood pulsing so hard that she couldn't think; this was every muscled contracting and aching for contact, this was running short of air and plunging in lukewarm water, not being to stay still, no matter what Kyouya was ordering down there. Humidity against wetness, fingers exploring inside, teeth caressing and coercing her lips to open more. She trembled, she wanted to stop the shaking, but Kyouya stroke her calves, pushed down the flat of her stomach with his palms and commanded her body to implode.

It obeyed.

The windows shaked. The room went dark. Kyouya wetted his lips and hovered over the shattering girl. Haruhi's arms and legs mimicked those of a puppet, spread out, inert, sweaty and manipulable. He lowered his head and put his ear over her heart. It was beating fast, like a small animal trapped in a cage.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

He hushed her and kept listening. She tried to move, to touch his face, but his hands were pressing the shirt to the mattress and the upper part of her body couldn't move.

Haruhi shot him a dirty look. He didn't notice, buried as he was between her breasts. She tried her luck, took impulse and tangled her legs around his waist. He lose balance and collapsed over her body. She grunted when his skin touched her, and had to roll free from under his weight. As she climbed over his stomach, the swelling between her thighs pulsing and reacting to every little touch, he got hold of her shirt. Now she was on a longer leash, but still trapped.

He rose his head, trapped a nipple between his front teeth, blew cold air on it without releasing and licked it. The rapid succession of sensations made Haruhi gasp and hiss. Satisfied, he let go, rested his head on the futon and dared her to make the next move.

Haruhi hadn't really thought that far. She brushed her vulva against the cloth of his jeans, and his eyes opened wide. She caressed his chest and wandered his hands down to the edge of the trousers. He didn't flinch a facial muscle, but relaxed his grip on the shirt a little.

Haruhi covered his body with hers and unbuttoned his trousers. Kyouya didn't close his eyes, and Haruhi realized that he wasn't letting himself go with the flow; his eyes were piercing hers as she threw the pants, the boxers and the socks to the floor. She walked her fingers down the line of soft, dark hair that started half an inch down his belly button. She felt satisfied when his pelvic muscles contracted, and when his hands pulled her closer to him.

Kyouya did blink when she took his swollen cock with her left hand and pushed the skin back, letting the thin, viscous layer that covered its tip soak her palm. He gasped when she started to pump it, slowly, afraid at first that she might hurt him. He hissed, and caught her earlobe in his mouth. At the same time, he lowered his hand from the forearm to entangle it with her working fingers and guided her movements. Those were quicker and harder than what Haruhi would have allow her to perform, but he seemed to enjoy it –his gaze was no longer daring, and his eyelids were blinking more often. Haruhi wanted to make him shout her name.

Instead, it was she who cried when he entered her with his fingers. She stopped, wanting to feel him without any distractions, but he halted the pleasant caress and started to guide her hand again. When Haruhi regained the steady rythm, his right hand returned to her entrance and his left hand touched her lower lip, repeating the gesture that he had made earlier that afternoon. This time, she took his finger inside her mouth and sucked it. But the feeling became stronger than her will and she had to interrupt the motion again. Kyouya groaned in frustration and stopped. His eyes beamed a dangerous glint. Haruhi breathed in and slid her hand again. They repeated this maddening game for some minutes, until Haruhi couldn't take it anymore and came again, tight and wet, around his fingers, still trying to masturbate him. He smirked, triumphant, and didn't allow her to rest. He pushed her head down in a rather harsh manner over his shaft.

Haruhi doubted. But his grip was back, and her mouth was only millimeters apart from the relucent tip, so she timidly licked it. It tasted strange, slightly salty, a little bit like sweat but meatier. Kyouya pushed a little bit harder, and Haruhi's tongue travelled from the tip to the roots this time.

He sighed.

She let her hand play with the silky, curly hair around his cock, while she ventured further. Once she had licked the shaft clean, she dared to put an inch inside her mouth, careful to not touch it with her teeth. Her lips were dry and they got on the way, so she rose a little, wetted them with her tongue and plunged again over his sex. Every time she trailed down, she took more inside. Her tongue twirled around the engulfed parts, and Kyouya's hands laid over her shoulders, sometimes in her head, whenever he wanted to change the pace to his desires.

But that wasn't right. He shouldn't be taking charge right now. She increased the rythm and slid her tongue all over the penis at the same time. She took Kyouya's hands away with her own and nailed his thighs. His stomach contracted, his knees trembled, and Haruhi felt accomplished. The member inside her mouth was hotter and bigger, and it moved –she had never known that it could jump in little spasms like that. His palms slid under the shirt and caressed her shoulders. He had thrown his head back, his hair was touching the floor and his throat, exposed.

Kyouya whispered her name in the dark

Haruhi didn't see it coming when he pushed her up, before he could erupt in her mouth. He caught his cock and squeezed it, trying to contain himself, and snatched both of her wrists with the other hand to stop her from touching him.

Hurt, and thinking that he had done something wrong, Haruhi turned her head down and away.

Neither of them moved. Kyouya's body was covered with a thin layer of sweat, and Haruhi was feeling colder and lonelier by the second. However, he couldn't move. He didn't want to go like that. He wanted his erection to last longer, not to end in the girl's mouth. It would have taken a lot to regain his forces, and he didn't want to wait to take her.

So he tried to slow his heartbeat, to calm down, to cool off, and he was in the middle of that when a drop that wasn't sweat nor saliva fell upon his chest.

Haruhi was whiping and blinking her tears away, and hiding her face in her chest.

He noticed that he was holding her wrists a bit too strongly and let go them a little. However, Haruhi stayed in the same position and didn't move her arms.

Kyouya didn't know what had happened.

"Haruhi..." he said, sitting up to look at her. She didn't react, nor did she look up. Kyouya pushed his hair away from his eyes. "Haruhi, look at me," he ordered.

The girl turned her head to the other side.

Kyouya took her chin between his index and thumb and forced her to rise her face.

However, those big, warm eyes, who were usually so direct and blunt, avoided his. He frowned.

"What is wrong?"

"What was wrong?" she echoed.

He understood. It was a surprising facet of her, that insecure side; but just as nobody could blame Tamaki for not being an accomplished carpinter –because he had never, thanks God, held a saw- nobody could blame Haruhi for breaking down when he had pushed her away.

"Nothing," assured Kyouya. Haruhi's eyes finally met his, and Kyouya's coolness almost melted when he saw how open, how vulnerable they were behind the dilated pupils. "Nothing was wrong," he repeated, sliding the damped shirt down her arms.

He touched her shoulder blades, noting how they opened like wings with every breath. He bit her shoulder hard, delecting in the feeling of the salty flesh giving in under his incissives. She complained, and Kyouya caressed the mark with his tongue.

"But it's going to hurt much more than that," Kyouya whispered, and bit again over the same spot to prove his point. Haruhi stiffened and tried to push him away again, but relaxed when he eased the sore skin with his lips. Kyouya grabbed the shed shirt at her back and twisted it into a rope, still nibbling her.

"I know. They told us that in class," she finally answered.

"Really?" Kyouya tilted his head and brushed her clit. She was swollen and steamy, and as his index contacted the small mount of bare flesh, Haruhi arched her back and pushed her stomach against his. The brief contact made Kyouya want her at that precise moment. He grabbed her wrists with his free hand and made them meet at the small of her back, still tracing circles with the other. "I'm glad that you are aware of what is going to happen now," he smiled, and tied her hands together at her back with the twisted shirt.

Haruhi gasped and tried to back down, but she was slow and not very strong and an easy prey. Her resistance was ephemeral. After a few seconds, she resigned herself to be moved around like a rag doll and let Kyouya turn her around and make her kneel.

"You know, Kyouya-senpai..." she started while he pushed her head onto the pillow.

Kyouya slithered his hands over her breasts, her ribs, her waist.

"What?" he checked the rope that would stop her hands from stopping him when it started to hurt –and it would, they'd told him that in class too.

"You have yet to show me what it feels like to kiss a boy."

Kyouya straightened. She was right.

"If when we're finished you still want to know, I'll show you."

"Practice?"

He caressed her cheek.

"No."

And, grabbing her hips, Kyouya thrusted in.

It did hurt. Haruhi had to bury her face in the pillow and grit her teeth to stop her throat from screaming. Kyouya was getting in very slowly, very calmed, but that made it worst. The gentler he went, the longer the pain wave expanded before the next one came.

The tension at the entrance was red-hot, and Haruhi's first impulse was to jerk away. But his hands were in her hips and hers were tied up, making that very difficult. Her second impulse was to close herself, but when she contracted the muscles around his shaft, Kyouya exhaled and put it all inside.

Haruhi screamed against the futon.

Kyouya didn't move for a while, but the iron bar that had been forced into her was still painful. Haruhi felt a tear sliding down her jaw and clenched her teeth.

Kyouya forced her to stand up on her knees, still inside her, and she moaned and asked him to retreat.

"Shush, hush, calm down..." Kyouya put his palm under her stomach and pressed. Haruhi could feel him there, there was a small bump, and apparently he could too, because he thrusted in a little against his own hand. She let a cry escape, and Kyouya went still again. She felt her limbs going feverish and cold, and the air not getting to her lungs as it should. She tried to move away, but that hurt too and she hadn't reached half of the way when Kyouya pushed in again and enclosed her body with one arm. Haruhi turned her head upward. He looked cool and slightly amused at her suffering, and she hated him for that.

"Haruhi, I'm not going to stop now. It would make no sense now that we've gone this far..." the hand slid down and caressed her pubic hair, and touched her major lips again, but now it did hurt and she told him so.

As an answer, he thrusted in again and licked her ear.

She opened and closed her useless hands and cried out in agony.

Kyouya tipped her head up and covered her mouth with his hand.

"Bite it when it hurts," he instructed, pushing his hips in.

She did, and her mouth filled up with her own taste and that of iodine.

He smiled down to her.

"Good girl," he lifted his other hand, licked his own fingers and stroke her sex again. She shivered, but this caress was less intense, more fluid, and she tried to relax and enjoy it. Until he pushed again, that was it.

"Please..." she begged.

"Just bite the pain away," he pulled out a little. Haruhi felt so narrow, so hollow, that she found it very difficult to believe that he could be enjoying the sensation of being inside her. But Kyouya entered again, this time more forcefully, and started to chain a steady rythm between his cock and his thumb. Haruhi felt his chest against her back,and his hot breath in her neck, and those small, reassuring sensations helped her to stay sane.

After half a minute of utter torture, she discovered that it didn't hurt as much if she moved her hips with his.

Kyouya's humid manipulations were useful too. There were sparkles of pleasure intertwined with the pressure of his cock, and she tried to focus on those instead of on the certainty that she was going to break in two at any moment.

Kyouya lowered her body again until she was lying down. And then, something happened. His shaft reached a soft spot that was only accessible from that position. Haruhi whimpered. He stoped for a second and did it again, harder, and this time the wave that took over was of sheer anticipation. The third time, it made the pain look worth it. Kyouya noticed it, because he found a new cadence, faster and harsher than before. She asked for more, and he obliged. Haruhi heard his breathing getting high pitched, fast, unlabored, and she smiled. There was something deeply satisfactory in exciting Kyouya.

She felt hot inside, and a white light behind her eyes; though they were wide opened and that wasn't possible. Her spine became lightning, and she heard herself mumbling inconex words before Kyouya clenched his nails into her hips and gave a last, powerful impulse.

They didn't move for an eternity.

Then, Kyouya fell to the bed like a dead weight, rolling over in the air. His eyes were wide open. He stared blankly to the ceiling. A wide smile was painted in his face, truthful, and handsome, and scary. Haruhi wondered what was Tamaki thinking about, wooing her instead of his Shadow King.

Little by little, the sweat evaporated and the cold air from the outside winter world took over the room again. Haruhi shivered, and reached for the blanket, and then she realized that she was still tied up and that every single nerve under her waist ached.

Kyouya noticed, undid the knot and wrapped her body with a sheet before leaving for the bathroom. Haruhi heard water running and she was starting to get asleep when Kyouya came back, took her in his arms –sheet included- and carried her to the warm bath that he had prepared.

It was only when he shed the sheet that Haruhi noticed the dark stains between her thighs. She frowned.

"I just did the laundry..."

"Don't worry about that," he answered, dropping Haruhi into the water and reaching for the sponge.

The water burnt her for a second, and then it eased the muscle aches. Kyouya poured some shower gel in the sponge and cleaned her thighs and her sex. He squeezed the sponge and rinsed it; and Haruhi figured that the water was adquiring a pinkish tone. Though it was imposible to check it in the darkness. He poured more gel and foamed her skin. The citrousy scent of the soap filled her nostrils. Haruhi lied down and let Kyouya wipe her arms and legs.

It was wonderfully relaxing. But odd. She could have washed herself alone.

"Why are you doing this?" Haruhi asked to the dark silhouette when he started with her hair and shoulders.

"You healed me before," he shrugged, but the soft contact continued and reached her chest. "I was just paying that back."

Kyouya let Haruhi dry all alone. She put on a cozy pajamas. When she exited the bathroom, still aching but feeling cleaner and slightly exhilarated, she found him drinking a soda, wearing his jeans and lying over a freshly-made futon. She found the dirty sheets cramped in a plastic bag by the door.

Haruhi took a blanket and sat down beside him. Kyouya passed her the soda can.

"Drink. Sugar is good for your muscles after you exercise," Haruhi drank and smiled him a thank you. "Tomorrow, we will go to the Ootori hospital so you can take the day-after pill."

She blinked.

"In your case, I'm not concerned about STDs, but I wouldn't like to conceive a heir yet," he explained. "I apologize, we should have used a preservative."

"Oh. That," Haruhi took a long sip of the cold sugary drink, realizing how thirsty she was. "Don't worry, I'm on the pill," she answered. "My father practically forced the gyn to give it to me after he met Tamaki for the first time..."

He chuckled and stole the soda can away. "Good for Ranka-san."

Both of them looked out the window. The blizzard had passed; now there were big, fluffy snowflakes falling to the ground. The wrecked car was a white hillock and barely visible. Haruhi looked at Kyouya's cell phone, that was still on the kotatsu. It was 2 AM.

"I don't think that the roads will be opened by tomorrow morning," she said.

Kyouya yawned. "I agree."

"You know, senpai, if you slept in my room, the light wouldn't disturb you tomorrow, and you would be able to sleep in," she proposed.

"That is very thoughtful of you. But your room is too small to alocate your futon, isn't it?"

She nodded. "You would use the guest's. It's smaller, but..."

Kyouya curved up his lips like a good boy.

"I thought that the guest's futon was no feather mattress..."

Haruhi flinched and felt slightly embarrassed. "Ugh."

Kyouya ruffled her hair.

"Nice try, Haruhi-kun," he squashed the can with one hand and yawned again. "I think I'd rather share the bed with you for tonight. I'm delicate, you know..."

Haruhi slid beneath the covers and curled up.

"As you like," she whispered.

The falling flakes made her blink twice into slumber.

Haruhi was surprised when Kyouya took her hand and tangled their fingers. He touched their lips together and kissed her with his eyelids wide shut. They lingered chastely; he swayed her hair with his sliced hands.

"Verdict?" he asked, opening his eyes.

"You were right. Much nicer than Renge's."