...I would be the one to hold you down...kiss you so hard...I'll take your breath away...
...I tried to give you up, but I'm addicted...
"Oh, man." Mikan Sakura, 17 years old, whined about the sudden torrent of rain that tore at the sky. She griped again when she stepped into a deep puddle and slipped into a deeper one leaving her shoes and socks a soggy mess, never mind that her ponytail was plastered onto her head. Meanwhile, her uniform draped heavily against her long slender body.
"Great. Just great." She hugged her school bag, trying to protect her books from getting wetter. The flashlight in her hand offered up a measly comfort in the darkness so that she managed to stop herself from ramming her forehead onto a tree. Stopping herself a mere inch from it, she found herself having to smother a nervous giggle.
It had been a long hard week.
She huffed out a hard breath and maneuvered delicately with her zero visibility, stopping once in a while to wipe the water out of her eyes and to grope her way. With her luck these last few days, she wouldn't be surprised if she slipped, knocked her head, fell unconscious, and died of exposure.
It was unnatural for her to be so down. Oh, she'd get her highs and lows like everybody else, but she never stayed down in a long length of time.
But she was alone, in the dark, cold, wet, and miserable. She was entitled to a few temper tears.
She blinked when a sudden shaft of light highlighted her way. The yellow moon was a fat bright circle in the sky .
The rain glinted silver in moonlight.
It was then when she saw him.
Natsume Hyuuga stood in the rain; still, straight, and silent.
She didn't know what he was doing until she saw the cloud of steam rising from his glistening naked upper body. It told her that he had his Alice on a low simmer; that he was slowly rising his inner temperature until eventually he'd burst into flames.
A technique that needed superior concentration, Alice stamina, patience, skill, and an understanding of one's Alice.
A technique that she knew he employed when he had something on his mind, something that he didn't want to think about, but was unable to put it off his mind.
She watched his close-eyed concentration; his low and even breathing.
He was always so intense, so focused on whatever he was doing; so persistently independent that she knew he probably didn't speak to Ruka about whatever it was that was bugging his mind.
And, it had been a long time since the last time he talked to her.
She fought off the feelings of resentment, the sting of betrayal, and the hurt that his abandonment gave her.
It had been three years since he cut off all ties to her, even their partnership.
The only saving grace for Mikan was that Natsume didn't bother to partner up with anyone else.
But it still stung.
And it certainly hurt more than she expected, more than it should have.
Never mind talking, he hardly even glanced at her and every time he ignored her, it was another spike into her heart.
Out of the blue, with no explanation.
It had been three years, but there was still no explanation.
She knew there was an explanation, and she knew he had to make sacrifices for the well being of others. It just so happened to be that one of those sacrifices was her.
She knew all of that.
But she still found it hard not be angry, to not feel betrayed, and worst of all, not to feel bitter.
And she hated herself for feeling the bitterness most of all.
What was he to her anyway? They were friends, nothing more.
But there was something, something she couldn't really grasp and never fully explored.
She just knew that bereft of it, she felt something was missing, and the funny thing was, she wasn't really sure that she had it in the first place.
A wave of unexpected fury born out of frustration and hurt swept over her like a thundering storm as she watched him, all calm and collected.
Warmed by her anger, she didn't notice that the rain had stopped or that she was no longer standing in the shadows.
Which was why she didn't expect it when his raven head turned, crimson eyes latching onto her as though he knew she was there all along.
She gasped when she saw them burn in the dark, and she felt the pulse of his power in the air, lashing at her, felt it reaching for her like invisible hands.
She felt her Alice respond in defense at the sudden intrusion and their Alices collided and fought for dominance.
She saw it in his eyes the minute he recognized her. She felt the jolt of surprise on her skin as he, in a rare moment of being caught off guard, lost control of his Alice, and it overwhelmed her, suffocated her in a blanket of heat before he finally regained control of it again.
She could almost hear him turning off his power with a soft click in her head.
Her senses were still slightly overwhelmed, short circuited when she saw him step towards her.
His long legs ate up the ground with fast determined steps and she was in half a mind to make a fast escape.
She opened her mouth to say something and choked on his heat, his presence, and her own ruined feelings about him actually acknowledging her for the first time in three years.
Crimson heat met anxious amber as thousands of scenes where they stood face to face like this passed through their minds.
Her heartbeat echoed loudly in her ears and she tried to figure out what to say, desperate to have him back in her life because somehow, though it hurt when he was close and ignored her, it hurt far too much when he was gone altogether.
She struggled to get her voice, to find the perfect words to say, but she found none.
Instead, she merely stared into his eyes and said the one word that made sense in a world of confusion.
"Natsume."
She saw his eyes flicker and narrow, his naked upper body tense, his shoulder tighten at the sound of her voice.
The seconds stretched on and ticked on forever until a sudden flash of thunder made Mikan jumped.
It was then that Mikan found herself pressed against an unyielding wall of flesh.
Unusually hot, unusually tense, she felt him grip her hair, tilt her head back so their eyes met once again, their faces within inches of each other, their breaths moist and hot on each other's skin, their wet bodies plastered against each other.
His red eyes swept her face and landed on her lips. Mikan was old enough to know what that look meant, to know what he wanted. Pure feminine distress crept up her spine as her body registered just how tall, bigger, and stronger he was.
At this, all she was certain of was that her mind was in shambles and that she suddenly wasn't cold anymore. Natsume's body heat was more than enough to warm them both.
And she wasn't particularly miserable either.
But then again, she was straining on her tip-toes, pressed close like nobody's business against the most hard-ass guy in school, one that ditched her three years ago without so much a goodbye.
The thought shocked her into action as she strained against his grip, but he only held her tighter, cutting her struggle short and finally moving in for the kill.
Mikan's arm muscles trembled when his mouth pressed aggressively against her soft one, just as firmly, as strongly as it did seven years ago when they were ten.
He was more skillful, more sure of himself and a small part of her wondered bitterly about where he got it.
Like everything else he did, every mission he went to, he plundered her mouth with a focus that bordered on obsession and an intensity that crossed the line over into madness. But she still felt that relentless rein he had on himself underneath his vibrating strength and she was both curious and afraid of what would happen if the strong control Natsume held over himself broke.
She let out a breath of surprise when she felt a large calloused hand slide up her naked back in a gesture that spoke of possessiveness and strength.
The breath entered Natsume's mouth as he rampaged hers, feasted on her lips, her hurried pants, her sighs, and stifled moans.
Mikan felt her face heat when she felt the hand underneath her shirt graze the strap of her bra, then slide down to fist at her skirt, then up again, dancing along her spine, curving her body into his. His fingers continued to thread in her hair, clenching on her skin as he attacked her mouth with desperate precision.
And she couldn't do anything to save herself, but drown in an ocean of sensation.
A low, deep, guttural groan erupted from Natsume's chest when in an anxious attempt to get her bearings, Mikan fixed her nails on Natsume's arms, marking his skin. In an act of retaliation, Natsume drew her bottom lip into his mouth and bit down.
Mikan's painful mewl was smothered with his tongue, chasing the taste of copper infused with the insistent prickle of lust.
Natsume ached all over, because of her, for her. What was she thinking? Appearing in front of me like that; lost and wet.
Didn't she know how dangerous it was for her to be wandering off alone?
When he realized that it was her, he though he somehow nodded off to sleep and it was just one of those dreams...and he could do whatever he wanted in his dreams right?
There were no consequences, no repercussions in dreams.
Of course, it only took him a second to figure out that it wasn't a dream, but...they were alone, and it was dark.
How could he explain the need, that tempest that boiled inside of him just at the mere thought of her, the greedy desperation that grab hold of his insides at the sight, at the smell of her?
The endless war he fought when he was in her presence, the primal violence to take, to have, to make her his?
And if that wasn't maddening enough, underneath all that, running rampant inside of him, there was that undercurrent of a particular emotion that ran still, but steady.
And it took root far too deep, far too strong for him to yank it out.
And it was that undefined, naked, raw emotion that urged him to gentle his rough hands, to soften his lips, to lengthen his motions; to make them slower, softer. His hands held rather than gripped, his body sighed against hers rather than catching her captive. His mouth absorbed rather than possessed.
But he was no less strong, masterful, or sly.
It only made him even more dangerous.
Mikan's eyelashes fluttered when she felt the change in Natsume. She jerked, surprised, when his hand clenched on her nape, sending ripples of sensations across her spine. His thumbs brushed her cheekbones; the gesture too sweet, too caring that her lips softened just as her knees weakened.
His fingers ran along the length of her hair, and his fingertips touched along her skin, lulling her into submission.
When her body turned liquid against his, her fingertips sighed against his waist, Natsume shattered.
Her eyes opened when she was pushed roughly against a strong tree bark. A strangled scream slipped out of her throat when Natsume bit hard into the skin of her right shoulder, and then raised his mouth to her ear.
Mikan shivered at the feeling of his hot breath and at the low threatening note in his voice as he whispered into her ear.
The stinging pain in her shoulder gave her strength to push at Natsume. She pushed harder when she saw the mocking look in Natsume's eyes when he didn't move an inch. Embarrassed at her own helplessness and at how it was so easy for him to manipulate her emotions, she pushed at him again, but still he didn't budge. He only moved seconds later, only after he was sure that she knew she could go because he let her.
Natsume was always cocky and a control freak.
It was against her nature to run, but she was too confused and humiliated not to do so, so she ran like the hounds of hell were at her heels and only stopped when she was at her dorm hall.
Anger started to stomp away her embarrassment and she fanned at it so it would eat away at the gnawing feeling in her stomach. She took a deep cleansing air, but stomped her foot when she smelled him on her; heat, earth, rain.
She brushed her hands against her skin, trying to erase the feel of his hands, his skin, and his breath.
She yanked open her shirt, taking her temper out on the innocent garment, but she didn't feel any better when she caught a glimpse of herself from the full-size mirror in the corner of her room.
Her face was flushed with anger and embarrassment, her lips red and bruised, her hair was a mess, and there, on her right shoulder, was the clear imprint of Natsume's teeth.
He bit her.
He frickin' bit her.
She could still see his eyes boring into hers, and could still hear his calm even voice, lowered to a threat in a whisper.
If you don't want to take things further, never let me catch you here again.
She stood in front of the mirror and watched the flaming flush rise to her cheeks at the implication of his words as she felt once again the suggestive movements of his hands and body upon hers.
Too humiliated and angry for words, she picked up a pillow and let out an angry screech.
Her breath spent, she let out an impressive tantrum while she pummeled on the same pillow.
It was only half an hour later when, exhausted, she finally crawled towards the bathroom for a hot, soothing bubble bath.
The last thing she needed was to get sick on top of it all.
It wasn't until she picked up the shirt that she tossed away, filled the tub with hot water, poured in a vanilla scented bath gel, slid out of skirt and underwear, slid into the tub, and sighed in pleasure that she realized something strange.
Something out of place.
Her amber eyes glided to the laundry basket and landed on the uniform she just got out of.
It was dry.
There was only one way that could happen.
He dried her clothes.
Natsume Hyuuga, royal badass, dried her clothes.
The realization drew her into a halt and it tickled her so much that she sat in her tub, looking at her laundry, her skin still bruised by his fingers with the hot water stinging the bite wound on her shoulder, and laughed.
She laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed until she could laugh no more.