Prompt 9: No More Teasing, Baby

Tsukimori wasn't able to live with himself after the incident. She should've never provoked him like that.

It made him question the kind of person he is while contemplating on destroying the person he is slowly turning into every time he replays that event over and over in his head. It's Amou Nami's fault, he keeps telling himself. After her little exhibition, he hasn't been able to eat and sleep well; as far as the definition "well" goes when it comes to eating and sleeping (which are mandatory activities squashed between violin practices). Perhaps she has a point when she claimed that he hasn't been getting rest but if he's on his way to become a professional musician then he shouldn't afford to just idle by. He's the son of a hailed concert pianist, for God's sake!

Thinking about his mother made him think about not disappointing her and when he thought about that, he also thought about his last nervous breakdown and that also made him think about Amou Nami again, who must have been sadistic because she's always way out of line, asking questions that only made his head spin. And thinking about what a pesky distraction she was made him go back to that depraved episode. It's that bitch's fault, he won't sugarcoat it anymore, although he never really used the word loosely before. In fact, he had never met anyone whom he could have used that word for, but Amou Nami had invaded his sense of equilibrium on two occasions now. And so all he could do is curse her as a bitch who is on a personal mission to ruin his life. Why else would she even dare—seduce him—that's what it is, Tsukimori finally admitted, even though it did take a while—that bitch seduced him! And he complied. That he didn't understand. He shouldn't indulge these sorts of torturous thoughts.

It was both fortunate and, at the same time it wasn't, when he saw her with Hino and Fuyumi this afternoon. They were walking down to a dress store or something. What Tsukimori should've done was ignore the bitch (he's getting a hang on thinking the word) and walk away. It was only wise not to engage further if there's fatality waiting for him. And yet for some reason his feet don't belong to him, and he followed the girls anyway inside the store. When he got there, he was quick to hide himself in one of the large shelves, trying to keep his body out of sight through the help of the gowns displayed in front of him.

This is officially the worst that could happen. He did not only discover himself to be disturbed, but now, apparently, he's also a stalker—a stalker desperate for some absolution; a stalker for a certain Amou Nami—the bitch.

He can hear Hino talking. "Do you really think this looks good on me, Amou-san?"

Tsukimori cursed himself for trying to see which dress she was talking about. He's not interested in Hino. Not anymore, at least. Not in that way, for the time being. He didn't come here for her, after all, but the realization of his true objectives didn't help him process this madness either. How unacceptable.

"You should tie your hair up when you wear that." The bitch spoke up.

"Oh? Well, you mean like a bun or something?"

"That too. But it'd be way prettier if you braid it first. Right, Fuyuumi-chan?"

"Ah! Yes!" came a nervous reply from a corner somewhere.

"Come on, Hino, try it on!"

Scratch his previous statement, this is the worst thing that could happen; listening to a bunch of girls putting on dresses. It's a guy's nightmare, he guessed, but he's not sure how. All Tsukimori knows is that he shouldn't be here anymore. He made an effort to slither away to the door but the opportunity isn't kind to him, as it turns out, and he was forced to suffer listening to a few more exchange of ideas on clothes and whatnot. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Tsukimori closed his eyes and wished nobody would come to this corner and spot him hiding behind—are these socks? He touched one of the garments.

Hold on, these are—god damn—!

"Eh? Tsukimori-sempai?"

He snapped his head and met Fuyuumi's eyes. She covered her mouth when she saw him clutching the bright yellow thong he was just examining by accident.

"I-I'm sorry, sempai!" Fuyuumi was about to run off before Tsukimori could even explain so he made a motion to grab her by the wrist and when he caught her steady, she looked back at him, her face very red and her eyes look like they were tearing up. Not good. He saw this expression before. Fuyuumi would look like this every time Tsuchiura is nearby. And the thought of being in par with that guy!

"Look, it's not what it looks like..."

"I understand, sempai." Fuyuumi looked helpless as each second passed by. "I-I need to go now. W-Would you kindly p-please let me go?"

"Oh, of course!" He immediately released her, raising his hands up, unaware he was still clutching the garment. But Fuyumi was. She completely burst into tears and run off.

Shit. He had to get out of here fast! Tsukimori made a move towards the door.

Near his escape, he managed to trip on something and would've fallen right on his face if he didn't manage to grab onto one of the shelves in time. It will only take a while before Hino and Amou will get here just to see what Fuyuumi was sobbing about. He has no time to waste. So this probably is worse than the worst thing that could happen!

As if someone up there isn't done with His cruel jokes, Tsukimori looked up from his compromising position and found her staring at him, her hands on her hips with a smile slowly forming, getting ready for a snide remark.

Amou Nami. The bitch.

"Well, well, look what the cat tried to drag in before it was skinned alive."

X-X-X

Amou wasn't surprised at all.

She watched Tsukimori's face change into the most unbelievably cute shade of crimson as he averted his eyes, refusing to admit that this has to be mortifying for him.

"Any reason why you're stalking me around?"

Her worst suspicion has been confirmed, especially when Tsukimori snapped his eyes at her and growled. He was an animal caught in a trap she had laid for him for days now. She couldn't have been any happier. Like it's Christmas in springtime, if that even makes sense.

"It's not what it looks like." He muttered.

"It looks to me like you're looking to get some."

"Get some what?"

"Get some piece of Amou Nami, you clueless bastard."

"How vile!"

"So you knew what I meant by it then? I'm impressed. You've evolved in just a short span of time, prince."

He stood up and towered above her now, and he's not afraid to make a show of it. Tsukimori was really trying his best to look apathetic but it just falls flat anyway.

Amou kept grinning at him. "Look, Tsukimori-kun, I understand your frustration. I've also been impatient. I was wondering if it should be me who would initiate again, but I had this expectation that you're gonna master the courage to make the first move this time."

He said nothing. Amou sighed and crossed her arms. "Hino's here right now. Do you really want her to be around for this, eh?"

That seemed to get him. He replied. "I really don't care for you and whatever you might say for the matter. And no, I don't think there's a need to include Hino on this. It doesn't concern her and I'd appreciate it if you strictly keep this between us."

"Okey-dokey then!" Amou grabbed his hand and pulled him with every strength she had towards one of the dressing rooms. Tsukimori only tried to get her off once she was able to close the curtains in front of them.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he roared and then lowered his voice once more. He obviously didn't want to draw any more attention. "This is crazy and you are crazy. I have enough of this—"

"Shhh…" Amou comforted him by rubbing her palms on his chest. He flinched away from her every time she attempted to keep touching him. Her hands gripped his shoulders and he flinched. She placed her hands on his cheeks and he flinched again. Finally, she held him by his tie and almost choked him. This only got him more pissed. Unfazed, Amou pulled his tie off, watching the look of dread and confusion in his face. With his collar open now, the layer of flesh on his neck that was exposed was enough to get her excited. She started spreading butterfly kisses on his neck then proceeds unbuttoning his shirt further. She pulls off the coat and tosses it away from him. Her lips were pressed on his chest now—then back at his neck, nibbling a small portion of the flesh.

Tsukimori was unable to move or respond to anything. It was all happening too fast that he had no idea how to stop her—or if he even wanted her to stop. Pressed against the wall and murmuring curses under his breath, he could feel her fingers on his nipples now and he suppressed a groan when she started pinching them. He pushed her just slightly away but her hands were still moving; now working their way around his belt.

"Amou-san! Stop that!" He clutched her by the wrists. She smiled coyly, leaning closer. Their noses brushed, eyes wide open and waiting. Then she breathed into his parted lips until he felt something wet.

Her tongue.

Shit.

Tsukimori felt himself sinking, caving as she crushed their mouths together. While she was kissing him like that, he was now willing to forget that this is something he shouldn't be allowing to be done to him. When her tongue flicked over his in a continuous motion, their heads moving in different angles as she slowly grinded her hips against his crotch—(and when she squeezed the bulge on his pants like that) god, he can't hear the sound of reason in his head anymore because the urges, these tremors all over his body, just wanted him to give it all up. He never imagined it could be this...this—

—damn good...

Amou was the first one to pull away. When she did, his hands sought for her, not understanding why it had to end so early. She just stood there, looking at him in an inscrutable way, until he managed to grab hold of her breasts. Instinctively, he started fondling them. She leaned back towards him again, kissing his cheeks, his neck, his chest, and his shoulders. When she kissed his lips, it even lingered.

She once again pulled away. "No, not here." She said. "Too public. Get out."

"What?" Tsukimori frowned and was about to ask why when she started pushing him out of the dressing room. They tried to keep quiet as they dragged their feet on the floor, ignoring one saleslady standing on the side. Apparently, said saleslady didn't want to confront them either.

"Not here, okay?" she was saying, panting a little. "Just get home and don't think about this."

Is she serious? "How am I supposed not to?" Like hell it wouldn't haunt him tonight!

She was tossing his coat and tie at him and he absentmindedly caught them.

"Just be a good boy, ne?" Amou smiled, patting him on the head like he's some kid. He didn't like that one bit so he grabbed her wrist. He was tempted to kiss her again when he remembered that this is indeed a public place—and Hino and Fuyumi are still around.

With that thought, he let go, still reluctant. The two of them stood there in awkward silence for a while, but not a minute longer.

"I understand now," is all he said to her. He wasn't sure what he meant. This all felt surreal. Too much surreal. He can't take it. He needed to bury this somewhere. And forget. Just forget about it.

He walked off, shoving his hands on his pockets. He didn't even care that he got out of the store looking haggard (and violated), his shirt still open by three buttons and his hair sticking out in every direction. He just went ahead and never looked back.

What a bitch.

Amou was going to rush after him but he was already far gone.

"Dammit," she muttered, looking down at his violin case which he forgot. She looked up, trying to discern his fading figure among the crowds. When she couldn't, she just headed back inside, laughing to herself that Hino must have wondered if she was wrong in the head.

"Is that Tsukimori-kun's?" she asked. "Fuyumi-chan said he was here. What happened to you guys anyway?"

"That is for me to keep a secret," Amou placed two fingers against the other girl's lips. "And for you to figure out."

XXX