Disclaimer: I do not own Skip Beat!
AN: Final twist of lime before we get to the honest-to-god lemon, y'all. Shared POV.
Nothing But The Truth (Ultra Violet)
Kyoko raced out into the parking lot, the cool night air barely making a dent in the inferno roiling through her skin. A lethal mix of shame and fear bubbled up inside of her, hot and acidic. Any moment now she expected to spontaneously combust. Her - No, Kyoichi's! - words echoed through her head, taunting her endlessly.
He called him Emperor. Oh, kill me now, he called him Emperor!
She clutched her head and groaned aloud. How had she lost control of Kyoichi again? She was sober and still she couldn't stop him from - !
"Mogami-san?"
She froze like a deer in the crosshairs of an rifle. How had he gotten outside so fast? How could his voice carry like that when he hadn't even raised it? How was the feel of his hand coming down onto her shoulder a moment later like an anchor chained to her leg?
Kyoko turned her head in the general direction of his voice, but didn't dare look up at him. Would she ever be able to look him in the eye again? Would she ever be able to occupy the same room as him without running away?
"Yes?"
"We weren't quite finished yet."
His voice was so kindly. Was it pity? Compassion? Did it even matter? No, it didn't, because that gentle tone shamed her more than any bitter word or contemptuous sneer he could have hurled at her. Not that he would have. Which made it so much worse.
Even through the thick fabric of her gakuran jacket she could feel the heat of that large hand like a branding iron. She shifted under the weight of it, and his hand fell away easily.
"But he's gone, and I'm here now," she fired back shakily, too on edge to keep her temper from flaring up. "Can we leave now? Please?"
He was silent as he continued to stare down at her. Then he nodded and looked over his shoulder.
"Yashiro? Are you alright back there?"
"Mmm-hmm," he mumbled as he approached, "just fine. Let's be off then."
Kyoko stared in transparent surprise as Ren's manager passed them, stumbling slightly as he made for the car. "He only had two drinks, didn't he?" she whispered.
Ren nodded, still puzzling out the mystery that was Kyoko Mogami's brand of method acting. Aware enough to take note of that, but not in control enough to keep Kyoichi from tattling on her ... ?
"How is he already, uh ... ?" She gave a deliberate wobble, miming Yashiro's tipsy movements.
"Just because you apparently have the staying power of a T-Rex, doesn't mean everyone else does, Mogami-san."
Her face turned a brilliant shade of tomato. She pulled the collar of her coat high and the brim of her hat down low, shielding herself as much as she could from his unwavering gaze. The two walked towards Ren's car, where Yashiro leaned, gazing up at the sky and rambling incoherently under his breath.
The three rode in stony silence that was occasionally punctuated by Yashiro's odd but perceptive mumblings emerging from the back seat of the car. "It's as quiet as a morgue in here. Someone should say something."
They dropped him off, the both of them getting out of the car to walk him to his door and make sure he made it safely to his bed without any mishap. The two actors walked back to the car, still "as quiet as a morgue", and drove on. About a mile or so from the daruma-ya, Ren finally spoke up, when it became obvious that he wouldn't be able to guilt her into talking with the silent treatment. His words made her jump. They came out clear and sharp as though they hadn't spent the last fifteen minutes not speaking to each other:
"I might be able to help, you know. If you tell me what's wrong."
Recovering instantly, she responded, "There's nothing wrong, so I don't need any help. Thank you."
"You're brawling with barflies. You need some kind of help."
She folded her arms across her chest and sank a bit deeper into her seat. "You say that like I'm making a habit of this kind of behavior. I'm not! Okay?"
"I'm just trying to help," he said, sounding just wounded enough for her to pick up on it, but not so much that she could sense it was (at least in part) an act. His foot pressed down on the accelerator, his decision having been made long before they had even gotten in the car.
With a weary sigh, she pulled her bag up onto her lap from where it sat between by her feet as the daruma-ya came into view. "And I appreciate that, I really do, I just don't think it's worth ... w-worth your ... Um, Tsu-Tsuruga-san?"
"Yes?"
"We passed it."
"Passed what?"
"The daruma-ya. We passed the daruma-ya."
He glanced back, hardly concerned, as though they had passed some sort of landmark that wasn't really of interest to anyone but naive tourists.
"Yes," he acknowledged. "We did. Is that a problem?"
"That's kind of ... where I live." What is this? He's dropped me off a lots of times. He knows that was my stop.
He nodded, entirely too cheerful all of a sudden. "I know."
"So then," she asked, fighting for calm, "where are you going?"
"Home."
Her pulse began to race. She was almost certain he could hear it pounding in her throat.
Home? His home? They were going to his house?
"Oh. Was there ... something ... you forgot, or ... ?"
"No. But there is something I need to get."
She relaxed. So they wouldn't be there for very long then.
"Oh! What's that?" she asked brightly.
He glared out of the windshield, all pretense of civility gone. "A pair of scissors for those bandages."
"You said you were driving me home!"
A grin that felt more wicked than even Kyoichi's stretched across his face. "But I didn't say whose home, now, did I?"
God, I sound like some kind of villain.
Ren glanced over at Kyoko and saw that mulish look she got whenever her heels were dug in on an issue. He knew from experience that she wouldn't budge unless he pushed. With this in mind, he dismissed any misgivings he had about taking such a high-handed approach.
If that's the part I have to play, then so be it ...
"I don't believe you!" she howled, shoving her bag back down onto the floor. "I just ... I just don't believe you!"
He gave a lazy shrug and an indulgent smile, oozing casual villainy from his every pore. "You won't tell me what I want to know. So you're not going home until you do. What's not to believe?"
She made a sound, an outraged cross between a gasp and a growl, then proceeded to sit stone-still in silence for the duration of the ride. They pulled through the gate of his apartment complex, and she still didn't say a word, though he could feel her growing more tense. He parked, shut off the engine and then came around to open her door for her when it became clear that she wasn't going to move of her own accord. Still, she didn't say anything. They were in the elevator by the time he decided to break the silence yet again.
"How disappointing," he drawled contemplatively, as if thinking aloud. "I expected you to put up more of a fight."
"Precious energy is squandered in any endeavor which seeks to divert the inevitable," she muttered without looking up.
His mouth twitched into a grin at this flat pronouncement. "Don't tell me, you're playing Sun Tzu next week?"
She glared up at him from under the brim of her hat, golden eyes lit with frustration. A very immature thrill shot through him, and he made a mental note to annoy her more often. He found himself relishing his part. For the first time since hitting puberty, he wished he had a mustache to twirl.
"Tsuruga-san - " she began in a low, dangerous voice.
"It's Ren."
She blinked, going instantly from irritation to bewilderment. "Pardon?"
"I want you to call me Ren."
Kyoko looked at him as though he had just handed her to disassemble a bomb. "... Why?"
"Why not? You called me that quite a bit when we first got acquainted."
"That was before I knew you!"
He chuckled. "You've got it backwards, you're supposed to grow more familiar over time, not less. Besides, if you're going to go around defending my honor and all, I think you've earned the right to call me by name, don't you?"
The telltale shift in her gaze, widening and then sliding swiftly to the numbers lighting up overhead, told him far more than he could have ever gotten out of her in words. He had spoken in jest, but maybe he was on to something. The elevator doors slid open. She stomped out, making a beeline down the hallway with him not far behind.
The moment they were in his living room, Kyoko crossed to the opposite side of the room, putting the couch, his coffee table and a few feet of floor space between them. She didn't even pause to remove her shoes, her coat or her hat. She faced him with Kyoichi's gunslinger stance, arms crossed high on her (Unfortunately) still-bound chest and a foreboding scowl on her face.
God, you're beautiful, he thought suddenly, even when you're in drag and you look like you're about to tear my throat out, you're so ... FOCUS.
He softened his tone, momentarily abandoning his role as Lord of Scoundrels*.
"That's what you were trying to do, wasn't it?"
She arched her brow.
"You were trying to protect me?" he clarified.
Though her face grew noticeably red, she gave a scoff that didn't convince either one of them. "Hmph. From what?"
"I don't know, you tell me. What made you angry enough to take that swing?"
"What made me ... ? I was drunk. We've more than established this!" She spun away, no longer content to just be distant. He crept slowly across the room, drawn to her ramrod-straight back.
"Yes, we have," he agreed with infuriating patience, "but that doesn't mean you didn't have your reasons for acting the way you did. I'd like to hear them, preferably before the night is out."
"What do you want from me? I told you what happened, isn't that enough?"
"No. It isn't. I know the who, what, where and when. It's the why that seems to keep eluding me. Why would you do something so reckless?"
"It didn't seem reckless at the time. Then again I was drunk, which we've established, so -"
"Are you going to tell me, or do I have to turn you upside down and shake it out of you? Because I'm not above that."
The mental image of her ankles in his hands was ... pretty distracting, so she forced herself to ignore it. "That won't be necessary. Because there's nothing to tell. I had too much to drink and acted like an idiot. A violent idiot, but an idiot nonetheless. End of story."
"No, actually, it isn't. There's a definite gap in this story, something you're deliberately not telling me. Kyoichi seems to think you got into even more trouble after you left the bar, and I'm inclined to agree with him, given how quick you were to cover your hand back up."
"I d-didn't want to expose the cuts to the open air just ye -"
"Liar. Quit stalling."
"It's all so fuzzy now, I-I really can't remember what I - "
She froze in the middle of her lie, skin pulsing to high alert in the instant it took to realize that Ren was barely a foot behind her. How had he gotten so close again without her noticing? He must have been approaching slowly the entire time she had been talking to the wall! Still, how had she not felt his shadow fall across her? How had she missed the way his voice had been getting gradually clearer? How had she not picked up on that scent - ?
"You're not as good at lying as you seem to think you are, Kyoko-chan."
So the first-name basis would be mutual after all. She flinched slightly as he stressed the intimate use of her name in that low, insinuating voice, but was suddenly too indignant to dwell on it. "I don't think I'm good at it! Why would you - !"
He leaned down into her peripheral vision, cutting her off mid-protest with nothing more than the sight of his hair coming into view. She wondered if it was still as soft as the time she had stroked it when he fell asleep in her lap. She felt her face grow even hotter at the memory of those silky strands beneath her fingers. Why, of all things, did her mind have to go there? Why, of all times, now?
"Then why do you keep doing it?"
She steeled herself against the inexplicable siren song emanating from those glossy black locks and forged ahead, arms folded across her chest: "Because there are times, such as this, when the truth is an ugly thing that is best avoided."
He was silent for a moment as he continued to loom just over her shoulder.
"Such as ... ?" he prompted.
She sighed. He wasn't going to let this go. And the longer she dragged it out, the more relentless he would be. A thought occurred to her: If she let it drag on for too long, hoping to wait him out, would he really make good on his threat to shake the truth out of her? Again, came the mental image of those long, steely fingers wrapping around her ankles ...
She swallowed. Better to just say it and be done with this whole mess. "That I ..."
He leaned a bit closer. "Yes?"
"I ... "
"Yes?"
"... kind of ..."
"Yes?"
"... emasculated you."
Silence descended, so total and all-encompassing it set her teeth on edge.
He straightened and rounded the couch, away from her. Her heart nearly stopped as she watched his retreating back. That's it, I've done it. He knows now, and he wants nothing to do with me. He'll never speak to me again, he'll deny my very existence to my face when we cross paths, he'll claim that I've passed away if posed a question concerning me, he'll -
Two words emerged from the darkness of the hallway: "Follow me."
Kyoko exhaled, a resurgence of anxiety mixing with a hysterical sort of relief as she stepped after him.
She recalled that his bedroom was on the left side, at the very end of the hall. He veered to the right about halfway there, stepping into a room she had passed but never entered on her other visits. He flipped the light switch as he walked in, revealing it to be a small office, furnished with a ceiling fan, a desk, a leather swivel chair and a bookshelf as tall as its owner.
He indicated wordlessly for her to sit in the swivel chair and began to peruse the bookshelf. Kyoko took the seat, noting that her feet didn't touch the ground because the chair was adjusted to accommodate Ren's height. She searched for the lever that would bring her down and tried not to dwell on how much bigger he was.
As if on cue, his shadow, cast by the overhead light (He does it on purpose. It's got to be on purpose!) crept over her, signaling his approach.
He placed on the desk in front of her, a dictionary.
"Would you oblige me," he asked with measured calm, "and look up that word you just used, please?"
Her eyes widened, and a chill sweat broke out on her brow. He couldn't be serious. He just couldn't be. There was no way -
"Kyo - ?"
"I-I'm looking, I'm looking," she said, frantically turning pages.
"Did you find it?"
"... Y-yes."
"How many definitions are there?"
She counted. "Two."
"Read me the first one, please."
"Um ... Verb. To render less masculine."
"Am I less of a man to you?"
She flinched with her whole body, nearly fumbling the dictionary. What kind of question was that? How should I know?
"That's not what I -"
"A yes or no answer will suffice, Kyoko-chan."
"No! I wasn't - "
He flashed his gentlemanly smile once more, and she immediately shut up. "Alright then. Read the second one."
"Verb. To ... "
Her fingers tightened on the pages, her gut lurched and a blush so hot it was physically painful to endure fanned out across her skin like a wildfire. She muttered the definition too faintly for even her to hear, the indignity of it stealing most of her voice. But he was standing so close. Surely he had heard. Surely.
He leaned down, coming even closer than necessary. "Say again?"
Or not.
"I-I'd really rather n-not - "
"And I really rather you do. Say it again."
"To ... castrate."
A soft chuckle just overhead like the distant rumble of thunder set her even further on edge. The devil's own laugh!
"I assure you, Kyoko-chan, I'm very much ... intact."
He spoke the word very carefully, enunciating it until it was a knife twisting in her side.
"So it stands to reason that you did not, in fact, emasculate me."
She slammed the book shut and threw it down onto his desk hard enough to make even him flinch back, surging to her feet as she did.
"That isn't what I meant!"
"Then why did you use that word?"
"I was given to understand ... that men tend not to like it when others fight on their behalf! That they see it as ... emasculating. Demeaning, even."
"You think you can put on a fairly convincing costume and know how men think, eh?"
"N-no, I - !"
"Ah, so it's only the inner workings of my mind you feel you have such insight into?"
"No! I ... None of this is coming out right. I only meant ... it was bad enough for me to attack him. It was almost worse to presume to do it for you, as though I had the right to ... defend you."
"Defend me from what exactly? He spoke out of turn, but he's entitled to his opinion. What he said doesn't necessarily constitute an attack on my, ah, manhood, as it were."
She froze at his words. Then lifted a gaze so dark as to be a malediction all its own.
"That," she said softly, "is a matter of opinion."
A jolt of awareness blazed through him. He had tripped some kind of landmine. Now they were getting somewhere. "How so?"
"Because I've worked with you. I've seen you work. I've seen almost everything you've been in! He had no right to imply that your success was due to anything ... ANYTHING other than talent. Or hard work or your professionalism. He had no. Right. Especially to imply that you would do ... that ... to succeed!"
His chest tightened until he felt as though it might shatter to a million pieces. She couldn't be indifferent to him. She couldn't say these things, feel this strongly on his behalf and not have some kind of interest in him ... Could she?
Kyoko sagged against the chair, the wind momentarily taken out of her sails. "The truth is, even though I would have still been mad ... I wouldn't have done it if I hadn't been drinking. And acting as Kyoichi would, to boot. If we manage to get through this, remind me never to drink and act at the same time."
His heart throbbed almost painfully, both at her use of the word we in relation to the two of them and the implication that they might not make it out of this situation with their relationship (such as it were) intact. "What makes you think we won't?"
Her teeth clench visibly. "Because when I got angry, it wasn't as a colleague. Or not just as a colleague. When he took a swipe at you, it felt like he was doing the same to me. To the best part of me. And I think that's when I realized ..."
"Yes?"
She lifted her head deliberately, looking him straight in the eye even though he could sense that every fiber of her being wanted very much to deny that he was even in the room as she finally, at long, long last said what had set her night of debauchery into motion: "That my attachment to you ... might not be so professional. Not anymore."
A sharp intake of breath and a slight upward shift in his stance was all she registered before she allowed herself to look away. She inhaled, then exhaled, slowly and deliberately, just to confirm that she could.
She had said it.
She had said it, and the world hadn't crumbled. The hard part was over. She closed her eyes and began to confess in full as a lightheaded detachment crept over her. It was as if, with that first admission, the truth was no longer so hard to say. She could deal with the inevitable fallout, the ending of their association, when it came.
For now, there was only the truth, shameful as it was:
"I can't believe I let it happen. You were so good to me. Better than I've ever deserved. Better than anyone's ever thought I deserved. And I went and messed it up by wanting more. By thinking there could ever be more between us. Or that I deserve more from you than you already gave me."
He didn't say anything, didn't move, couldn't even think really beyond wondering why she was speaking in the past tense when he was still standing in front of her. She kept going in that eerily disjointed tone, sounding farther and farther away with each word. He clenched his fists behind his back to keep from yanking her back. You're not leaving me. I won't let you -
"We ran away after the fight. Moko-san took a cab home, but I didn't want to go home yet and I ... I wanted to remember what I had done. I wasn't proud of what I'd done, but ... I liked that I had done it. If that makes any sense. Which it doesn't. But I did. I wanted to know that I had acted on your behalf. That in some way, even in a way that didn't really matter," she finally looked back up at him, the pain in her voice and her eyes threatening to crush his resolve, "I managed to protect you. As you've protected me."
"So we went to this tattoo parlor and I told the man that I wanted something temporary. To mark something beautiful that could never last. He laughed and said that sounded an awful lot like a marriage. So ..."
And at long, long last, she reached for the scissors at the edge of the desk. Slipped her fingers very carefully through the handles, slipping the blades very carefully under the cloth and making one clean snip after another until the hand was laid bare before his eyes.
There on her hand were many complicated, arabesque swirls, an amethyst mosaic of desire and hope emblazoned across her skin. Even without being told, without knowing the design's origins or meaning, he knew he was looking at something immensely personal, something so intimate as to be a form of nudity.
"The ink," she said slowly, "is called henna. The practice is called mehendi. It's done in India. For ... brides. On their wedding days."
Oh.
Though it initially seemed inadequate, given the gravity of the situation, it was all Ren could think. And if he had opened his mouth to speak, it would have been the only thing he would have been capable of saying.
Oh.
Such a simple word, almost too simple at one measly syllable, and yet in its simplicity, it encompassed so much, expanding and expanding within him until he practically hummed with it. It was a church bell, a temple gong, a holy vibration rippling from the top of his head, to the tips of his toes and back up again, exciting every molecule of his being along its merry way.
Ooooh ...
She kept going, heedless of the fact that her sempai was achieving some bizarre form of enlightenment right above her. "It was the height of barbarism. I fought over you like you were some kind of object. Like you were mine to fight for. I presumed to 'defend your honor', as you put it. And then I ..." She stopped, at a loss to put her biggest crime into words, eyes misting over slightly as she recalled the other night.
"Claimed me for yourself?"
She flinched at the stinging accuracy of his words, spoken in such a gentle, almost ... caressing tone that made them sting all the more.
"Or tried to. In a sense. I guess ... Y-yes ..."
She forced herself to laugh, then immediately stopped when she realized how similar the sound was to a sob. She soldiered on, shakily fighting back tears and determined not to let them fall in front of him. "When I woke up and saw it, sober, its meaning hadn't been lost. If anything, it was even clearer by the light of day. I was sick to my stomach and giddy as a child every time I saw you today. It wouldn't go away, no matter how much I tried to make it. I was going to tell you eventually ... Or maybe, I'm lying again ... I like to think that, if you hadn't found out ... I would have come to you with this. Eventually ..."
She put on the most heartrendingly false smile he had ever seen and stood up, still not looking at him. "But I've embarrassed the two of us enough for one night, hmm? You know now. There's no reason to linger over this. I hope we can still be friends ... Or colleagues, at least."
"Am I not allowed a response, Kyoko-chan?"
That tone of his really had to go. She could almost imagine that it was pity, if it weren't so ... not.
"There ... isn't anything to respond to, Tsuru ... Ren. You don't feel the same way, so why would there be - ?"
"Have I said that I don't feel the same way?"
She blinked. Something wasn't right.
"Umm ... no?"
"Are you asking me or telling me?"
"You haven't said ... not in so many words, but ... I just assumed ..."
A pregnant pause. Then he rounded the desk, coming to stand between her and the door she was angled towards.
"You seem to be laboring under the illusion," he murmured, "that such a thing is impossible."
"... Isn't it? I mean, it is!" She blinked again. Something definitely wasn't right. "Isn't ... it?"
"What makes you think that?"
She opened her mouth, prepared to list reason upon reason as to why such a thing wasn't possible, to catalog every one of her flaws and damages in such excruciating detail that he would never approach her again ...
... Only to promptly snap it shut when she looked up and saw the light of heaven itself in his eyes.
What on ... earth?
It blazed from the depths of his dark irises, radiating outward into an aura that made him glow like an archangel. This wasn't charm. She had seen him charm, both on screen and off, and this ... was something else entirely. Had it only been charm, she would have been dazzled or perhaps annoyed with herself for even noticing. Right now she was well and truly undone by what she saw on his face, struck dumb to her core as this light was a piercing lance, sliding clean through whatever lay in its path. At any moment she expected to come apart, unravel like a ball of yarn at his feet.
"Well," she began again, struggling to disengage from this magnetic pull, "there's ... I ... Um, because ... Well ..."
His mouth very slowly curved into a half-smile, lending a decidedly earthy edge to his almost seraphic demeanor. "Yes?"
I can't think. Why can't I think?
Perhaps it was the full one hundred and eighty degree shift from relentless determination to this languid contentment. Maybe it was the overwhelming but inexplicable sense that something of cataclysmic proportions was about to take place. Maybe - and of this she was almost certain - it was that smile. Whatever it was, it eroded the peculiar detachment that had taken hold of her, and suddenly everything felt hyper-real as details began to come into sharp focus.
The man in front of her was the biggest celebrity in the country. She was in his house, his office, sitting in his desk chair. "Kyoichi's" hat was on his couch out in his living room. The whir of the fan overhead was strangely hypnotic. Her skin was unbearably hot all of a sudden. One of her shoelaces was untied. She was looking this man straight in the eye.
And he was looking back at her, still infinitely patient and semi-divine, but now as wantonly predatory as a jungle cat sizing up its quarry.
This conversation. End it. Now.
"... Can I ... go now ... please?"
His smile widened just a tad, cranking up the glow around him until it was near-blinding. He stepped aside, clearing the path to the door. "Of course you can."
Too easy, she thought and instantly regretted it, as her split second of disbelieving hesitation seemed to tell him everything she wanted to keep hidden at that moment. She knew it in her gut and saw it in his eyes, as clear as the ink on her hand: You're not going anywhere.
She turned and walked to the door, unsteady on her feet as she had been the night before despite her current sobriety. She moved with a dreamlike slowness, as though the air had become caramel-thick. He couldn't mean to use her feelings against her. Especially when she had made it clear that they were unbidden. He wouldn't be that cruel. Surely this wasn't the first declaration of love he had had to contend with? He must have turned away many women (and probably a few men) by this point.
And he would turn away many more. Because he had someone he loved already.
And it wasn't her.
Ignoring as best she could how this thought lanced her chest like sword, she forged on. Bag, hat. Out.
Still moving like a zombie, she turned the lock, then the knob and pulled. It budged barely an inch or two before a large hand struck out over her shoulder and pushed it shut, yanking the knob out of her hand in the process.
Much, much too late, she realized that she was once again engulfed in his towering shadow. Worse yet, he was standing even closer than before, so close that his body's heat was like a winter coat, enveloping her almost but not quite to the point of suffocation. With the hand that wasn't braced against the door, he gently pulled the strap of her bag off her shoulder and placed it on the ground by her feet.
"You ... Y-you said I could - "
Breath as hot as a branding iron brushed down her neck, and her nose filled with the maddening scent of him.
"Mmm? What did I say?" He could have just awoken from a long, rejuvenating rest, as his voice now had the calm, unhurried cadence of someone with all the time in the world.
"G-go. You said I could go."
He chuckled, and the sound was a finger tracing heady fire down her spine. She started to fidget, then immediately stopped when her back brushed against his chest.
"I said you could go," he acknowledged, "but I didn't say that I'd let you go."
She swallowed. He was so close that he probably heard it. "... Will you ... ?"
"I've no intention of letting you leave, Kyoko-chan."
He said it as if despairing of himself, though he didn't sound the least bit sorry. It was a playful kind of sorrow she heard in his voice, a heated whisper that did strange things to her.
"I guess that means I lied. Just like you," he whispered in that almost-mocking tone. "It doesn't feel good to be lied to, does it?"
When she didn't answer, he pressed his cheek into the curve of her neck. The gesture was strangely chaste, almost like a child seeking refuge, despite the very adult tremble it sent through her.
"Does it?"
She made a small sound in the back of her throat that was neither a yes or a no. This seemed to satisfy him, because he didn't ask again.
"But if you want honesty ... I can be very honest. Turn around."
She didn't move, didn't dare speak. She had read that some animals were known to evade predators by standing completely still and blending in with their environment. Maybe if she stood still long enough he would suddenly realize that he was seducing a door?
"Honesty entails saying what needs to be said to someone's face, Kyoko-chan. Not the back of their head. Although, I must admit," he conceded with another torturous brush of his cheek against her neck, "I don't necessarily mind saying it like this. If you prefer -"
He managed to straighten fast enough to avoid getting inadvertently headbutted as she spun to face him. Her saffron eyes blazed in her flushed face, not with anger, but the defensiveness of a trapped animal. He was so close he could see her pulse beating in her throat, feel the exquisite heat rolling off of her body.
"Any time you're ready," she said tersely, looking anywhere but at him. An impressive feat given how near he was.
He braced his arm against the door far above her head and leaned over her again, adopting a deceptively casual stance. When he spoke, it was as though it was aimed at the top of her head, since she still refused to look up.
"Did you happen to catch that waitress's name?"
Her brows furrowed in confusion.
"You know, the one Kyoichi more or less propositioned earlier this evening?"
She flinched. "Hiromi, I think it was. Wh-why, what about her? Did you think she was pretty? Because I can probably introduce you if want, she works night shifts mostly, but - "
"I would sell my soul," he said over her building tangent, "if it made you look at me the way you looked at her."
The words were the verbal equivalent of a massive system error. Does not compute. Her mind immediately went to work rejecting it in order to fix the glitch, but he kept talking, forcing her to process even more incompatible data.
"I have to stop myself from kissing you every time I see you. And every time you smile ... Oh, Kyoko, look at me ... See what you've done to me, Kyoko-chan."
She looked up and saw straight through his heavenly glow to the truth of his words. He was serious. He meant it. That look in his eyes left no room for the dubious luxury of doubt or second-guessing: This was happening.
"You're the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning. The last thing on my mind when I drift off to sleep. As for the time in between, you're never far from my mind and heart. And I wouldn't have it any other way."
"R-Ren ... "
But there was no stopping him, as he seemed to be gaining momentum with each confession. He leaned down and whispered things into her ear, what he loved about her, how she drove him to distraction without even trying, what he planned to do to her, what he planned to let her do to him, until it didn't matter that he was Ren Tsuruga. He was just Ren for the moment, a man. A magnificent man, but a man nonetheless, human and caressing and hopeful and so very close as his fingers stroked her face, his touch feather-light.
The words No, Don't, and Stop vanished from her vocabulary. Though she knew without a doubt that he would cease and desist if she asked him to, she was so far beyond wanting him to that it was a non-issue.
This is happening. Right now.
Her knees threatened to give out as he lovingly assailed her, laying waste to each and every fortress wall that lay between him and her heart, her body, her very soul when it came right down to it. The temptation to fall against him, to just give in to his caress was strong enough to keep her from actually doing it, but only just. So she stood there, balanced on the razor's edge of desire, teetering between the urge to escape and the urge to surrender. He stoked the fire inside, whispering still all the things he wanted to do with her (she noted with a deep blush that the list seemed never-ending) and gently pulling the hat off of her head so that he could run his fingers through her hair.
"I've wanted you for so long ... "
Say something.
"But you told Bo - !"
... Say something ELSE!
He arched his brow, flooding her veins with ice. She clamped her mouth shut, only to have him reach up and trace the curve of her lower lip with his thumb.
"I knew I couldn't trust a giant chicken to keep his mouth shut. Please, go on," he said soothingly, "what did I tell Bo?"
She gaped at his apparent perfidy. "Th-that there was someone you were already interested in! A high school girl, aged ... six ... teen ..."
He grinned with all the satisfaction in the world as he watched the truth hit her roughly two years after the fact. She shut her eyes and pressed her forehead against his chest. She was very, very weary of herself all of a sudden. God, I'm an idiot ...
"Just how many charming schoolgirls do you think I meet in a day, Kyoko-chan?" he asked, shaking with laughter.
She headbutted him in the chest with a frustrated groan, making him laugh even harder. She looked up, prepared to scold him mercilessly, only for him to look down at just the same moment, all traces of laughter gone.
"You still don't think it's possible, do you?"
"It can't be. It doesn't make any sense. You're ... you're you. You're Ren. You don't ... You shouldn't ... Oh ..."
She inhaled sharply as he straightened once more, without taking a step back. The brush of his body sliding against the length of hers was more intoxicating than the liquor from the night before. He touched his knuckles to her chin, tilting her head up so that she was looking at him. She quaked against him, drawing from him a smile heartbreaking in its uncomplicated sweetness.
"Then that's the last straw, Kyoko-chan. The very last. I'm going to do everything in my power to disabuse you of that notion."
"... Everything?"
"Every. Last. Thing."
He leaned down, her chin still gently gripped in his fingers. He tilted her head farther back and pressed his lips to her racing pulse. He chuckled as it throbbed even faster beneath his kiss. His hands slid down her waist and met behind her back, drawing her the last remaining inch that separated their bodies. She squirmed in his embrace, exciting them both.
"Wake up, Tsuruga-san. Y-you're dreaming. You'll be late for work. Wake up now."
"I've dreamed of you. Every night, it seems, I dream of you ..."
She shut her eyes, her mind growing more and more fevered with each word. "Then maybe I'm dreaming."
"In my dreams, you call me Ren. Over and over again."
She tried tuning him out, to absolutely no avail. "Yes. Yes, I've overslept and I need to - "
"You scream it in my arms ... so loud my neighbors can hear."
" ... to wake up. I need to ... wake up."
His fingers slipped deftly into the sides of her loose pants, grasping her hips and guiding them gently against his. She shivered with awareness as she made contact with the unmistakeable bulge of his erection.
"Ooh ... you don't ... fight fair ..."
"Love and war, Kyoko. All's fair."
"L-l ... ove?"
"Yes, love. Not just lust. Though there's that, too." He "In spades."
He leaned down, his path unmistakeable. Scarcely inches away from her face, Kyoko reached up and pressed her hennaed fingers gently to his mouth, stopping him in his tracks.
"You should know ... I should ... warn you ..."
He kissed her fingers, intrigued. "Mm-hm?"
"I've dreamed ... of you, too. And in my dreams ..."
He leaned in, spellbound.
"... Well ... I can't quite stop myself ..."
She felt his lips curve into a smile against her skin just before he gently pulled her hand away.
"Then don't."
And those lips touched hers, flooding her with incandescence and leaving no doubt as to whether or not she was awake.
And as if it was the most natural thing in the world; as if she had rehearsed this moment until it was second nature; as if she weren't about two seconds away from melting into a puddle at his feet; she reached up and cupped his face even closer to hers, drawing him deeper into the chaste kiss until it wasn't so chaste anymore and neither of them could breathe properly.
When she finally came up for air, her withdrawal unbalanced him a little. There was something immensely gratifying about how flushed and dizzy and happy he looked.
Gratifying, but ... provoking somehow, in a way she couldn't quite understand. She wondered what else she could do to produce this same effect in him. Her mind grew dark with the possibilities as she stared into his eyes.
"On second thought, maybe you shouldn't do that."
She panicked. Had he somehow heard what she was thinking? "D-do what? What am I doing?"
"That look. The one you gave Hiromi. I feel like I'm about to be eaten alive." He leaned down and nuzzled her neck when she started to look a bit dejected. "In a good way, but still, don't test me ... My self-control, as you may have noticed, isn't what it used to be."
"Could have fooled me," she whispered, marveling at her sudden boldness, " ... Emperor."
His eyes flashed at the strange endearment, at the palpable heat in her voice. He leaned back down and kissed her soundly enough to make her head spin. She whimpered at the sensation, and the sound deepened to a moan when his tongue licked deftly into her mouth. When her knees finally gave out, he gathered her up into his arms, lifting her fully off of the ground. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he pressed her against his front door.
"So that wasn't part of the script?"
"N-no. It's just ... this thing I call you. In my head. Sometimes."
Before he could ask, she buried her face in his neck and inhaled. Her soft lips trailed fire along his throat and derailed his train of thought. Her breath sent tingles shooting straight out to the tips of his fingers and toes.
"What is that, Ren? Please, tell me what it is, I've been dying to know." Her voice sounded strange to her own ears, breathy and broken and almost but not quite harsh with lust.
"Th-that's my neck," he replied dreamily. She shook with silent laughter. It felt good to make him stutter for once.
"I meant that fragrance. It's been driving me crazy all day." She took another whiff of it, then exhaled on a frustrated sigh that was almost a growl. She felt him shudder deliciously against her.
"All day?" he asked, swaying back so that he was lifting her off the door.
"All day."
She inhaled again, her fingers tangling in his soft hair as he carried her through the living room. "What is it, Ren? Won't you tell me?"
"Something ... expensive, probably," he said unevenly, "not entirely ... sure."
"Oh. Well ... It's nice. More than nice. Kind of spicy, like ... cinnamon, maybe? Or some kind of mead, like a spiced wine? Whatever it is, it's ... Where are we going?"
"My room."
He said it just as they were crossing the threshold of his bedroom door. She writhed against him (whether in protest or anticipation she wasn't yet sure) as he placed her onto his bed. This tipped the scales in favor of anticipation as she once again brushed against that exciting part of him. Reacting out of an instinct she couldn't quite place, she wrapped her legs around his hips and drew him to her, rocking her hips against his just to feel him rock back with frustrated groan.
"Easy," he said with a calm that belied the hunger in his dark eyes and the rapid rise and fall of his chest, "there's no need to rush. We have all night."
"Y-you have to work tomorrow. And so do I!"
Ren disengaged and stretched out next to her, lying on his side with a smile. "I'll call in sick."
"You shouldn't - !"
"You're right, I shouldn't. But I'm going to. And in the meantime," he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her tight against him, "maybe I can convince you to do the same?"
She opened her mouth to protest, but could do little more than sigh when he started dropping kisses along her collarbone. She squirmed, tingling with awareness everywhere he touched her, but still determined to argue.
Disoriented by the magic of his lips, she spoke without thinking: "Does this mean you're done interrogating me?"
Ren looked down at her with a grin so sly it had to be criminal. ""Hardly. There's still so much I need to get out of you."
Her skin grew very pale. Then it flushed red.
"For instance?" she asked, almost too scared to find out.
"For instance ... "
He lunged forward and kissed her thoroughly then, catching her completely off-guard. She gasped, giving his tongue ample opportunity to stroke hers, drawing it into a coaxing duel. A liquid heat spread through her, pooling decadently between her legs. She gripped his shoulders, needing something, anything to hold onto. He pulled back suddenly.
"... how do you know Bo?"
*Yes, that was indeed a Loretta Chase reference in the middle of Skip Beat! fanfic. Nigh impossible? I THINK NOT!
I'm almost tempted to end this right here, its so perfect.
... Almost being the operative word. My first ever lemon without the lemon? Not a chance!
See you all soon, keep those reviews coming, they've really helped me nail down what I need to work on and what my strong suits are. ^^