You entered the dining room to get some breakfast that morning and realised that you were the last one there.
Everyone greeted you as usual and you soon found yourself engaged in conversation with Syo, Cecil and Natsuki.
"So anyway," Syo said, continuing his description of his latest role, "my character is basically this small town street fighter and then, when his house is attacked, he- Hey, Natsuki! What have you done to yourself?"
"Huh?" Natsuki blinked, staring at Syo, puzzled, "What do you mean, Syo-chan?"
"You're lip is bleeding," he replied, as if he were talking to an unobservant child, "Seriously, did you bang your face on your bed or something?" he handed him a napkin to wipe it.
"I suppose I must have," Natsuki responded, wincing slightly as he dabbed at his lip.
You, however, held your tongue, knowing full well that his lip was bleeding due to Satsuki biting his lip in an attempt to quiet himself the previous evening.
Forcing yourself to look as innocent as possible, you sipped your tea.
"Uh-oh!" Cecil piped up, "What have I done this time?"
"What?" you asked, watching as he visibly shrank back in his seat, looking past you with an expression of dread.
You question was answered when a very distinctive voice came from behind you.
"Good morning, Y/N,"
Putting your tea down and rising from your seat, you turned and looked directly into the icy eyes of Camus.
"Oh! Good morning, Camus!" you smiled.
"I would be honoured," he began, his voice even more silky than usual, "if you would consent to meet me by the stables at two o'clock this afternoon,"
You blinked, taken aback by his invitation and by the manner of his address, before replying,
"I'd be delighted,"
His smile was nothing short of dazzling and, bowing, he took your hand and placed a chaste kiss to your knuckles.
"Until then," he purred, "my lady,"
As he swept past you, you turned you stunned gaze back to the table.
"Well that was weird," Cecil chimed in, "I've never seen him smile before! Not properly, anyway…"
You had agonised over your outfit. I had been almost literally painful to attempt to compile something that would live up to Camus' standards. He was always so immaculate that the pressure was unreal.
You had eventually selected a rather beautiful white summer dress and sweet little brown ankle boots. You pulled your hair into a flowing half up half down style and retouched your makeup.
As the clock showed quarter to two, you decided that you would have to do as you were. There was no point agonising further over your appearance. After all, who could stand up to Camus anyway?
You gathered your things and headed off towards the stables.
When you were within about a hundred yards from the stables, you were surprised by a creature emerging and strutting towards you. Your recognised the platinum blonde fur and elegant proportions immediately.
It was Camus' dog, Alexander.
As he reached you, you bent to stroke him.
"Hey Alexander! How are you, boy? Where's your master?"
He nuzzled you contentedly, wagging his tail, before offering up something that was held in his mouth.
You held out your hand and into it he dropped a single lily.
You couldn't help but giggle at the gesture. It was so very Camus. Smiling and shaking your head, you stood and walked towards the stables.
As soon as you entered the stable door you were met with a sight that set your heart racing a little.
Camus leant against a beam and, smirking, watched as you tried to subtly take him in.
You weren't entirely sure how you had expected him to look but this was certainly not what you would have guess. You had never seen him like this.
His hair, as always, hung around his shoulder but, instead of his usual sharp suits and elegant dress shoes, he wore a dark blue shirt - teasingly open a little more than necessary - with tight black jeans and black boots. This was a new Camus. A new Camus that you were very eager to meet.
As you dragged your eyes from the accentuated muscles of his thighs, you cleared your throat and approached him.
"I-I hope I'm not late," you smiled, trying as hard as you could to sound nonchalant.
"Not at all," he chuckled, pushing himself off of the beam and striding towards you. He drew one finger gently across the petals of the lily in your hand, "I see Alexander did as instructed,"
"Yes," you blushed, very aware of your sudden increase in proximity, "It was a very thoughtful gesture...I love lilies,"
For the second time that day he gave you a genuine smile,
"I am glad to hear it, Y/N….I hope you enjoy the rest of our day together as thoroughly,"
You smiled at him, almost shaking your head at his persistent formality.
This was a constant thing with Camus. He has this...barrier that you were determined to try to get past. Yes, he was a perfect gentleman and nothing short of impressive in his conduct but you couldn't help but wonder what it would take to really see him. Not the glacial, beautiful mask but the warm-blooded man beneath. You decided to make the pursuit of him your own personal challenge.
"I'm sure I will, Camus. I'm with you, after all,"
You chose your words carefully and observed for a crack to appear in his veneer.
But Camus was too practiced at this. He merely bowed in gratitude at you compliment and directed you towards the other end of the stables.
"I thought perhaps you might like to ride with me today?" he offered, leading you to where he had a beautiful pair of palomino horses tethered and saddled, one carrying a wicker basket and a saddle bag.
Hmm. Horses…
You had never been so confident about sitting on something that could think for itself. At least, not for transport.
Camus must have sensed your hesitation. He moved closer to you, turning you slowly, to look you in the eye.
"Y/N," he asked gently, "What's wrong? Have you never ridden a horse before?"
"I have…" you replied, thinking how best to not make a fool of yourself.
"Perhaps a bad experience?" he questioned further.
"You could say that," you tried to smile and laugh it off but you were genuinely concerned about the prospect of being on horseback again.
Camus shook his head slightly, making you increasingly worried that he thought you to be a fool. You were surprised, however, when he placed his arm around your waist and smiled down at you, saying,
"Very well, You shall ride with me,"
You had barely seconds to spout protests before you found yourself physically lifted into the saddle of the horse carrying the saddle bags. As he untethered its bridle, you tried in vain to object.
"Camus, I-"
You were silenced by his next action.
In a fluid motion, he mounted the horse behind you, shifting you forward slightly, so that you were pressed flush against him. Reaching around you, he took the reins and, turning your face gently towards his own, he assured you,
"I will not allow you to come to harm. Trust me, Y/N,"
You gave a jerky nod and, with a small shriek, Camus spurred the horse into a canter straight out of the stable doors.
After a particularly hair-raising few minutes of you desperately trying to get used to galloping into the neighbouring countryside, you finally managed to relax into the knowledge that Camus was not going to let you fall.
You rode together for around twenty minutes and, as you calmed, you became increasingly aware of your physical closeness, of the feeling of him maneuvering the horse behind you, one hand wrapped around your waist. On occasion, when he would feel you tense, he would mutter small encouragements into your ear, taking care to calm you.
This was a level of intimacy you had not expected, and if at all, certainly not so early in the date.
You shook these thoughts from your head, telling yourself that you were merely being lewd.
As you arrived at your destination, Camus gentle eased the horse to a slow walk, allowing you to take in your surroundings.
You had ridden well into the local countryside and, on this particularly beautiful summer's day, you were met with the sight of the rural landscape at its best. Greenery was all around you and as you took in the beautiful flitting of light between leaves, you entered into an enclosed meadow, blooming here and there with wild daisies and bluebells.
It was absolutely stunning.
Camus halted the horse and dismounted gracefully. Looking up at you, silently checking for any signs of lingering fear, he extended his hands and supported you until your feet were finally back on solid ground. He unstrapped the saddlebags and allowed to horse to wander off to graze.
You stood back as he unfurled a blanket onto the grass.
"I do hope the ride here was not too traumatic for you, Y/N?" he asked, sounding half way between sincere and ridiculously formal.
You suppressed a giggle and reassured him, placing your hand on his upper arm.
"It was...manageable," you smiled, "and totally worth it to be here! Camus this place is amazing! Where did you find out about this,"
His eyes warmed at your show of enjoyment and, retrieving small containers and placing them onto the blanket, he beckoned you to sit by him.
"I often ride alone in my free evenings, Y/N," he explained, watching as you made yourself comfortable, "It clears my mind. Allows me to focus to tomorrow's tasks. I found this clearing about a month ago…. I... am delighted that you enjoy it as I do,"
His slight pause did not go unnoticed by you.
If you didn't know better you would say that he may have either experienced nerves or genuine emotion.
But you did know better. That mask was still in place.
You would have to work on removing it. But how?
You would find a way.
You had been in the meadow for hours.
Long, beautiful and...interesting hours.
It had been interesting for many reasons, the foremost being that your goal was slowly getting closer - his mask was crumbling.
You had begun the afternoon by talking, a little awkwardly, and sampling the various treats that Camus had unboxed for the two of you.
Of course, he had hired a professional patissier to craft unbelievably elaborate desserts. His sweet tooth was something you knew about well enough but, upon tasting what he had brought, you could hardly blame him. If this was what he was used to then you could let the sugar addiction slide.
Then, as the afternoon progressed you began to broach more personal topics - his work, his home, your home and, eventually, Alexander.
That had been something of a turning point.
You were very fond of Alexander, having gained his trust when you first met him - much to Camus' disbelief - and he became very attached to you. You would play together, bring him gifts of toys and treats and walk him in the grounds. Even the other band members of Quartet Night had been surprised by that.
Camus, much to his own surprise, had grown even more partial to you upon realising Alexander's attachment to you. Normally, he would have been horrified that someone might be so presumptuous as to claim a friendship with his companion but, with you, he had somehow gained more respect.
He has sat and listened to you gush over him, describing the little adventures you two had shared on your afternoon walks, about the birds he had chased in the gardens, how he had been so obedient when you when you had asked him not to jump into the mud on rainy days.
He had shared his own stories with you, of when Alexander was a pup, how he liked to sleep at the foot of his bed during thunderstorms, how he had become accustomed to taking a saucer of milk when Camus made afternoon tea.
You had shared genuine laughs together, bonding rapidly over a mutual connection.
It was then that he had finally, slowly, started to open up.
Everything since then had been so engaging, so enjoyable, that you would never have believed that this was the same Camus that you had befriended. He was so amiable and charming, but not in his usual required-for-work affected way. This was a much deeper, slightly sarcastic, humorous, utterly charismatic and alluring man.
You were stunned.
Stunned and hopelessly enthralled.
"Camus," you spoke softly after a moment of quiet, "would it be safe to assume that you have romantic feelings for me?"
There was a pause and Camus raised an eyebrow.
His eyes raked over you, carefully analysing every movement and expression. After a moment, he smiled indulgently,
"It would, Y/N," his voice took on a deeper register.
You could not doubt his sincerity.
Allowing yourself a playful chuckle, you leaned closer to him, deciding to simply throw your plan away and show your true emotions.
"Camus, I… well, I really like you… I love you, a-and I...I just...I wanted you to know how I feel,"
You were surprised at your sudden attack of nerves. God, how infatuated were you?!
You looked away in embarrassment, horrified at your lack of self control. Any second you expected his mocking laughter.
What you got, instead, was a gentle hand tilting your chin upwards, stroking feather-light touches down your neck as you eyes met his own.
And, in that moment, you saw who he truly was. His icy eyes were shining, not with tears, but with true joy. He took in every feature of your face, glancing down at your lips, feeling like time had halted as he slowly moved his lips to capture your own.
His kiss was tentative and so soft that it almost felt reverential. You envelope yourself in his arms, sighing in delight as he deepened your embrace.
You were completely unaware that you had moved until you found yourself on you back on the blanket, your hands running across the broad expanse of his back.
You felt his hands upon you, one holding your waist and the other cupping your face so sweetly that it was as if you were a china doll.
As you withdrew, you looked up at him, his blond hair tumbling around his face and his eyes shining brilliantly as he smiled down at you.
"Y/N…" he breathed, his voice soft and full of unspoken emotion.
"Mm?" you questioned, nuzzling into his neck.
He laughed at your sweet show of affection, wrapping his arms around you to help you sit back up.
"Come with me, darling,"
In a few moment he had seated you on the horse again and cleared everything back into the saddlebag. He mounted behind you and, pressing a lingering kiss to the nape of your neck, brought to horse to a run.
You had become aware almost immediately that you were not heading in the direction you had come. This had been confirmed when you sighted a building on the edge of the woods that you had never seen before.
It was an extremely modern and new-looking structure, entirely secluded from the outside world. There was only one floor but it was by no means a "little cottage in the woods" It was constructed of polished wood and glass and, as Camus halted the horse at its door, you had an idea of what it might be.
"Y/N," he smiled, helping you dismount, "welcome to my private appartment,"
Taking you by the hand, he led you in the door, holding it open for you, of course.
You were immediately struck, not only by how stylish it was, but by how it felt so cosy and welcoming despite its modern design. He led you into his living area. It was lit by candlelight and a crackling fire in the grate and furnished with soft couches and armchairs.
"Camus," you sighed, seating yourself on the couch, "This is beautiful! Since when have you had this place? I've never heard you mention it!"
He chuckled as he sat down beside you, explaining,
"I managed to convince Shining when I came here that I required a private space in order to perform at my best… mostly, though, it's to get away from Kotobuki and his incessant 'Myu-chan',"
You had to laugh at that. You had no idea how audacious he could be!
"Well, as private space go," so smiled, "I could see why you would want to spend so much time here,"
He nodded, smiling back at you,
"I'm pleased that you like it here, Y/N,"
"I do like it here," you replied, turning to look at him fully, "I'm very grateful to have this time alone with you,"
There was a pause as he raised an eyebrow,
"And why is that?" he asked, puzzled.
You took a moment, trying to find the exact words that you were looking for.
"Well," you began, "when we are here together, alone, it's as if I can finally see the real you. Yes, you're...flamboyant and extravagant and over the top but… but here I can see all the sincerity behind it,"
Camus blinked and, in the following silence, you quickly became concerned that you had caused him offence. You braced yourself for a berating.
"Y/N," he started, he voice surprisingly soft, "It...it is very rare that I am sincere about anything. Yes, of course, I am dedicated to my work as an idol but I will present whichever face to the world that is most prudent to allow me to fulfil my duties. Personal...passion is not something that I regularly indulge in… In truth, I rarely find anything to be truly passionate about,"
You understood. You were aware that he was something of a master in the art of being exactly what people needed him to be. Still, you wondered,
"So, why have you been able to show your true colours to me? It's almost unbelievable that...well, that you even want to,"
He nodded again, showing his understanding. He whetted his lips and paused before answering.
"It's because…with you, Y/N, I know you will accept me for whichever face I choose to show. You...expect nothing from me. You allow me to be feel safe however I choose to be. I realised this recently. You… you would not judge me for being myself just as you do not judge me for not being myself. Do you see?"
He did not allow you a chance to respond before he moved marginally closer to you,
"It is your unconditional acceptance that sparked my… amorous feelings towards you. They...are not something I have previously allowed myself to engage in but now I find I have no choice…"
It was your turn for stunned silence. His confession acted as perfect proof of his truthfulness. That he trusted you. Trusted you enough to lay everything bare.
"But, Camus," you asked, you voice suddenly a little quieter than you had intended, "you...you're an idol. Hundreds of girls would beg to have the chance to be with you… Surely there have been other girls that have caught your eye?"
You could not, for one second, believe that Camus was oblivious to the hordes of female fans who followed him relentlessly.
"Y/N," he looked at you, his eyes boring into yours, searching for a reaction, "I would never lie to you. Yes, I have had… dalliances in the past but… but only ever for mutual...sexual gratification. That was always clear. There were never any true feelings involved. So, yes, this is my first experience of genuine romantic attachment,"
You took that in.
You could see in him that there was no hint of deceit in his words. He was, once again, being entirely open with you.
You debated what to say.
You knew what you wanted to say but you were afraid that he might push you away or think worse of you for your suggestion.
But then, Camus had given you the courtesy of his complete trust.
It was only right for you to trust him now.
"Camus," you looked down at your lap for a moment, steeling yourself, before facing him, "Would you...um...would you like to experience what that...gratification is like when your feelings are reciprocated?"
He was visibly taken aback by your question. He knew what you meant but was partially unwilling to believe it as truth. He sought confirmation.
"Y/N," he breathed, gently taking your hand, "are you saying...that you feel as I do? N-Not only that, are you...telling me that you are willing to...to share your body with me? To be with me as lovers?"
You felt his hand trembling very slightly in your own. Grasping it, you answered,
"I would be lying, Camus, if I said that I hadn't fantasised about that for quite some time,"
His response was instantaneous.
Surging forward, he cried,
"God, Y/N, so have I!" and captured you in a burning kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist, pressing you into the couch with the insistence of his passion.
You returned his kiss with force and, in seconds, found yourself lifted from the couch in his arms and being carried from the room, never once separating.
You found yourself deposited of a large plush bed, unable to look around you as he crawled on top of you, pressing kisses along your jaw and down your neck. All you could see were silver sheets and a large mirror next to the bed.
You had no care for your surrounding, though, as you focus of the man above you who was worshiping every inch of your exposed flesh with fierce kisses.
You were barely aware of it in your haze of arousal when he grasped the hem of your summer dress and threw it upwards, exposing your legs and white lace panties.
He quickly removed your shoes and grasped your right leg, sitting back on his knees and bringing your ankle to his lips, kissing, nipping and licking his way reverentially upwards past your knee. His other hands stroking loving circles on your right thigh.
You moaned instantly at attention being lavished on you. He seemed intent on pouring adoration on your entire body.
As he went, you could hear him murmuring, as if to himself, about how beautiful you were, how you were celestial, how your skin felt like satin.
As he reached the apex of your thighs, he ran one hand over your exposed lower stomach, allowing his fingers to graze the edge of your panties.
He looked up into your eyes, and you were shocked to see that he looked almost desperate.
"Please…" he pleaded, gently stroking the lace.
At your nod, he pressed a thankful kiss to your hip before gently easing your panties off.
You could feel the sharp exhale of his breath on your thighs.
"Beautiful," he whispered, "So beautiful and perfect…"
You shivered in anticipation as you felt a few of his long locks fall across your inner thighs as he gently lifted your legs to drape them over his shoulders. You suddenly felt terribly self conscious about the fact that you were bare from the waist down and he remained fully clothed.
He, however, seemed to be suffering a considerable deal in forcing his self restraint to remain intact.
As he pressed open mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin at the very top of your thighs, you could feel his breath quickening, becoming more shallow, and his hands shaking as they gripped your hips.
Then, as you felt the smooth slickness of his tongue licking tentatively at your folds, your hand instinctively flew downwards and gripped his hair.
In the haze of the surrealness of your intimacy, you still had the presence of mind to immediately fear that he would reprimand you.
You were shocked, therefore, when he let out something between a gasp and a moan, his resolve momentarily snapping, as he buried his face frantically into your core.
He was not longer gentle. He was like a man starved.
The second he had felt your hands in his hair, you had really pushed a button. Electricity shot through him and his moans were only muffled by the fact that his tongue was buried so deep inside you that he could feel your essence running down his throat. He was so sensitive there and the feeling of you tugging at his hair turned him on beyond words.
He broke away momentarily to catch his breath, panting and flushed.
As he looked up at you with hooded eyes, he cried in a cracked voice,
"You...you're the s-sweetest thing I've ever tasted! Y/N...Y/N, it's so good! You're delicious!"
His mouth was on you again in a second, his tongue bringing you so close already. He was unbelievably good at this. Your back arched from the bed as you felt him sucking on you and, as your hands wound tighter into his hair, his moans vibrated into you. You were too close. Too close too soon.
"C-Camus!" you gasped, trying to alert him.
He seemed to know exactly what you meant and, reluctantly, removed his tongue from your core.
"Too...too much?" he panted, smirking as he traced circles on your thighs.
You nodded, trying to calm your breathing.
"I'm sorry...I got...ahead of myself...here," panting, he sat up and pulled you up towards him, carefully removing your summer dress, tossing it onto the floor, swiftly followed by your bra.
He grasped the back of your neck with his hand, drawing you into a burning kiss, as he maneuvered his body over you until you were lying on your back.
"You're so incredibly beautiful, my love," he purred, beginning to kiss down the column of your throat, "Thank you for entrusting your pleasure to me…I won't disappoint you, my darling, I swear,"
Quickly sitting back on his heels, he almost ripped the buttons from his shirt as he hurried to shed his clothing. As he stripped off his jeans and underwear, you were able to take him in for the first time. You had to admit, his physical beauty was insane.
He smirked at your slightly open mouth as he threw the garments to the floor and, pressing you back onto the bed as he moved forwards, allowed to you feel your bare skin against each other for the first time.
You gasped, from the feeling of his muscles tightening as you touched him, or the way he was gently biting your neck, you were not sure. All you knew was that your mind was quickly clouding over.
"C-Camus…" you sighed, intensely aware of his hands caressing your curves and his lips at the hollow of your throat.
"Mm?" he responded, not ceasing in his attentions.
"I...ah! I want…"
"Tell me, sweetheart," he urged, "I'll give you anything,"
"I w-want you! Want you...inside me!" you gasped, writing slightly as he talented hands worked wonders across your increasingly sensitive body.
You heard him let out a rather delighted chuckled and, as he grasped the back of your neck with one hand, you saw his dazzling smile,
Pressing his lips to yours in adoration, he whispered,
"I love you, Y/N,"
Ever so gently, he moved himself into position over you, his lips never once ceasing to worship your flushed skin.
He looked to you for approval as he lined himself up, reaching to interlace the fingers of his right hand with yours.
As you nodded eagerly, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and, so very slowly, pushed forward.
The second he breached you, you let out a gasp of wonder. He felt incredible and stretched you to the point of painful pleasure. You heard his own cry of joy as he felt what it was to be with you for the first time.
He was extremely gentle with you, letting you get used to him, inch by inch, until at last he was seated fully in your warmth.
"Hah! Y-Y/N!" he groaned, his muscles shaking with sensation, "You...you feel...Fuck!"
He swore, no longer able to restrain himself, as he drew back, before surging forward into you again.
You back bowed at the sensation, your hands flying to scratch at his back.
He growled as he felt you nails rake across the skin, not enough to cut him but enough to spur him on.
Tossing his hair over one shoulder, he leant up on his hands, allowing you to drink in his powerful shoulder and arm muscles, and began to build up a punishing rhythm, drawing sounds out of you that almost brought him to the edge far too quickly.
"Camus!" you clung to him desperately, you body wracked by this sudden assault of intense sensation.
He locked eyes with you. You could see him smiling as he let out pants of exertion, his smirk still seductive yet now utterly happy.
You felt his every movement, every drag of his slick skin against your own, every brush of his hair tumbling onto your bare chest, every stroke of his cock against your deepest pleasure points.
Pleasure was rapidly consuming you.
Camus must have sensed that your were nearing climax too soon as, to your absolute shock, he lifted you, using his powerful upper body strength, pulling out of you for only a second, before positioning you onto your hands and knees in front of the mirror, allowing only a moment to glance up before burying himself in you once more.
"Ah!" you cried, suddenly filled to a new extent. Evidently Camus could also feel you grasping him that much tighter, judging by the way growled, hands flying forward to grip your hips.
"Y-Y/N!" he gritted his teeth, almost snarling, as he drove into you, "Yes...OH YES!"
You could only scream for him, the visual stimulation of watching this god fuck you from behind, seeing his pleasure written across his face, taking speech from you.
"S-sweetheart," he panted, not letting up, "d-does it feel good? Am...am I making you feel good?"
You were almost astounded by that question. Here, in this moment of utter intimacy and bliss, he showed, at last, his vulnerability. Now, as he took his pleasure, all he wanted to know was that he was pleasing you.
You could not lie.
"F-feels- AH! Feels so amazing!" you confessed, "Please...please don't stop! W-want you! Please!"
You begged for him.
You words had more than the desired effect.
In the mirror you could clearly see his reaction to your praise. His eyes welled, a single tear rolling down his flushed cheek while his mouth opened in a wordless cry of pure pleasure.
Could it be that Camus had a praise kink? Your brain managed to ask.
Desperate to find out, you began driving yourself back into him, intensifying his penetration.
Ignoring his cry of surprise at the new sensation, you looked at his reflectiong and poured out praise for him.
"You make me feel so good, Camus! I-I'm so close...always so close! Y-your cock! I want your cock! Please! Please fuck me! You're incredible!"
You meant every word.
Camus arched violently, tossing his head back in a flurry of blonde hair, letting out wordless howls and cries of your name, calling you a goddess, an angel, his love.
Pleasure was rapidly overtaking him and, this time, as you continued to beg for more, he knew that there would be no holding back.
Grasping your hips, he leant forward, pleading into your ear,
"Cum for me! I'm begging you, Y/N, cum for me! I want it! I want to make you cum!"
You were helpless to resist.
Instantly, you body gave in to extreme waves of almost painful pleasure, your thighs shaking and your back bowing as your drenched his cock.
He came with you. How could he not? He grunted and growled and cried out as he poured out everything he had into you.
You fell back together, still joined, into a breathless embrace.
You attempted to regain your vision as your felt reverential kisses placed along the nape of your neck.
"Y/N," his whisper was full of emotion, "My love… my love…"
You could feel yourself losing consciousness as you answered him with declarations of requited love.
You fell into dreams in each other's arms, Camus never once allowing your to leave his side.
You had truly won his heart.