With a displeased grunt he flung his forearm over his eyes, seeking protection from the scortching late spring sun. He was sprawled close to the door, occupying the small shade that the rooftop entrance afforded.
When the door opened with the noisy creak his heart jumped, but then sank in disappoointment at the sight of the strawberry pigtails.
Sakura released the door, letting it slam shut behind her back. He watched her, puzzled as she walked slowly, yet determinedly towards the edge of the roof.
He propped himself onto his elbows – what on earth was she doing?
Still unaware of his presence behind her, she tugged at the elastics holding up her hair in innocent pigtails and let them loose. She slipped the rubber bands onto her wrist and sighed in what sounded like relief. A gust of wind rippled her long hair wildly, but she did not seem to mind. His one eyebrow arched curiously.
As she lifted up her arms over her head and stretched her back with a content whimper, he noticed how different her posture and movements were when she thought she was alone, unobserved. Unlike the almost-cartoonish cheerful, bubbly demeanor she maintained around others, now she was moving languidly, exuding quiet confidence that was almost sensual. He could not see her face, but she was sure it was set in that pensive and somber expression he had noticed on her on the day of the sports festival.
He knew she was wildly popular among the Seika's male demographic. He had overheard his peers gushing about the size of her bust, the shapliness of her thighs and the odd violet hue of her eyes. Most of the boys with guts had asked her out, and those without – longed for her from distance in cowardly, frustrated resentment. She kept shutting down their advances firmly and relentlessly, yet never quite losing her friendly, doe-eyed charm. He wondered if she adopted that girlish, fizzy attitude around them as a defense mechanism, so as to not provoke them even more with the natural sensuality that she was displaying now.
He stood up quietely, his hands in his pockets. Sakura he was witnessing now really resembled a baby tiger, he thought. A baby tiger that was after the girl he wanted. He nearly snorted at the last thought, an absurd image of them circling each other like jungle animals before a deathly fight. Not that he should underestimate her strength, he thought grimly, having seen the proof that there was more to her than met the eye.
He remembered the sight he had witnessed from the rooftop – the two girls laying beside each other on the grass during the lunch hour - in what looked like - content, girlish companionship. But he had seen Sakura's palm brush against the brunette's hip in conspicuous lust. He remembered the kiss she had planted sneakily on sleeping kaichou's lips. Every muscle of his body went rigid at the memory.
His mouth tightened in irritation and confusion over the reaction of his own body. He was being such a cliché, he thought, drooling over the generic girl-on-girl fantasy. Yet he knew it was more than that: he saw himself reflected in Sakura, her desire for Misaki mirroring his. They both longed for and stalked the oblivious kaichou in their own ways: him in the role of a 'pervert alien', her – disguised as her best friend.
When she finally heard him approach, she turned her head sideways, regarding him from the corner of one eye. He spotted a hint of a smile tilting her mouth before she resumed her observation of the schoolyard.
He huffed in a mixture of disbelief and amusement. He had to admit to himself, her indifferent reaction to his presence was strangely refreshing. Any other girl from the school – with the exception of kaichou- would blush and squeek in excited panic if they found themselves alone in his company.
"Hanazono." He breathed out her name in brisk greeting as he halted to stand beside her.
"Usui." She answered without looking at him.
"I know what you're doing".
"Do you." Her disinterested voice irked him, the question rolling of her tongue in flat voice and without a question mark, as if she did not care for his answer.
He chuckled, wheels turning in his head. "I know what game you've been playing." Her eyes flashed with obstinacy and a hint of barely-there annoyance.
"A game." Again, a statement-slash-question, to which she wanted no answer. He sighed, looking down to glance at his toes so close to the edge of the roof. They both were playing a dangerous game.
He looked at her, his face set. "I know what you want and I can give it to you." His voice changed, acquiring less combative and a more persuasive quality.
He watched her expectantly as a frown formed on top of her narrowed eyes. Profiting from her silence, he stepped back, moving to stand behind her. When he placed a palm on her side, his fingers curling over her waist he felt her stiffen, but he was unsure if it was due to their sudden physical proximity or fear. Seeing her shoulders square up in alarm, he knew what she was thinking: just a slight push from his hand and he could send her flying from the roof.
"What is it that I want?" Finally a full question, but her voice was low and sad and he wondered if it was rhetorical, directed at herself and no one.
Misaki, he thought, but he did not voice it.
"Release", he answered.
The pressure of his palm ascended, caressing the underside of her breast. Her posture stiffened even more, but she did not fight him off.
"Why?"
Despite the slight tremble in her voice, she sounded still in control, inquisitive as if she was genuinely curious. He considered her question as he placed his other hand on the smooth skin of her upper thigh at the hem of her skirt.
"Because when we're done, you'll have no reason to keep playing this game. You'll leave her alone."
She stood frozen for a minute or two, eyes fixed at nothing in particular in the void beneath them. He slipped his fingers under her skirt slowly, giving her time to reject him, but she did not. He continued stroking her skin, letting her consider the bargain he had offered her.
When she relaxed her body into his, he knew she consented. He braced himself when she leaned her head back and rested it against his chest, gazing up at him from beneath her lashes. She gave him an encouraging half-smile, to which he smirked and let his hands continue their journey.
In a swift, no-nonsense motion his hand slipped under her shirt to encompass one warm breast, squeezing it slightly. Her eyes slipped shut and she hummed approvingly, receiving pleasure without a hint of shyness. His other hand moved up her skirt with an intention of removing the elastic of her underwear, but when the tips of his fingers brushed against the warm, slightly moist skin between her legs, his breath hitched in surprise.
"Full of surprises, Hanazano." He murmured as the fingers in her shirt circled around the hardened nipple. She let out a short laugh in response, which quickly dissolved into a pained gasp when he pinched her mercilessly.
He massaged the bunde of nerves beneath her skirt, watching her closely. The deep sighs she let out signalled at her enjoyment, but she could have the same facial expression in a massage parlor. Good, he thought, because this had nothing to do with romance for either of them, it was all business. Gazing at her closed eyelids, he wondered if she was thinking about Misaki. The thought caused a low groan to erupt from his gut. He quickened the pace of his fingers circling her clit.
"Not bad". Her smug, husky voice encouraged him. She had entrusted herself to him with such entitled arrogance that it made him squeeze her nipple again painfully. She gasped again and suddenly he felt the urge to go down his knees, fasten his mouth to the spot where his fingers were and drive her completely insane. Too good for her, he thought and refrained himself, instead letting his fingers get more creative.
When he felt her at the edge, he let his digits slip into her roughly, curling the upper knuckles to hit the spot he knew would disarm her. And it did. Usui had expected her orgasm to be implosive, controlled and secretive like her personality, but she surprised him when she exploded, gasping out shaky moans for the whole – luckily deserted - schoolyard to hear. It only took one person to look up and they would witness the beguiling scene of him pleasuring Sakura at the edge of the rooftop.
When she stopped throbbing around his fingers, he slipped them out, cleaning them on her schoolskirt unapologetically. She did not protest, only kept panting heavily, turning her face towards the cooling breeze.
When her breathing returned to normal, she laughed. His hands no longer on her, he looked down at her curiously. She did not explain the reason for her amusement, but instead started patting herself down to fix her clothing and tying her hair in pigtails.
When she was done she turned and walked towads the exit. Mid-way to the door, she turned, finding him gazing at her inquisitively.
"Regarding your.. condition, Usui," she spoke in a matter-of-fact voice, but it was still husky from earlier. "I don't owe you shit. Thanks for the fun though."
With the last words, she flashed her that extroverted, friendly smile she threw at the whole world unreservedly - wide, insincere but disarming, gave him an amiable wave and disappeared through the door.
His pocketed hands clenched into fists, but all he could was smile. Of course, he thought - she had no intention to give up pursuing Misaki. Of course she had played him.
A/N. So, yeah, the story's getting weird AF. But I love mysterious unpredictable Sakura and rogue Usui who doesn't mind offering sexual services just to get rid of a rival. I know some people might object but.. I'm enjoying the sinister twist of the story immensely, so bear with me! I look forward to your comments.