AN: So, one of the key ingredients in that set of studies – you know, that study this fic is modeled after, the 4 hours to fall in love one – is eye contact. The participants need to hold long, meaningful eye contact. So, see what I did with that, here.

(Also, this is the moment where I remind you that this fic is M rated. This chapter particularly is the reason for that. So, just skip that later part if that's not for you.)

Seventh Hour

It was almost mesmerizing to Usagi. Seeing him open up like that. For the past hour, the floodgates had opened, and he'd poured it all out.

The accident, his lack of memory about it or his parents, the orphanage. Had stumbled over words, as if he didn't have the vocabulary to talk about these things, and she'd realized, with a painful tug in her throat, that this was probably because he'd never talked about this before. Ever.

The loneliness.

She'd started a little, when she finally understood why he'd been so uncomfortable, hours ago, when she'd talked about her line of work and asked about his research. And later… the game, and after… It all hit terribly too close to home for him, and he was used to keeping it all locked up.

'Research is Me-Search?' he'd quoted with an apologetic shrug, and explained it all, talked about all the kids he treated while gathering his data, that went through what he went through, and what it did to him.

Though none of these kids he treated were unfortunate enough to also be orphans, at least. Still…

In fact, turns out, she'd shadowed at the place he grew up in, once. A small institution in Ikebukuro, just a stone throw away from her school. A house that cared for an average of 50 kids, with 8 members of staff. Fairly strict and impersonal, but the club activities were driven. She hadn't liked it. And he'd never seen any of them again since his sixteenth birthday.

He'd had to stop, for a little while, when it all got to be too much. When the words didn't come but the emotions did, and she could see the tears shining in his eyes that he didn't dare let fall, and he needed a few moments in silence, and she'd understood, and they'd just sat there.

It wasn't when he talked about his parents. He had no memory of them. It was when he'd talked about that feeling he had when he'd sat alone in the dark and known, that if something would happen to him now, nobody would truly miss him.

It was the saddest thing she'd ever heard. And she'd heard a lot.

It made her heart break in an endless shower of affection for this guy she'd, hours ago, deemed a playboy, and now finally saw for what he was. And god, did she want to touch him, hug him, kiss it better… She'd never wanted to do anything so much in her life. Never ached so much it almost hurt, she wanted to be the person who made this go away, so much.

She wanted so desperately to take his hand and not let go for the rest of her life.

But… she couldn't.

It wasn't her place.

But what she could do was listen, and that she did.

She could listen, to every word and every gasp and every time his voice broke. Could touch his hand, when he allowed it. And she could see him. The way his eyes latched onto hers and wouldn't let go, and no matter what heartbreaking story came, she wouldn't deny him this, she wouldn't turn her eyes away.

Until finally it was all out, and he shook his head with that incredulous look, the one she knew well, the one that said 'Did I just say all this? Really?'

And she smiled, and the look smoothed over, and he leaned back against the wall and exhaled, long and slow, but stayed silent.

"Thank you," she whispered, with a small smile, and he blinked.

"What for?" he asked, bewildered. The kind of look that wanted to disagree that she had any thanking to do, and she interrupted him, before he could voice that.

"For trusting me. I feel honored," she said.

He blinked again, faster now, his smile disappearing, and she was beginning to fear she'd said something wrong, when he began to speak.

"I know you've never noticed me, but… I've noticed you,"

She smiled, a bit sheepishly.

"And by god, I envied you, sometimes."

Her head bopped up, both eyebrows raised. "You envy me?" she blubbered, incredulous.

His nose scrunched up adorably, and his lips pressed together. She recognized this look by now. He was contemplating whether or not to say something, to share something he normally wouldn't. Never had. She needed to suppress her smile, when once again, sharing won.

"You know… I …" he began with a flinch "…I wouldn't call it an ability, I'm not vain like that, but I seem to… know exactly what people are feeling, whenever they feel it. Like a sixth sense. I know it when they are afraid, when they are happy, when they… drown in compassion… or are …aroused…" he trailed off, his eyes finding hers…

And hers widened, quickly. She felt called out, but swallowed, blushing, when he continued.

He inclined his head, quickly, one eye closing in an apologetic gesture, but then continued, without falter. "…or surprised. It's as if I can feel it… and yet, I lack the ability to connect. It's all there, but I just can't…" He swallowed.

"But you?" He raised his eyes to hers. "You connect so easily. With anyone. You draw them out. People flock to you, wherever you are. When you enter a room… it's like… it's like the light goes on."

She blushed. His eyes widened and he swallowed again.

"I'm sorry, I sound like a creepy stalker, don't I?" he rushed. "Sorry... I promise I haven't … I just … noticed you…" he swallowed, he again, "…a lot… is all."

Usagi shook her head, with a smile. Trying for reassurance, and it seemed to work.

She cocked her head sideways, watching him curiously. "Why haven't you ever said hi?"

He sighed. Frowned. Sighed again, eyes lifting up to hers and falling again, repeat.

"… I tried to… multiple times. And then I just…" He shrugged. That apologetic smile, again. "As I said. I'm not good at the connection part."

Usagi smiled. "You're doing a very good job now."

He snorted. "Yeah, I don't know why." Then he winked, and Usagi flushed all over. "Must be the company."

She was very aware of her blush, now. She blinked, and cleared her throat. Her voice was a little higher when she spoke.

"So, you envy me?"

It was meant as a lighthearted joke. Incredulous. Calling him out on the absurdity, but…

He pursed his lips, shrugged in that apologetic way. "Not only you, really," he said.

He didn't need a moment to decide whether or not to share, this time. It just came out.

"I was always so jealous. Of everyone who had mothers and unconditional love and connections. And then I told myself it was ok... and later, when I'd managed to tell myself it was ok… I was so jealous. Of people like …Motoki," he said, eyes lingering on hers, and she was very aware of the fact that he'd likened her to Motoki before, just a few hours ago, when he continued, "who were so open, wearing their hearts on their sleeves, being liked… and then of people who had people like Motoki… who had people like… him… who were so open in showering the people they loved with that feeling of being welcome."

He inhaled. "I was…" then swallowed. "You wanted to know the first time I noticed you?"

She nodded. Too quickly, too wide eyed, too enthusiastically.

"So. Umm… this was years ago, yeah?" he said, with a frown. "Don't think it…" he broke up, rolled his eyes, at himself, or so it seemed, and instead, began again.

"Well…" his adam's appled bopped. "…Your friend? The blue-haired one?"

Usagi blinked, taken aback. "Ami?"

He nodded. "Yes, Ami. I've met her before, way back before I first saw you, at a science fair. We were the oddballs among oddballs. We didn't talk much, very little, in fact, but I felt we were… kindred spirits?" he said, and she nodded, even though she couldn't fight the little, jealous flutter she felt, when she was afraid where this story might be going, but only for a moment.

"She felt as lonely as I did. She barely smiled, never laughed, always afraid to speak her mind, even when she must have been the most brilliant head at the whole event, even at so young an age. Like… she was buried in a little turtle shell, the same I felt I'd built around myself, afraid to come out. And then… " he stopped, shrugging, shooting her that smile again that did funny things to her.

"It's true," he said with that apologetic shrug he'd done so much, by now, "the first time I'd noticed you was when you kicked that game machine for that gift, almost wracked the place, but… it was the same day that you made that girl who was so much like me laugh, and called her -chan, and gave her a hug, and it's like you took a chisel and hacked away that shell. I didn't think it then, I was too far buried, but... remembering that later, and now, too… I so desperately wanted to be her."

He'd whispered the last time, and it was Usagi's turn to swallow.

"I'd so desperately wanted you to see me, too."

It was more than audible, when he swallowed, as well, and his eyes flew to hers, apologetic and alarmed. Usagi's heart had started hammering.

"I promise I didn't follow you or anything. Never…"

He blinked, so clearly embarrassed, but obviously felt the need to explain.

"I used to have this imaginary friend," he said. "A bit like your princess dream, I guess. Just that I wasn't royalty, I just had… a princess. She never had a face, not really just, a silhouette… a… presence?" He shook his head, sighing. "Today I guess I made her up, so that I wouldn't be so lonely all the time, the thought that someone was out there waiting for me to find them…? It was comforting. I had them on and off for... most my life, I guess, made me do some silly things, too, until…" he trailed off, as if he'd changed his mind, and it was Usagi's turn to blink.

She shot upwards. "Until?" she prompted, a little too quickly, afraid he wouldn't tell her anymore.

He took a while to answer. Looked at her, hard, making up his mind, until he spoke.

"Until that day. The one that I first saw you. They stopped. And it terrified me."

Her heart beat faster.

"Why did it terrify you?" she whispered. Her heart was on her sleeve, she knew it, but…

He swallowed. "Because it felt like I had found what I'd been looking for, but I was too chicken to… even talk to you. God this sounds so weird. I'm sorry. I didn't even know you. I promise, I never followed you or anything… you were just… there. At the right time, and I got over you very quickly I promise…"

She frowned. Her heart clenched painfully. "You did?"

He cleared his throat, looked embarrassed. And she felt sorry to put him in this position, make him put her in her place, she guessed, but…

She shrunk a little, when his hand flew to the back of his neck again, his eyes found the ceiling, and he spoke.

"I'm lonely. Have always been, I know that, and… you're a… lovely person. I guess that day you were a… symbol, to me. Of connection and friendship? That it exists in the world and I didn't need to make up friends, instead? I was a shy lonely boy who was too chicken to befriend you… is all. I'd have loved… a… friend like you," he said, very awkwardly, not directly looking at her.

She nodded, heart falling.

Well, she could be his friend, she guessed. She could try. Friends were allowed to… fall in love with their friends, right? If she didn't tell him?

She saw the insecurity in his eyes, when they landed on her, again, and she cleared her throat. This wasn't about her.

"So… what is it that she meant to you? What were you searching for?" His princess, she meant, of course, but he seemed to understand.

His answering shrug felt a little uncomfortable."Intimacy," he said. "I guess that's what it all boils down to?"

She blinked.

"I don't mean sex," he said quickly, with a blush.

She shrugged. "Sex is very intimate. If it's the right kind?"

He swallowed. Looked at her, eyes straying, even when he tried not to, and inhaled sharply. She noticed with a stab that went right into her belly, and lower...

"I guess I haven't had that kind," he whispered. Then he shook his head, sharply. "But…"

He swallowed, again. He had trouble finding words. "I think... Really, I wanna be … I don't know. Recognized?"

She inched forward, just a little, just a little closer. "You want someone to see you."

He shrugged. "That's not bad is it? Only for a little while? To feel … To be felt? Accepted? Wanted? For just a moment?" His eyes lifted to the ceiling, and he inhaled, his frown almost panicked. "And... I wanna see and feel in return. That's what I want most in life. And I'm terrified of it. I'm terrified I'll never get it. I'm terrified I'll push it away. I'm terrified I'm not capable of giving it because I never learned it, I never felt it…" he trailed off, and his eyes swam with worry, when they found her again, and still…

There was this need in them. Yearning. For someone…

Maybe, just for tonight, she could be that someone for him. Be his princess. Maybe she could be his symbol, again.

And maybe her heart could take that, too, if he didn't want more than that, afterwards.

She scooted over, a little clumsily, and knelt beside him, facing him, awkwardly.

"I'm sorry I haven't seen you before today…" she said, voice breaking and unsure. "But I do now…"

With a shiver, she raised her hand, and ever so tentatively, she touched his face. Her fingers stroking along his cheek, cupping the side of his face. His skin was soft, and warm, and his eyes were wide… so, so wide. She froze like that, for a little moment. Thought she'd scared him, when slowly, oh so slowly, his own hand reached up, and cupped her own.

"I'm here, now," she whispered.

Her heart thumped so loudly she felt like it must be visible under her skin, as if it had to leave an indent in her chest from the way it hammered against her ribcage, as she held her breath and in one, swift movement not only invaded his personal space, but she moved even closer.

Way closer.

His eyes grew wide, and his mouth opened in a sudden, hectic intake of breath.

She straddled his legs, settling on his thighs with the certain kind of bravery she knew was sometimes stupid, and maybe even now, but… She did it anyway.

His breathing sped up, the movement of his quickly rising chest brushing against her; she was so close now, his eyes – so blue – were so very wide, as he stared at her. They were on eye level, now.

She was so close, she would have been able to count every single, individual one of his way too pretty, way too thick eyelashes, saw his eyes jump back and forth between hers, because he couldn't take them in at once anymore, and their harsh breathing mingled between them, touching, mixing, where their mouths weren't…

She saw it, the flicker of his eyes to her lips, but he didn't move, and he didn't talk, only stared at her, so very wide-eyed.

Too forward? Too weird? She retracted her hand from his face, then, and her mind screamed at her, alarmed, as she felt him, so tense and rigid underneath her thighs, every muscle in his legs and chest clenched.

She moved closer, even closer, brought her lips to the shell of his ear, and she felt him shudder when her lips brushed against it as she started speaking.

"Is this ok?" she whispered.

His hands flew to her thighs then, just below the hem of her skirt, digging, kneading into the flesh of her legs, and it was her turn to shudder, when he nodded, mutely, the movement miniscule, his breath coming out hard and labored.

Still so very, very tense.

She leaned back, shifting her weight on his legs and he almost moved with her, stiffly, rigid, and hissed air through his teeth when she lifted her hands and brought trembling fingers to the buttons of her blouse.

His eyes were glued to her hands as she worked the buttons slowly, and his mouth opened in a small, audible whimper, when the top of her bra became visible. Simple, shiny, soft, pale pink fabric, nothing special, yet his eyes drank her up as if she were a goddess.

It made her bolder.

She stopped the movement of her hands, her bra barely visible, yet, and instead she shifted again. Closer this time. Could feel her crotch align with his, her heart pounding so hard and fast she could hear it ringing in her ears and teeth, shaking her. Thump-thump, thump-thump.

Her mouth opened involuntarily, and her breathing picked up, faster. She really hadn't even barely touched him yet, and still, she could already feel the tell-tale tug between her legs, the twitching feeling between lips that weren't her mouth, as she reached up fingers that still trembled like a traitor and touched the pads of her fingers to lightly brush his lips.

They were soft.

And they trembled, too.

She raised her eyes from his lips and met his... Dark, so very dark, the look in them so intense. The way they looked at her so wide and blue and like… she didn't really know. She'd never seen eyes watching her so intense, before. So awake, so… there. So here.

It was almost too much, a little, and she broke his gaze to do what she had wanted from that first moment she had laid eyes on him that day.

She touched his hair. Find out if it was as soft and silky to the touch as it looked.

It really wasn't much of a surprise that yes, indeed, it was. Thick, glossy silk that ran like a caress along the pads of her fingers, as she brushed her hands along his forehead, her fingers slipping against his scalp, when she drew the hair back from his face and pushed her hands through the softest hair she'd ever felt sliding against her skin.

Her gaze fell back on his, his head tilted backward slightly from the pressure of her hands that were buried in the dark ink of his hair in a tight grip, and she exhaled.

His eyes were about a shade darker than just a moment before. Wide and open and glued just to her.

She couldn't help it, the slow grind against him. The satisfaction she felt, when his face twisted, as she moved against the hard bulge that had long formed beneath her.

So, it wasn't really surprising when his lips finally found hers, catching them between his, as he leaned his face closer towards her, her hands still buried deep in his hair. But oh, did the feeling travel straight down.

It was a slow kiss, deliberate, searing. He moaned into it as her lips molded themselves against his, his hands pushing further into the skin of her thighs with every brush and nip. And when she caught his lips between her teeth and he gasped and made a sound almost as if he was in pain, a whimper so needy, she felt so empowered that all propriety and slow-burning flew out the window, and she pushed his face closer to her by the hair and her tongue into his mouth.

She felt like drowning by the time she came up for air, breathing hard, and she looked back up, and his eyes were still on hers. Still and dark and oh…

She bit her lip, his breath tingling on it, as he breathed harshly, but kept still, and with slow movements, reaching down, she hiked her skirt up. And this time it was only the thin, thin cotton barrier of her panties that brushed against the very hard, very obvious front of his pants, and he cried out, just when she bit her lip harder against the rush of intense warmth that fluttered, twitching in her core.

She found his eyes again, those intense, dark, almost fearful eyes, and let her hand travel down his arm until they brushed down his hands. They curled against her as if on reflex, stroking against her so softly, his fingers threading through her own, as if they were made to do so, and she felt it impacted in her core like a jackhammer of desire.

Not moving her eyes from his, she pulled on their laced hands, bringing them between them, and his eyelid twitched, and his breathing turned harsh, but he kept her gaze, when she brushed his hand against the damp front of her cotton panties.

Though she couldn't help the cried out little gasp of air at the feeling.

He didn't move, not at first, until her eyes were back on him, and he must have seen something in them, because suddenly his mouth snapped shut and his eyes grew even more intense still, and his fingers came alive against her, as he cupped her first, and then drew one long digit up and down against the slick, wet fabric.

She tried. She tried to keep her face neutral, but the whimpers just came and with a low, absolutely involuntarily sexy growl that escaped him when she started grinding against him, he pushed the fabric aside with his knuckles, never once looking down, his eyes never straying from her face, and his fingers slipped against naked, slick, swollen skin, instead.

This time she groaned, loud and guttural, anything but chaste or ladylike, and her hands flew to his arms to keep steady when his thumb slipped against her clit and his fingers swirled and dipped and pushed just ever so slightly into her and god, his eyes…

She breathed harshly, hanging on for the ride and followed his example – she looked into his eyes, tried her hardest not to roll them back into her head, as she mewled and bit her lips around the feeling between her legs, mounting higher and higher with every brush of his thumb and swirl of his fingers. Her hips moved against his hand almost against her own will, too much… too much.

She lifted her hips, kneeling, and her eyes left his for just a moment in doing so. She didn't want to come, not yet, and moving up, she felt his fingers pull from her, slipping noisily from her wet folds as he looked up, startled, finding her eyes once more.

His eyes. So wide. So hooded. So unsure. So very, very intense and wanting. They were the sexiest thing on him.

She didn't look away from his eyes this time, when she lifted herself up only a little more, and he whimpered at the loss of contact, his hips raising a bit from the cold linoleum floor as if to follow her.

And then he cried out when both her hands were on his crotch, but his eyes were on hers, nearly bugging out, as she fumbled to his mewls and whimpers, trying to pull the zipper down without looking.

He groaned low and loud and guttural when she missed again, and his hands joined hers and within a second the zipper was down and her hands were in his pants and his eyes were glassy and wide and his mouth open in a silent scream, and he had trouble not to scrunch his eyes shut as she pulled it out and hovered over him… but he kept them open, looking back at her as she swirled his cock across her wet lips, slick and noisy.

Back and forth, back and forth, smacking wetly, and this time she couldn't help it, her eyes rolled back.

She stilled, and this time he cried out, too, when she leaned back so far he didn't touch her any longer, but she had to…

The entire contents of her bag spilled out when she pulled at it, but she didn't care, there was just the one she needed.

He nearly ripped it from her hands, when she found it, tore it open with shaky fingers and rolled it down his shaft.

She hovered just above him. Tilted her head, and her breathing was so shallow and fast that her breasts were heaving, and he had trouble keeping his eyes on hers. They kept flicking down, and he groaned again and looked so tortured almost, and she felt his hands returning, higher now, flexing, fists digging into her thighs almost painfully, as he bit his lip and whimpered when she stroked his cock between her legs again.

She brought her face closer. Eyes still locked on his, but she now so close she could taste and feel his breath on her lips, and closer, until her lips touched his. The barest brush.

"Ok?" she asked, and as she whispered, only mouthed the words ,the movement stirred at his lips and they trembled, when he groaned. And even as he nodded, his hands moved up, underneath her skirt and panties, and he clawed his hands into the flesh of her butt. But this time it wasn't the kind of touch that felt like he was trying to control himself to keep still, this time it was to push her down on him.

She cried out, her head flinging back and her eyes leaving his momentarily, as he latched his mouth against her throat and sucked even as she could feel him twitch deep inside her, could feel him bite and hold his breath, as he held her flush against him, steady, steady even as she tried to move.

"Just a second," he pressed out, "I need... just..." he trailed off, panting, keeping her still, mouth against her throat but twisted, hard. Groaning. Trembling, his breath coming harshly, as he tried to lengthen it, breathing out through his mouth and in through his nose exaggeratedly.

When his head fell back against the elevator wall with a thud, and his eyes flew open to focus on hers once more, his eyes were glassy, teary, almost frightened they were so wide, his teeth clenched and lips pulled wide air hissing through.

"You ok?" she whispered.

He nodded. Quickly, hard, fast.

"Uh huh," he pressed out, flinching, as she moved slightly. "Just... just go slow or I –" he groaned harshly, as she lifted herself up slowly, the muscles in her thighs contracting and his hands flying to dig into them "or I –"

He groaned pitifully, when she sank back down, not nearly as slowly as she'd intended to, and he apparently lost all ability to speak, as she brought her hands to face, her hands slipping behind his neck, forcing his eyes back on her, and he even managed to keep them open and on her for a little while longer, as she plunged herself down again and again in a rhythm that had his face twist up in ways that excited her more than anything had before in her life.

He had to stop her, occasionally. Slipping out and breath in, breath out, before he let her pick up her pace, and at one point the back of his head hit the wall of the elevator behind him, harder this time, and he scrunched his eyes shut, and they stayed shut as his legs tensed up, and she knew he couldn't hold out much longer. So she flicked her hand down to where they were moving together, and slipped her finger against her clit in the way he wouldn't know how to, yet, and her breath gave out, and the back of her eyelids exploded in white light as she stilled, and his hips started moving in her stead, letting her ride it all out as she came around him.

Two, three, four more strokes and he, too, allowed himself to come undone, and came. Not in the silent way that she had, but with a cry that made his voice break, and his hands flew around her middle, hugging her tightly, flush against him, her head falling into the crook of his neck, and his lips against the thin, sensitive skin of her throat as they moved softly, in unison, as their breathing calmed down, and she started to feel the stretch of her bent legs and the sweat that had pooled in the small of her back, and the sound of his breath against her ear.

"I thought you had no interest in one night stands?" she whispered a little later, against the fabric of his collar.

His hands tightened around her middle, and he hugged her even closer, still sheathed inside her, his head burying further into her neck.

"I don't," he whispered, his voice strong and vehement, and he pressed long, wet kisses to that spot right behind her ear.

And her heart rate picked right back up.

Even if he didn't mean what she hoped he meant, there were still two more condoms somewhere in the contents of that handbag, and maybe there was still a chance of shedding at least one item of clothing between them, until it was morning.

AN: Sooo… First and foremost, thank you to UglyGreenJacket, for not only being crazy encouraging of my smutty adventures, but also so very thrilled about it, every time, and cheering me on like you do 3

And,

you guys know me by now. How important I find it is to portray that one dimension of sexuality that most depictions of sex usually miss, but that, to me, and to sexual psychology and sciences and medicine, is the most important bit about it: Sex is a unique and outstanding resource for emotional connection. For sharing each other, accepting each other, worshipping each other. Connecting, body and soul, and not only accepting every flaw and every edge and every curve and every mark, but celebrating it in a way, by giving it your all. Getting naked, both physically and emotionally. And that is what I wanted to show, here, in this chapter. Connection. Trust. Vulnerability. Sensuality.

So yes, Mamoru didn't lose a bit of clothing. But he got naked to the bone.

And I do hope you enjoyed it ;)