DISCLAIMER: SKIP BEAT! and its associated characters are the creations of Yoshiki Nakamura. This author claims no ownership of Skip Beat or any of its characters. All other rights reserved.
MASSIVE THANK YOU to Mimagfan and Noveisdoge, who so kindly beta-read this chapter!
Warning: NSFW
Additional Author's Notes at bottom of the page.
Chapter XVII: With My Body I Thee Worship
He was now in that state of fire which she loved. She wanted to be burnt.
They were sitting at a table and a massive fruit parfait was in front of her in excessive glory. It was the apotheosis of all fruit parfaits, really, a sculptural tower of ice cream, whipped cream, strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, chocolate syrup, and then, the coup de grace: an intricate web of spun sugar resting on a platform of crown melon. Just minutes ago, she'd stopped and admired the display from outside. Seconds after that, Kuon had ordered it and ushered her to a table expeditiously. They'd chosen one near the back of the cafe…to ensure enough room for the bags he was carrying.
She grumbled as she relaxed into the comfortable chair, glad to be off her feet. The parfait was just the latest thing he'd manipulated her into accepting. Kuon was out of control, and all her efforts at resistance had been futile. He was a true terror. A profligate. An incorrigible, reckless, spendthrift monster of a man that had cut through the mall like a whirlwind. He knew her preferences so well it scared her. He'd clearly come to the mall prepared—had clearly anticipated her protests. That was evident in the way he moved almost immediately to neutralize them. The attacks had been swift and precise and stealthy, like a surprise siege on an unsuspecting stronghold. It began in spectacular fashion, right as they entered the mall. She suspected he'd done research beforehand and chosen the entrance closest to the Royal Snow counter, because within moments of entering, he was asking a flustered sales associate for a bottle of Odette while holding out his black credit card for her to take. In seconds, he'd bought the special edition extra-beautiful-super-expensive Royal Snow bottle, the one encrusted with crystals and limited to just twenty bottles in the Japanese market. It had happened so quickly her mouth was still open when the saleslady held out the bag to him.
She'd only told him about it once—just once—about those sad days when she was working three jobs and could only admire Odette from the window. She didn't think he would remember such a thing. But clearly he remembered—and he remembered with a vengeance. Soon it wasn't just Odette. She was afraid to even look at anything for fear that he'd grab it and buy it for her. Bags full of makeup in the fairy-tale packaging soon joined the perfume, and then there were dresses of all kinds, and shoes, and every little thing they passed that he thought she'd like. And he knew exactly how to get her to capitulate, too. They would arrive in a store full of dresses Kyoko had always secretly coveted, she'd protest that she didn't want anything, he'd come back with a pile of dresses for her to try on and a puppy dog face. The dresses were always in impeccable taste. He had an eye for design, and for what suited her. She supposed it was his upbringing and his profession—he was a model, after all, and his mother was a model, too. It was his heritage, she supposed. Inevitably, she'd walk out defeated with yet another outfit.
Or three.
Practical Kyoko wept at the sheer extravagance of his purchases, but he was keeping her off-balance and distracted…because Practical Kyoko had nothing on Seductive Kuon. It was hard—very hard indeed—to protest effectively when she was being fried with liberal applications of a smile so brilliant it turned other people in their vicinity to stone. It wasn't just the smile—she'd never had the experience of walking around in public with her boyfriend. There was no prevarication in the way he held her hand. No pretending it was because he 'didn't want to get lost' or some other poorly-disguised excuse. He was possessive, and attentive, and prone to gazing lovingly at her—when he wasn't trying to sneak kisses on her forehead or her cheek or her hand. And just as it had been with the little notes left on her door, or the little ways he did things for her, she got the message as more overpriced items were added to the stash of bags he was carrying: I love you.
Had he simply come to the ryokan to teach her things? Acting one week, love the next. He'd taught her what it was like to find someone catching her when she fell, to find someone who shone light where only an abyss had been. It was the kind of love she'd dreamed of as a young girl, though the reality was far richer than anything a fairy-tale dreamer could imagine.
And also more embarrassing.
Lots more embarrassing.
She had to admit she'd be lying to herself if she claimed she didn't want him almost to the point of insanity. There were the kisses, for one. As if the scene on the balcony weren't enough—his kisses made her swoon and throb and beg, and she had yet to escape one bout with him without missing at least one article of clothing. Along with those kisses came a new vocabulary, a new skill set. New words which he had her repeat for him, titillating and inflaming them both. Oh yes, he'd taken great pleasure in teaching her how to talk dirty, particularly when his tongue was between her legs. And on the same token, he'd say the same things to her when she was kneeling in front of him and he had his hands entwined in her hair, or when he was running those gigantic hands of his all over her skin, rough with his callouses but deft with well-practiced skill. She was afraid she was developing something of a fetish for those hands. And…for other parts of him, too. She'd insisted on learning how to touch him in return…and she had come to love running her hands up his powerful legs and taking his hardened shaft in her mouth. There was something deeply erotic about the way he lost control. Though she blushed to admit it even to herself, this joint exploration into carnality was something that she craved.
And there were unexpected and awkward benefits that arose from his familiarity with her body.
For example…he always found the dresses in just the right size.
The clothes he chose almost felt like a proxy for his touch, a way for him to surround her when he couldn't be physically next to her. It was somewhat overwhelming—and she couldn't quite keep her head straight. It was hard to stay focused, after all, with someone like Kuon staring at her like the emperor of the night every time she exited a fitting room.
The R. Mandy store was the worst. Normally she would've felt too shy and too shabby to enter into a temple of shiny glass and chrome like that. She balked at going in, but Kuon had placed his arm around her waist and sailed in with her, as if she were his partner in a ballroom waltz. Still, she felt a little bit like a lamb being led to slaughter, especially when she was inundated with images of Ren Tsuruga as soon as they walked into the boutique. Ren's smoldering brown eyes were on the walls, on displays, on video screens that pulsed with images of him frolicking half-naked on a beach to bass-driven music. She spent a few seconds mesmerized, watching his shirtless body and remembering exactly what those muscles felt like under her fingers just that morning. A part of her felt secretly smug that the man on that screen had given her a 'good morning' kiss today. She knew the taste of his skin, the feel of his lips on her own.
"Should I be jealous?" Kuon whispered in her ear, gently nipping it.
She jumped and tore her eyes away from the video. "Kuon!" she whispered back. "Stop it!"
He laughed as she blushed.
For some reason, lusting after Ren Tsuruga almost felt like cheating on Kuon. And that was a bizarre thought, wasn't it? She spent a few moments worrying that the store's employees would recognize him, but she needn't have done so. He was making a point to be as un-Ren-like as possible, holding her hand, grinning at things, teasing her…laughing. Though everyone was staring at him, no one put two and two together that the smiling golden-haired foreigner was the sober-eyed actor that happened to have his face blown up all over the boutique's wall.
In the end, sticker shock was enough to jolt her out of worrying about Ren Tsuruga's secret identity. They were charging 30,000 yen for a t-shirt! It was wasteful and ridiculous in the extreme! Who would buy such a thing? She had made up her mind to drag Kuon out of there when he showed up with an ice-blue A-line dress in shantung silk and the veritable Final Boss of all puppy dog looks. She was about to flatly refuse—and then he whimpered. Audibly! Loud enough to make the store's staff faint with cuteness and join in the effort to have her try it on. She knew she was doomed as soon as she zipped it up. It felt as if it had been made for her, and she knew right then that he was going to buy it. "You can't possibly!" she'd protested. It was an exercise in futility, though she knew that she had to try and talk him out of it. Dresses here were upwards of 500,000 yen, and someone had to remind him what fiscal responsibility was. But he proved, very easily indeed, that he could buy the dress. And he did. And now that dress was sitting in a beautiful bag by his leg.
And now he was sitting in front of her with a delighted grin on his face as he watched her sputter.
"Kuon!" she exclaimed. "I can't eat all this!" If anything, the grin on his face got wider. "You'll have some, won't you?" she pleaded, deploying her best cute look at him. She was gratified when he blushed a little, but only until he responded.
"Only if Kyoko-chan feeds me," he said, and then it was her turn to blush.
"Kuon," she whispered, "We're in public!" They'd played the 'say ahhh' game a few times now. He seemed particularly fond of having her feed him tidbits. But this was a cafe, for heavens' sake!
"So?" He shrugged. She was reminded all over again that he really was a foreigner.
"People will see," she whispered, making a point to look around.
"Let them." He laughed at her. "What will they say? 'Oh, there's a lovey-dovey couple over there, isn't that sweet?' 'Oh, isn't that girl over there beautiful? That guy is so lucky to be her boyfriend.'"
Her face had gone all-the-way pink at this pronouncement. "That's ridiculous, Kuon," she said. "You know they're saying the opposite."
"They wouldn't dare," he replied. His eyes had darkened and Kyoko noticed his presence becoming decidedly more…menacing. "Not if they wanted to keep all of their teeth," he said. But the murderous look passed and her Kuon was back, saying "Kyoko-chan, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
She sighed, but she couldn't help but smile when he ate a spoonful of ice cream with a raspberry on it. "You, sir, are ridiculous. You should be more reserved. Japanese people are more reserved, Kuon!"
"I know," he said, "I'll stop if you admit you like it, though."
She mock-glared at him before her own giggles overtook her.
"Again," he said, "ahhhhhhhhhh!"
But this time, when she held out the spoon, he took his time with it, licking up the ice cream while looking into her eyes. All of a sudden she was aware that he was holding the hand that wasn't holding the spoon, aware that his long legs under the table were nearly entwined in her own, aware that she could feel a frisson of electricity zap between his eyes down to her nipples and then between her legs. She knew exactly what that tongue was capable of now, and this…this wanton and public display was just cruel. Their eyes met over the spoon and she sucked in her breath as he undressed her with his eyes.
"You…you playboy," she said, drawing back the spoon.
He just grinned at her, winked, then grabbed his own spoon. He knew exactly what she was thinking of, and it pleased him inordinately. "Kyoko-chan, say ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…"
Kyoko huffed but obediently opened her mouth. "Oishii," she said. How did he make her feel like this? He was so sweet…and encouraging…and, most importantly, devious. Only a practiced seducer could've done what he did today. She had been so determined not to let him run wild, but instead, she'd tried on a 500,000 yen dress and allowed him to buy it for her! What was she doing?
He took back his spoon, holding it aloft. She fully expected him to say something obnoxious, but he didn't. Instead, he was looking into the distance behind her with a troubled look on his face.
"Kuon?" she asked, "What's wrong?"
His face had gone deadly serious. "Don't turn around," he said quietly. "I think we're being watched." He'd had a feeling since coming out of the store, but he'd tried to dismiss it. But just now, he'd caught the reflection of sunlight off a camera lens out of the corner of his eye. He scanned the upper floor behind Kyoko, searching for a figure that felt odd, and hissed in frustration. Like many malls, the floor above had trailing planters with blooming flowers on the railings, obscuring any figures that were watching them. But long practice had given him a very real sixth sense on spotting paparazzi—it wasn't a happy skill to have, exactly, but given his parentage and his line of work, it was an advantage. How did they spot me? he thought. Even Lory sent me out into a massive crowd, and no one even blinked an eye! He'd been playing up the 'foreigner' behaviors, beginning with the free and easy way he engaged in public displays of affection with Kyoko. He knew that no one at the store even remotely suspected him of being Ren Tsuruga—and they'd had a picture right next to his face to compare! So how? Who knew he was in Kyoto? Had someone tipped off the press? The feeling left him with a cold feeling in his gut and a fierce determination to protect the girl who was sitting in front of him.
Kyoko's eyes went wide.
"Watched!?" The word sent a ripple of fear into her, the unease he was so clearly displaying reflecting back.
"It's probably a photographer," he said, taking care to speak quietly, "for Boost or one of those tabloids. I have no idea how they managed to spot me." He schooled his face back into a cheerful one, but she could see the strain in his eyes.
No idea? Kyoko thought. He'd been wandering around undisguised all day! Did he simply not notice the heart-eyed women he'd turned to stone?
"Kuon—"
"Shhhhh…" He picked up his spoon and took some ice cream, and then he did it again—and she gulped. Kuon would never willingly eat so much ice cream."Best thing to do right now is to pretend we haven't seen them and keep doing what we were doing. Don't panic, don't rush."
She nodded her assent and took a spoonful of parfait, but its charm had been considerably lessened.
"When we're done here, we're going to have to make a run for it…but we'll have to be careful," he said. He looked pained. "We may have to find somewhere to hide while I call Lory for some damage control."
"We can go back home," she said.
"We can't. Not if they're following us," he replied. "We'll have to get the car out of the garage. We'll be sitting ducks in it while we try to get out of town. And it'll be obvious where we're going—no other ryokan requires a boat to get to, love," he said. "It's the only ryokan in that part of Kyoto, and there's nothing else around it in Arashiyama—they'll know where I've been staying immediately." And they'll find out who you are, too, he thought. It was fortunate that the mall doubled as a hub for trains. It made escape easily accessible.
Inwardly he was furious. He should have known it would only be a matter of time, but he hadn't realized that time would be so soon. He'd been monitoring the gossip sites for articles about his whereabouts, but they'd all assumed he was working on a top-secret project overseas. And he sighed. He had been thoroughly enjoying this day with Kyoko. He loved seeing the spark in her eyes when she inevitably reacted to something fanciful or beautiful, and he loved the way she lectured him when he bought something for her. The things he bought for Kyoko wouldn't even ding the interest his trust fund made today, and it felt good to be able to use his money to spoil someone he loved.
But the most bitter thing about dealing with paparazzi was the realization that he wouldn't be able to have the dates he'd been fantasizing about. He was an actor, for god's sake. He'd been on every conceivable date cliche in all the dramas he'd starred in. But he wanted to take Kyoko on each and every one of those cliches, because being with her allowed him to overwrite those cliches with true joy. They'd gone to their matsuri—but there were so many other dates he could do! An amusement park, for example, like Dajowney Land. Because he knew how much she adored Dajowney, and god, she'd be cute on a rollercoaster. Or at the top of the Ferris wheel, where he could kiss her and feel her little body melt into his. He was sure there were one or two Ferris wheels in the area with some kind of "kiss your lover here and be happy forever" legend. There were aquariums. Christmas tree lightings. Shrine visits on New Year's. Hanami in spring. All of those dates. He'd been planning on figuring out a way to obtain a boy's high school uniform from her school and relive every manga cliche with her.
"I'm sorry," he told her. He'd wanted this to be a fun day, a beautiful day, a day just about her, spoiling her and spending time with her and showing her that they belonged together not just in the magic island where their rock was, but out in the real world, as well. "I wish I were someone else," he said, "so that we could've had a day just about you."
"Oh Kuon." Her hand had gone cold, and he ran his thumb protectively over it.
"We're going to go down and take one of the subway lines to get away," he said. "I'm going to find a place where we can hide until I can get a hold of Lory."
In a trice, he'd made a reservation at the Four Seasons—a fancy hotel with an afternoon tea or a gourmet restaurant on offer would be ideal, he reasoned. If they were spotted going in together, he could state that they were just going in for a meal. A lesser establishment would've led to the inevitable rumors of him sleeping with someone.
They paid for their parfait, and then he dug through the bags until he found a set of sunglasses he'd bought over her protests. "Put these on," he said. He pulled out his own. He thought he'd spotted the photographer—a male of average height. Kuon had hoped he would be able to recognize the man—the same publications often assigned the same photographers to the same stars, after all—but he didn't. And for a paparazzi, the man was better disguised than most. Kuon could make out no discernible features and no discernible characteristics. It frustrated him. Nothing would've given him more satisfaction than pre-empting that jerk's photos with a well-placed call to the publication he worked at, threatening them with a lawsuit for breach of privacy.
He stopped.
They had to get away before he plotted his revenge on the man for ruining this day with Kyoko-chan.
What followed was the most reasonably-paced dash to the train platform he could manage. It was imperative that they get lost in the crowd, so he tried for the most populous parts of the mall as they walked at the crowd's pace. He figured it was a somewhat futile exercise for him—he was so tall he stood out from the crowd like a sore thumb. But perhaps Kyoko's face would be better obscured by her proximity to others, so he persisted. Kuon kept her on the side closest to the storefronts as they made their way downstairs, moving subtly to hide both her face and his behind lamp posts and pillars. He kept an eye on reflective surfaces, watching for their tail in reflections on the glass of the storefronts. He walked under overhangs and looked for obscured sight lines. And throughout, he kept her close to his side. "We're trying to lose the tail," he said, "Not each other."
When they got to the subway, Kuon made sure to wait until the very last minute to choose a train compartment, dashing inside one while making sure he still had Kyoko and all the bags well secured. Heaving a sigh of relief, he brought Kyoko close, embracing her. He didn't know if they'd truly evaded the photographer, but that feeling of being watched—of the hairs rising on the back of his neck—had disappeared. They doubled back to another stop, exited, and took a second train going a different direction before he finally took them to the hotel.
=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=
Almost an hour and a half had passed since they'd left the cafe. Kuon had checked them into a luxurious hotel, booking under LME's name and using its prestige to get them access to the underground VIP entrance and remote check-in.
Kuon glared at his phone as the line to Lory went to voicemail again. What in the hell was the man doing? Probably another otome game, he thought. Nevermind that this is a real-life otome game that he put in play here and now he's disappeared during a critical point. And where the hell is Ruto? Kuon had tried Lory's indefatigable assistant, too, but he wasn't answering either. Ruto was usually the best way to get a hold of Lory when the man was holed up with a new game. Kuon sighed. He couldn't call the main LME lines. News that Ren Tsuruga had called for Lory would spread like wildfire, and he didn't want to have to talk to the main receptionists. And he certainly couldn't call as Kuon Hizuri. First, no one had ever heard of a Kuon Hizuri, and he was unlikely to be taken seriously. Second, anyone hearing the name "Hizuri" might put two and two together and surmise a relationship with Kuu. It was impossible.
"No luck?" Kyoko asked. She'd never seen him so agitated—she couldn't help but become agitated herself. Why was he so upset?
She wanted to wave a magic wand and make it alright again, but a dreadful, cold feeling rose from her belly and infected her thoughts. It's you, a little voice said in her head. That was why he didn't want to be photographed with her, wasn't it? The fact that she was plain and unattractive? Totally unsuitable for someone like him?
It made sense—wait, no, it didn't, did it?
He loved her. She knew he loved her. He'd spent every moment of his time with her telling her he loved her. But the voice was persistent. Then why is he hiding you away like a cheap mistress in a hotel room, Kyoko? the voice asked. Like unwanted baggage. Something to be hidden.
No, she thought, Kuon loves me, but it isn't Kuon the paparazzi are following—it's Ren. And it's Ren that Kuon has to protect right now. And she felt, instinctively, how ridiculous it would be for a girl like her to be hand-in-hand with the half-naked-actor with the smoldering eyes she'd seen in the store. It's Ren that I have to protect right now, too, she thought. She felt a wave of grief swelling up from inside. She tried swallowing it down but it threatened to overwhelm her and she felt unshed tears blur her vision. She needed to be brave. Kuon was hers, but Ren? Ren couldn't be hers. He belonged to Japan. Ren Tsuruga would never be able to acknowledge her publicly, and she had to understand that.
"No luck. I don't know what he's thinking or doing. I can't get a hold of his personal assistant, either." Kuon's calls had gone straight to voicemail for both men, and now Kyoko's face was going to be emblazoned across every tabloid in Japan and there would be nothing he could do to shield her from the brunt of the fire that came with being Ren Tsuruga's girlfriend.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I will make sure Lory does everything he possibly can to keep your face from the papers." He'd been so preoccupied with winning her, he hadn't warned her about the curse of Ren Tsuruga. He'd known, of course, that there would be press hounding them in the future. But knowing theoretically and tasting it today for the first time gave him an inkling of what she'd have to put up with. The constant harassment she'd probably face. The rumors, the questions, the dissection of everything she did by the public for its amusement. Could he really put her through that? If he loved her so much, why would he let her go through with the hell of being Ren Tsuruga's girlfriend? The best thing for him to do was to have left her alone after all, wasn't it? Then she would live a life that was peaceful, and tranquil, and he…he'd be dead inside. And he wouldn't be able to bear it.
He was a selfish, selfish brute, wanting her to suffer just so he could have her by his side.
Kyoko heaved a deep sigh and averted her gaze.
He looked at her and his hands clenched into fists. Of course she's upset, he thought, I've been so careless. "I'm sorry," he said again. He was watching her eyes fill with tears. "I never should've fucked up your life like this. I should've—I should've warned you…"
She flinched and stood. "It's OK…Kuon…" She was walking to the door before he had taken his eyes off the floor. "Let me go home first," she said gently. She was putting on her shoes and he was frozen while he watched her do it. "You don't have to hide with me…no one ever notices me, anyway, when I'm alone." She smiled at him with a smile that didn't touch her eyes, which were misty with unshed tears. She turned around and had her hand on the doorknob when she said, "I understand why you can't be seen with me…it'll hurt Ren's image. It's ok. We'll be ok if we split up and travel separately. So don't worry—I'll meet you when you get back."
He looked up at her sharply, and his paralysis faded. He moved quickly to intercept her, slamming the door that she'd opened closed. He turned her around and trapped her against it. You fucking asshole, he thought to himself, she doesn't understand. "I didn't want them to photograph you because they'll make your life a living hell," he said harshly. "You are more than Ren Tsuruga could ever deserve," he growled.
He looked into her shocked eyes and his entire body sagged. Gently, he took one hand and tilted her head so her eyes met his. "And unlike some people, I refuse to let the one I love get bullied for being my girl."
He took her hand and kissed her open palm. "I love you," he said, "But I've been incredibly selfish."
"Selfish?"
"I didn't think past being with you." He looked guilty, almost repentant. "I'm still confident about making sure we have time together…but…you—you'll be Ren Tsuruga's girlfriend." He said it as if the words were poison. "It'll be a long time before I can be Kuon in the open with you again. And we'll have to manage any publicity about us carefully. I'm a selfish, selfish man, Kyoko Mogami," he said, "because I want you so badly I didn't even consider how they'd come after you, and now you're hiding here with me like a fugitive. I'm the fucking asshole who should've been thinking about this all along."
He brought his arms around her and leaned down so he could cradle her in his body. "We should've talked about this long ago." He was murmuring into her hair. "They'll harass you. They'll be brutal. Tabloids will follow us—not just one photographer. Someday we may have to fight through a wall of them." His voice was shaking and he stepped back to stand in front of her. "Even so," he said, "even so…I still want to be by your side." His tortured eyes met hers. "Will you still be with me?"
She was very still for a few seconds, considering how to respond.
"I saw," she said, "how your fans talk about the women they see you with. And I was scared, too. I knew that they'd be harsh to me."
He looked at her in surprise. "But I decided I wouldn't let it bother me," she continued. "I've been bullied my whole life, Kuon. I know I'm plain. I know I'm flat-chested, and I know I'm unglamorous, and boring. They can't say anything about me that my own classmates haven't said before." She was silent for a moment. "But I couldn't bear hurting your reputation. I know that Ren Tsuruga will never be able to publicly acknowledge me as his girlfriend, Kuon. Because Ren Tsuruga's girlfriend should be beautiful."
She was still smiling, but her eyes were glassy. He looked at her and didn't know whether it was despair or fury that he felt. He remembered each and every time he'd told her she was beautiful, and how she denied it, remembered how he tried, again and again, to overwrite the scars the Fuwa boy had left on her with kisses. It terrified him to think of an entire industry making her their victim, fomenting insanity in the horde that called itself his fanbase. But it didn't mean he would stop trying to convince her that she wasn't the plain, boring woman Sho had made her out to be. "You are beautiful," he growled, "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. What can I—"
"Stop, Kuon," she said, smiling wanly. "That's enough. I'm your girlfriend now—you don't need to sweet-talk me into anything. I know you love me, but sometimes you should just call a spade a spade," she said in English. "I'm not—"
He stopped her with a kiss, hard and possessive, a little cruel. He was taking her lips feverishly and plundering mouth with his tongue, as if the crux of his argument was the violence of his affection. "You are," he said breathlessly, and then moved to kiss her again. "How many times will I have to tell you, Kyoko?" he asked.
"Nnnhhh—" He would kiss her until she stopped.
"Do you want me to take a selfie with you now?" he asked. "If I thought I could keep you safe, I'd post our picture on Instagram right the fuck now." And he would, too. Nothing was more appealing than declaring to all the world that Kyoko Mogami was his girl. If she couldn't be Kuon's girlfriend, then Lory would simply have to be blackmailed into putting his considerable weight behind protecting Ren's girlfriend.
"But Ren Tsuruga—"
"Is a character—"
"—can't be with someone—"
"—who can go fuck himself."
Kyoko blinked.
"I'm not ashamed of you, Kyoko. I'm ashamed of myself, that I haven't managed to convince you that you're beautiful yet." He was speaking into her neck, kissing and licking and biting in between words. She was clutching onto him, her golden eyes tilting upwards.
He was helpless when she looked at him like that.
"The things you do to me," he said. He picked her up in a princess carry and then laid her gently on the bed, pulling off her shoes and tossing them into a corner. He crawled over to her and moved to press her against him, hovering close enough so that the tips of his hair brushed against her face. His hands were on either side of her head, caging her in and holding him aloft over her. "Do you truly think you're plain?" he asked. He kissed her again before she could answer, and then pulled away while she was still clinging onto their kiss. "Do you?" he asked again.
His proximity was dizzying her, confusing her. She couldn't see or hear or breathe anything but him, he was so close, and the look in his eye so earnest and desperate. For so long, plain was how she defined herself. To be plain was to be safe. But to accept that Kuon found her beautiful was to accept his love—and her worthiness to be loved. It was frightening. And yet all through this summer, he'd done nothing but build a case of such persuasive power she had to consider its validity. She couldn't turn away from the mirror of his eyes.
He was waiting for her answer, and she gave a single shake of her head no before his lips came down again and kissed her tenderly. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to it, yielding as his kiss grew in urgency. These were the kisses that lined the pathway to perdition, that took her to the crossroads between childhood and womanhood and said choose.
She knew which path she would take today.
=.=.=.=
Every time they kissed, it was harder to stop.
His initial intent wasn't to seduce her. This time, all he wanted to do was to kiss away that quiet, bitter look on her face as she tried to walk out of their room. He wanted to kiss her the way a knight kissed the hem of his Lady—with reverence, humility, and worship.
He thought he was capable of giving her loving kisses without having them devolve into shameless carnality.
He should've known better.
Kyoko was Kyoko, someone beyond angel or succubus, somehow appealing to both his most noble and his most base instincts. He didn't know how to tell her how her innocence drove him insane, or how her requests would have him feverish and desperate late into the night, stroking himself so he wouldn't ravish her in the mornings.
How was it possible to feel such love and such lust at the same time?
Their lips parted and Kuon was staring at her, breathing in her scent, watching her golden eyes dilate as her breathing grew ragged. He could feel the tension between them growing heavy, time dilating and lengthening as the seconds ticked past. He could feel the awareness coming onto both of them slowly—their presence in a hotel where nobody knew them, their isolation, their closeness. For a moment they simply looked at each other, each aware of what the other knew. Their unspoken understanding that they were both waiting out the week for her implant to take effect, and now, having waited that week, a yawning, unnamed possibility opened up between them. They were aware that they were well and truly in private for the first time in a way that they could not be at the ryokan. The ryokan was Kyoko's home, after all, and her movements were, while not constrained, obvious and easily tracked.
He didn't want to profane the moment by speaking, but profanity was the very essence of it—debauchery and obscenity were the order of business, lurking underneath the moment's sweet tension. And both of them could feel it. All throughout his boyhood, sex had been nothing but debauchery and obscenity. It was a call to indulge in his worst animal urges, something done for sport. Back then, he would as readily engage in sex as he would in a fight, or a joint, or a drink. It was a pleasure amongst other pleasures, nothing marking it as particularly more or less desirable than anything else.
Everything was different with Kyoko. For the first time, he wanted to find something divine in the act, to feel within it something considerably more than mechanical performance. There was so much lust, even more so now that he'd found his lust answered by Kyoko's own. She was a frighteningly apt pupil, as he knew she would be, and she drove the part of him that simply wanted to mate with her insane with the promise of sex on birth control. But he wanted their first time together to be a joining not just of their bodies but of their souls. Every time he looked at her, his mind echoed with vows he'd given to actress-brides as actor-Ren. With my body I thee worship, with all my worldly goods I thee endow, the line went. He'd never understood those words, not really—until he met Kyoko. And now, what had seemed trite then rang true and made him tremble.
So he held himself still and looked at her, asking her silently if she would give him her surrender even as he gave her his own. This girl, with her golden eyes and her lithe body, held his heart, his mind, and his soul captive. It occurred to him that it didn't matter what the trappings of their union were. Whether he took her out for a fancy dinner, or dressed her up in designer clothing, or pressed her down in a bed full of rose petals—none of that mattered. Where it happened, or how—it was irrelevant. What mattered was that he had found someone who mattered so deeply that his very soul shook, and if he could make her understand that with his body's worship of her own, then he would.
=.=.=.=
Kyoko looked at him and watched his thoughts cross openly on his face, breathing his air and feeling his heartbeat in her own skin. She felt like an initiate to secrets that only he could teach her. She'd learned lust under his tutelage. Before him, she'd never known what it was like to burn desperately for another person's touch. The night after the matsuri had been something between a revelation and a nightmare, had upended her world and left her wanting desperately to find out what was on the other side. Since accepting him, she'd been subject to pleasure she'd never even imagined. And now she was standing at the moment of truth. Accept him now, and there would be no going back.
But she wanted to. She wanted him so much she could taste her hunger. She wanted to obliterate the distance between them, join with him so thoroughly no wedge could ever pry them apart. She realized, then, that she trusted him with her very self. She trusted him and she wanted him, and the way he was holding her body, now, was spiritual as well as physical. The moment felt pre-ordained. Since his arrival—the first time they'd met as children, every step she'd taken had led to him. It was only a matter of acceding to the preliminaries, now, of making the formal the tacit understanding between them. Her body was his, along with her heart.
She stared into his questioning eyes and said, simply, "Yes."
He didn't need to ask what the question had been. Just a few heartbeats later his lips were descending to hers again reverently. Reverence and worship were the things he wanted her to remember—things he had lost sight of in every other encounter with her. He wanted—needed—her to know that this was more than a physical distraction to him. More than anything, he wanted her to know how much she mattered to him, how her arrival in his life had changed the trajectory of his falling star. How her rejection or her absence would destroy him. A small whimper came out of her throat and his mind short-circuited, fragmenting—was he reacting because he thought she was adorable? Or was he reacting because he wanted to force her to moan louder? Everything about her was a study in duality. She was like coming home, and she was something completely new. Touching her was like falling into a warm bath, and touching her felt like being burned alive. He cursed the fact that mind-melds were science fiction—he simply wanted her to know that he belonged to her in the same way she belonged to him. If she would have him, his body would be an instrument for her pleasure until he died.
Their kiss deepened as her tongue entwined with his own. There was a sense of finality, of acceptance, of submission to fate. Both of them knew this was going to happen, both of them moved together towards it deliberately. The kiss grew in urgency and intensity, their hands frantically roving over each other. He paused and she opened her eyes and all of a sudden she was aware and shy again of his proximity. They were still fully clothed, but she could feel the length of his hardness against her, could feel the power of his body just at bay. She could feel it hanging over her head and clenched her thighs shut in an effort to stop the drooling ache. He raised his arms overhead obediently as she divested him of his shirt, she did the same as he stripped her. A quick flick of his fingers and the simple white bra she had was hanging off of her, the same with the zipper on her skirt. Her hands made their way to his belt and then to the button of his jeans, and then he was lifting his hips and assisting her as his pants came off; her panties and his briefs were next.
And then they were naked.
Looking at her, Kuon wondered if this was what Adam had felt when he looked at Eve for the first time. She was utterly perfect, a being separate from and yet part of him, rendering him blind to everything except the outline of her body. She burned bright in the room, leaving an afterimage of her body when he closed his eyes. For a second he just contemplated the line of her shoulder and the curves of her breasts, raking her over with his eyes until her nipples puckered further under his shameless gaze.
Though their play had resulted in skin-on-skin contact before, they'd always kept some semblance of clothing on. Part of it was location and timing—though their clearing by the river was bounded by the wilderness of Arashiyama's slopes, neither one of them were truly comfortable being fully nude outside. And though they'd spent their time together with Yayoi's blessing, Kuon and Kyoko still spent much of their time either running lines under the trees or reciting in his room. Though they frequently ended up entwined in each other, simply cornering Kyoko for sexual activity had never been Kuon's sole intent. Consequently, clothes had been bunched up, held out of the way, occasionally unbuttoned and discarded—but never all at once. Clothing was a restraint, a reminder that they had not yet chosen to undertake the final, extreme rite. Many times in the days since they first became intimate, the presence of Kyoko's panties had been the only things between her lubricious center and his turgid cock.
But now there was nothing between their bodies. For a while as their kiss deepened, Kyoko simply moved her hands up and down his sculpted body, feeling the strength and the power in his arms and down his muscled back. There was something thrilling about knowing that he could overpower her easily if he wanted to, how he could trap her and hold her down and she would have no way to fight back against his onslaught as he ravished her. The very idea made her pussy clench. She knew he would never touch her without her consent, but the idea excited her just the same. She felt her hard nipples graze against his torso and gasped at the electricity which traveled through that contact and into her pussy, which was already dripping and wet for him in anticipation of the pleasure he would bring.
He brought his leg up, using his thigh to part her legs, and now her slender limbs were spread wide beneath him as they kissed.
"You're sure?" he asked her, and again she whispered, "yes."
Soon his mouth was following what had become a familiar path to her, down her jaw and her neck and teasing the hardened tips of her nipples. This time, he held her legs wide open as he kissed up her opened thighs. She felt him leave a trail of wet kisses along her inner thighs which cooled in the air as he moved towards her core. "Kuon!" she cried, but he was sucking on the hollow between her legs and her mons. They had time today. They had time for him to spread her lips open and simply taste her without urgency, enough time for him to enjoy the sound of her moans and the feel of her skin before she disintegrated into one of her magnificent orgasms. He used his hands to spread her even wider, pushing her thighs apart almost to discomfort, until he could see the lips of her tight pussy spread to let some of her lubrication through. Staring at her center all the while, he used his fingers to spread her lips open further, and now he could see how elegant and trim she was, with her clit peeking out politely and pleading for attention.
She turned her head to the side and scrunched her eyes close under his scrutiny. He could see her desire for him, and she was ashamed of how greedy she was. Still, the prior days could not desensitize her to the feel of his tongue as it lapped at her core. He rested his head on her thigh and just the tip of his talented tongue reached out to lap at the bottom of her nether lips. One lick. A second, a third, a fourth, all agonizingly slow as she gasped under him, her hips undulating to a rhythm that ached to be faster. His hands slid themselves to cup her ass and he held her up like a drink of water, licking as she dripped for him like a honeycomb. He assiduously avoided her clit, intentionally stoking her into a begging mass of need. The tongue was soon joined by the lips, and she felt him latch his mouth onto her vulva, felt his lips trapping her labia between them as his tongue licked.
Just when she was about to beg for more, his finger joined. Just a single finger, long and elegant, teasing the wetness out of her and coating his hand with slick want. The entrance of his finger into her pussy was the beginning of the end for her. It moved in tandem with her hips, invading her, spreading her, preparing her. Soon he added a second finger to make her feel impossibly full. Being open like this in front of him made her feel like she truly was accepting defeat as his hands. Here is my body, she was telling him, I am yours to consume. The mouth and the fingers began to gain in speed and urgency and she heard herself gasping as her back began to arch towards Kuon's mouth. Faster, faster, her hips met his fingers as they curled upwards into that spot which made her cry out and which he knew how to find so well, and she was moaning his name as he held her down.
And then he stopped and took his fingers out of her dripping cunt, leaving her pumping her hips at the empty air.
"Kuon!" she cried.
"Not yet," he said, and she squealed in outrage. Soon he started again, slowly licking her as if she hadn't been clutching at him for her release just seconds ago. He was determined to leave her sodden and wet and begging for him—he knew how large he was, knew that even with all the foreplay in the world she would be what he euphemistically thought of as a tight fit. Again he built up the tension, skilfully licking at her folds, languorously pumping his fingers in and out as she squirmed and begged under him. Over and over, holding her open as he hunched over her center, she cried out his name and felt herself move towards the cliff, and he would stop.
"Please, Kuon," she said, "Please? Pleasepleaseplase…" She was moaning and begging, clutching at him, attempting to move her clit to where his tongue was licking. He was playing coy, teasing her into insanity. Finally, she felt a shift in his ministrations, his tongue finally at her center and his lips sucking her inwards. She cried out as his fingers kept moving in and out of her, drenched in her wetness and moving even as she clenched hard around him and her toes curled.
She came down from her orgasm and it wasn't enough. His fingers left her and she was left aching, aware that now she had a void that needed filling, wanting to take a certain step that she knew would close the gap.
He was painfully hard, she could see it. His cock rose up from the hard planes of his abdomen, up from the belt of Adonis, up from the well-muscled pillars of his thighs. She was feverish, gutted, exhausted from what he'd done and yet the intense look he gave her hadn't cooled. She'd flung her head back on the pillow, unable to raise it, but all her efforts to close her legs were stymied by the body that had wedged itself between them. Kuon's hand was at her hip, his other holding his cock and stroking it slowly before dipping it low between her legs, rubbing it against the wetness of her pussy. She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of it, steel-hard and yet so soft, large and turgid and so male.
He let go, climbing up her body again, resting his torso on her belly as he brought his mouth to stuckle at her breasts. He was taking his time, sucking them into his mouth and laving her nipples with his tongue. He made his way up to kiss her, and then his body was covering hers—his whole body, driving her legs apart, pinning her down. He began kissing her neck, licking it, sucking it, and she was moaning as he did, his fingers were fondling her breasts, as another hand held his cock as it rubbed against her labia.
This was, he supposed, the point of no return. He was poised at her entrance and she was wet and begging for him, her voice hoarse after the orgasm he'd given her with his mouth. He had serious doubts as to his longevity in this situation.
Kyoko could feel his hard length at her entrance, and then felt it as his head began to enter her. She felt a relentless pressure, a burning stretch, almost, as his thick cock parted her lips and moved further inside. She was gasping and whimpering as he sank into her, feeling her body open almost painfully to accommodate his hard length. It was slow—agonizingly slow, and then, with sudden brutality, she felt him suck on her neck with some force as his finger pinched her nipple. She cried out as he used the distraction to sheathe himself in her in a single, powerful thrust. Her back arched and she rose off the bed in response, hardly believing that he was well and truly within her.
Kyoko was clutching the sheets of the hotel room bed, her hands clenched into fists as his length made its way into her and then held perfectly still. All of her senses were centered at her core. Every nerve ending was crying out as her newly invaded pussy clenched around his conquering shaft. "Shhhh, Kyoko," he said, nuzzling into her hair. She could smell herself on him and she whimpered. She was ready for him, dripping for him, but he was large—much larger than the fingers to which he'd accustomed her to, and his entrance into her was marked with a stretching and a burning which she had not quite prepared herself for.
"Does it hurt?" he asked. "Let me know if you want to stop."
She whimpered, but shook her head 'no.' She wanted this. She wanted him. She could feel her pussy stretched around his cock obscenely, felt just how thick he was inside her. She clenched her pelvic muscles against the throbbing pain of his entry, and he groaned.
"Shhh, love, breathe." He kept soothing her with his hands, his fingers trailing circles up and down her arms and her shoulders and then down to her ass, where he positioned them so that they cradled her two cheeks. "Relax," he said, "I love you." With great effort, he stayed still, waiting for her body to stop its quivering, waiting for her legs to stop clenching around him, and then started peppering her with kisses. Gentle kisses, on her eyes and her lips and her neck, gliding his skin on hers, willing her, just by dint of his persistence, to feel his love and his affection. Mentally he counted to ten, and then twenty, trying to keep his own trembling at bay. As far as he was concerned, his wildest dreams were coming true. He felt his control buckle and waver, but for her sake, he kept calm and then continued counting to thirty before he asked "OK?"
She nodded 'yes' underneath him. She didn't know exactly when the invading limb stopped feeling like a burning brand, but as she relaxed into his caresses and felt herself lubricate further around him. What had been an uncomfortable stretch began feeling more like what she had imagined all the times he'd touched her with his fingers. If the essence of lust was a hungering emptiness, then this was the answer to it—a fullness, a centering of herself at the place where the two of them were joined. There was a rightness to this, a sense of animal instinct that was being satisfied. This is what her body was for—it was a receptacle for him and his seed, and the very idea that she had him inside her at last was enough to re-ignite the passion dampened by the pain. Tentatively, she moved her hips, feeling herself yield to his hardened flesh.
She didn't miss the almost feral grin that lit his face when he felt it.
And then he began the pleasure grist, moving slowly inside her. She felt like a clenched fist around him and he gritted his teeth, willing himself into sanity. It was a tall order, a difficult order—six years into self-imposed celibacy and fucking the love of his life bareback should be enough to drive even the most disciplined of men insane. But he'd be damned if he fucked this up. She felt so good and so wet and so fucking tight that he was at the edge of his reason, but the very last thing he wanted was to hurt her or have her look back on their first joining with any degree of regret or discomfort. So he watched her as her body received his own, savoring all her tiny sounds and whimpers and moans, on and on as his thrusts grew longer, and faster, and more urgent.
She gasped when he first started moving inside her, losing herself to the feeling of their coupling. He started slowly, setting off small explosions as he held her close, and then the world disappeared. It was just her and just him and this delicious friction that had set her on fire. She could hear him panting above her, and she opened her eyes to see him gazing at her as if she were the only woman in the world. "Touch me," he growled, and her hands shook as she let go of the sheet. Instead, she moved her hands around his neck and then onto his muscled back. She looked down at where their bodies joined, fascinated, watching as the muscles of his abdomen tensed and released and undulated with the movement of his hips. His shaft was inserted into her, distending her nether lips which clung to him as he moved in and out.
He was driving her to the stars in a way that was unknown and dangerous and she willingly submitted herself to it. She was lost in the sensation of being surrounded by him, of being claimed by him, she hadn't even noticed when her legs wound themselves around him as her body arched to meet his thrusts. She sought his mouth for kisses, he gave them to her, and then she was nuzzling her head into his shoulder for comfort as his pace grew faster and faster. For a while she tried not to cry out, sucking and licking and kissing him on his neck where his pulse beat, wanting more contact with him. But the unrelenting pressure continued and she had to throw her head back as she lost control. In the end it was hopeless and she cried out her pleasure into the open air. She heard a guttural voice crying out, moaning, begging, screaming his name, and only realized it was her when he called out her name in response. His green eyes held her gaze as she built towards orgasm and she didn't recognize the man who stared back at her. Glazed with lust and half-mad, he held her down and redoubled his thrusts.
His hand came down in between them and found her clit, and she was lost. There was nothing else beyond his hips and his mouth and his hands, and she clung to him like a life raft as the orgasm took hold of her and brought her under. He drove into her over and over just to see her moan.
The feel of her pulsing around him was enough to obliterate all thought of gentlemanly reserve. He was barely hanging on, anyway, and watching her in the throes of orgasm destroyed whatever control he had left. He grit his teeth and kept going, reveling in the pleasure of her body and forgetting that he meant to go slow. She was still clutching him, her fingernails digging deep into his arms and then onto his back as she held on for dear life, but he was getting closer and her pussy felt so fucking good. He grabbed her legs and brought them up to his shoulders, pile-driving into her and forcing her to take his length. He took long strokes, pulling out just to see her lips cling to his cock, and then pushing back into her as she convulsed. He felt her soft body yield as he took his pleasure from her, taking satisfaction from watching her eyes roll back. He pushed her harder into ecstasy as she cried out over and over again. He felt himself compulsively pushing and thrusting deep into her as the world exploded, filling her with his cum. Another orgasm overtook her as she felt his cock spasm inside her, feeling the sudden rush of warmth from his seed. Kuon looked down at her. This was his wife, his soul, his partner. Wherever else this life took them, whether she followed him back to Tokyo, or to LA, or he followed her back to Kyoto, she was his and he was hers and nothing in the world would ever change that. He felt himself collapse into her arms and for a while they were still. He was still half-hard, still inside her, and he could feel how her limbs trembled as the tension left them.
Their bodies were covered with a fine sheen of sweat, both hers and his, and fine tendrils of her hair curled and clung to her face and neck. She could feel her heart beat so hard she wondered if he could see its outline in her chest. He didn't want to leave her just yet, but rested atop her while keeping as much of his weight off as he could, gently straightening the locks from her face and arranging her hair on the pillow.
Kyoko looked up into his face, which was dazed and flushed and took a trembling hand as she pushed a lock of his hair back. Her body felt drained—she felt as weak as a newborn kitten, her limbs turned into jelly. She felt his cum leaking out as he slipped out of her, the feeling of it enough to make her blush. She smiled weakly as he bent down to her, kissing her gently. Neither one of them wanted to speak, the moment seemed too holy for words. It seemed cheap to profane it with questions, or statements, or anything that would pop the bubble of magic they floated in. Eventually he moved to her side and brought his arms around her, pulling her close so that her back was flush against his chest. She snuggled in closer, relishing the warmth of his bare skin, surrendering her hands into his much larger ones. His fingers curled around hers as if they belonged there. She couldn't bring herself to regret what they'd done. She couldn't bring herself to doubt him. Let the world come later, she thought, and she felt his breath on her hair as she gave herself up to sleep.
=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=
Author's Note: Thank you for reading! First lemon! What did you think? Reviews are always treasured :)
With my body… - The 1552 Book of Common Prayer
"He was now in…" - Delta of Venus, Anais Nin. BY THE WAY—I REALLY wanted this epigraph to be "Bring a bucket and a mop for this w** a** pu***" but then I figured it might be in bad taste? XD