Thank you, James, for reading and letting me know what you think. This one is for you.
Summary: Her hypnotic, feminine magnetism was too much, even for him.
He was sat on a chair as soon as Tohru had seen him come in the dressing room, and was told to relax as she put the last of her… gear on the table beside him.
He had to come in for a shoot, as the model who was originally supposed to be present decided to be a no-show. He had decided to become a part-time model when his agent discovered him as he was helping out at a takoyaki stand (long story,) and he had thought… well why not. It was another source of income while he was still in university.
Tohru had been so excited for him, and since she had incidentally been studying makeup and hairdressing, she had offered to become his stylist as she had wanted to put her knowledge to good use. It was hard to turn her down (not that he had been planning to in the first place,) with how enthusiastic and excited she had been for him, and he had been looking forward to her showing off her skills.
And she had talent. Real, honest-to-goodness talent, and the skills to back it up. It had been a real pleasure seeing her grow from a shy, if a bit of a naïve girl to a young woman brimming with confidence. Seeing her in her element had always brought him delight.
And the harder he fell for her every single day.
Having known each other for quite some time brought a level of comfort and any walls between them were gone – she could touch him as freely as she wanted to and he would never mind. Her work required her to be physical with him… a lot, and the first few times had brought them a lot of awkwardness until they had laughed it off together.
But as he got used to it and his feelings for her grew from admiration to love, he found that it was getting harder for him to resist grabbing her around the waist and letting his lips speak for himself. His conscience and his firm principle on being a gentleman for Honda Tohru wouldn't let him act on it.
"I need to trim your eyebrows a bit, Momiji. Don't worry, I won't make you look like a girl." She joked as she pulled out a rather slightly intimidating eyebrow trimmer with the small blade glinting in the light.
He laughed, trying to ignore the blade. "We both know I can pull off being a girl."
Tohru sighed, shaking her head playfully. "As much as I would like to deny that… it actually is true." She hovered over him then and he hid his sharp intake of breath. "Now then, I'll need to do my job. Just relax, this is just the usual okay?"
"Sure." Yeah. Easier said than done. He grumbled mentally, feeling his senses beginning to fog as she leaned over to him, face to face, her breath fanning across his forehead, her subtle lavender scent surrounding him. It was another battle of keeping his hands to himself which he curled around the arms of his seat to keep himself from losing his grip on his control.
He had always been a patient man. At least that's what he had known himself to be. But when it came to her… he just struggled to contain himself. He supposed it was because he liked her too much, but that was still no excuse. He had to find a way to tell her how he felt before he completely loses it.
He could feel her shift around him and the blade work its way across his eyebrow. He had closed his eyes to have some measure of control over himself (and to better help himself focus) but he felt the blade slide over a rough patch of skin and there was slight pain.
"Oh no. Did that hurt? Sorry Momiji!" Tohru exclaimed, grabbing tissues as he opened his eyes and he shook his head immediately.
"No, not much. It's just a little sting." He assured her, as she gently pinched the offended area, probably trying to see if there was blood. "Really, it's okay."
Their gazes met – hers worried, his reassuring – and it felt like time stopped. Her expression morphed slowly from worry to wonder, and he tried to conceal his emotions even as his brain slowly stopped functioning properly. The combination of her chocolate-brown eyes, her scent and her hypnotic, feminine magnetism was too much, even for him.
In the end, he wasn't actually sure who leaned in first. All he can remember that day was her soft lips and her red cheeks.
