Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club
Word Count: 954
Prompt: how very interesting
Haruhi always watches his fascination with rapt attention of her own.
Kyouya hovers above her. He is squinting slightly to compensate for the myopia that just begins to blur her body at this distance, but his eyes are intense and focused upon her face, no glasses to hide them.
He does nothing without measuring her reaction. Fingertips across her skin are an experiment and the barely perceptible widening of her eyes the result. There is an odd innocence to it, a curiosity that is almost childish, but the slow smirk that spreads across his face at a reaction he particularly enjoys is not innocent at all.
This time he begins by drawing fingernails across her calf and taking hold of her ankle. His lips brush along the side of her foot, and he circles the talus bone once with his thumb. Haruhi inhales sharply and instinctively jerks away from the tickling sensation; but his grip is firm, and she is forced to relent. He shifts his hold to kiss the top of her foot, ghosts his breath up her shin, and presses his lips to her kneecap.
Kyouya’s other hand joins the exploration on her untouched thigh, and both trail over skin to hook thumbs in the waistband of her underwear. His eyes flash up to meet hers, and Haruhi can only stare and try to keep her breathing deep and steady. He slides his hands around between her body and the bedsheets and presses against the small of her back. Her heels dig in on either side of him, and she obediently lifts her hips away from the mattress. His fingers curl in the fabric and pull it down to her ankles with one quick jerk.
She makes a small noise at this, mostly smothered in her throat, and he leans forward as if straining to hear more. His wish is granted; the noise becomes a reluctant whimper when Kyouya suddenly ducks his head and touches his open mouth to the inside of her leg, both too close and not nearly close enough all at once. She feels his mouth close into a smirk well before she sees the self-satisfied glint in his eyes, and he skirts purposefully over her thigh and stomach, exhaling slowly against her skin all the while.
He pauses here to consider his next action, tracing an idle line back and forth with his thumb and watching her attempt to steady herself once more. When she has recovered, Haruhi watches as well, a similar look of subtle enthrallment playing behind her eyes. This happens often with them; all movement ceases abruptly and they both stare as though the other is some strange creature or surrealist work of art, a proper subject for thorough study.
Then his gaze angles downward, and that is all the warning Haruhi has before the tip of his tongue dips into her navel.
“Ah!” she cries, a surprised murmur in the dark, and she closes her eyes to avoid watching him watch her as she pulls the sheet taut beneath her clenched hands and squirms. The sensation is strange – he has never done that before – and she cannot decide if it is pleasant or not, but it makes her quiver and flex her toes against the bed, biting her bottom lip for silence.
Kyouya hums against her, sending vibrations through her abdomen and making her fidget further. It may have been his version of a laugh, smug amusement at her discomfort, but she does not open her eyes to see. Not yet.
Only when his weight shifts back and his touch vanishes does she look, just in time to see him reach forward again and settle his hands beside her shoulders.
This is a familiar position. But now it is she who is laid bare, and there are no pretenses or merits for her to see through this time. Only her visceral reactions to proximity and touch and a pair of piercing grey eyes.
His left knee shifts and presses between her legs where the rub of coarse, black denim is an almost unbearable point of contact.
She gasps and barely notices him sliding the straps of her bra down her arms, not bothering to remove the garment, only to push it out of the way. His tongue is hot against her revealed flesh as it traces a trail between her breasts and up to her neck. A finger beneath her chin tilts her head back and exposes her further, and he presses his mouth to the hollow of her throat, relishing in the taste of her pounding pulse.
Haruhi’s hands twist brutally in the sheets. Her hips thrust once, impulsively, against Kyouya’s leg.
He pulls back and his gaze flickers up to her face. Her eyes are closed again. Kyouya slides his hand along her side and down to her waist. “Look at me,” he mumbles. Her eyes open slowly, wide and brown, and the moment they meet his he pushes his long fingers inside of her.
She cries out, and her hands reach suddenly toward him, digging nails into his shoulders and pulling him closer.
And that is the sign, the surrender, the end of the watching and waiting game. Kyouya closes his own eyes and leans down to kiss her, flexes his hand until she comes, shuddering and clenching around him.
When she stills, he brushes his lips against her shoulder as he backs away, a rare affectionate gesture, and the usual quiet overtakes the room once again.
Haruhi lies where she is and waits for her breath and heartbeat to slow. Then she rolls over and plants her hands on either side of Kyouya’s neck. It is her turn to observe.
(Originally posted here.)