Pairing: Ootori Kyouya/Suou Tamaki
Warnings: breath play including mild strangulation and lower abdominal asphyxiation, blow job
Prompt: Ouran High School Host Club, Kyouya/Tamaki: breathplay - “I hate it when things don’t go my way. It makes me so...horny...”
Summary: That time of year when the cherry blossoms are blooming and love has a tendency to come along with it...
Notes: It started out, in the first paragraph, being a story told by Kyouya but in the second person. And then, all of a sudden, it was Tamaki relating something back to Kyouya, like Kyouya might not remember it. I kinda like the way it came out, but I feel like, if I had worked on it harder, I could have taken it better places.
Her name was Chigayaki Mika, and she was beautiful in her own way. She’d been attending the Host Club for something close to a quarter of the year, and you had noticed her in your own way, but had never thought you’d be propositioned to sit with her. For the most part, she was a quiet girl; we had a few classes together, and you knew her mother was a popular model and her father a software programmer—one of the students on the poorer side of the school, just making tuition and working hard to continue her attendance. She was just as quiet over tea, but seemed interested in nearly everything you could think to say, offering very little about herself.
By her fifth attendance asking for you, I had noticed. It wasn’t anything obtrusive or rude, like the way I would notice Haruhi had a new attendant costumer, but you noticed: the way my attention would wain from the girl I was entertaining, the way I would frown when you would laugh, the way I wouldn’t bring it up. You knew what I was thinking, I suppose, and said nothing; Mika-chan was a nice girl, and even if she was a bit infatuated, nothing was going to happen, that we both knew.
Still, when it came to that time of year when the cherry blossoms are blooming and love has a tendency to come along with it, and I saw you lean in to kiss her in the hallway behind the art room, I rushed in upon you both, pulled you away, dragged you to our abandoned music room where there was nothing but the noise of our shoes on the tiles and the strange sound you made when I pushed you onto one of the couches in the tiny practice room that attached to the main parlor.
I remember, your breath was quiet then, slipping past parted lips. I remember hoping she would never touch your lips, and I leaned down over you on the couch and did not kiss you but inhaled your air and exhaled for you to breathe.
“Tamaki,” you grumbled in protest, and I knew that tone, as intimately as if it were a lover, and the words that follow it. Your hands touched my stomach, and I made a noise I would never admit to aloud. “We can’t—”
“I hate it when things don’t go my way,” I said, and most likely pouted, and touched your throat. Your breath rattled from your lips, faster and louder than before, and you knew the words that were coming, knew what my hands were there for. “It makes me so...horny...”
“Tamaki, nothing was going to happen.”
My hands touched the round of your throat, my fingers pressed, and your eyes fluttered. I felt your breath on my lips.
The tiles of the floor met my back, cold and unforgiving, and the world spun. You breathed the air back into me, a ghost of humid air over my lips, and I drank it in. I thought of Mika-chan, of her lips against yours, and when your hands pressed against the bulge low on my ribs, I wondered if she would understand your need for this control, your want to do this. I thought, then, as you stole the air and pressed it back into your mouth, that she wouldn’t.
Before you loosened my tie, you tightened it, until I gasped and gagged a little. I remember, you laughed a little, quiet against my mouth, and I struggled out of my jacket as you removed my tie but did not unbutton a single button on my shirt. Your hands went to my belt. I moaned, and you quieted me with a hiss.
“What if someone comes in?”
“Resuscitation? I was feeling faint from the heat.”
“Idiot,” you whispered affectionately, and I smiled at the ceiling as you pulled off my slacks and underwear. Your hands were hot through my shirt, and I sighed from my belly as you kissed the tops of my thighs and pressed down against bulge of my ribs.
After a moment, just as my breathing got ragged and terrible and I began to move against the floor, you asked, “Do you like this, Tamaki?”
“Yes,” I whispered, but it sounded loud too my ears, sounded pitiful and desperate. You pressed down, and I chanted, “Yes, yes, yes, yes, always.”
You swallowed to the root, and I screamed without very much air as you pressed, and sucked, and controlled me.
I thought of Mika-chan, of her lips on you like this, as I gasped for air and the world went all colorful and fuzzy and then dark around the edges, as your hands slipped up my chest with your mouth over my shirt, and you pressed your thumbs against my pulse, against my throat, and I couldn’t gasp for air. You were hard against me, rubbing your crotch against mine, and it was everything I had always hated about the idea of sex, but you made it alright, with your hands. I thought of her mouth on you and I wept.
“Tamaki,” you called, from far away. Your breath rattled against my lips and never made it further. “Tamaki.”
“Nothing was going to happen,” you told me, and I smiled as my eyes slid shut. You took your thumbs off my pulse and held me by the ears as the world swam back into focus.
I smiled then, as the air rushed back to me and my head swam, and I told you, “Because you were always smiling, but you never touched her.”
And then you kissed me, like you always do, and the world swam for an entirely different reason. And that was just as good, as well.