Work Text:
Byakuya’s bedroom lacked the library’s wealth of documents but its seclusion made up for it. No one waltzed in, neglecting to close the door behind them. No one scraped their fingers across book spines, footsteps muffled but audible. No one gulped, coughed, squelched their lips, yawned, or ground chair legs against the carpet. Most of all, no one spoke. If he left for the library prior to the morning announcement, as he had today, Byakuya could retrieve reading material without interacting with anyone at any point.
Retreats to his room were kept sparse. An armful of books paled in comparison to a room loaded with information, even if long exposures to its dust and dimness gave him headaches. Intensive research in his living quarters proved problematic, but lighter work fared well. Incredibly well if, like today, he brought a single book.
The doorbell rang.
Someone desired his presence. Byakuya continued reading. Monobear broadcasted anything important and his peers possessed enough sense to leave him alone. All but two exceptions. Neither deserved his attention.
Makoto sought him for ‘bonding’ sessions: a pathetically transparent facade. Scoping out the competition under the guise of friendship, predictable behaviour from someone with no talent to his name. After all, what else could he do but wait to be picked off? His malleable scheme played into Byakuya’s hands. In exchange for Byakuya recounting past achievements, feats that would propel all opponents into hopeless despair, Makoto divulged personal information conducive to gaining an upper hand. Despite attending the school due to sheer luck, no one could deny Makoto’s contributions towards the murder investigations and trials. Such a phenomenon needed surveillance. Not a lot though.
Byakuya turned the page.
That left Touko. Flitting in and out of his vision when not tailing him like a dog. A nuisance. A complete nuisance. Dribbling. Blushing. Only tolerable when hidden away in a corner reading, dirty lilac eyes spying when she thought his attention lay elsewhere. Or when searching for split ends as she sat hunched over lined paper filled with cramped handwriting, margins scribbled in and words scratched out. Or when she chewed the end of her braid, hairs straying over the mole on the left side of her chin.
On second thought, her entire existence distracted him. She would be bearable only in death, rotting below his feet. Where he couldn’t hear inane ramblings, broken with ragged breaths and fabric rubbing. Pitiful antics from a supposed genius. Emotional attachments didn’t belong in a battlefield. What a nuisance.
And that didn’t begin to touch upon her other personality.
Ringing disturbed the silence once more. Byakuya glowered, book shutting on his finger as he stood up. Persistent pest. Leaving a note under his door would suffice, instead of disrupting him from his business. Granted, he had no obligation to conform with the note’s content, but he would read it at his leisure.
He strolled over to the door, unlocked it and glared into the hallway. Exception Number Two stood, arms laden with small red-and-green cardboard boxes. Boxes with gormless cartoon cats printed onto them.
Fitting, considering their owner.
“Byakuya-sama... Y-You haven’t left your room all day. I,” she looked up, “thought you m-might be hungry, so I-”
“You thought? Don’t assume I’m anything other than perfection.” Byakuya jutted out his chin, noting that she had called him Byakuya-sama. That was new. “Even when you’re nearby, I’m perfectly irritated.”
What a sight. Crawling to his domain, self-burdened with concern over his well-being. Head bowed and fingers meshed, had she no shame? Disgusting. A stain on his sight.
“Apparently you lack the ability to analyse simple statements,” he said. “I shall parse it into terms someone of your calibre should understand. Go away.”
Touko wedged her foot into the closing gap. “You need to eat!”
Byakuya raised his eyebrows. Disobeying a direct command... he hadn’t expected that. Interesting.
“Let me guess.” He crossed his arms, book tucked under his armpit. “You’ve been loitering outside my door since morning.”
“Maybe...”
His frown deepened.
“... Yes,” Touko confessed. “If... If you don’t want a meal, pl-please accept these.” Boxes thumped as she shook her arms. Upon closer inspection, boxes of candy. Rice candy. “I... I could feed you if you’re busy! I’ll be sure to wash my filthy hands thoroughly.” She hugged the boxes against her chest, eyes unfocused. “I’ll inundate them with scalding water, scrub them with soap... until they’re raw... blistering... bleeding...”
“Can you not control your mouth and brain simultaneously? Injuring yourself will only awaken Genocider Syo.” Still. A tempting offer, having skipped the last two meals. This way, he avoided meeting stupidity in the cafeteria and resumed reading sooner. “I expect your hands to be immaculate. If, no, you undoubtedly are, carrying scissors on your person, leave them in my bathroom. Holster and all.”
Had she been rooted to the spot a second longer, she would have barged into the door. Touko scampered past and disappeared into his bathroom.
Boxes thudded.
Water hissed.
Byakuya settled onto his bed, pushing his toes against the heel of his shoes to remove them.
Footwear hit the floor.
He removed his jacket and slotted it in between the headboard and his pillow. Laying down his head, he stared at the ceiling until he heard Touko clamber out of the bathroom.
She pressed her cheek against the doorframe, feet bare.
“Unless you’re secretly Kuwata and plan on throwing candy into my mouth,” Byakuya patted the space beside his hip, “sit next to me.”
Jogging towards him, she made it halfway before stumbling. Her feet pounded in an attempt to steady their owner, sending her zigzagging. Byakuya swiveled his shoulder away as boxes tumbled.
A few bounced off his legs. He swatted at them. “Idiot.”
“Sorry-sorry-sorry!” Touko scooped them into a pile, ducking to collect those that missed the bed. “I’m so clumsy. Y-You should punish me. Such ineptitude requires disciplinary action... heavy-handed disciplinary action...”
It made no difference his bed obscured her face from view. He didn’t need to see to know. Chin streaked with drool, eyes vacant as she hugged herself as though to prevent collapse, conduct she exhibited far too regularly. In that she exhibited it at all.
“Cease your groveling. It's more pitiful than usual. They have to be placed somewhere within reach and this is the closest surface. Or do you intend to stack them on your head?” Byakuya opened his book and skimmed down the page. “You may feed me now. Don’t speak unless spoken to. There’s no point in eating if you’re going to make me throw it up with your babbling.”
The mattress shifted as she sat down. Cardboard rustled and ripped. Noise which swiftly subsided when pink candy met Byakuya’s lips. He let it in, crunching. Its clear coating dissolved as his teeth drew apart, subtly sweet citrus replacing a hint of bitterness. Turning the page, he chewed its soft centre. Touko withdrew her hand, plopping a cube of candy into her mouth.
Neither spoke. He read, she fed him. An ideal arrangement. Her fingers brushed his lips as she supplied more food. Fingers tinged with the candy’s flavour. What else she did while he ate, Byakuya didn’t care enough to check. Knowing her, she gawked at his face. That explained the volume of her breathing. Annoying yet understandable, considering his handsomeness. And in close proximity as well. Most people would be mesmerised. Besides, if it shut her up, he couldn’t comp-
She bent over and kissed him.
Byakuya widened his eyes. His book's pages flicked together. Kissed. Touko Fukawa. Kissed. Lips. Him. And she straightened up, reaching for another box as if nothing happened. When it did. Because she kissed him. Byakuya Togami. Kissed. On the lips. Like nothing happened.
Candy dropped from Touko’s fingers. “B-Byakuya-sama?” She gulped. “I... You looked s-so p-peaceful, engrossed in your b-book... Ah! I wasn’t supposed to speak, was I? And I s-spoke again... and again... and again... I’ve trapped myself in a paradox...”
“You kissed me.”
“S-S-Sorry! You were puckering y-your lips, a-and f-fondling m-m-my f-fingers with your tongue...”
He sat up, his book slumping from his hold. “You kissed me!”
She whined, ruffling her hair.
“Without asking! Without declaration! You,” Byakuya held up his fists, “caught me off guard.”
“I’m so bad! Bad, bad, bad!” Touko clapped. “Unleash your wrath onto me... I deserve it... P-Pummel me, Byakuya-sama! Ravage my body with your anger!”
He grabbed her braids. She sighed. Really, turned on even now? Fools. Both of them fools. Him for letting it happen - for letting it startle him - and her for thinking she could get away with it. No, he would pay her back. Tenfold. In kind.
Touko whimpered. She expected him to resort to violence? How insulting.
Twisting his grip, Byakuya pulled Touko’s face to his and inhaled her lemon-orange breath.
Boxes toppled as he then pushed into her so she fell backward onto the bed with him on top. Their arms crashed against the mattress, his hands pinning down her wrists. Torsos clashed. A jolt rushed down his body from where she moaned into him. Under his hold she twitched, and she writhed upon feeling his smile.
Victory. Byakuya raised his head, panting.
Her toes found his chest and curled into the fabric. Touko jerked her knees up his stomach and untucked his shirt. Coolness slithered across his skin as she hooked her legs around him. She tugged him back down, uncharacteristically bold.
He kissed her again, harder this time, flinging away his glasses when they clinked against hers. Emptiness left by an absence of two meals, that was what weighed his body onto hers. That explained why he ached to satisfy his hunger using any available substitute. It surged through him, heating his face and spreading to everywhere else. Because otherwise-
Heels stabbed into his back. Their lips grazed and Touko moaned as Byakuya dipped his tongue into her open mouth. Releasing her wrists, hoping they weren’t bruised, he propped himself up onto his elbows and cupped her cheeks. Tingling followed her palms’ journey up his sleeves. Her hands slipped under his shirt. Purring accompanied each stroke to his chest, acknowledged by him grinding against her.
His fingers skittered to the bottom of her blouse, creeping under and towards her bra.
Byakuya yelped when her nails sunk into him.
She splayed out her fingers. “D-Did I hurt you?”
Removing his hands from her body, he ascended and crouched over her groin. “That’s irrelevant.” Yes, she hurt him, and it should have been a bad thing. “Did I?”
She shook her head. “Y-You surprised me. Pl-Please continue. If you want, I mean! W-Whatever you want is what I want.”
Get up. Demand she depart and never utter a single word about what transpired. Pretend he spent the day reading in solitude. Let these events thrive in her mind and her mind only.
Emotional attachments don’t belong in a battlefield.
Barely saturated eyes stared into his, splotchy blush broadening below. Not the perverted blush he was accustomed to - that he loathed, that he spurned. Blush which he could taste in the puffs of air she leaked. In the moisture sticking her fringe to her forehead. Even in him - in his lungs, igniting everything. Craving for more.
More... of her.
Returning his hands to her blouse, he bunched it up under her chin. His fingertips caressed her stomach, gliding over bumps and bone. He hesitated at her bra, thumb twiddling the bow on the centre front gore. It was more embellished than he expected: over the cups’ red material lay black webby string creating floral patterns. Had she anticipated this while it never passed his mind once?
“I don’t spend much of what I earn.” She glanced downward. “But I allowed myself... this... I thought it would make people like me... but they treated me the same. Nothing I wore made me any less ugly to them... and I couldn’t flaunt it like the girls at school... so I saved this f-for whenever I wanted to feel like all the pretty girls everyone adores... upbeat and self-assured...”
“That’s stupid.”
Touko gasped but soon relaxed her face. “I’m... stupid.”
“You improve upon who you are, not pretend to be something you’re not. Otherwise you’re not bettering yourself, and it’s yourself you’re stuck being in the end.” Steadying his hands, Byakuya reached beneath her and located the bra’s hook and eye closure. Touko arched her back after several failed attempts to unfasten it, falling onto the bed once he managed to unfasten her bra.
The bed quaked as she hauled her blouse over her head and out of sight, bra knocked askew. Byakuya swallowed. Dead bodies he could deal with. Didn’t bat an eyelid at them. But Touko was alive. Not well-endowed like the women he overheard certain students fantasize about. Quite the opposite.
Yet he almost regretted taking his glasses off.
“Byakuya-sama...” Touko seized his wrists and pulled him forward, resting his hands onto her breasts. He stirred, adjusting his grip and squeezing. Then again, drawing lines towards her areolas, back and forth. Stroking.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, clenched her thighs against his waist and pulled at him again.
His nose bumped into her collarbone, into the musty scent of old books and ink. Byakuya bucked his head back and came forward on his own free will, and trailed his tongue down to her right nipple that hardened under his lapping, her other breast teased with feathery touches and the occasional grope.
Touko grasped his scalp, scratching him, clawing when his hand and mouth swapped places. Byakuya grunted at the burning sensation but carried on, nibbling and squeezing her breasts while she panted and whined happily.
Then, untangling her fingers from his hair, she shoved her hands against his shoulders. The saliva chain linking his mouth to her collapsed as he lurched back. Before he could question her, Touko seated herself onto his lap and leaned towards him. Without thinking, he leaned back in response, and to stop from falling flat on his back, he speared his elbow into the bed, other arm clinging loosely to her.
None of this made an iota of sense. What happened to the blithering mess that greeted him at the door? That he saw on a daily basis? That yielded to him, his will, not the opposite way around?
Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
She pinched each strap consecutively off her shoulders and held up her bra like a prize, allowing it to flutter before she hurled it away, only faltering when she reached toward her skirt. Byakuya clasped her hand. Together they dragged the waistband down her legs, past the tally marks scarred into her skin. Past her knees and to her ankles, after which she wiggled and kicked off her skirt. Almost naked, she settled onto his lap again and he shifted his hips back, wincing at the tension in his lower region.
“I’m such a dirty girl...” Biting her bottom lip, Touko drew a circle against Byakuya’s trembling thigh with her thumb. His gaze flickered. Her panties matched her discarded bra. And her face. And probably his face as well. God damn it. “Imagine if everyone knew... what we’re doing right now...”
Right now consisted of her taking off his tie before unbuttoning his shirt from the top, fumbling so badly that he rolled his eyes and straightened up to help. His shirt gone, she salivated at his exposed chest, and Touko grabbed his collar and soon his shirt lay on the floor in a ball which he might have found sexier had she refrained from wearing that ugly wet expression of hers. She didn’t look so bad when she read. He would even go as far as to say she looked nice then.
Just not out loud.
“Byakuya-sama doesn’t attempt to resist... perhaps he’s as dirty as I am...” She fiddled with his belt, unzipping his fly and poking at the opening. “What... What kind of man does that make him?”
One that loomed over her on all fours once he slammed Touko’s shoulders into the mattress.
“I’m not a man who will be d-dominated by filth like you.” Oh God. He stuttered. He actually stuttered. The idea of submitting to anyone, especially her, revolted him to the core. Whether he received pleasure from said revulsion in any way was a matter he refused to contemplate. “To think I could be bent to the whims of a worthless stick insect. Such a disgusting thought,” he descended, wafting words across her lips, “from a disgusting mouth.”
“Ah... wah...”
Byakuya blinked. Some of his anger drained away. “What is it?”
“Questioning your authority... I’m so bad... I deserve to be tied up... gagged... spanked...”
‘Ugly wet’ no longer aptly described what lay beneath him. Hideously damp appropriately described her current all-too-familiar demeanour. But why? Why the change in the first place. Why the sudden reversion. Opposed by his response, she relented and degenerated to passiveness. Readily, as if...
... as if she employed such assertiveness with the intention to be countered by his own to a greater extent. And got what she wanted.
Byakuya lifted his head, refusing to make eye contact.
“If this is to you mere fodder for your delusions, you can go,” he said. “I’m not going to reinforce them.”
“Eh?”
Eye contact was remade. “Your infatuation is rational. After all, I am intelligent. Confident. Handsome. I boast all aptitudes for success. The predicament we have been forced into enables me to frequently exhibit my abilities while others succumb to the pressures and anxieties our situation induces.” He waved a hand. “Inevitably, you latched onto the idea of me. A knight in shining armour or some equivalent. While I can’t deny its advantages,” he averted his gaze, “I didn’t foresee how detrimental it would prove upon backfiring. I’m an escape for you, like your writing. No. Not even that. What you deceive yourself into thinking I am. I’ll never be what you want me to be. I’ll always be me in the end. I’m not going to change for you or anyone else.”
“That’s... fine... but n-not totally correct...”
His focus snapped back to her.
“I thought you were good... too good to be true... but it didn’t stop me... and still doesn’t,” she admitted. “When you revealed my secret, I realised... no matter what I pin onto you, you’re always you underneath. And I like that. Intelligent... Confident... Handsome... like you said.” She fidgeted. “But also real... logical, blunt... I don’t want you to change for me... and I don’t expect you to.” She touched his cheek with her palm. “I’m... n-not that crazy.”
“Fukawa...” He placed his hand on top of the one she put on his cheek. Seeing a person meant one thing. Seeing through someone another. And seeing into them a different thing entirely. “The invitation to leave remains open, but you have permission,” he squeezed, “to stay.”
Touko captured his hand between both of hers and directed his hand to between her thighs. Elastic pinged against his nails. Damp. Her panties were damp. Because of him. They absorbed each other’s gazes, realisation dawning as the whirlwind of accumulated events settled.
All this, due to what, exactly?
Because of candy. Because he chose to read in his room. Because he... Touko... self-burdened with concern... distracting him with her existence...
She stared, hushed. Voluntarily compliant, no matter how he treated her.
Byakuya furrowed his brow and nodded once.
Spreading out her legs, Touko clutched his fingers and pulsed them evenly against her panties. Her other hand laced through his hair, tugging him closer, pressing his lips onto hers. He bound her braids to her scalp with a clenched fist as he tilted her head to the side. His lips glided from her mouth to her neck, his breath rapping against her skin. Then he let go of her braids so he could explore her arm’s goosebumps - goosebumps elicited by him.
Shivering and letting out small chirps, she alternated between patting his fingers against herself and rubbing them in circles, picking up speed when he sucked at her skin, gently biting, until she plunged their hands beneath the fabric.
The texture that met his strokes reminded him of the inside of his cheeks, barring the coarse hair his skin brushed by. His pinkie finger and thumb closed into his palm under Touko’s grip, her pressure lessening as she relinquished control to the point where her hand simply rode his knuckles. For a while, both only breathed heavily, too absorbed in the feel of the other to be interested in conversation, until they got used to the sensation and became painfully aware of what was happening.
He was fingering her, to put it bluntly.
Byakuya craned his neck and found her ear. “You do this all the time, dirtying yourself while you write those salacious books you revere.” His hand shifted to what felt like a nub, and she melted further into him. “Penning those filthy daydreams that flourish in your filthy mind, one hand against paper and another under the desk. I wonder how many schoolyard crushes you’ve fingered yourself over.”
Couldn’t even respond, unless one counted the unintelligible noises she squeezed out. He brought his face to hers, leering. Basking in how her knees clamped against him, squirming at his touch. How she squinted, teeth flashing when he thrust a finger inside her. Out and in, repeating, another digit soon joining the first. His thumb massaged where his fingers had been and Touko stained his bedsheets with sweat.
“I bet you make yourself wet every night over me. Imagining your sick fantasies and getting off to the mental image of my face. What was it you said? Tying you up... gagging... spanking...” Each syllable rattled through her as his fingers curled and hit a rounded ridged area.
She shrieked.
Byakuya paused to appreciate the bedrooms were soundproof.
From what he could deduce from her stammering, she wanted more. His fingers twitched. She definitely wanted more.
“You would like that, wouldn’t you? If I degraded myself to your level. How revolting.” The word rolled off his tongue and spilled onto her, joining all the other adjectives she embodied. “Accusing everyone of lewdness when you reek of your own perversions... with me as the focal point...”
He smirked, relishing how she wallowed in his mercy.
“You piece of trash.”
Convulsions consumed her body as she flexed backward. Byakuya stared, chest heaving. Immersed in his monologue, he must have forgotten to breathe. He felt as winded as she looked. Gazing at the ceiling with that ugly wet expression of hers, only... not so ugly.
Fingers slick, he pushed them into her mouth. “Suck.”
No further prompting required. Obedient as always, slathering like a dog. He withdrew his hand and once he ascertained he had her attention, he swirled his tongue around his spit veiled skin.
“Byakuya-sama...” They rose together, her kneeling between his legs. “L-Let me...”
Flush dispersed to the rest of her body as she traced over his unbuckled belt. Byakuya peered at her wandering touch. Then at her face. Then down again.
“Hold up your palms,” he said.
Had someone informed him he would one day do what he was about to do, he would have selected them as the next trial’s victim. Merely entertaining the notion someone of his status would commit such an action - no. It warranted no acknowledgement.
He spat onto her hands as he wrenched down his trousers and thong. At this point, he realised how confining his clothes had felt and he checked on Touko with narrowed eyes. She stared down, worshiping the liquid on her hands. Liquid apparently more stimulating than what he had on show. If either of them could be excused for shortsightedness at such a time, one would presume it was the person without their glasses.
“... Oi. Fukawa.”
For the second time that day, Byakuya appreciated the bedrooms were soundproof.
Unable to stutter beyond his name, Touko hid her eyes behind her braids.
“What were you expecting?” he eventually asked. He turned his face away, pouting. “A box of chocolates?”
“It’s-! B-B-Byakuya-sama’s-!” She peeked, pupils dilated. “It’s so... did I do th-that?” He refused to dignify her question with a response. “I g-get to t-touch it?”
“Yes. You get to touch it. Hence why I lubricated your hands, though a lot of good that did after you smeared it across your hair. What other reason could I have to spit on them?”
“B-B-Because you missed my face?”
“How absolutely vile.”
Yet here they were. At this rate, they would only compile material for a double act.
He cupped his hands around the back of hers and pulled them between his thighs. There, she secured her grip onto another part of him. They started slow, neither able to maintain eye contact for more than a few seconds. Touko breathed heavily. The bedsheet creased beneath his toes as she shuffled closer.
For all the romance novels she read and wrote, it translated shakily into reality. So shakily he had to guide her pumping motion, pressing harder whenever she slackened which was too regular an occurrence as if she feared injuring him. Calling the experience unpleasant would be incorrect, but it lacked the intensity that coursed through her earlier that even he felt. This felt like someone itching his back. Nice, but not extraordinary.
The sediment must have been shared because Touko twisted her grip, knocking his hold off. Byakuya gasped and tensed. Her hands streaked towards his tip, one after the other, flying back down to repeat the motion upon reaching the end. She glanced up and when he didn’t object, she held on tighter and quickened.
He found himself unable to look away from her eyes. Her determined eyes. Hungry eyes.
Byakuya gritted his teeth, hissing as she changed direction. “What are you-?”
She lowered her head, waggling her tongue tantalizingly close. Touko’s tongue, not Genocider Syo’s, he had to remind himself. Somehow not the same. Thankfully not the same. That tongue succeeded in being more repugnant than anything regarding Touko. He could certify with great confidence that he obtained nothing positive, not even a twisted positive, from thinking about such a... thing... coiling around any part of him.
But this tongue...
Her breath breezed a path her fingertips pattered along. Then she paused, soaking in the seconds that pounded against his chest, before she closed the gap with a kiss.
His hands skidded back across the mattress.
Touko flinched. “D-Did I do something wrong?”
“Yes.” He tugged at her braids, feeling himself slip past her lips. Wet. Velvety. Hot. “You stopped.”
Vibrations rolled through Byakuya as she sighed into him. Her fingers kneading any dry area as she sucked. She stroked her tongue across his underside, humming while she bobbed back and forth. The speed varied, turning unpredictable whenever he thought otherwise. Byakuya couldn’t recognise the tune she made, assuming she intended there to be one. Or if she meant to strike conversation.
It was probably just tuneless improvisation. Good. Talking ranked low on his list of priorities. Who wanted to chat when each movement bolted through him? When he had to consciously restrain himself from moaning as she massaged, his body jerking at the flick of her tongue? Oh, he knew she liked waiting until he didn’t expect it before teasing him again. He could tell from that grotesque expression she sported. That expression he wanted to smash into tiny pieces against his hips. That he wanted to drive his face through so its shards crumbled to his feet, smouldering, smoke rising from their ashes and filling the air and him and-
Byakuya widened his eyes and nudged a finger against Touko’s forehead until she eased off him. Tearing his gaze away, he swung his legs around and rose from the bed. No doubt she enjoyed the view as he stepped in front of his desk, lugging his waistbands with one hand while the other reached for the second drawer from the top.
He discovered its contents during an inspection of his living quarters shortly after arriving. Monobear had materialised to confirm what he already knew - despite never partaking in a situation that would call for their usage, Byakuya identified the nature of the foil packets instantly.
But no explanation equaled a missed opportunity.
‘I put them there so you bastards don’t come begging for some later. A bear like myself has no interest in the mischief that goes on inside the dorms unless it involves killing. Upupupu, that would be a despairingly good time for a spot of murder. Reaching into your pants and out comes your spear! Literally! But you should take your victim on a few dates first, maybe catch a laundry cycle or three. Especially if it’s Enoshima-san! Her type is hard to win over even if you look like a love interest from a shojo manga. Yamada-kun is sure to have some tips should you seek additional assistance. I’m an incredibly handsome bear, but not one well versed in human mating rituals. Then again, neither are you. Upupupu.’
Scowling at the memory, Byakuya snatched one of the packets and rejoined Touko on the bed. She reclined, watching him tear the wrapper and squeeze air out of the condom’s end.
“B-Byakuya-sama...”
His attention stayed downward. “If you changed your mind, say so.”
“No! I-I’m just wondering... whether you did.”
“Obviously not.” There. On. Positioning himself over Touko, he swept a strand of hair from her cheek. Unkemptness on any other person irked him, but framing her pale face with a mess of aubergine... it fitted. “You don’t need to look so witless." He dragged the bridge of her glasses up her forehead. "I doubt it’ll last long enough to hurt.” That seemed to have some effect because she smiled, and he nearly smiled back. “Now please lift your legs for a moment.”
He bent down and plucked off her panties. She wobbled as she maneuvered a foot out of them, raising her hips and parting her thighs as Byakuya (with some help from her hands) directed himself in.
In. Into. Inside.
Not completely at first. With every push he backed off a bit before advancing deeper. He stopped and started as she squeaked with the bed frame, feebly mirroring his thrusts and jabbing at his ribs with her knees, both struggling to find a rhythm. She was hot and wet and seemed to almost suck him in. This was different to what he envisaged yet what did he have to compare this to? This was his first time. And hers, presumably. It never crossed his mind until now that she might be more experienced, even if it was because of her particular area of expertise when it came to literature. Fantasy, she called it.
This wasn’t fantasy.
Touko hugged his neck and they picked up the pace, her nails dancing across his nape and soon sinking into skin as her legs clenched. Her braids whipped the bed as she threw her head back, yearning to have their bodies as close to being one as possible while banging into him. Grunting. Were those hers or his? Or both? What did it matter?
Her muscles tightened, shocking with each thrust and kindling the warmth that pooled in his stomach since who knew when.
Byakuya stilled for a moment, catching her mewls with his mouth before resuming. He savoured the sounds, the taste of her desiring - no, needing - him. Him. So desperate, leaving marks on his body that he would need to check his collar concealed before he went out again. With her breasts pressed against him, solid and hard. Unable to stutter beyond the first half of his name because this wasn’t fantasy and was all too real and they were both on his bed with him over her and... and he lost himself in a sea of ands, realising he could count every eyelash she beat against him as fractured breaths invaded his mouth.
He pounded harder as prickling bubbled within. Rising. Flowing. Filling until it exploded and enveloped his body in waves and then before he could catch himself or think, he yelled out.
“Fu,” Byakuya jerked his head back, brow trickling sweat, “ka... wa...!”
His arms buckled and he almost headbutted her as he dropped his head. A fluttering chill emerged from the fading plateau of ecstasy. She watched from behind a layer of stars, confused. Did she expect him to last longer? Should he have? Or was it because at his peak, her name left his lips?
The feeling faded into fatigue, leaving him to grab the base of his condom and flop beside her. He concentrated on his breathing, scarcely registering Touko rise from the bed and mumble something under her breath.
Kissed. Touko Fukawa. Bra. Panties. Him. And she took off his tie, reaching for his shirt as he stared. Then they did it. Because she kissed him. Byakuya Togami. Sex. On his bed. That happened.
Byakuya sat up and slid the condom off, examining it briefly before tying a knot in its end. He realised he was the only person in the room. “Fukawa?”
The bathroom door opened. “Y-Yes?” It clicked shut behind her.
“What were you doing in there?”
“Just c-cleaning myself a little... but I’m done now.”
An appealing idea.
“I tried to put everything back like it was,” she added, tweaking her panties’ elastic. “If... If I made any mess, I’ll be happy to scour your bathroom of my existence! I’ll use my toothbrush... even my tongue...”
“The only thing you need to clean is your mouth.” Byakuya dressed himself, deciding to leave his shirt on the floor. He had no patience for buttons. “You’re not to even allude to what we did, understand? This stays strictly between us or else I’ll never acknowledge you again. I’ll have Naegi or Asahina pass on any messages should I find myself in a life-threatening situation forcing me to relay information to you. Is that clear, or do I need to use hand gestures as well?”
“When you say hand gestures, do you mean like the ones from earlier...?”
“... Fukawa.”
“I g-got it, Byakuya-sama! Not a word!”
She sounded disappointed. Not that he cared.
“Good. I’ll be in the bathroom temporarily.”
They passed each other. When he returned, he found Touko cross-legged on his bed with his shirt draped over her shoulders.
She blushed. “I didn’t know... whether you wanted me to leave or not... so I stayed... but I can go...?”
“... Do whatever.” He joined her, leaning against the headboard and saying nothing when she rested her cheek against his shoulder. Instead he spotted his book and deposited it onto her lap. “I can’t be bothered to find my glasses. Read to me.”
Touko picked it up. “The Secret Garden?”
“Preferably the inside of the book.”
“Ah! I mean... it’s one of my favourites...”
“I suspected as much,” said Byakuya. “I’ve seen you reading it in the library. You looked like you were enjoying it.”
“So you’ve been in here all day... r-reading... this?”
“... Start from the beginning.”
“R-Right!” She flipped to the first page. “‘Chapter One - There’s No One Left. When Mary Lennox was sent to Misselthwaite Manor to live with her uncle, everybody said she was the most disagreeable-looking child ever seen. It was true, too. She had a little thin face and a little thin body, thin light hair and a sour expression...’”
Byakuya listened, studying her face, noting how she rarely stumbled over words, captivated by the world within the pieces of paper in her hands.
He would even go as far as to say she sounded nice.
Just not out loud.