Tamaki had fallen into a rose bush near the back end of the school. Kyouya could imagine it: golden hair intertwined with all those thorns and curling stems. He was sure he wasn’t surprised when he heard about it, fingers plucking the thorns out of his back at that very moment. Tamaki had never been able to resist pretty things.
Kyouya wasn’t sure if he fell into that category. Which was unfortunate, of course, because he liked to be sure about practically everything. Tamaki was wincing. He tried to be gentler.
“I was trying to get one of the roses for Haruhi-“ his smile seemed to set itself a bit harder, then, as Kyouya unkindly pulled out another thorn from between his spine- “because they’re in full bloom, did you notice?”
“I did,” said Kyouya simply, because he noticed everything. He noticed how Tamaki seemed to adore people as he adored flowers, how he also seemed to be incapable of resisting going for things that were difficult to obtain. How his hair grazed his shoulders when he looked at him from this angle. How long his eyelashes were, blond and long and pretty. Kyouya knew life was often unfair, that people failed to get what they deserved in this world. Money. Parental love. Things were largely unrequited. Tamaki’s eyelashes were on a list of things he could not stop thinking about.
He hated that list. He wanted to put it away for later, along with the mental snapshot he was taking of one of the beads of sweat trailing down Tamaki’s neck. He failed to notice himself pausing. He didn’t fail to notice Tamaki’s gaze. He gave a resigned sigh. His fingers were calculated trails along pale skin.
“You need to be more careful.” He said this plainly. This was something they both knew to be true, at least. “I won’t always be here to help you out, you know.”
Tamaki turned a bit more towards him. Kyouya didn’t like his look anymore. And he didn’t like his tone, either, laced with innocence. When people like Haruhi used that tone, that politeness, they were giving power away; they were being nice to the other for the sake of the other, pushing all the right buttons. Kyouya knew this all too well. When people like Tamaki used that voice, however, there was nothing nice about it.
Tamaki was an idiot, but sometimes, in private moments, Kyouya would be uncomfortably aware that he was smarter than many people gave him credit for. Nothing about Tamaki was easy, and Kyouya knew that some underestimated him by thinking it could be. Kyouya mused that perhaps that was why he couldn’t get enough of him.
“Is that so?” Tamaki was saying. His lips were pouting. Kyouya didn’t like it at all. “Well,” he said, reaching out a hand. His torso was bare, obviously, but it became more obvious when his hand seemed full of intention like that. “Well,” Tamaki repeated, uncharacteristically at a loss for words for a moment, “I don’t think that’s true.” He pressed his palm onto Kyouya‘s cock.
“Really,” Kyouya deadpanned, but they both were aware of his breath changing just slightly.
“Yes, really,” said Tamaki, hand cupping Kyouya slowly. He was barely moving. Kyouya brought himself to raise an eyebrow. “I think,” Tamaki had lowered his voice, “that you,” he leaned closer, “underestimate our relationship.”
“That’s a big word, Suoh. Are you sure-“ Kyouya’s breath hitched- “you know what it means?”
Tamaki gave a low laugh. His smile really was kind, then. Kyouya watched the corners of his lips, felt his eyes widen without his permission. He watched this happen all the time in the club. Tamaki would put on a comedically earnest mask and the girls would swoon. Kyouya had observed a rarely wavering formula in how Tamaki did it: he got closer, he said something that sounded like it had been on his mind for weeks. Like it was something that only the two of them understood, an inside joke where no one was laughing. Kyouya had often wondered if he got his one-liners from trashy romance novels or soap operas playing on Friday nights.
He fell for them every time.
He would call it weakness, but he had never felt truly weak around Tamaki, not ever.
There was a singular thorn still stuck in Tamaki’s thigh. Kyouya reached over and pulled it out. He wasn’t gentle at all about it, and he watched the smallest amount of blood pooling out of the point of contact. Tamaki jumped, and then they both settled, silent, looking at each other, unmoving.
“Thank you, Kyouya.” Tamaki paused for a fraction of a second, seemed to curve his body closer. Lowered his eyelids. Kyouya almost rolled his own eyes. “I mean it.”
“That’s what friends are for, I suppose.” Kyouya placed his own hand over Tamaki’s, moved them both.
Tamaki laughed at this, louder then. He had this habit of throwing his head back a bit when he found something truly funny. “I suppose it is.” His hand started moving in a way Kyouya could only describe as exasperating. He gasped.
“I want you to know something else,” said Tamaki, and his voice pitched upward, like he didn’t care at all, like Kyouya had nothing left to know. “I’ll always be there for you, Kyouya, in any,” he twisted his hand, “way,” he rubbed his fingers into fabric, over the head of Kyouya’s cock, “you want me.”
Kyouya didn’t know how he felt about where this particular joke was headed but he did know he was out of his own realm of control by this point. “Yeah?” he breathed.
“Yeah,” Tamaki replied, the shape his teeth took faintly reminding Kyouya of the twins. “Darling. Honey. Baby.” Kyouya glared at him, all desire. “I’ll be there to pull out your own thorns. Any day, any time, my love.”
“Is this supposed to be romantic?” Kyouya tried for sarcastic but fell into a groan. Tamaki had gotten closer by now, practically embracing him. He was mouthing at the edges of his neck, bringing up his other hand to unbutton his collar.
“You mean it’s not working?” said Tamaki. His voice was playing at being hurt. Kyouya always said he should try his hand in acting. Tamaki put his mouth to his ear. “Then I’ll guess I’ll just have to try harder.”
A little on the nose, Kyouya wanted to say, but he only moaned as Tamaki pulled his zipper down and ran his hand along the edges of his dick. “You know, I’ve noticed you’ve seemed a bit tense today.” Kyouya could feel every word in every part of his body. Tamaki placed a kiss on his jawline. “Something on your mind?”
“Oh, the usual,” Kyouya brought himself to say. Tamaki slid the ends of his fingers across Kyouya’s slit, rubbed the precome all over the rest of him. Trailed his fingers over his chest. “Money. The club. The trouble you always seem to get into.”
“Trouble?” said Tamaki, looking up from beneath his eyelashes. God damn it. Kyouya almost wanted to apologize, but he knew that right now Tamaki meant nothing by it. Throwing emotions and love around like it was in infinite supply. Kyouya was endlessly jealous of him, always had been, for reasons he wouldn’t have been able to comprehend a couple years ago. It’s not like Tamaki was at the head of something important. But he acted like it. Didn’t even try to. Wasn’t even aware of it. How upsetting. How unbecoming. It was all too endearing, everything about him, it was all too effortless whereas Kyouya had planned every movement in his day. Oh, to be something as careless and bright as this.
Tamaki’s eyes shimmered in the light coming from the window. Golden hour, Kyouya sniffed inwardly.
“What do you mean, trouble?” He was using that voice again. “I wouldn’t ever want to concern you, Kyouya.” He kissed him, then, intense and lighthearted all at once. The perfect amount of time. The perfect amount of tongue. Kyouya failed to hold himself back, running his own tongue over Tamaki’s bottom lip for a moment. Tamaki sighed happily. His hand was more rapid down below. He started pulling Kyouya’s pants and briefs down further, started straddling Kyouya’s lap. Pulling the last of his shirt buttons out of place. Suddenly, he reached both hands up into Kyouya’s hair, pushing his mouth against his, fisting hair in a rhythm that felt almost musical. This was the true inside joke: Tamaki knew exactly who Kyouya was, and would hide the fact until the most important moment.
Kyouya moaned. No matter how many times he heard it, he wasn’t able to recognize the sound when he made it. Tamaki had a way of bringing out some other part of him. Tamaki continued kissing him, trailing across his face, behind his ear. Down between his shoulders onto his chest. He pulled down his own pants smoothly. Reached his hand down again, taking Kyouya’s cock and pressing it against his own, under fabric still. Kyouya almost gulped, but didn’t, as it would have been unflattering.
“You’re taking an awfully long time to get to it, Suoh,” he said, proud that his voice only cracked once. He lolled his head to the side mockingly. “Afraid you won’t last very long when we get to the main event?”
Tamaki’s smile twitched. Kyouya vaguely realized he did not have the upper hand. “Oh, no. It’s just so difficult controlling myself around you, darling. I want to savor every moment of it.”
“I never pegged you for the sarcastic type,” gritted out Kyouya as Tamaki ground his hips against his own. He couldn’t tell if the wet sensation was from Tamaki’s cock or his own. The soft sounds that he strained to hear were obscene. “And quit it with the pet names. You’re cheating.”
“Didn’t realize we were playing a game,” Tamaki replied innocently. He really was tall, his torso longer than Kyouya’s, and so when he stretched out, pressing himself against him, Kyouya had full view of his chest. He wasn’t sure if he gulped, that time. He mouthed one of Tamaki’s nipples, truly feeling it when Tamaki breathed out, a small hiss.
“Oh, baby,” he said. Kyouya did roll his eyes then, to cover up his eagerness. “I want you.”
Kyouya couldn’t meet his gaze as he pushed him up to pull down the last of his clothing. He could come right then, if he wanted. If Tamaki put his hand back for a few moments more it would all have been over. Kyouya let himself wonder about this fact for a few seconds, Tamaki panting above him, lacing his hands into his hair in a practiced manner. Kyouya slid his tongue down Tamaki’s cock. Kyouya didn't often do a lot for others, not really. Perhaps Tamaki would have argued against this. Or Haruhi. They were more alike than they realized. Maybe they thought so because they realized he would do anything for the either of them, for the other four in the club. He was not a pushover, but he would let Tamaki Suoh step all over him, if he asked nicely.
And he was always asking nicely.
Tamaki moaned. “Just like that,” he would say, or “keep going, you’re doing so well”. It was infuriating, actually. Kyouya often played around with the idea that the mask Tamaki put on as a host was just his true self. In these moments, at his most vulnerable, he was so earnest. Almost too kind. It seemed like a front; it made you want to recoil and it made you want to lean in closer. Kyouya wrapped his lips around his cock. Tamaki seemed to be restraining himself from thrusting into his mouth.
“Don’t hold back just for me,” Kyouya said. Tamaki blinked at him. “I thought you wanted me. Don’t you want to prove it?”
Tamaki’s grin was dazed as he pushed himself into Kyouya’s throat. Soon, though, he pulled himself out. “I really won’t last longer if we keep going like this,” he said quietly, tenderly. “And you’re still so hard, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question. Kyouya shuddered. Tamaki slowly worked his way up to Kyouya’s mouth. “Do you want to be inside me? Or the other way around? It’s your choice, love.”
Using the word love like that didn’t suit him, but Kyouya let him do it anyway. Kyouya let Tamaki kiss him, let him move his hands across his nipples, let him whisper things at him as he tried to get him to answer the question. The truth was, Kyouya couldn’t decide. He said as much.
Tamaki pulled back a bit. “Well,” he said, exactly as he had at the beginning. “Choosing can be hard.” Kyouya felt the words in his bones. “If pressed,” he said, his voice floating with the dust Kyouya could see in the sunlight, “I would say I want to be inside of you, today, but,” he turned his head so his chin was up. All regal. A move seemingly timeless in its rehearsed quality. “I don’t want to tell you what to do.” There was humor in his voice.
“God, shut up already,” said Kyouya, pushing him down onto the couch.
“Yes, sir,” said Tamaki playfully, his laugh no different than any other time. He was his truest self, always. Kyouya watched his hair settle, fanned out behind him on top of thousand dollar fabric. He seemed to belong there. Tamaki loved pretty things, and so he had learned to love himself, he thought, amused. He kissed the inside of Tamaki’s thigh where the thorn had once been. Licked it. Tamaki hummed, covering his eyes with his arm, his smile unbelieving.
“You seem distressed, babe,” said Kyouya, voice indifferent as he squeezed his hands around Tamaki’s skin. Tamaki jolted a bit, peering at him from under his elbow with his eyes almost afraid. “Are you sure you aren’t the one who’s tense?”
Tamaki laughed, then chuckled, then laughed again. Kyouya wanted to throw him into the sun. “I guess I’m getting a taste of my own medicine?”
“I’m the only one who’s going to taste anything right now, thank you,” said Kyouya flatly. He tried to steel his eyes into something that screamed less I would do anything for you and more unkind. He leaned down and licked Tamaki’s cock a few times. “Dearest.” He felt it twitch. He looked up and met Tamaki’s eyes. “Let’s see. What else? Sweetheart. Beloved. I know you love ‘Babydoll’ but I think I prefer ‘Sugar’. A bit old fashioned of me, maybe.”
“You’re beautiful,” Tamaki suddenly breathed, voice full of reverie, and Kyouya felt his face heat up, bright red and embarrassing.
“I know,” he said. It wasn’t his best but Tamaki found it funny anyway. He stopped giggling when Kyouya started sliding their cocks together.
“Oh,” was all he said, and Kyouya found himself feeling prideful of his ability to get him to be quiet.
It never lasted long, though, but he wouldn’t ever complain unless it was mentioned. Tamaki was a talker, he liked to fill silences not because he felt they were awkward but because he seemed to currently view living as something done at a hundred miles per hour. “That feels so good, Kyouya,” he said, and Kyouya tried to ignore the fluttering in his chest. He remembered the days he would spend throwing things around a room at the thought of Tamaki Suoh. He still did it, sometimes, when no one was looking.
Tamaki closed his hand around Kyouya’s cock, making him moan. Kyouya got up quickly and found lube, pouring some onto his hands as Tamaki watched patiently. “Let me,” the blond said breezily.
Kyouya was already touching himself, though. “Hm, I don’t know. Seems like I’m getting along just fine here.” He thought for a moment. “Pretty boy.” He watched Tamaki swallow. He watched him dart his eyes over his hand’s movements. He gave him a smug look, despite himself.
“You’re the pretty boy,” muttered Tamaki sulkily. He seemed to collect himself. “You’re wonderful.”
“Christ,” said Kyouya into a moan. Tamaki stayed his hand. “We forgot to do me.” Smugness did become him, Kyouya decided, however he tried to hide his emotions he deemed less polite. Tamaki pulled Kyouya down very close in a show of strength.
“Go ahead,” Tamaki said to him, low voiced. He pulled Kyouya’s hands down, then, caressing his knuckles. Kyouya couldn’t breathe. He placed Kyouya’s finger inside him. “Like that.”
“I don’t need you to teach me,” whispered Kyouya, but it had no venom to it. He moved his finger around and he wasn’t gentle about this, either. Tamaki was not made of porcelain, despite what he looked like. He had fought for a lot of things in life. Kyouya’s lips pressed together into a line.
“Stop thinking,” Tamaki said, studying him. He was making these small breathy moans and whimpers that Kyouya would keep for later.
“No,” said Kyouya, eyes narrowing at him. Sometimes he was mean to Tamaki for the sake of it. Tamaki always saw through it, of course, but Kyouya spent hours trying to figure out why he hated him so much for moments at a time. He could only conclude that vulnerability was hard, and that he was not good at it. He could only conclude that he hated both of these conclusions.
“No?” Tamaki said thoughtfully. “Hm,” he continued, and Kyouya could feel him clenching around his finger. His cock leaked a bit more. “You’re so smart, Kyouya,” he said, and Kyouya moved toward him involuntarily. He was putting on this other voice that meant he was humoring him, but Kyouya didn’t mind at all. “You always have to be thinking. A pretty boy like me-“ Kyouya snickered here “-wouldn’t know any better.”
“Sure,” said Kyouya easily. “You are a bit stupid.” He angled his finger in more. Tamaki gasped. “And reckless.” He reached deeper. “And overall, a complete idiot.” He added another finger. “But baby, baby.” Tamaki’s eyes seemed a bit scared again. “We’re more similar than you’re letting on, don’t you think?”
“Yes.” Tamaki exhaled deeply. “Yeah.” His hair shifted and was highlighted by the sun again. Kyouya wanted to yell. To run away. Instead he kissed him.
“Mm,” said Tamaki. “You really are lovely.”
Kyouya burned. “I’m going to fuck you now.”
Tamaki looked at him. “Okay,” he said, his voice barely audible. Kyouya showed him all his teeth.
He pushed inside him. Slowly, at first. He let himself be coerced by Tamaki’s caresses. He let Tamaki flip them over and ride his dick with his ass for a moment, but he started to get eager, started to push back against him so he flipped them back to the way they were. And Tamaki was moaning like that, so he couldn’t be faulted, really. He thrust into him, deeper and deeper, and Tamaki was saying one-worded things like yeah and fuck and God if Kyouya didn’t enjoy Tamaki when he was cursing. And then he started to say things that were longer, like he couldn’t hold himself back, things like you’re always so good and I’ve been thinking about this all day and sugar is such a stupid pet name, Kyouya and Kyouya stopped thinking.
“I’m going to” is all he said, and Tamaki got louder.
“Yeah? Do it, Kyouya. I want-“ he stuttered- “I want to see it. You’re so beautiful.” He seemed to be rambling now. Kyouya was flat against him, somehow aware of a trail of sweat pattering down his spine. Their chests were touching over and over again, and it was so wet and hot and Kyouya was going to come, he felt it. Tamaki arched into him and he groaned.
“Come on,” Tamaki gasped. He repeated it a few times, pressing them even closer somehow. “I’m so tight for you, I got so hard earlier when you took off my shirt, you’ve got to come for me, baby, I can’t do it without-“ Kyouya shuddered, coming. Tamaki was coming too, now. Kyouya was on fire, rutting into Tamaki until he was shaking.
Tamaki let out a last breathy moan. Kyouya willed his heart into taking a moment to enjoy it. He laid against him, Tamaki’s shallow breaths moving his chest up and down.
“Kiss me,” said Tamaki, and Kyouya obliged.
“Thank you,” he said, then, and Kyouya snorted.
“Dumbass,” he replied, burying his face in the crook of Tamaki’s shoulders. He nosed his hair. If sunlight had a smell, that would be it. Mixed in with eighty dollar conditioner, of course. Not that Kyouya knew what conditioner Tamaki Suoh used. Or his favorite type of pasta. Or the name of a specific song he had played on the piano only twice, once for his mother, all alone, and once for Kyouya, in the same way.
Chopin. Prelude No. 25 in C sharp minor, opus 45.
A quiet tune. Settling itself on piano keys and under fingers like something warm and unknown and at peace.
“I guess I’ll have to fall into rose bushes more often,” said Tamaki, and Kyouya looked over to see him rolling over onto his side, cheeks rosy. His eyes were serious, and for a moment Kyouya thought he completely was.
“That is definitely not the lesson you should be getting out of this,” shouted Kyouya, chucking a nearby pillow at him, and Tamaki laughed and laughed and laughed.