Protection

“Kyouya-sempai?”

She looked small and fragile, half-hidden by the door. He knew her strength though…just as well as he knew it wasn’t physical. Her strength was of the heart, soul, and above all, mind. Because of that strength, he knew that she would understand his purpose. Because of her confidence in that strength, he feared she would reject it.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, Haruhi.” Kyouya replied. He attached no title to her name. He couldn’t force himself to pretend he had any plans of being polite with her in the moments, and possibly hours, to come. He could see her mildly startled expression at his rudeness, a nearly invisible alteration in the way she held her eyes. “Come in.”

She entered, closing the door behind him. Intuitive as always, she seemed to sense the private nature of their forthcoming conversation. “What is it?” she inquired.

“I’m concerned.” Kyouya replied. Her eyes betrayed her question before she could ask it. It was an obvious one, therefore, Kyouya felt it said nothing about their ability to communicate that he was able to answer before it was asked. “There’s a serial rapist in your area. The police believe he is progressing through neighborhoods. Yours is one of the ones that may be his next stop.”

Could he really read her so well that he saw the slight change in coloration in her face? She hadn’t paled as one may have expected, rather she flushed slightly as her heart raced with sudden fear. Obviously, she hadn’t been paying attention to that particular news item. “The media never released which neighborhoods the police believe might be his next target.” …or her intelligence simply wasn’t the sort to piece these things together.

Kyouya fought to keep himself from rolling his eyes. He rattled off the neighborhoods the attacks had occurred in, five so far. He saw her eyes widen as she recognized the geographic trend. Her neighborhood wasn’t only one of the likely next stops, it was the likeliest. “If the police haven’t deduced he’ll be stopping there soon, then they are fools.”

“What do you suggest then, Kyouya-sempai?” Haruhi cut right to the point, knowing he wouldn’t have brought her here just to inform her she was in danger.

He knew she wouldn’t go for it. He had to suggest it first. Suggest the gentleman’s way; the cold gentleman. “Cool type” had multiple meanings in describing him. His voice was even and measured as he said “Stay with one of us; a night or two at each of our homes, until the danger has passed.” He felt her anger rise suddenly, and gripped at the edge of the bed to brace himself against it.

Haruhi approached by several steps, demanding in a loud voice “you mean until someone else in my neighborhood has been raped?”

Kyouya nodded. “In the bluntest terms possible, yes.”

“Not an option!” Haruhi nearly shouted. “I’m not going to take advantage of my position by spiriting myself to safety while my neighbors are still in danger!” Kyouya waited several moments, meeting Haruhi’s eyes. He was confident his silence would alleviate her anger, replacing it with curiosity. She was yet to let him down. “Though…you knew I’d say that.”

“I did.” Kyouya admitted.

“Then what did you actually have in mind, Kyouya-sempai?”

Kyouya was still for a long moment. Then he carefully removed his glasses and set them on the nightstand. He took a moment to adjust to his blurred vision and stood. He then took a single step, closing the distance between them. He towered over her, and she looked up at him and even without his glasses, he could see the curiosity brimming in her eyes. He looked down, searching them for any sign she knew what he was going to suggest. Her expression was completely innocent, and a nasty twist of guilt occurred in his gut. Gently, he put his hands on her shoulders and, attempting to keep his voice mixed between detached and comforting, softly explained “Rape is much crueler when experienced by a virgin.”

Haruhi studied his expression for several moments. He saw the moment understanding dawned on her. Her eyes widened slightly, and her body seemed to stiffen away from him. Then she relaxed slightly and looked straight ahead, leveling her eyes at his chest. The part of him that had been around Tamaki too long made a joke, suggesting that she was literally looking squarely into his heart. He knew the notion was foolish, but it played over his mind anyway. She maintained her refusal to look at him for what was certainly less then a minute, but felt like an eternity. Finally she spoke, still facing his chest. “You propose to take my virginity, to make a potential rape less cruel.” Slowly, almost hesitantly, Kyouya nodded. Haruhi inhaled, somewhat nervously, boosting her confidence. Then she looked up and, once more, met his gaze. He was startled by the strength he saw in her eyes; the understanding, the acceptance. Her anger was gone, and she didn’t even seem to feel any sort of discomfort toward him for his suggestion. Instead, she stated “You may be right, Kyouya-sempai. I would much rather trust the person I give myself to the first time then have my first time be unwilling.” Her eyes traveled away from his face, to the bed behind him. “I suppose you intended for us to do this tonight.”

Kyouya felt a sudden onslaught of an uncomfortable number of emotions. Pride, affection, guilt, shame, apprehension, excitement, and an abrupt arousal that made him feel as if his blood were just shy of a boiling point and rushing directly to his penis, causing a sudden erection. His face colored as blood rushed to his cheeks as well and he met Haruhis’ gaze and nodded slowly. Carefully, just barley confident enough not to be uncertainly, he pressed his hand to the side of her face, palm cupping her cheek, fingers long enough that their tips brushed the back of her neck. She made a soft noise, and Kyouya concluded that it was in his best interests to be entirely honest. “Forgive me, I hadn’t intended to react so strongly so quickly.”

Haruhi smiled slightly, then, in a soft voice “…I feel like I should be flattered.” She was strong, so much stronger than anyone in the host club ever truly gave her credit for. While her gender was hidden from the rest of the school, to the other hosts she truly was “the girl”. The one they protected and sheltered. Yet, in so many ways, she was so much better versed in the reality of the world than any of them. So much more capable of handling it then they were. He’d admired her for it, and now, here he was, going so far in his effort to protect her that he was actually about to hurt her.

“Forgive me.” He breathed as he closed the distance between their faces, arm going securely around her waist. He gripped suddenly and, lips coming down hard on hers, he lifted her from her feet and turned, laying her suddenly on the bed and dropping to one knee beside her. Her lips shifted against his, and he nearly lost his balance as the shock of sensation shot through his body. His far leg remained on the floor, but his foot slipped, lowering his body toward hers. Each of their lips remained mostly closed, and the kiss remained mostly chaste for what felt as though it easily could have been an eternity. Kyouya wished he could be surprised that her lips were not nearly as soft as they looked. She had likely never seen a real need for the lip moisturizers even he took for granted. Her lips were weathered and rougher than his, which suited her classification as ‘the natural type’.

A flash of jealousy rushed over him at the prospect of Tamaki discovering this particular justification of his classification of Haruhi. The flash created a sudden motion, and he virtually yanked his far leg off the ground, throwing it over Haruhis’ legs and straddling her, pushing his tongue against the space between her lips, drawing it over both upper and lower lips at once. Weather it was instinct, or knowledge of the mechanics of the progression of a kiss that caused Haruhis’ lips to part before his tongue he was unsure. Regardless, he probed her mouth with his tongue. The moist heat that spread from her mouth to his as her tongue danced uncertainly with his just behind her teeth caused the already formed erection to grow harder. He began to worry that even this most basic of foreplays, a simple kiss, would cause overstimulation and result in early ejaculation. He didn’t want this to be an unpleasant experience for Haruhi…and even more so, he didn’t want the wound failing in making this a genuinely pleasurable experience for her would deliver to his pride. Kyouya allowed this worry to overcome the question of why he had experienced a rush of jealousy earlier, and focused instead on the kiss.

An uncomfortable noise emitted from Haruhis’ throat, and Kyouya realized that it had been nearly a minute since natural breathing had been possible. Carefully, he parted their mouths and felt her hot breath on his lips as she attempted to catch and regulate it. Her eyes, which had been closed, opened and met his. In them, Kyouya saw a glaze of pleasure he couldn’t have been happier about causing. Kyouya immediately quashed the joy, hoping Haruhi hadn’t seen or sensed it. It quickly became apparent she had, however, as the moment Kyouya returned to the businesslike mindset that should dominate this situation, so did she. The glaze left her eyes and they became focused as she pushed her pleasure back, obviously remembering that this entire event was to prepare her for the chance of rape. When she spoke, her voice was as clear and devoid of any hint of fear or excitement as it had been the night he’d pretended he was going to do against her will what he was now going to do with her permission, but not preference. “There’s no need to be gentle, Kyouya-sempai.”

It was a logical statement, given the purpose of this encounter. A rapist would not be gentle. In fact, even so much as a kiss was unlikely. Yet the words tore at him, and as he looked into Haruhis’ eyes, he could hardly imagine someone so monstrous as to willingly hurt her. In fact, if the occurrence this entire night was to prepare her for ever came to pass, it would be a mere matter of time before one member of the host club or another had blood on their hands. Perhaps that had been his unconscious reason for this. Kyouya had learned a long time ago that he never did anything for only one reason. The idea that he had, subconsciously, planned to use Haruhi as bait to lure the serial rapist into a situation in which five of the most influential families in Japan were out for his blood left Kyouya cold. Yet it wasn’t far removed from something he would do, for he was that cold. His hands began trembling, and his arms could no longer support his weight. He let them buckle, holding himself now with his entire forearm and resting his forehead on hers. He was as vulnerable as he’d ever allowed himself to be, and Haruhi had the honor to be one of only three people in the world to see him in this state.

“Kyouya-sempai…”

“Don’t.” Although Haruhi had fallen silent, Kyouya spoke with the tone of an interruption. “Don’t call me sempai. Not tonight.”

He hated himself for the crack in his voice, just as he was about to hate Haruhi for her observational skills. “There’s more to this, isn’t there?” she inquired “You want more than just too…”

This time, Kyouya really did interrupt. “All I want” he began “is to take a precaution against you being unable to recover from a sexual assault.” He tried to keep his voice cold, distant, removed.

Haruhis’ eyes were obviously disbelieving. Then, softly “…don’t do this at the expense of your own feelings, Kyouya-sem…” she caught herself, and corrected “Kyouya-kun.”

Kun. Kyouya-kun. He felt his hands curl into fists around the sheets at her choice of honorific. Kyouya-kun. His breath quickened, and he tried to block out the fact that he had never before in his life been addressed as Kyouya-kun. Ootori-san, Ootori-kun, Kyouya-san, and even Kyou-kun or, worse, Kyou-Chan by a few particularly daring females, were all familiar forms of address to him. Damn Haruhi for always being so special, for always doing the one thing no one else before her had. She had revealed Tamaki’s imperfections. She had learned to tell the twins apart. …she had called him Kyouya-kun.

This uniqueness he rewarded by slamming his lips hard onto hers, prying her mouth open with his tongue and yanking her shirt open. Buttons flew in each direction and, despite the sound of protest that Kyouya swallowed before it had even passed Haruhis’ lips, Kyouya yanked her shirt from her shoulders and roughly down behind her body, briefly pushing her shoulders into an uncomfortable position to remove the shirt and tossing it suddenly to one side. His hands fell to her breasts, still covered by her bra, the cloth of which he traced back until his hands were behind Haruhi, and with a practiced motion unclasped it, then gripped the cloth and ripped it too off of Haruhis’ body.

Her breasts were small, virtually unnoticeable while she was clothed. When bared they were pert and perfect and they fit perfectly into the palms of his hands as he covered them, beginning to massage at them roughly as the kiss maintained the same roughness. Haruhi made another uncomfortable noise, and Kyouyas’ pride finally caught up with his anger. He shifted his movements, returning the kiss to sensual and slow, lessening the pressure and caressing her tongue with his own rather than simply plundering her mouth. He lowered his hands then, carefully drawing them over Haruhis’ breasts and drew his fingertips around the darkened nipple area, gently moving around the nubs until they hardened, then pinching them both.

The sound Haruhi made now was far from uncomfortable. Kyouya broke the kiss and, mouth hovering inches from her skin, moved down toward her breast. Sliding his hand away, down her ribcage, Kyouya carefully took Haruhis’ nipple into his mouth and proceeded to draw his tongue in slow circles around the hardened point. Haruhis’ back arced. She had so obviously never felt anything like this before. Kyouya rolled her other nipple between his fingers, and slowly moved his free hand down to work at the clasp of her pants.

Haruhis’ breathing was heavy, labored. It came in desperate gasps. Her hands clung to the sheets below her so hard the blood had gone out of her knuckles. Kyouya closed his eyes, blocking out the blurry sight of Haruhis’ reactions and, carefully, slipped a hand into her pants. His fingers pushed back the waistband of her panties as well and slipped between her legs, which she instinctually parted. Kyouya slipped his index and middle fingers between the lips that naturally fell over Haruhis’ entrance and was startled to discover she was already soaked. She truly had been enjoying the attentions he’d given her breasts. He explored with his fingers for several moments, finding her opening, but moving away from it, searching for the clitoris. He first knew he’d found it not by feel, but by Haruhis’ sudden cry of “Kyouya-kun!” as a new, more powerful wave of pleasure overcame her.

Kyouya gave Haruhis’ clit similar treatment as that he provided the nipple still being worked at by his other hand and her body began to writhe beneath his. He rolled the most sensitive part of her between his fingers, brushing and rubbing and occasionally pinching it. Keeping his eyes closed could no longer block out the pleasure he was causing her, for she was moaning and crying out every few moments. She parted her legs farther, attempting to allow better access, but instead her pants merely cornered his hand, making his actions more difficult.

An instant later, he dropped his hand from her breast and lifted his head, looking up at her. She could hardly ever have been this beautiful any time before, completely drowned in pleasure from a few simple actions. He slipped his hands to either side of her waist and gripped her pants and panties at once, yanking them suddenly down, bending over and pushing them all the way to her ankles. Haruhi complied quickly, shifting and kicking off her pants, panties, and shoes altogether, leaving herself completely bare save a single sock bunched over her heal. Her skin was flushed pink everywhere, and Kyouya concluded he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. Pushing himself back up, Kyouya realigned his face with hers and, meeting her pleasure-glazed eyes, pressed his lips to hers once more. Her lips parted automatically under his, and her tongue snaked upwards to play at his. He fought it back, forcing it into Haruhis’ mouth, which he explored fully once again.

She pulled back after a moment and gasped “Kyouya-kun…I…” the hint of a smile at her face indicated a merrier nature than he would expect of her in the situation. “I think you’re a little overdressed.” Kyouya couldn’t help but laugh as he pulled back, climbing off of her then and resuming his seat on the edge of the bed. She continued lying there, on her back, as she had once before. When he’d pretended… he hadn’t been aroused then. He hadn’t been nearly desperate to pull his pants off and act. Nor had he persisted in what had, then, been pretence but was now real. Carefully, a single button at a time so his hands wouldn’t tremble much, he removed his shirt, discarding it onto the floor. His member ached from the awkwardness of the pressure from the cloth of his pants, and sprang free through his boxers the moment he’d unzipped himself. Half-standing, he pulled his pants and boxers hurriedly off, erection now fully bared. When he turned to face her again, she was looking at him with eyes full of desire. Turning more, he laid on his side beside her and, propping himself on his elbow, returned to kiss her.

Later, Kyouya would deny the sweetness of the kiss that ensued. He would pretend that the hand that returned to her breast hadn’t been instrument of tender touches. Even to himself, he would deny that there had been anything more to his gentleness than the protectiveness of a friend. In the moment, however, affection practically poured from him onto her. Even as he moved his other hand to part her legs and slip his body between them, he let her know. He hadn’t meant to, but know she always would from then on. He loved her. Kyouya loved Haruhi. Not in the way that would sustain a long-term sexual, or even romantic relationship. This love was…purer…stronger in a way. It was unconditional and complete, and as her legs wrapped instinctively around his waist and his hard member pressed softly at her entrance, a moment passed between them that Kyouya would forever both deny had ever happened…and treasure in the deepest places of his heart.

He broke the kiss to look at her, but he only got the briefest glimpse before she buried her face in his neck. He could sense that she was terrified somewhere deep inside her. To one who wasn’t as close, she would have seemed as calm as ever when she whispered “I’m ready, Kyouya-kun.”

Ready she was. He pushed in slightly, almost overwhelmed by nothing more than the tip of his penis suddenly surrounded by white hot wetness. He hesitated a moment, pressing gently. He could feel her hymen, the evidence of her maidenhood, against his tip. He pressed, pushing past the thin layer of tissue and eliciting a cry of pain. His hand slipped from her breast, and his arms encircled her, lifting her slightly as he pushed, burying himself in her until his member as fully sheathed in her body. While she only cried out the once, he could feel her trembling in pain. Even as pleasure coursed through him from the pressure of her tight, virgin passage, guilt made its path through his body with equal speed and force. He’d done this to protect her…he was doing this to protect her. Yet he’d hurt her. Hurt her to protect her. It was something no one else could understand, something no one else would forgive him for. He waited, squelching the hint of animal impulse in the back of his mind that begged him to move, to buck, to fuck Haruhi like the animal that, underneath the trappings of civilization, every human truly was. Instead, he kept still, waiting until the pain of that physical loss had passed.

To distract her from it, he tipped his head, and brushed his lips softly over her neck just beside her throat. Soft kisses against soft skin. Only when the gentle brushes finally, after what felt like hours but could only have been minutes, elicited a pleased moan did he dare begin to move again. The slow withdraw brought another moan, the return thrust – another cry. He repeated the motion several times, and was just beginning to find a rhythm when Haruhi gasped “Kyouya-kun…you…forgot…” Kyouya thrusted, and Haruhi screamed, clinging to him, thought erased from her mind by the pleasure. The thought, however, was not erased from Kyouya’s. He had, indeed, forgotten protection. He had several condoms in his top drawer, and had been planning on using one. Or had he? Once more, Kyouya had been tricked by his own façade of kindness that hid his duplicity. Any family planning clinic in Japan could provide Haruhi with plan B…a pair of the pills even, one to fix this oversight, one in case of a later emergency. …an emergency such as rape.

Kyouya pretended to forget, because he wanted to. It was too easy, just letting himself get lost in the tight heat that enveloped him, drowning in her scent, the sound of her moans and cries, the feel of her body against his…he let himself get lost in everything. A rhythm was set, and steadily grew in pace and force, until he heard a scream that might have been his name and felt a muscle contraction that could only have been an orgasm that shook Haruhi’s relatively small body. The moment was ecstasy at its purest, and it drove him over the edge into a semi-conscious state as he came as well, experiencing nothing but white heat rushing through every inch of his mind and body.

When he’d finished, he was exhausted. He carefully pulled out of her and, once he’d felt her legs untwine from his waist, dropped to lie beside her, holding her close for several moments. “Kyouya-kun…” she half gasped, then she cleared her throat and tried again “Kyouya-kun, we forgot protection.”

Kyouya felt a brief surge of double anger. Anger directed at himself, for his own duplicity; anger at Haruhi for trying, as always, to take the blame for something that could not have been her fault. He knew she saw it, but he masked it anyway, pulling her closer. “I was tested less than six months ago.” He reassured her softly, then “and…we can visit a family planning clinic to get a plan B pill…a pair of them.”

He didn’t need to explain. She understood. She clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder. He tucked his nose against the feathered tips of her hair, inhaling slightly, taking in the fragrance he knew he was the first to ever experience. That mildly tart scent that was Haruhi, coupled with the smell of sex. He held her close, for once indulging his own desires. He never wanted to let her go. Nor did he know how long he let himself live in that fantasy. Minutes, hours, days, he had no way to know. The fact that Haruhi was content to just lay here and hold him in return made him feel…well…good. In an incurably guilt-ridden sort of way. When the guilt began to outweigh the comfort, he spoke.

“Perhaps you should return home. I’ll take you to the clinic in the morning.”

Haruhi nodded, and untangled herself from him, climbing out of bed and beginning to get dressed. Kyouya followed suit. When he was mostly dressed, he said “I’ll call a car for you.”

“No.” Haruhi snapped. “I’ll walk.”

Kyouya could honestly say he would have preferred Haruhi run him through with a wooden, splintering katana than speak those words in that moment with that meaning. Kyouya had prepared her for danger, and she now planned to face that danger head on without even the slightest effort to evade it. “I insist.” He tried.

Haruhi shook her head. “Kyouya…I know why you aren’t trying harder to protect me.”

Kyouya genuinely felt as though his entire world was falling down around him.

The impression only multiplied when Haruhi slipped on her shoes and walked out the door.

Kyouya sat in silence for several moments, his eyes resting on the phone. One phone call and Haruhi would be safe. Disgruntled, surely, but safe.

…and so would the rapist.

Silence. Stillness. Chaos of mind.

Finally, Kyouya dialed a number. The phone rang once, twice, three times. Finally, an answer.

“Hello?”

“Morinozuka-san. Haruhi wouldn’t let me give her a ride home. Her neighborhood isn’t safe at the moment. If you would…”

“We’ll get her.”

Kyouya hung up.

He sometimes certainly appreciated the clubs wild type…his strength, discretion, and rarely displayed quick mind. He had completely anticipated Kyouya’s request, right down to bringing Hunny along, whom Haruhi could never say ‘no’ to.

Kyouya never did anything for only one reason.

…until right now.