Ouran fic: Bee to the Blossom: Tamaki
This is NC17, youall. Humor + crack + smut. Enjoy.
There's also a version where Haruhi turns to Mori instead of Tamaki: that's available here.
Artwork by moko_moko-nee-chan; story dedicated to her for that favour, plus the fact that she's fabulous.
Bee to the Blossom: Tamaki
Bee to the blossom, moth to the flame; each to his passion; what's in a name?
-- Helen Hunt Jackson
The limo rolled at a leisurely pace down the street, mostly because with Tamaki hanging out the window as he was, the driver was afraid of smushing the boy against another vehicle or a pedestrian. Tamaki had recently seen a romantic drama about love between a wealthy businessman and the prostitute he’d hired, and insisted upon a “field trip” so they could all see for themselves what it was like.
“This is amazing!” he gushed, head whipping back and forth between the sordid sights outside and the bemused expressions on the faces of his fellow club members within. “I never thought that television dramas were so accurate in their portrayals of the red light district!”
He paused, looking troubled. “The only thing that’s missing is the actual red light. The only ones I see are traffic lights, and I don’t think that’s what it refers to. Where did-“
“Hey, lovely boy,” one hooker called to him from her corner, effectively shutting him up. “Want a blowjob? For you, only ¥3000!” Even at the speed they were driving (and through the crust of makeup on her face) her leer was evident.
Tamaki paled and kicked back from the window, sprawling onto his back and looking around at his friends, wide-eyed with shock.
“Did you see that?” he demanded. “Did you? She propositioned me! With a-a--”
“Yes, we all saw,” Kaoru replied with a smirk. “She really liked you-gave you a discount!”
“A discount?” Tamaki gazed at the others. “How do you know?”
Kyouya calmly pressed the button to raise the tinted window, leaving them in luxurious anonymity once more.
“My research indicates that the standard going rate for fellatio in this part of town is approximately ¥5000. She would indeed have given you a substantial discount.”
“Not to mention herpes,” Hikaru snickered. “Genital warts. Gonorrhea-“
“I get it!” Tamaki shouted, slapping his hand over Hikaru’s grinning mouth to halt his words. “Where did you learn all this?”
“We’re going over sexually transmitted diseases this week in biology class,” Haruhi commented absently, eyes directed out the window at her side. She had a particularly thoughtful look on her face, one that guaranteed that she was soon to say something the others were sure to find extraordinary.
“HAAAAAAAAAru-chan!” exclaimed Honey. “What are you thinking about so hard?” He bounced in his seat, expecting Haruhi to come up with something profound.
“I think it’s really unfair that there are no men to provide that service for women,” Haruhi mumbled, still lost in thought. She propped her head on her hand and continued to stare out the window, pondering. She was fairly certain there were women out there who would pay quite well for such a thing, especially if their husbands were away on business a lot…
“What?” she said a moment later in response to Honey’s forlorn tugging at her sleeve. She looked up to see all six boys staring at her in amazement. “What’s wrong?”
“Haruhi,” Tamaki whispered, his tone both shocked and horrified. “Haruhi, Otou-san wants you to put that thought right out of your head. There’s no question of you finding someone to do that, ever ever ever.”
“What?” she repeated, a confused crease forming between her brows. “What are you talking about?”
“You never have to go that far if you want… that,” Hikaru told her earnestly. “Really, Haruhi.”
She stared blankly at them, wondering why they all looked as grave as if she’d just told them she were dying of cancer. Then it hit her, what she’d just said; once again she’d been thinking aloud and it had gotten her in trouble.
“Uh,” she began, but Tamaki’s self-control (never robust to begin with) slipped and he began babbling.
“You never have to sink so low as to pay for it, Haruhi! The very idea is absurd! There must be dozens- hundreds- of boys eager to do that to you! Why, any one of us would be happy- no, honored- no, delighted- to be the one to take you to that soaring pinnacle of-“
Haruhi launched herself across the limo at him, hands outstretched to cover his mouth or strangle him or whatever would shut him up.
“Stop it,” she muttered through gritted teeth. “Stop it now.”
Wide blue eyes blinked sorrowfully at her, and there was a single whimper behind the barrier of her hands. It sounded close enough to “I’m sorry” to appease Haruhi, and she returned to her seat by the window.
She stared blindly out at the street, not registering anything but a whirlwind of embarrassment and disbelief that, once again, the Ouran Host Club was making her endure more surreal weirdness.
“Tamaki has a point, Haruhi,” Kaoru said into the ensuing silence.
This is not happening to me, Haruhi thought. Not, not, not happening.
“All of us care for you very much,” continued Hikaru.
“If you’re curious about sex, don’t waste yourself on some boy who doesn’t love you like we do!” This unexpected wisdom from Honey, who never failed to surprise Haruhi with his rare but insightful age-appropriate remarks.
“No need to be embarrassed,” Kyouya said briskly. “It’s a perfectly natural act.”
“Just ask,” Mori intoned, speaking for the first time that evening.
Tamaki said nothing, just sat frozen in his corner of the limo doing a startling impression of a tomato, eyes fixed on Haruhi in equal parts mortification and distress.
She turned back to face them all, slowly, as if the extra time taken would somehow, magically, change what was being said.
“I don’t believe this,” she whispered, face flaming. “This… is too insane, even for you.”
She steadfastly refused to acknowledge that it was her own fault for bringing it up in the first place. And yet, her treacherous mind was already bringing her to places she did not want to go. What would it be like, asking her friends to do… that for her?
Scenario #1: the twins
“I wanna do it first!” Kaoru shouted, shouldering his brother aside. “I’m better at languages, so that means my tongue is more talented!”
“But I’m the straight one!” Hikaru protested, shouldering back and grabbing a handful of Kaoru’s collar, pulling him away from between Haruhi’s knees. “It’s wasted on you!”
Haruhi heaved a sigh when the first punch was thrown.
Scenario #2: Honey
“HAAAAAAAAAru-chan!” he exclaimed, popping up between her upraised knees. In one hand, he held a pint of strawberries; in the other, a can of Reddi-Whip. As she watched, gripped by an awful fascination, he shook the can with trademark enthusiasm.
“I’m ready now,” announced Honey, grinning widely, and aimed the nozzle at Haruhi’s intimate bits. “Are you?”
Scenario #3: Kyouya
“I can either add this to your total debt to the Club,” he said, “or you may pay me in cash. I regret to tell you I don’t accept either credit cards or personal cheques.”
He knelt before her, about to get to work, but paused.
“Oh, did you want fingering as well?” he asked. “Yes? That will be another ¥1000.”
Haruhi balled her fists at her temples and shook her head rapidly back and forth. “No, no, no,” she moaned. “Too weird. My brain can’t take any more.”
Leaning forward, she rapped on the glass divider behind Hikaru’s head.
“Driver, take me home,” she instructed, then settled wearily back against the plush leather and aimed a foul glare at the boys. “I forbid any of you to mention this again.”
They blinked, and slumped back in their own seats. When Haruhi used that tone, they knew she was serious.
~*~
Haruhi tried to banish all thought of it from her head, but the idea was an insidious one, and persistent. She’d eliminated four of them- the prospect of doing anything with Honey, Hikaru, Kaoru, or Kyouya was just too frightening to contemplate- but the last two were plaguing her existence.
Whereas before “that night” she’d never spared a second glance at any of the boys in a sexual way, now every time Tamaki or Mori spoke or smiled her attention was riveted to their mouths. Watching either of them for any length of time usually resulted in Haruhi having to excuse herself from the vicinity until her cheeks cooled and she was able to meet their eyes without blushing crazily.
Watching Tamaki speak or enjoying one of Mori’s rare smiles was almost torture. The sight of their lips or tongues made an odd and melty sensation ripple through her chest and down, lower, until she was fairly squirming in her seat.
Like now, for instance. Across the room, Tamaki sat on a velvet sofa beside yet another girl, extolling her virtues and gesturing expansively. As Haruhi watched, he bowed over the girl’s hand and kissed the back of it. As he straightened, he darted his tongue over his lips to moisten them, and Haruhi groaned at the sight.
“Haruhi-kun?” one of her regular customers said, concerned. “Are you alright?”
“Excuse me,” she gasped to the girls seated around the table, one afternoon during Host Club. “I need to use the bathroom.”
Bolting from her chair, she dashed from music room #3 and careened down the hallway until she found an isolated niche, then curled herself up in the window seat and dropped her forehead to her knees. This was no good; she couldn’t continue like this.
“Haruhi!” cried a voice, and she looked up to see Tamaki dashing toward her, his handsome features creased with worry. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
“No,” she mumbled, a blush rising inexplicably to her cheeks.
“Whatever it is, Otou-san is here for you,” he declared, passionately. “Anything you need, tell me, alright?”
And he meant it, that was the thing; Haruhi could request literally anything in the world from him, and he would do everything in his considerable power to get it for her.
“I’m… I don’t know.” She was no good at expressing herself; it came hard to her, and made her feel vastly uncomfortable.
He waited patiently for her to continue. There was no guile on his face, no deceit. He was the most honest person she’d ever met, and the kindest. He would not mock her, no matter what.
“Tamaki-senpai…” she began. “Do you remember… a few weeks ago? What we talked about? In the limo?” Haruhi kept going when she saw he needed her to elaborate. “About if I wanted to, um, you know. Everyone said I should just ask.”
She gathered all her courage together, and said it. “I’m asking now, Tamaki.”
Haruhi hazarded a glance at him. Tamaki’s eyes were enormous, and his mouth hung slightly open in shock, shallow breaths panting from between his lips as the jist of what she was saying dawned upon him.
He said nothing for a long time, simply gazed searchingly at her. There was a sort of abject longing on his face that tore at Haruhi’s heart. She’d known for a while that he was crushing on her, but she’d written it off as another of Tamaki’s perversities; she was the only girl in the Club, plus she kept rebuffing him. The boy loved nothing more than a challenge, after all.
This is a mistake, she thought sadly. I shouldn’t have asked him. She didn’t know if she could return his feelings, not as strongly as he seemed to have them, and to request this of him was unfair.
“I’m sorry,” she said at last. “It was wrong of me to ask you.” She unwound herself from the window seat and stood, ignoring the pins-and-needles feeling in her legs. “Let’s go back to the Club now, senpai.”
But his hand on her arm stopped her, and she turned back to face him.
“No,” he said softly. “I’m glad you did. And honored. I… I…”
He seemed on the verge of a confession, and Haruhi didn’t think she could handle hearing it.
“I know,” she said, not unkindly, and took his hand. “I’ve known for a while.” He blushed ferociously, averting his eyes, and Haruhi felt a wave of tenderness sweep through her.
“When?” he mumbled.
“What?”
“When do you want to… you know.”
Haruhi scratched her head. “Oh, do you still want to?”
He stared at her like she’d lost her mind.
“Yes,” he replied, so forcefully that her face turned crimson at the implication.
“Well, er, my father will be away all this weekend,” she said at last. “You can come by tomorrow.”
”What time?”
It was fairly bizarre to be discussing it so casually. Mentioning mundane issues like time and location gave the entire situation an unreal quality that Haruhi guessed she should be used to, after all this time with the Host Club.
“Early,” she decided. “If I like it, we’ll want plenty of time to do it lots, right?”
Tamaki looked on the verge of an absolutely geyserlike nosebleed. “Right,” he whispered hoarsely. “Right.”
Haruhi smiled up at him, feeling grateful and happy. He was very cute when he was like this, spazzing but trying so hard to stay composed. “Thank you, senpai!”
“You’re welcome,” he said faintly. “Haruhi, I- I want to kiss you. Will you let me?”
She blinked. “Here? What if someone sees? They’ll think you’re gay!”
“I don’t care,” he declared. “If I don’t get to kiss you right this very moment I’ll die, Haruhi, I’ll just fall down dead!”
As always, Tamaki’s theatrics started loud and only got louder, and they were in very real danger of being discovered.
“Shut up,” she growled, “and follow me.”
Grabbing his sleeve, Haruhi dragged Tamaki behind an ornate column by a window and pushed him hard into the corner, yanking the long curtain around them. A cloud of dust rose, making both sneeze violently.
“I’ll have to tell Father to get on the housekeeping staff,” said Tamaki with indignation.
Haruhi lost patience and took him by the lapels, tugging him down, and he was more than happy to meet her halfway.
It was obvious neither had ever kissed anyone else before. Their mouths met in a clumsy clash of lips and teeth, and saliva went everywhere. Haruhi was about to pull away, disgusted, when Tamaki’s hands threaded through her short hair, carefully and with such tenderness that she got distracted and forgot. Instead, she relaxed into his caress and leaned against him, letting him hold her weight.
“Haruhi,” he murmured against her lips, dropping kisses at the corners of her mouth and over her cheeks. Blindly, she sought his mouth with hers, and this time the awkwardness fell away from them. His tongue lapped at hers, sliding over her teeth, and her moan spurred his.
“We should stop,” she said when she could catch her breath and he was kissing her face again.
“We could,” he said, “but isn’t this better?”
Haruhi shivered in spite of the heat flaring in her bones. Her arms were latched around him, and the steady thud of his heartbeat under her hands was so reassuring, somehow.
“My father is leaving this afternoon,” she said, surprised at how raspy her voice had become. “You can come over tonight instead of tomorrow.”
Tamaki buried his face against her throat, inhaling deeply before lavishing more kisses on her skin.
“What time? Can’t I come home with you? We can take one of my cars, get there quicker…”
But Haruhi was extricating herself from his embrace. For a boy with only two arms, he was as tricky as an octopus in wrapping bits of himself around her.
“We still have the rest of the afternoon to get through,” she reminded him. “It’ll be okay, Tamaki. I won’t change my mind.”
Her composure seemed to reassure him, and though he sniffled a bit, he nodded and released her from his embrace.
“That’s enough,” Haruhi said mildly when, in the course of his trying to spruce up her rumpled uniform, his hands strayed where they ought not be when in a public place (even if behind a dusty curtain).
Tamaki snatched his hands back, looking chastened for only a moment before beaming down at her, an almost childlike happiness on his face. Haruhi felt a tug in the region of her heart at the sight of it, and sighed in resignation. He was impossible, but she didn’t seem able to resist him, no matter how insane he made her.
But maybe she was a little too sane at times, Haruhi considered as they returned to the music room, Tamaki fairly skipping down the hall beside her. Maybe a little insanity could be a good thing for her.
~*~
When Haruhi opened her door to Tamaki early that evening, it was to find him posed elegantly against the railing of her apartment’s outside walkway. He was wearing dark trousers and a blue sweater that made his eyes nearly glow, and his hair was still damp from a recent shower. The smile he offered her, however, was anxious around the edges and she knew he was terribly nervous about what was to happen.
That was okay, because she was a little nervous, too. She’d rushed home after Host Club to go shopping in case they became hungry during the evening. Once home, she’d straightened the tiny apartment, and bathed. If he was going to put his mouth… there… she had to be perfectly clean. Just the idea of it made her flush with heat, and Haruhi pressed her cold hands to her red cheeks and took a few calming breaths.
She was composed again by the time he rang her doorbell. “Hello, Tamaki-senpai. Thank you for coming.”
He blushed, returning her bow. “Th- thank you for having me.”
Both swallowed, aware of the double meaning in both their words, and Haruhi stepped back so he could enter the apartment. As he walked by her, she could smell the subtle scent of some delicious and doubtless hideously expensive cologne, and her mouth watered a little.
She closed the door and turned around, hands clasped before her to disguise their tiny tremor.
“You look very nice, Haruhi,” Tamaki told her, his eyes fixed on her chest. “Very cute.”
“Thank you.” She’d refused to buy into his fantasies of her in frilly dresses, deciding on jeans, but made a concession in wearing one of those fierce push-up bras guaranteed to make the most of a girl’s modest assets (and Haruhi’s were more modest than most).
Over it was the girliest top she owned, soft yellow sleeveless cotton top that skimmed the top of her jeans and showed a quarter-inch of skin at her waist. Altogether, she looked more feminine than she had since cutting off her hair, and marveled that it hadn’t taken her that much longer to pull it all together.
Except… “Oh, darn!” she exclaimed, scowling. “I forgot to put on make-up!” And she’d really meant to, too.
Tamaki had looked alarmed at first, but then he relaxed and smiled.
“Haruhi,” he said, coming closer and lifting a hand to her cheek. He cupped it gently, his thumb stroking down to her lips. “You don’t need make-up.”
Haruhi automatically pressed a kiss to his thumb. Tamaki made a low, rough sound in his throat and touched his mouth to hers. It was clumsy at first, like their other kiss, until they figured out what to do with their noses and tongues and how to breathe, but after a minute it all worked out and they were at each other like they’d been doing it for years.
They pulled away at least, gasping and staring at each other.
“Let’s… let’s get started,” Tamaki murmured. “How do you want to- do you want me to come in after you’ve undressed?”
Haruhi wasn’t quite brave enough- yet- to strip in front of him.
“Yes, please,” she said. When he had gone into the kitchen, she shut the door and pulled out the futon, spreading it in its customary place and tucking a sheet over it before tossing a few pillows on top.
Then she took off her clothes, debated whether to keep certain things on- socks? Might her feet get cold? How about her top, would that need to come off since he was only going to pay attention to her lower half?
In the end, she decided on being naked under her robe, with socks still on (she really hated when her feet were cold).
“I’m ready,” she called softly, hands tying and retying her belt.
He came in immediately, sliding the door closed behind him with careful precision.
“Tell me what to do,” he said simply, letting her know she was in control the whole time. Haruhi appreciated the gesture.
“Do… whatever,” she replied. “I’ll let you know if I want you to do something different.”
She sat on the edge of the futon, then scooted herself up to sit in the middle of it. Her robe parted over her legs, and Tamaki’s eyes were drawn to the motion like a magnet. He drifted toward her, hands already reaching out as he knelt at her feet.
Tamaki touched the fabric of her robe with fingertips that trembled, then slowly peeled it back until she was revealed to the waist. He shuddered out a breath at the sight of her long, slim legs and the small patch of dark hair between.
“Haruhi,” he breathed, and placed his hands on her knees, sliding up and down her thighs. His palms were warm as they caressed her skin, lightly kneading the muscle beneath, and Haruhi felt her tension melting away.
Sitting back on his heels, Tamaki grasped her ankles in his hands and set them apart, placing her feet to either side of him. His eyes were huge, fixed on the area between her legs, and he was panting as if he’d just come from a hard race.
Haruhi had expected him to fall to it, then, but instead he smoothed his hands down the inside of her thighs. He made himself comfortable, lying on his belly and propping himself up on his elbows, and trailed kisses over the soft flesh within his reach. Haruhi lay back against the pillows and concentrated on breathing.
After a while, the kisses became wetter, lingering longer-Tamaki opened his mouth over her skin and darted his tongue at it, laving in circles, and when he did this to the crease where thigh met the soft slope of labia, Haruhi’s pelvis seceded from her control and gave a hard, instinctive push toward him.
“Tamaki,” she said, voice hoarse with longing, “now?”
He said nothing, but his hands came up to touch her there, petting the soft curls and stroking down, ever inward until she felt herself being opened, delicately. Cool air wafted over her, distinct against the wetness appearing, and still he waited. The anticipation had Haruhi shaking, biting her lip and clenching her fists to keep from grabbing and putting his face where she wanted it.
“You’re so pretty, Haruhi,” Tamaki whispered, and she looked down to see him gazing raptly at her. “Pink and wet, and you smell amazing.” He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “I’m so glad that I was the one you asked.”
Once again, that weird tenderness for him tightening her chest. Haruhi reached down and touched his hair, smiling at him. “I’m glad I asked you, too, Tamaki.”
His smile lit up the room, and he rubbed his cheek against her thigh like a big, happy cat.
“But if you don’t get started, we’ll waste the whole night. You don’t want that, do youuuuuuuuuuuuuu…”
Her word transformed into a moan, because Tamaki bent his head and gave a long lick up the center of her cleft. She bucked again, and they were at odds for a moment as he figured out a way to hold her still and still be able to spread her open.
He curved his hands over the top of her thighs and used his thumbs to part her wide, then returned his mouth to its goal. He cleaned her of every trace of her wetness, then focused on her inner lips for a long time, lapping at them until Haruhi was moving so much she almost twisted herself away.
“Please,” she gasped, eyes staring blindly at the ceiling, awash with desire. This felt incredible, the most amazing sensation she’d ever experienced. She didn’t know how she’d managed to live this long without it.
“Tamaki, please.” Haruhi threaded her fingers in his hair and tugged until his teasing mouth was centered over the hard bud at the top of her cleft.
“Yesss,” she hissed. “Oh, yes.”
He lapped at the nub, teasing it, the flickering his tongue up under the hood. Haruhi shrieked at that, flailing arms and legs briefly until he stopped.
“Are you alright?” he asked, licking his lips, shiny with her juices.
“Yes,” she panted. “That was just too much. Don’t stop.”
He dove back, his own breath harsh as he licked and licked. He wound his arms under her thighs, hands holding them wide, and buried his mouth against her. Haruhi felt as if she were being wound tighter and tighter, any moment to snap and go flying away.
Tamaki sealed his lips around the swollen bundle of nerves and began sucking, and it was like the final barrier that separated Haruhi from the sky had lifted, peeled clean away.
“Tamaki, Tamaki!” she wailed, legs thrashing around him as she came. It was so intense, so good, so shattering, that her body could not contain it and her hands gripped his hair as she writhed against him. Dimly, somewhere in the background haze of her mind, she heard his hoarse shout.
Haruhi’s body had no strength, no will to move itself; she lay there, completely limp, receding waves of incredible pleasure slowly ebbing and consciousness reluctantly returning. Warm, gentle hands pushed her legs closed and tucked the robe around her.
Beside her, the futon shifted, and she mustered the energy to roll to her side. Tamaki was heaving himself up to lay next to her, his face flushed and his chest moving rapidly with his deep, quick breaths.
“Tamaki, did you…?” Haruhi asked, eyes drawn to the wet spot spreading over the front of his trousers.
He blushed. “Yes. It was just so sexy to hear and see and taste and smell you like that.” He turned his face away a little. “And hearing you say my name. That’s what did it.”
She was impressed, and touched. She edged nearer to him, and wrapped an arm around his waist. Immediately, he embraced her, pressing close and burying his face in her hair.
“Haruhi,” he whispered. “Haruhi.”
“What?” she mumbled, already almost asleep.
“Nothing,” Tamaki replied. “Just wanted to say your name.” She could hear the smile in his voice. It made her smile, too.
“Tamaki, Tamaki,” she said teasingly, shifting to scrunch herself closer into the curve of his body. Then a thought occurred to her.
“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you. No, I’ll tell my father, and he’ll kill you. A lot.”
Tamaki trembled with fear at the implication, and she felt him nod frantically against her head. “Right. Got it. No telling. Right.”
“Right,” she repeated, satisfied she’d scared him sufficiently, and fell asleep.