Romanticize a Demon

Disclaimer: I don't own Maid-sama!

A/N: So. TVTropes tells me I'm a fujoshi. I feel so guilty. But in such a good way!


Yukimura Shouichirou was having a good day, and was very surprised about it.

"Um...President Ayuzawa. Do you remember the last time Usui-san was absent from school?"

Ayuzawa Misaki was also having a good day, and wasn't bothered with how it came to be. "Not really, Yukimura...wait, has he ever been absent before?" she paused for a split second in the middle of furiously writing out a new proposal to have the boys' bathrooms relocated off-campus before shrugging the matter off. "Hah, I'm just enjoying the peace."

That's what Shouichirou should do, too. Enjoy the peace.

Enjoy the fact that for once Usui Takumi wasn't waiting behind a corner to force him to cut class in favor of participating in R-rated activities in a secluded corner of Seika High.


"Who do you think you are trying to avoid?"

A steely hand gripped his upper arm, bruising it badly. Shouichirou hated his body. Silken skin that Takumi's fingers slipped over served only to remind him how powerless he was to resist the blond's power over him. It wasn't a matter of physical defiance at all...Shouichirou could've been a professional wrestler and with one look into Takumi's ceaseless green eyes he would've been lost the same as he had been the first time Takumi tried it on him. But if his body was a temple than it was in bad need of a janitor, for Takumi was the homeless drunk that defiled it daily. And the bruises left when Takumi handled him (Shouichirou couldn't, wouldn't refer to it as touching) rubbed his face into the inescapable fact that he had a secret that no one should ever find out.

"Usui-san...I wasn't trying to avoid you..."

"Liar. Yukimura, you don't like me, do you?"


"It's not a problem. You liking me has nothing to do with it."

That was the entire fucking problem! Shouichirou felt wonderful when he was being conducted by Takumi, but it had the most disgusting aftertaste. Sex without love. Like going to the amusement park after hours. Figure out the figurative speech. If it was someone kind, and sweet, Shouchirou thought he could do it. Takumi didn't fit the bill.

Takumi wasn't here today.

"It's strange." Kanou Soutaru wasn't one to miss strange things. "Was Usui-sempai showing any signs of sickness yesterday?"

"No," Misaki said cheerfully, "I would've remembered." His abject misery, that is. They could practically see it scrawled above her head. The student council trudged on with their work but Soutaru wouldn't really let it go.

"He must have gotten into an accident."

Shouichirou wasn't sure how he felt about that. His very nature abhorred all forms of pain, but that included the kind inflicted on him by Takumi and if Takumi was in the hospital, hurt, then Shouichirou should feel a little happy. He rather thought he did, and the thought shamed him more than the time when Takumi had put in thirty five anal pellets up his rectum and then had him stand, convulsing and crying as they each came out, one after the other, feeling...horribly...good.

A shiver wracked his body. Soutaru and Misaki looked him over worriedly.

"Yukimura-sempai, are you alright?"

"Maybe you should take a break, Yukimura..."

"No," he smiled convincingly, or at least they had the grace to accept his lie, "I'm fine." And then, before he could help himself, "Do you really think Usui-san is in trouble?"

Soutaru made a no-further-comment noise deep in his throat, and Misaki tapped a pen against her lips. "I still owe him for helping me'd be bad if he died without me freeing myself from debt. Alright!" she made a decision faster than the speed of cum, "Yukimura! Let's go see that depraved alien after school."


Oh, Misa-chan, you have no idea.


"Um, actually...Yukimura, do you have any idea where that idiot lives?"

"Eh! Don't tell me, President Ayuzawa...!"

Soutaru took the lead after school. "There's a penthouse near here."

A penthouse? Curiouser and curiouser. Misaki demanded to know why Soutaru, of all people, would know where Takumi resided, and the brunette offhandedly muttered something about having followed him home after his hypnotic attack had failed. Misaki was satisfied. Shouichirou was not. His drumming heart was not okay with voluntarily presenting himself to Usui Takumi. The blond had never asked him home, and Shouichirou had been grateful for that. Spending a full night with Takumi would leave his nerves shattered beyond repair. That man invoked all sorts of incredible ideas in school, where they could barely sneak an hour together. Over the course of a night...Shouichirou did not have the courage nor the imagination to consider the many ways in which he could be tainted.

The buzzer they sounded was answered by a horde. That's what it sounded like, there were so many voices screaming in the background, and before any of them cared to venture a guess as to what any one voice might be saying, the door unlocked itself and a doorman (honest-to-goodness!) leaped forth to hold it open for them as they meekly meandered through. If Takumi really was sick, there seemed an awful lot of people already up there worried to death about him. Did they need to show their miserable faces too?

The elevator dinged, and their choices sort of just withered away.

High above the commoners' ground, a door opened and their senses sort of just exploded.

Which of them had rung the bell? Whoever did it, what a douche. Because of that the door had opened and a hand or two (or maybe even five) yanked them into a whirl of tailored coats and shiny dresses, of waiters carrying champagne flutes and waitresses serving virgin cocktails. It was a bizarre collision of the refined and rampant, with teens rocking hard amidst adults standing proud. And the centerpiece?

A dainty-faced blond.

Usui Takumi wore a tuxedo that sat on him like a woman would, clingy and flattering. He was a diamond in the rough, learning to unleash the full potential of his mesmerizing shine. Well. As if necessary. Already his guests were drawn to him, using muted, private voices when addressing the boy and in turn receiving his attention for a brief moment before someone else stole it away.

Shouichirou wondered, wondering also why this was striking him for the first time, how far out of his league Takumi was. Shouichirou wouldn't lie to himself...he was a pretty young thing. But surely, nothing Takumi would be attracted to! He could only assume that there was no attraction. There was only the young master's suffocating need to see Shouichirou humiliated. How had the mild-mannered brunet earned himself such an enemy? It was frightening.


Misaki stood speechless and Soutaru spoke.

"Usui-sempai, what's going on? President Ayuzawa and Yukimura-sempai came to see you because you were absent today. They were worried."

Takumi's broad face broadened further into a grin as he took Misaki's arm. "Worried?"

"Usui, get your hand off me," she jerked it away, "Kanou's just being stupid. Like I'd be worried about a weirdo like you!"

"But, President," Shouichirou was sometimes too honest for his own good, "Weren't you the one who said we should visit him?"

Takumi grinned wider and nuzzled Misaki's arm again. A few of the guests watching cooed over the glittery blight of love. Misaki let him stay that way, too mortified to move, and Soutaru continued to be reliable.

"Sempai, what's going on?"

"I guess I never mentioned," Takumi seemed the least bothered, content to have control over Misaki's limb, "Today's my birthday."

Shouichirou gasped and automatically exclaimed, "Happy birthday! Sorry we haven't brought a gift!" but it was such a mistake because Takumi loved it when Shouichirou gasped. He cast his green eyes on the brunet, and Shouichirou could just about feel Takumi's tongue between his legs. A shiver wracked his body again, and Soutaru frowned, putting an arm around his shoulders.

"Yukimura-sempai, you're shivering again. Do you want to borrow my jacket?"

Misaki was engaging Takumi in (battle!) conversation, but the effeminate unfortunate could feel his gaze still smoldering on his skin. He shied away from Soutaru's kindness.

"Th-that's fine, Kanou-kun...I'm fine."

"I don't know..." Soutaru looked towards his president for leadership, and Takumi flicked his eyes away. Misaki fussed over Shouichirou a while before suggesting they ought to shove off, all three of them. Takumi wouldn't hear of it.

"The student council president shows herself on my birthday and I'm supposed to turn her away? I don't think so. Please enjoy the party!"

Soutaru looked at Misaki who looked at Shouichirou who looked at Takumi who looked divine, and they wound up staying. Misaki was swept immediately into the nearest circle of guests by Takumi, who tried introducing her as his girlfriend but was constantly cut off by her adamant statements as to the contrary. Soutaru stayed faithfully by his upperclassman's side for a while longer, but a fine young lady soon approached him for a drink.

"Go on, Kanou-kun, please keep her company," Shouichirou encouraged him warmly, because Ayuzawa Misaki would be so proud to see the gynophobic brunet cavorting with females. Little did he know it would leave him wide open to an attack by Usui Takumi.

"All by yourself, Yukimura?"

The firm grasp on his waist was unexpected but crawlingly familiar, and who would misinterpret that voice (like snakeskin on a marble floor)? Shouichirou started quivering, wishing he'd never agreed to come here. Actually. As far as wishing went, he wished he'd never fallen into Takumi's claws in the first place.

"I't you with the president?"

"Misa-chan is a big girl, she can fit in for a while by herself. You were looking lonely, I couldn't leave you alone." They were standing by the windows; Takumi was using a whisper so subtle Shouichirou had to lean close to hear it. "After all, you're my favorite."

Right. That's what Shouichirou was. Takumi's hobby, his favorite way to pass time. The brunet dropped his head, preparing himself for the next line of the mind-fucking Takumi was so good at slaying him with. When talking to the tall teen Shouichirou felt like an object, made of slime and made to endure as best he could. There was no pride, there was no personality. There was a possession of Takumi's, taut with experience but still not wise to Takumi's ways; exposed to his vagaries but unaccustomed to the vulgarity. Shouichirou didn't fully comprehend the unenviable indelicacy of his position. Pathetic.

"It's not easy for me to see you in another man's hands. You and Kanou are on good terms..."

"Usui-san! Kanou-kun is only my kouhai!"

"And you haven't even gotten me a gift." Takumi's eyes were mournful as they dripped onto Shouichirou's bowed head. That was the clincher, that Takumi would never appear to be the sadistic asswipe he actually was. That was the salt in the wound. Takumi was a man of action. Some of his actions were specially saved for Shouichirou, and some words, too.

"You know what I'd like? I'd like you to go naked under the apron."

Shouichirou had this opinion of Takumi as a twisted, imaginative jerk. So to have him request something from the mainstream threw him off. He met the blond's gaze.


A hand slowly stroked Shouichirou's cheek, just once. As if brushing aside a stray strand of hair, Takumi's fingers slid over his skin. "Mm. I've been wanting it for so take you wearing nothing but a maid's apron. Today is a special occasion, we should celebrate."

A panic was born in Shouichirou's chest as he realized the next sentence would invite him to stay the night (aaah~!). Takumi was going to do it. For real. The whole night...with Shouichirou...

"Yukimura, here you are! Usui, it's getting late. Where's Kanou? We're going home."

Ayuzawa Misaki saved people even when she didn't mean to. Shouichirou hadn't felt lucky in a long, long time, but as Takumi allowed him to slip out with his friends without again bringing up the topic of neither the apron nor staying over, he thought there was some damn good luck on his side today.


Then again, Shouichirou ponderously mused as Soutaru and Misaki walked him home (it didn't matter that Misaki was the girl and they should be seeing her home safely first; both the brunette and the brunet felt obliged to protect Shouichirou, the weakest link), wasn't it rude to refuse the birthday boy's request? It wasn't horrible to imagine, really. Nothing compared to the time Takumi had bound his partner's erect cock with satin string so tight Shouichirou hadn't been able to cum. Nothing compared to the day when he'd shown up after class with a dog collar and leash, dressing Shouichirou in that and nothing but, except for a pair of cat-ears. In fact compared to everything else Takumi had ever made him do, this was rather sweet. And it was a request, not an order. Shouichirou had a choice. He was free to go home and sleep alone tonight.

Instead he chose to slip away from his companions and went to the local department store to purchase an apron. It was simple, a curving cut of brown cloth covering the chest and another rectangular brown-and-cream striped strip falling till the knees. It tied behind him at the waist and neck with thick cotton straps, and as Shouichirou paid for it he could already feel the stirrings of arousal deep in his abdomen.

The tricky part was to sneak out of his house and return to Takumi's place by himself, but he managed.

And the really, really tricky part: finding that Takumi wasn't actually at home.

It was an hour to midnight. The night was quite young. The doorman had recognized Shouichirou and allowed him inside the building, but politely refused to escort him to Takumi's rooms when the master of the house wasn't there. So the brunet stayed, apron in his backpack, shooting the breeze with the doorman. Midnight struck and Cinderella didn't return; Shouichirou fell asleep behind the reception desk. Takumi walked back in at almost two in the morning, dressed more casually than he'd been earlier. The doorman showed him the parcel waiting for him, and Takumi knelt to shake Shouichirou awake.

"Yukimura...Yukimura! Is everything alright? Come upstairs."

"...Usui-san! Sorry I fell asleep." Even the doorman turned to stare at the doormat personality that emerged suddenly; the kid had seemed normal until he'd dozed off. Takumi's lips curved.

"When it's this late, Yukimura, I don't expect you to stay waiting for me. Come upstairs."

It wasn't until they were both seated in Takumi's living room that the blond questioned the brunet properly.

"Why are you here?"

"Um..." Shouichirou knew that the time to be abashed had long since passed, but that didn't stop the blush from rising to his cheeks. "Could you close your eyes, please?" And when Takumi did, the milder boy began to undress, knowing the young master would know exactly what the rustling of clothes meant. The shirt, pants, underwear went off; the apron went on. "It's a bit late, but...I wanted to give you your birthday gift."

Takumi opened his eyes and considered him carefully.

"Are you serious?"

Shouichirou had been expecting a different reaction.

"Excuse me, Usui-san?"

Takumi beckoned him forward and, still sitting, wrapped his arms around Shouichirou's waist, rubbing his face against the boy's stomach. Shouichirou hesitantly put his hands on Takumi's shoulders, murmuring his name again. Takumi sighed as if disappointed.

"What do you think of me, Yukimura? Am I your boyfriend? How on earth did you convince yourself you needed to give me gifts?"


"I've obviously been treating you too nicely if you can walk to me dressed like this without any regrets."

Regret. Yeah, there was a word to describe Shouichirou's feelings right now. Takumi was scaring him; he was ruing the day this madness had started again. Maybe the best course of action now would be to run away, but with Takumi so warm against his half-dressed body Shouichirou didn't feel like going anywhere. Was the blond correct? Was he taking this too easy?

"I'm going to make you cry."

That would be 'yes'. Shouichirou tried to move away but it was far too late. Takumi's gaze held him in place as the blond led him to his bedroom, leaving him to sit on the bed while he rummaged through his closet. A couple of minutes and a triumphant call later, he dumped condoms, lubricant and a long, lime-green belt as thin as Shouichirou's little finger onto the comfy sheets. A moment of deliberation later, Takumi threw the lubricant aside. Shouichirou winced.


"Very good, Yukimura. I don't want you to say anything from this point on except my name."


"You're wondering about the belt?"


"Well." Takumi sat next to him, picking up the boy's hand and kissing the fingertips. "I don't have the whole outfit at hand...I wasn't planning this. Ideally there should be a police baton, hat and high heels, plus strappy things all over my torso. But the belt will do as a whip, right?" He pushed Shouichirou onto his back and picked up the belt. Twining it around the brunet's mouth, he effectively gagged him. "It has other uses too. Well, you'll see. Let's skip school tomorrow, okay?"

The submissive one whimpered, and Takumi chuckled like a vat of boiling chocolate. Sitting astride his hips, he pinned Shouichirou's hands above his head and leaned down to pucker his lips over one nipple, and then the other. Soft, invasive noises emanated from Shouichirou, filling Takumi's ears to the brim. Reaching with a hand to stroke under the apron, Takumi spread Shouichirou's legs with ease. The brunet's eyes glistened tearfully, his molars biting down on the binding green belt; his knees drew up and tensed.

"Yukimura, you're a fool if you think I'll let you off so lightly." Takumi's hand on his cock was falling just short of the movements required for Shouichirou's release. "Alrighty then, let's see your fighting stance! C'mon. Up you get." The bed bounced under them as he helped the brunet stand, squeezing his hands for a second before letting go. "Don't disappoint me."

Shouichirou wobbled, then drew a great sighing breath in, a small trail of saliva spilling over his lip. Raising his freed hands to his chest, he made two fists and faced Takumi.

"I hope that's not the best you can give me, or I'll be awake all night teaching you..."

The last time the blond had taught the brunet anything, it was how to prepare his ass with Takumi's favorite lubricant, instead of that gunky hand lotion Shouichirou carried in his bag (like a little girl!). A thoroughly unenjoyable experience. Takumi reached down and pulled Shouichirou's feet apart, trailing his hands along them all the way to his waist, where he kissed this hip, and then that. Straightening, he coaxed the suffering boy's fists away from his chest, holding them out a respectable distance from the apron.

"Make a face, Yukimura."

Shouichirou muffled his dissenting reply behind the gag, but Takumi got the gist of it.

"Then should I just attack you?"

Slowly, sweetly, Shouichirou nodded.

Takumi looked before he leaped, but it didn't help matters much. The two of them crashed onto the bed, the brunet's full yelp held back and the blond's laugh untethered. Takumi slithered a hand under Shouichirou's chin and guided it downwards. Kneeling next to the green-eyed boy, Shouichirou bent to breathe on his cock. Takumi chuckled.

"That tickles, Yukimura. I guess you can't get this right with that belt on you. Let's get it off..."

And use it to stuff your bum. Takumi didn't say it, he did it. Having Shouichirou stand again, back to Takumi and hands holding himself open to the intrusion, the blond slid the suggestive tip of the belt into his tract. As if that wasn't enough (and it wasn't, really; that was a damn thin belt we're taking about) Takumi invited himself in, using his tongue to draw out loud calls from Shouichirou's freed mouth.


"You're calling my name without the honorific?" Takumi muttered into his heat, "Cute. How obedient." A finger joined the belt in him, pushing it deeper than his own length could reach, deeper than Shouichirou liked. A mangled moan fell from his lips. He dropped to his knees, and Takumi tutted.

"I praise you and this happens." The leather coiled in him as more was forced in by the young master's unceasing hand. Shouichirou cried out. "Do you prefer abuse?"

The brunet's hands, still lifting his waist appropriately high so Takumi could continue his activities, quivered. Takumi withdrew his hand but left the belt in; wiping his fingers on his pants he pondered what to put in next.

"Yukimura, do you like ice cream on a stick?"

Shouichirou would let himself go, but that would mean tightening around the thing hanging out of his passageway and that just couldn't be borne. He looked over his shoulder to see Takumi hanging off the bed, rummaging in the trash can.

"I was having some this morning. I don't think the housekeeper took the trash out today...nope! Here they are!" And with a triumphant grin he produced them, three flat wooden sticks like the doctor used to hold down his patient's tongue only well. They were stained with traces of chocolate, strawberry and maybe mint. Shouichirou dropped his head to his chest in shame. Takumi couldn't be serious, except he so totally was. The sticks he'd eaten ice cream off he now wedged between Shouichirou's cheeks. Without the slightest hint of pleasure Shouichirou screamed; his hands dropped to the bed and balled up in the sheets. His face buried itself into a pillow and his voice was muffled.

Without the slightest hint of remorse Takumi put the other two in.

"Usui-san...Usui-san, please...don't...please, take them o-out..." hiccuping between words, Shouichirou raised his burning, wet face above the silken cover of the pillow to make his plea audible. Had it fallen on deaf ears all might've ended in peace. But Takumi heard loud and clear.

"Didn't I say I don't want you saying anything but my name?"


With a hard hand he pushed the sticks in all the way. Shouichirou felt one graze his prostrate and a his mouth formed a shapeless, silent exclamation.

"Take them out yourself."

If the angel of death showed itself, crouching on the headboard right then and there, Shouichirou would've begged to be taken away. Well, that's what he thought. Whether he would have chosen Takumi's rakish ways over death was debatable. In any case, no angel intervened. Shouichirou succumbed to the demon beside him and reached down into himself. Coming out they felt worse than they had going in. Shouichirou learned his lesson. Takumi had been considerate to some extent until now. Lubricant was a fucking godsend. What would the aftertaste of this encounter feel like? What had Shouichirou been thinking? This was something he should've realized that day when Takumi, not bothering to use a condom, had chosen to take a leak in his ass after cumming. That a mix of such liquids dripping down a boy's legs could turn him on was proof enough, wasn't it? Takumi was not a nice man. Takumi was not a nice man. Takumi...Takumi was...


Shouichirou lay on the bed, spent and panting, and turned to search Takumi's face for a clue as to his identity. But the causative wasn't even bearing witness to the misery caused, he was restlessly peering towards the double doors opening onto the balcony.


"Yukimura, it's stuffy in here. There's a nice breeze outside, it's shaking the plants." There were two enormous planters strategically blocking the best part of view from the stone wall of the balcony, plus two chairs and a table for taking tea. Takumi decided it would work well for taking Shouichirou as well.

"Take the apron off, it's not as exciting as I thought it'd be. You really do look best naked." The grip on his wrist slackened once they were exposed to the youngest hours of morning, and Shouichirou shivered.

Takumi tapped his shoulder with one patiently waiting finger. "Don't worry about the cold. You'll be warm enough, soon enough."

With a guarantee like that the resistance in Shouichirou was ripped aside. He reached behind his back and fumbled with the knots he'd had no problem tying. Takumi's staring face made it difficult to concentrate, but Shouichirou managed to get the apron dropping off himself.

"Bend over the table. Where's the belt?"

It was back inside, and he went to get it. Upon his return he sat himself in the chair, legs spread, a foot on each of Shouichirou's shoulders and his pants undone just the right amount. He flicked the belt; it struck Shouichirou's cheek.


The brunet's pink tongue stretched towards his exposed cock and caressed it tentatively before taking the head inside and sucking. Takumi watched him do this for a few seconds and lashed out with the belt, just once.


Instead of striking flesh, the tempered leather struck the table's edge, so close to Shouichirou he could feel the sting of it anyway. Perversely, he wanted to feel the snap himself, but Takumi wouldn't lay into him at all. The air around him hissed as the belt flashed through the air; it was agony, the rising anticipation and the resulting disappointment. Takumi's thrill lurked in the psychological. It was Shouichirou wanting the whip that turned him on, not any injury done to that svelte body. Takumi wasn't one to break his belongings.

"Usui-san..." Shouichirou groaned around a mouthful of dick and Takumi breathed deeply to control himself.

"Just like that, Yukimura."

"Mm...hmm nmm...ahh..." If Shouichirou was trying to speak, he wasn't doing a very good job of it. The other job, however, was fantastic. Takumi felt his control being cajoled away bit by bit until he dropped the whip and grabbed the brunet's soft black hair, curling his legs around him and pushing in as deep as possible, Shouichirou's throat working his head. Suddenly it wasn't enough, and Shouichirou could do nothing but open as wide as he could as Takumi thrust into his mouth, eventually cumming with a deep groan of stifled satisfaction.

Shouichirou let Takumi's erection go slowly, sitting on his haunches and gazing raptly up at the sharp-chinned child of the upper class. Takumi was covering his face with two hands, breathing heavy. Shouichirou trembled in the cold morning air and thought of how he'd been promised warmth. To his horror there was no horror left in him, no pride to cringe from the blond's touch. His self worth, his appraisal of love, everything, everything had changed to a sick nothingness, a parody of its true meaning because of what Takumi was doing. Maybe this was all Shouichirou was worth, and all he could get.

Whatever, he was freezing.

So he reached to wrap his arms around Takumi's neck, whose body was as warm as his heart cold, whose breath on Shouichirou's neck was as comforting as the hands he slid to Shouichirou's buttocks were not. The brunet's bare chest rubbed against the blond's clothed one, his nipples painfully taut from arousal and chill, his cock rising against Takumi's stomach in a plea to be attended to.

"Yukimura...are you cold?"


Takumi wrapped his arms tight around the brunet and hugged him close, kissing the side of his face. "Is that so..." he murmured into Shouichirou's hair, "Well. Deal with it."

Thrusting him away, Takumi stalked indoors and locked his stunned lover out. Shouichirou leaped to his feet and pounded on the door, shouting, "Usui-san! Usui-san! Please let me back in!" but it was no use at all. Inside Takumi turned once to smile dourly at him, gesturing the universal symbol for wanking, and suggested Shouichirou do it to pass the time. Then he picked a fluffy towel out of the pile by the dresser and went to take a shower.

Yukimura Shouichirou slumped against the door and started to cry his heart out.

What was the matter with him? Why couldn't he just pull away from Takumi? There was nothing stopping him at all; Takumi had never threatened him with consequences that prevented him from leaving. It should be a simple matter, so to speak, to say 'no' and tell Seika High's number one popular male to go get bent, because Shouichirou refused to bend over for him anymore. He couldn't tell Misaki or Soutaru and ask them to stand by him, because that would require explaining what Takumi did...and why Shouichirou allowed it to happen. But he could borrow some of the student council president's strength, right? He could be strong. He could stand up for himself. He didn't deserve to be treated this way.

"What makes you think you deserve any better?"

Takumi, finished washing himself, stood behind the glass doors rubbing a towel into his wet hair and dripping water from the rest of his naked body onto the carpet. Waving at the brunet to move aside, he opened the door and stepped back to let Shouichirou inside.

"Crying as if the world's come to an end...Yukimura, you're no one special. So why shouldn't I do as I like to you? You don't seem to mind very much."

Seriously? Takumi couldn't fucking tell how much Shouichirou minded it? The brunet stood strong and enraged, having found pride lurking deep within his molested body. He staggered forward and slapped Takumi on the cheek before grabbing his shoulders and shouting:

"I do mind! I do mind! I want Usui-san to be kind to me! I want to be treated well!"

Takumi seized his hips and pulled him in closer, grinning madly. "Oh, a spark of spunk. I don't know how to take care of you any better than this, Yukimura. Take it or leave it."

And that frightening option loomed large over Shouichirou's head, threatening break-up. Takumi took his tortured silence for consent, a declaration of enslavement. Closing his eyes, the vice-president of Seika's student council felt his partner nip his chin before kissing him deeply, somehow twice as aroused as he'd been a few minutes earlier. The green-eyed devil threw him on the bed and climbed atop him, ready to break his fragile sense of rebellion once again.

"Take a deep breath, Yukimura."

And the night continued, just like that.