Ok. So, I'm doing a... au!challenge (?) in tumblr, and I'll be posting them here. Some of them. :D

Starting with this Kenyako.

Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. No matter how much I want them to be.


"could be, should be, would be"

meeting at a masquerade ball au - Kenyako.


.

She's never been one to do this. Never been one to let a random stranger slide his hands under her skirt, hell. She's never even allowed that much to her ex-boyfriend until they dated for a year.

But that's the point, isn't it? That had been the point when she accepted her roommate's invitation to this party. Step out of her comfort zone, into the game. Right?

And as she feels his hand move over her thigh and up, up, up—as she gasps and her eyes fly open and she stares right into a pair of mesmerizing blue eyes that keep sending shivers down her spine over and over, she thinks—

Right.

.

.

Miyako really feels obligated to accept the invitation.

Here is this girl, who going only by her brother's word had let her be her roommate. And her brother's word had come from the little brother of her sister's classmate. So, it is saying a lot, that this sweet girl put up no resistant to take in a complete stranger.

Thus why, when she asks her if she'd like to attend a party, a masquerade-ball themed party at that, Miyako can only say yes. And while her initial plan is to spend the night being her usual friendly self until an appropriate time to escape, it all goes out of her mind the moment she bumps into him.

This perfect, blue-eyed stranger.

"So," he says, leaning more comfortably against the wall, "let me see if I understand."

She can only see the lower half of his face, and his eyes. His piercing blue eyes that only make her want to be closer and closer and—what's wrong with her?

"Your sister's classmate found out about you needing to find an apartment, and said classmate told her brother, for some reason, who told his senior in…" he pauses, sips his drink and the continues—movements, Miyako realizes, that have her practically hypnotized. "…a soccer club, who just happened to have a sister looking for a roommate."

"That's correct."

"An incredibly bizarre chain for one favor," he says, hiding an almost-smile behind his glass.

Miyako tries to convince herself that the warmth spreading through her, the fluttering in her stomach, is due to the alcohol.

.

.

She asks for his name. Again, that damned little smile appears slowly, and he says that would defeat the point of the party's theme. The pout escapes before she can suppress it, but he doesn't comment on it. And after a while, he tells her she should just call him whatever she has been calling him in her mind.

She says blue-eyed stranger might sound weird.

He smiles.

"Not more weird than violet-haired girl."

.

.

It is a surprising thing.

The shift.

One moment, they talk and talk and talk, enjoying the company of someone who is not yet drunk, at least, not too drunk to be incapable of forming a coherent sentence. But then they're leaning into each other—shoulders pressed together and hands brushing oh so casually over hair and arms.

The wall at her back is cold, and it feels refreshing in the midst of the all-consuming heat this stranger evokes in her. His deep voice drowns out the shouts of drunken people all around the yard. And his eyes… his eyes

And then comes the next moment.

.

.

She kisses him with abandon. With a disinhibited passion she'd not known herself capable of. Her hands fist on his shoulder and while a paper wouldn't be able to slip between them she feels they're not close enough.

They're in a room, she knows this but can't remember how they got there. When they got there.

Blue-eyed Stranger grabs her thighs and hoist her up, pressing her against the wall at her back. The kiss breaks briefly and it allows her to breathe, and then he's stealing it all away-breath and reason and any little argument that she might have come up with to stop this.

She doesn't want to stop this.

Miyako hooks her ankles at his back, and he grips her hips pushing their bodies closer. He thrust—once, slowly, then again with a little more force, and again and again and again—hitting that sweet, sweet spot that makes her blood boil and her skin tingle and her head go blank. And she gasping for air but refuses to part from his lips, and she begs him to go faster, go harder, almost there…!

He hisses and Miyako lets out a silent scream and among the rush and sweet oblivion she thinks she's never been more

And then she falls.

.

.

"Ken."

His voice comes from far away and Miyako struggles to understand.

They had slid down the wall and remained right there on the floor, limp-limbed and thoroughly satisfied, clothes rumpled right down to their ruined underwear.

His face is pressed against her neck, and each puff of air hitting her sensitive skin sends jolts down her spine. God, it is too much.

"Ken," he repeats, pulling his face away to look at her. "My name is Ken."

Sweet God, he's gorgeous. His mask lay askew on top of his head and now she had a close-up view of this beautiful stranger, with his aristocratic features, full lips (kissable lips, God, she'd enjoyed kissing those lips), and those piercing blue eyes.

She has to take a moment to swallow the whimper that attempted to surface.

"Miyako," she replies, eventually. "I'm Miyako. It's a pleasure to meet you."

And only when his damnable smirk pulls at the corner of his lips does she realize what she'd said. She blushed.

"Oh, the pleasure was all mine."


fin.


If you catch any mistakes, please tell me? Thanks for reading!