A/N : My first Ouran High School Host Club fic. It's an AU, with implied character death. Éclair's in the front for a reason.
FYI, Algophobia means "fear of pain". I also want to apologize ahead of time for killing Eclair's character (not literally heh). XDD
Disclaimer: I'll make this short and simple. Please don't sue me.
They're still dressed up in their formal garments, he utterly handsome in his black suit with a silken tie to top it off, and she in her raven dress of tapering ribbons and plentiful, white lace -- but that's okay, because she rather likes it this way. The irony of the situation is the fact that she's on top of him and he's doing absolutely nothing to stop her. She is in complete control and the taste of victory weighs heavy but addictively sweet on her tongue.
"My poor, poor prince," she simpers cruelly, "you just don't know what to do with yourself, do you?" The cinnamon-haired girl with wide cerulean depths gazes down at her new prize haughtily whilst pinning him down like a resplendent butterfly with her long, pale arms; she interlaces her fingers with his possessively. A secret smile decorates her beautiful features in the blackness of night as she meets his glimmering amethyst stare unflinchingly, holding him with her eyes and refusing to allow him to look away. Brown curls tickle his neck as she trails her lips to his ear, a smile in her voice as she breathes cloyingly sweet, "Oh darling, I just want to make love to you tonight."
It's not as romantic as it sounds, and the boy beneath her twists feebly and clenches his eyes shut as she lowers her cherry lips to his, jaw moving to coax him further because her wanting is so great. (Éclair Tonnerre wants everything.) Eventually, he responds to her kiss, albeit a bit half-heartedly, and after a moment he presses back just as insistently. He isn't demanding as he is almost gentle, his pink tongue tracing along the crease of her lips and asking that she grant access to the cavern of her warm mouth. It disturbs her because she knows, the realization ricocheting deep within her psyche like a melancholy bullet straight to the heart:
He's thinking of something, someone else.
A displeased frown tugs at her full lips as she pulls back angrily, eyes bottomless and churning as the sequined night sky. She wants this one last chance to prove she's worthy of the prince's adoration, to prove her worth as his princess and to give him (be) everything he wants, but his mind is still plagued by her –- that god-awful common girl with dark chocolate locks and equally dark almond colored eyes. In her heart she knows she's not the one, she knows that he could never love another, and he won't allow her to desecrate his temple of a body.
At least, not tonight.
Maybe when he finally realizes that his girl shaped utopia isn't coming back.
Still, he stays silent and keeps the zipper seeking hands at bay as he responds morosely, "N-not tonight."
She pouts, smiles teasingly, and tries again as she slides her finger down his face and lightly nibbles his bottom lip, waiting for a reaction. Of course, there is none. But that's okay, because she knows she has a proposition to make, an offer that he could never refuse. Her warm breath wafts against the shell of his flushed ear as she croons softly, "But I can make you forget."
I can make you forget about the girl with big brown eyes and chocolate hair. I can make you forget about the girl who made you forget how to breathe when she took your hand in hers. I can make you forget about the girl who made your heart skip a beat when she smiled up at you with love. I can make you forget the girl who chose to answer the call of the ocean's over yours. I can make you forget the girl you failed to save as she sunk into the depthless, churning aqua blue of the sea. I can make you forget the girl encased in pink frills lying stiffly and blue-lipped in the closed coffin.
I can make you forget Haruhi Fuijioka.
His breath hitches in his chest and the damn breaks; he sobs openly, brokenly, chest heaving with every tortured inhale, and Éclair Tonnerre reaches down to trace away each and every luminescent teardrop marring Tamaki's Suou's tear-stained face before crushing her mouth against his.
( . . . You don't think of boys as rape victims.)