Author's note: This is the severely edited version of a story I wrote which became very explicit! I've never written a three-person romance before, so I guess that was bound to happen. I don't think I'll be posting the full version anywhere, so you guys can just use your imagination.

The Way It Worked by ACM a.k.a. Annie May

Kyouya smugly tightened his tie. It was 9 pm, a time at which even he considered it acceptable to leave the office. He closed the file he'd been updating and gingerly pried open the lid of his briefcase. No one knew the in here, among numerous papers and organizational devices, he also kept a small bottle of cologne, which he dabbed behind his ears and on his wrists just before driving home. Having applied it to his satisfaction, he replaced the small crystal bottle, closed his briefcase and, standing, turned off the lights of his office.

He encountered no one as he walked from his corner office to the reception desk and out into the dark street where his chauffer was waiting. He hadn't needed to call. He always left promptly at this time. He also did not need to specify a location. If he did not do so, his chauffer knew to take him home to the spacious mansion where the world assumed he lived the relatively quiet life of a thirty-something bachelor. Kyouya snorted quietly at the thought. He was perfectly willing to play the too-busy executive, never having time for a wife, but this was far from the truth.

If his female coworkers--whose occasional glances earned them cold stares--only knew the real Kyouya. The Kyouya whose sex drive was nearly insatiable, the Kyouya who was aggressive but could beg when the situation required it, and whose needs were attended to every night.

The Kyouya who lived at home with a bizarre "family." Pulling into the drive, the chauffer got out and opened the door for Kyouya, who stepped out with a polite nod and walked to the door of the house. Turning the key in the lock, he braced himself for the quotidian greeting.

As usual, the moment Kyouya opened the door he was nearly bowled over by a bounding yellow dog. Swearing, but not loudly enough that the neighbors would hear, he pushed his hands down on the dog's head to try to minimize the amount of slobber getting onto his Armani suit. From somewhere in the house, a voice called out "Be nice to Antoinette!"

"Tell her to be nice to me!" Kyouya yelled back with agitation, although somewhat amused.

Immediately footsteps came running. Haruhi, her expression apologetic, lunged toward the dog and restrained it with great effort.

"Antoinette, you know that's not how we say hello to Kyouya," she chided. "Oh, hello, Kyouya," she said, suddenly remembering he was there. "Okaeri."

"Tadaima," Kyouya replied with a smirk.

Suddenly from behind Haruhi Tamaki appeared, clad in a dress shirt and pants with a pink apron over both, a chef's hat on his head and spatula in hand. His face red with indignation, he waved the spatula at Kyouya in an accusatory manner and yelled "WHAT have you been doing to our dog?"

"Just saying hello. Nice to see you, too."

Tamaki opened his mouth, shut it again, lowered the spatula, and said quietly, "Welcome home."

Kyouya laughed.

"Took off work early again, I see," he said to Tamaki, hanging up his jacket and removing his shoes. Haruhi took his briefcase and set off towards his room, while he and Tamaki headed into the kitchen, where the smell of curry wafted through the air. This scene must have looked perfectly normal to the outside world, he thought. A bachelor businessman sharing a house with a married couple, his high school friends. But that wasn't the way it worked.

"No, I just left work at a normal time, because I am not a workaholic, Mom," Tamaki protested.

"Well, I can get away with it because I have an adorable house husband like you to cook for me," Kyouya said, giving Tamaki's ass a gentle pat. Tamaki jumped a little at the contact and blushed.

"Not getting too frisky in here, are you?" Haruhi said, poking her head in at just that moment.

"Not just yet," Kyouya remarked, giving her a look which sent shivers down her spine. He was the shadow king, she still thought, quietly wielding tremendous power, but she had to admit she saw him in quite a different light now. Now, rather than frightening, she found this quality quite attractive. And she didn't need to worry about surrendering to his power. She held plenty of sway in the courtroom, and at home, there was still one person that she found quite easy to dominate.

"Tamaki," she said calmly, having dropped the "–senpai" long ago.

"Yes, my love?" he said, his blushing face becoming suddenly debonair. He had similarly stopped referring to her as his daughter many years ago.

"Your curry is starting to burn," she stated flatly.

Predictably, Tamaki flew into a frenzy, knocking over several pots and pans with a loud clatter as he threw himself in the general direction of the stove, hoping to salvage as much of the curry as possible. Haruhi settled herself in a chair next to Kyouya to watch the situation unfold. Smiling knowingly, Kyouya turned in his seat and leaned over hers. Lowering his mouth to her right ear, he whispered, "Order a pizza."

An hour and a half later Antoinette was finishing up a pizza crust and Tamaki had finally stopped sobbing about how wonderful his curry was going to be. They had all enjoyed their fill of pizza and found themselves rather tired. Tamaki had suggested they head to bed, but Haruhi had insisted she had a few briefs to look over, so went to her home office, leaving the two of them seated under the kotatsu that Tamaki insisted they keep up all year.

In a rare moment of quiet reflection, Kyouya simply stared into Tamaki's eyes. A tickling feeling on his thigh suddenly got his attention. Tamaki's foot was rubbing against his leg beneath the Kotatsu. Quirking an eyebrow, Kyouya leaned over the table toward Tamaki, brushing his hand across Tamaki's cheek and down his neck. Tamaki gulped.

"Aw, is there something you want?" Kyouya asked with mocking sympathy.

Tamaki lowered his eyelids. "Maybe," he said coyly, swirling a finger over the table in front of him.

"I think there's something we need to do first," said Kyouya, sharing a knowing glance with Tamaki before helping him to his feet. The two strode quickly out of the room, up the stairs and down the hallway. Heat was rising in both of their bodies and Tamaki pressed his against Kyouya as Kyouya knocked loudly. Haruhi opened the door, a look of mock-exasperation on her face.

"How much do you guys really expect me to have gotten done in an hour?" she asked.

"I can get a lot done in half an hour," replied Kyouya cockily.

"You'd better be able to back up a claim like that." said Haruhi, no longer the oblivious ingénue she once was. Pulling both men by their wrists, she backed slowly into the office before taking a seat in her leather high-back chair.

"Were you even really working in here?" said Kyouya, fingering the gap left at the top of her blouse where the first four buttons were undone. Tamaki gaped at this, color rising in his cheeks.

"How DARE you question my Haruhi's innocence!" he cried. It was all part of the game.

Suddenly Tamaki found himself seated on Haruhi's large wooden desk, Kyouya's hands on either side of his hips. Kyouya's face was inches from his.

"I'm questioning yours," he said, giving Tamaki's lips a teasing lick.

"Come on guys. It's time to go to bed," declared Haruhi. Tamaki was about to protest, but seeing the devilish gleam in his wife's eyes, he was silent as he and Kyouya followed her.

Hours later, Kyouya lay staring at the ceiling, his two lovers satisfied and nearly asleep on either side of him. He loved to play their game, sometimes to dominate and sometimes to give into them, and always to find this sense of wholeness within them. The meaningless existence he had led to this point was gone forever. His wife and his husband, as he liked to call them, had given him something so incredible, worth more than anything money could buy.

"I love you," he whispered, and turned out the light.