The Art of Persuasion

There is this flair I have on Facebook that says: 'I like to think of my fan fiction as deleted scenes'. Well…here's a deleted scene I thought up of when I came home for Thanksgiving break. This is set in the fifth volume of the manga. When my little brother heard that I was (FINALLY!) following through with a really dirty idea, he was beside himself with happiness. This is my experimentation in second person with Hikaru. Since it is a experiment, and I want it up for someone, not betaed. Please enjoy the dirty, dirty Hitachiinnest. Feedback is appreciated!

Disclaimer: OHSHC. Owned by other people. Sue someone who is rich.




"That guy Arai--he's leaving." (1)

Good riddance. The jerk.

"How about we go and apologize? Okay?" (1)

How about NOT okay, Kaoru? YOU go apologize since you want to so badly.

So what if I am acting childish? I just don't like that guy. He is trying to steal our friends. The ones we worked hard to keep. Like Haruhi. Now I know her true colors. She would throw us away like yesterday's garbage for this lame guy. You are trying to make me mad by treating me like a little kid, rubbing my hands comfortingly and using a soft voice.

And I know you can see my irritated frown by the way, when you smile with the corner of your left lip all crooked like that… I know you are pretending not to be smug and resisting the urge to rub it in my face all because you know what I'm thinking.

And how about you MAKE me go out there, Kaoru, freaking MAKE me…

You pause a moment to examine me on the mattress, tilting your head slightly to the right and asking with that stupid skeptic tone, "Is that how it is going to be, Hikaru?"


It is.

Kaoru, you will have to drag me there as a corpse first. And there in no way in HELL that I am going to let you take my clothes and parade around downstairs as me. But that is what you want to do, isn't it? I can tell by the obvious way you eye my red jersey.

"Bite. Me."

And you do. On my ear, you idiot! It hurts! You already have pushed me on my back with the sheets and have pinned my wrists down at my sides, your face lowered into the crook of my neck, the gentle ends of your short hair prickling the sensitive flesh there.

…must…resist…urge…to shiver…

It doesn't help that you are breathing heavily in my ear canal.

"…if I can get your clothes off of you…will you let me go as you downstairs…?"

Not like I have much choice. My wrists are starting to lose blood circulation.

You sit up between my legs, and lower your face, sadly mistaken in thinking I don't see the smirk pulling on your allegedly 'neutral' expression. Cause I can. I cringe a little at the sensation of something wet and moist pressing onto my stomach, sliding up my chest as your hands work up my black muscle shirt and jersey. I don't know whether to kick you off or hope that you realize before it's too late that we are twins. Not lovers.

Not like that had stopped us last weekend…but it can't happen again. I can't jerk off alone in the bathroom to the memory of you arching and naked on all fours in front of me, pushing back on my cock, or sucking the come off of my fingers like a hungry kitten. It's not just noises but how you bite too hard and drawn blood, or how you scratch too hard and draw blood…

I'm already throbbing at the thought. You take notice of it and manage to worm a hand underneath the lip of my jeans, leaving a squeeze promising Later without moving your mouth from my right nipple. Your teeth mock the word before clenching down harshly.

Wait a minute…how did both of my shirts get on the bedroom floor…?

Damn you, Kaoru… if you get my jeans…

Too late. Your hands already warm from massaging my hands and my chest have unzipped the fly and pushed down my underwear enough to free me from the cotton material. Too tight anyway. You lick your lips (again reminding me of a scheming greedy cat) and blow faintly on me, watching on satisfied as my cock grows an angrier red. At this point I would strip you down and have my way with you but it's painfully distracting.

Usually you would be teasing me now about what I want you to do to me, making me beg for it, but you are strangely silent throughout the process. You must really want to go downstairs as 'Hikaru' and apologize to everyone for my rant.

I would have never noticed how you gradually slipped my jeans from my knees to my ankles, dragging along my underwear, as I was being too preoccupied with biting the knuckles hard enough to leave dents on my fist to keep from moaning aloud (and having the noise bring some curious guest at the Karuizawa to inspect this room).

Clumsily, I dislodge my now drooled-on fist and dig my fingers into your hair, groaning muffled behind clamped lips as you let out an amused sigh and creep your lips over my head, swirling your tongue rhythmically and torturing me by swallowing, the walls of your throat pressing sweetly and thickly against my aching trembling cock. It would never feel as good as you in my lap panting, as I would pump into you and graze my lips possessively over yours.

Just thinking secretly about the next opportunity, risking being caught somewhere in the hallway at the Academy riding into you against the wall, squirming and disheveled in my arms, the pressure of your clenching legs wrapped around my waist as an orgasm rolls your amber eyes back…

The fantasy helps me finish with a loosened cry of effort, flushing into your mouth and you not spilling a drop. The one that did get away I reached out affectionately and wiped clean from your chin.

A little red in the cheeks, you smile triumphant and hold up my jeans.

"Thank you Hikaru…"

You quickly throw off your shirts and jeans, pulling on my shoes and clothes including the black briefs (which I only find it a little weird…because it's not like anyone is going to know what my underwear looks like and ask him to show if the underwear was 'Hikaru's). Before running out of the bedroom door, you kiss the middle of my forehead with noticeable approval.

Grumbling under my breath, I realize when you are gone that the bag of our replacement clothes has gone missing and that a lone thin white blanket is all I have to cover my freezing body trapped in air-conditioned room set permanently on HIGH.

Torn out of the fancy blue stationary personalized to the guests and decorated with gold curly lining from the desk, on the floor the note reads: In Laundry. Sorry, Hika-chan.

The jerk.





(1) Original dialogue from Volume 5. Belongs to Bisco Hatori.