Title: Say What You Mean, Do What You Say

Genre: Drama, Kyouya x Tamaki

Rating: M

Warnings: Dirty, mean, full of horrible messages, and bad language

Notes, omake, and unreleased epilogue


Sex is a weapon - use it for good.

This silly fanfic is the most substantial piece of erotica I've ever written, and since I was going through a rough point of my adulthood as I wrote it, it a.) took several years to finish when I only planned to dedicate a few months and b.) became a real learning experience, since the feedback on this piece is some of the most insightful, intelligent commentary I've ever received. You guys are so helpful and oh so very smart. I used to write fanfiction when I was a teenager, and my desire to return to that simpler time in my life is what drove me to do this. (Along with a suggestion from an old friend, Lillian, who piqued my interest in Kyouya and Tamaki as a couple.) That, and I wanted to write something super dirty because LOLs. But this really got away from me and became a weird force that lingered for a long time.

I've always loved reading works that take a strong psycho-sexual angle, but because I live an incredibly straight-edge life, I feel weird writing erotica myself. I'm afraid my personal views on abstinence are going to gum up the works and make my writing sound like thinly veiled propaganda. But I'm not anti-sex, I'm anti-stupid-sex, since I've seen far too many lives complicated or straight-up ruined because of sexual choices that stank from a mile away. So that's really the only message behind this damn thing. Don't be stupid. Sex is the answer to a few problems, but it's the cause of far more, so keep it in your pants until you're thinking straight, at least. Then you're making a choice rather than running on instinct. And I'll always get behind that, even if I might not agree with the particular choice.

Anyway, thanks for sticking around as long as you did, guys. There's some bonus material and a cop-out epilogue below as well as links at the bottom related to my future projects. Please visit my livejournal (maggie-danger(dot)livejournal(dot)com) or leave a comment here letting me know what you'd like next. Oh, and visit tokyodemons(dot)com if you want to see the original prose that's taking up most of my time these days. That's written under my other pen name, Lianne.

Deleted scenes:

(These were alternative dream sequences from the beginning of Chapter 5 that didn't fit with the other ones. They were supposed to fill out more of the plot and Kyouya's twisting sexual desire, but I figured you guys were smart enough to not have everything spelled out for you.)

Kyouya was in a love hotel. The sheets were stiff and the room smelled like artificial cherry flavoring, which went with the tacky black-and-red décor. There was red and black hair on the white pillow, and he couldn't stop staring at it. His thighs were sticky. He knew he'd had sex with a girl, but he couldn't remember her name or what she looked like.

Then he was in a small, simple bed in a small, simple room with tatami mats on the floor. He was in a pair of favorite silk pajamas he'd grown out of at age 12. A warm hand reached out from behind him and gently covered his eyes. He felt a slim female body wrapped in a cotton nightgown slide up behind him and press against his back. For some reason he thought it was his mother, even though he knew it was Haruhi. She uncovered his eyes and ran her hand down his face, finally stopping on his chin to tilt his head back. She smiled from behind him, her usual bemused expression melted into understanding. She kissed him on the cheek and licked the same spot. She placed a hand on his chest, then slid it down over his stomach. Tamaki was behind her, wearing those pajamas he'd brought to a sleepover two years ago. He spooned her and looked over her head at Kyouya, her smile mirrored on his face. He rested his hand over hers, on Kyouya's chest, and pushed her hand down into Kyouya's pajama bottoms.

Alternative Ending (final chapter):

And the ironic thing was, he didn't hate it. The moment he had resigned himself to ending sex with Tamaki without caring about his own pleasure was the same moment he felt the disgust fade away. When his actions weren't hindered by his fears and his complexes, they became superficial. Simple. He wondered how much of his earlier sexual disgust had been indirect, because running his tongue through streaks of Tamaki's precum suddenly felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Kyouya didn't know if he was gay. He didn't care. He just felt his own erection harden every time his best friend gasped out his name.

"K-Kyouya!" Tamaki screamed as he arched into Kyouya's mouth. His thighs trembled under Kyouya's grip as the muscles below his waist pulled taut.

Kyouya slid one of his hands up to the piano keys. His fingers fell on Tamaki's; Tamaki quickly twisted his hand so their palms could slap together and their fingers could entwine. The union of their hands banged against the keys.

I love you, Kyouya thought, his mind strangely clear as he waited for Tamaki to cum. I just don't know what that means yet.

There was the faint choomp of sliding wood from far away, but Kyouya ignored it. Tamaki squirmed under him, gasping, then suddenly went rigid as a plank. The hand clasping Kyouya's went slack.

Kyouya opened his eyes. Tamaki had gone white as a ghost, his haunted gaze turned toward the door into the room. Kyouya's eyes followed Tamaki's…to the now-open doorway, which framed a pair of very shocked twins with a clubroom key in their hands.


All the coiling feelings in Kyouya's heart released at once, leaving his heart slack and his dick soft. He quickly pulled his mouth off Tamaki and rubbed a fist over his lips. Tamaki swallowed and frantically pulled his shirt down over his weeping erection.

For a long moment, nobody spoke. Then the twins shared a knowing glance, nodded, and cleared their throats.

"We just realized something," Kaoru announced.

"Yeah." Hikaru snapped his fingers and pointed accusingly at Kyouya. "For the last several years, we've been making fun of you guys for nothing."

"Thanks for correcting us. We'll be sure to remedy that in the future." They saluted in unison, grabbed the door, and dragged it close behind them. The echo of their flying footsteps were muffled through the thick wood.

Tamaki started to cry.

Kyouya cursed and got to his feet. "Calm down," he muttered as he straightened his glasses. "I've been looking for an excuse to have them killed."

Tamaki sniffed and shakily pulled on his pants. "Really?" he whimpered, his voice betraying his hope.


Unreleased epilogue:

(There's a reason I never released this officially-I don't like it. I wanted to do one scene a year later through Tamaki's POV, but I think it compromises a lot of the original ending and fills in blanks that didn't need to be filled. Also, the necking is incongruous and the whole thing is kinda sloppy, because my heart wasn't in it. But after writing several different versions of this, I figured this one was closest to acceptable, so you can read it for funsies. It's kinda like…a fanfic of a fanfic. Which is as stupid as it sounds. Oh, well…Fumi Yoshinaga wrote an alternative, super dirty ending to Antique Bakery with a similar opening disclaimer of I SHOULDN'T HAVE WRITTEN THIS, so if it's good enough for her, it's more than good enough for me.)

"You seem nervous," his father said. "And it looks strange on you."

Tamaki blinked. He quickly stood from the pliant couch, his hands unconsciously tugging his shirt straight as he did so. "Nervous?" he asked. "I'm not…I mean…"

Yuzuru Suou sighed. The ice in his glass tinkled as he leaned further into his armchair. "Unless you're just excited?" he offered. "I know how close you are with Ootori's son."

Tamaki smiled shakily, unsure of what to say. He could see his father was trying to be kind by being observant, but his attention only made Tamaki self-conscious. Did he really look nervous? He didn't feel nervous.

Well…maybe he was a little nervous. And excited. Nervous and excited and apprehensive and…strange.

I don't even know, he thought, the words filling him with an odd sadness. I don't know what I'm feeling anymore.

He could hear laughter and popping sounds outside-the guests celebrating the warm night, no doubt. The Suou's summer compound was more of a guest retreat than a family home, so defenses were down and everyone celebrated together. The servants had a drink. Business partners shared embarrassing stories and business rivals could find common ground in a round of golf. It was an unusually comforting place, especially since Tamaki's father himself had come to relax that year, but Tamaki couldn't calm down. Not since he'd seen the message written by the cottage phone a few days earlier.

Kyouya Ootori is coming to visit Tamaki-sama on Friday.

It had been almost a year. Tamaki had suspected, deep down, that Kyouya wasn't going to keep in good touch after high school, but the severe lack of communication had been a little depressing. Tamaki's university was in Kyoto-a few hours away from Tokyo and Kyouya by bullet train. Why was Kyouya coming hundreds of extra kilometers to a beach in the middle of nowhere when he hadn't even returned Tamaki's calls? When he'd only answered every other e-mail, and usually with Everything's fine, just busy like he were staving off a doting mother? Tamaki had been very careful to give Kyouya his space-to not call too much, to not expect too much. But Kyouya's brush-offs still hurt. Tamaki wasn't even sure Kyouya was avoiding him. It almost sounded like…Kyouya didn't want Tamaki in his life anymore.

That can't be right. Tamaki shook his head to clear it. Kyouya wouldn't do that to you. He was just busy. You're overthinking this!


"I'm fine," Tamaki said quickly to appease his father. He flashed another smile-a more convincing one, he was sure. "You're right. I'm just excited."

He father seemed satisfied with that. He drained the whiskey from his glass. "Just make sure Kyouya-kun eats something," he said. "The buffet outside could feed twice as many people as we have here. And it won't keep in this heat."

"Yes, father."

"And I don't want you drinking if you're going to use any of the fireworks or sparklers. Those things are dangerous-I don't want you hurting yourself."

"Yes, fath-"

A servant dressed in casual clothes poked her head through the open window. "Tamaki-sama?" she called. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but your friend is here."

Tamaki froze. For an instant, every nerve ending burned, hot with anticipation and hopefulness and fear. He felt some reserve of boundless energy snake through his legs and push him, practically running, to the door.

"Th-thank you!" he blurted as he flew out outside. His father called out something behind him, but Tamaki didn't hear it.

He recognized Kyouya's black car; it was parked nearby, in one of the open spots by the beach. The sight of that car always send a lick of electricity between Tamaki's legs, after the number of times he and Kyouya had kissed and touched and moaned in there. The car gave a short, sharp honk and flashed its lights as the driver's side door opened.

Tamaki's heart jumped to his throat and the electricity between his legs crackled as a familiar figure ducked out from that car. Kyouya threw the door shut behind him and turned.

Tamaki stopped.

Kyouya looked…different. His glasses were gone-replaced, assumedly, by contacts. His hair had grown out a little, and it was carefully styled around his temples and behind his ears with something slick. He had gained some height and weight; he was still thin, but sleek instead of willowy, and his shoulders seemed broader. He wore an expensive, black leather jacket that was probably straight out of an Italian leather-worker's hands.

He looked older. Much older. He smiled slightly at Tamaki, and Tamaki was reminded of the one smile he'd gotten from Kyouya's father years ago.

"Hi," Kyouya said.

Tamaki swallowed his surprise. "H-hi," he replied, closing the few remaining meters between them. He briefly considered a hug-he even raised his arms a little as he approached-but the silence between them was so heavy that he decided not to. In a way, he didn't even want to, despite his earlier decision to pull Kyouya into his arms no matter how much Kyouya protested. His desire for the casual contact deflated. Another desire, one Tamaki decided not to acknowledge yet, bubbled up in its place.

After several long moments, Kyouya gestured to the beach. "Want to walk?"

Tamaki nodded. To somewhere far, he added silently.

Kyouya leaned against his car to tug off his shoes and socks. Tamaki simply stepped out of his flip-flops and onto the warm gravel.

"Can I leave these here?"

"Of course. It's our property."

Kyouya stuffed his socks in his shoes and slid them under the car. Tamaki noted that Kyouya, always so diligent and careful, had decidedly not put what looked like expensive shoes locked in his car. Hidden underneath was probably his concession, though. Tamaki smiled a little at that.

They picked their way through the smooth, cooling sand toward the edge of the water. The sun had already set, and the twilight was rapidly deteriorating into soft darkness. Cool breezes wafted in from the sea, bringing with them the scent of salt and the sour fragrance of sea life. The winds ruffled Tamaki's oversized shorts around his thighs…and that gentle touch under his shorts did little to calm the strange tension that was building inside him.

Kyouya had to stop at one point and roll up the bottom of his jeans. Tamaki wiggled his toes in the sand, trying to calm himself.

"You didn't…dress for the beach," he mused aloud.

"Not really." Kyouya straightened. "I've never been much of a beach person."

"Then why did you come?"

Kyouya raised one dark eyebrow. He let an audible breath out through his nose.

"Why do you think?" he answered carefully.

Tamaki could sense the hesitation behind Kyouya's words. That hesitation tipped off a sense of meaning, which set Tamaki's heart to beating faster. Especially since, honestly, he wasn't sure what Kyouya was implying. Did Kyouya mean he'd come just to see Tamaki, which he was usually too closed off to say directly? Or was he less closed off now, and he was implying something else…?

Tamaki forcefully reigned in his imagination. "I mean here," he blurted, hoping that would continue the conversation. "If you wanted to visit me, why did you come here? I was a lot closer to you in Kyoto."

Kyouya paused. After a long moment, he shrugged.

"It was just a timing thing. I was…preoccupied during school."

The way Kyouya hesitated on the word "preoccupied" made Tamaki's stomach clench a little.

Kyouya looked so different. Tamaki couldn't tear his eyes away from the little changes-the extra height, the longer fingers, the slight styling of his hair. Had they only been apart a year? Kyouya didn't just look older. He looked…seasoned. Changed.


Tamaki was jerked out of his thoughts by a plain-clothes servant who ran across the beach. The servant reached Tamaki, panting, and held out a handful of thin wooden sticks.

"Sparklers," the servant wheezed. "For you and your friend."

Tamaki accepted the sparklers with a small smile. "Thank you," he murmured. "You didn't have to run."

The servant bowed and ran back to a laughing group further back on the beach.

Tamaki chuckled nervously and offered the sticks to Kyouya. Kyouya looked at them, then at Tamaki. That eyebrow arched again.

"I don't know," Kyouya said, the emotion behind his voice unreadable. "Aren't those a little romantic?"

Tamaki spluttered a bit. "N-no," he said quickly, jerking his hand back. "I mean, not necessarily. Friends and families share these in Japan, don't they?"

Kyouya shrugged. He pulled a box of cigarettes from his pocket and shook it; a single stick slid out. He gripped it in his lips and slowly pulled it free.

Tamaki dropped his arms to his sides and looked away. He could feel color flooding his face. Kyouya was just giving him a hard time now. It upset him.

You blow me off all year, he accused silently. Then you show up somewhere you hate, looking totally grown up, and say all these weird things. How am I supposed to know if you're kidding?

Kyouya lit his cigarette. He snapped the metal lid of the lighter shut and held it out.


Tamaki frowned at it. "What?"

"Take it." He shook the lighter. "For your sparklers."

Tamaki stared at the lighter for a few moments, deliberating. He eventually ignored it and sighed.

"I was hoping you quit those things," he murmured.

Kyouya tucked the lighter back in his pocket. He let smoke tumble over his lips and out his nostrils, filling the air with the familiar scent of burning tobacco. "I mostly did," he said quietly. "But I still smoke if I'm nervous."

Tamaki stared at him. Kyouya kept his eyes locked on the sea and took a long drag.

That's a hint I can use. Tamaki cleared his throat and pointed down the beach.

"Those rocks go pretty far out to sea," he said. "If you walk as far as they'll take you, you end up surrounded by the ocean. It's really beautiful-especially at night."

Kyouya blew out smoke. "Sure."

They walked in silence. Tamaki deliberated on a few questions, but ended up shelving all of them. He wanted to handle Kyouya with the utmost care…he didn't want to risk Kyouya clamming up if he felt cornered, a response Tamaki had run into far too many times.

"So," Tamaki tried at last. "How's school?"

Kyouya pulled a portable ashtray from inside his jacket. "Busy."

"And, um…your family?"

"Pretty much the same."

"Do you like your dorm? Unless you're in an apartment, or you're still in your family's house…"

Kyouya ground out his cigarette in the ashtray. "Apartment," he confirmed. "And it's quiet, so it's fine."

Silence again. "I'm having a lot of fun at school," Tamaki offered. "I decided to try living in the dorm for a semester, so I could mingle like the other students, and I'm glad I did. It was very…informative," he added with a small laugh.

Kyouya brushed hair from his eyes as the night breeze batted at him. "How drunk have you gotten?" he asked bluntly.

Tamaki coughed. A small, sick feeling swirled in the pit of his stomach. "Dorm parties aren't only channels for alcohol," he said weakly.

Kyouya stared at him. Up came the eyebrow.

Tamaki sighed. "All right," he admitted. "There was a lot of drinking. I had a little too much one night, early on, and I was sick until the next day. But I never drank that much again." He scratched behind one ear. "And I don't like to drink much in general. It's…undignified."

Kyouya made some sort of a sound-a chuckle, maybe, but it was without humor. He lit another cigarette, dragged deeply, then slowly released smoke.

"…How are things with Haruhi?" Kyouya asked at last.

Tamaki's heartbeat picked up again. He swallowed.

"Fine. She's come as my date for a few social events. And I think we're communicating better these days. She's just…very busy with school." Tamaki trailed off at the end, not really sure where to stop talking.

Pause. Drag on the cigarette. "You're not dating her?" Kyouya asked through a mouthful of smoke.

"No," Tamaki answered quietly. "She said she's too busy to see anyone right now."

Pause. Drag. "Are you seeing anyone else?"

Tamaki colored again. "Obviously not, if Haruhi's busy."

"I'm sure you met plenty of interested women in the dorms."

Tamaki looked down. Of course he had. The dorms were brimming with women-his age and older, happy to be there, happy to be free. It was one of the reasons Tamaki disliked alcohol so much. When there was drinking, they were more aggressive. He was more aggressive. His natural flirtation would get the better of him, and a few laughs and a few kisses and a few touches would lull him into a sense of Who cares? and before he knew it, he'd be horizontal on a couch. The first time he'd caught himself, the young woman lying on top of him had already slipped a hand down his pants. The second time, when he'd gotten drunker than ever, he'd come to his senses in someone's bathroom, wondering sickly why his shirt was gone and why the insides of his jeans were sticky with cum.

It was too dangerous. Tamaki didn't want to be with those people in such a superificial way. And the last straw, when Tamaki was grinding against someone in a hallway and realized the hard lump against his leg was his partner's erection-Tamaki gave up drinking entirely for a while. Times of high hormones and low resistance were not the time for alcohol. Tamaki didn't want to make decisions like that if he wasn't thinking properly.

But he couldn't tell Kyouya that. It was too awkward. Too insensitive.

"What about you?" he deflected instead. He immediately regretted it, as his stomach clenched hard when he added, "Seeing anyone?"

Kyouya's pause felt like a lifetime. When he at last turned to Tamaki, his eyes were black in the dark.

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

Tamaki's stomach twisted. He wrenched his eyes away.

"N…not really," he breathed before he could think of a good lie. He winced. "I'm sorry," he added quickly. "That's very juvenile of me. You can tell me."

Kyouya ground his cigarette in his ashtray. "Forget it," he murmured.

Tamaki felt panic streak through his veins. "I'm sorry," he said again, gripping the arm of Kyouya's jacket. "You can tell me. Please tell me?" He could hear his own voice rising in pitch, but he couldn't help it. Kyouya almost looked angry.

You're losing him, Tamaki thought frantically. He came all this way and he's closing up already.

"I'm sorry," Tamaki repeated. "Please don't be mad."

"Tamaki." Kyouya pulled his arm free and scowled. "Stop apologizing."

Tamaki's mouth went dry. "But…I'm being selfish, right?" he blurted. "Because I told you things are going well with Haruhi. You had to hear it from me so I should be able to hear it from you!"

Kyouya's eyes widened at that. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He furrowed his eyebrows.

"Do you think I'm jealous?" he asked carefully.

Tamaki bit his lip. Questions, questions. Kyouya wasn't saying anything-he was just pulling answers out of Tamaki. Forcing him to do all the talking. Tamaki felt that familiar frustration building up in his chest, the one feeling he got around Kyouya that he didn't miss.

But Tamaki couldn't be patient now. All the excitement and nerves and fear that had been stewing in his stomach for days had started leaking the moment Kyouya stepped out of his car. And then the desire, the confusion, the uncertainty had streaked through his veins, sending a combination of panic and anticipation lacing through his system to the ends of his fingers and toes. He couldn't play Kyouya's games. Tamaki threw up his hands.

"I don't know!" he exclaimed, his voice nearly cracking. "Are you?"

Kyouya sighed. He slipped another cigarette between his lips.

"I'm not seeing anyone," he mumbled around it.

The pressure in Tamaki's stomach released abruptly, like the opening of a clenched fist. Tamaki was embarrassed at how relieved he felt. He looked away, hot tears stinging in the corners of his eyes, and cursed himself for being so petty.

The rocks suddenly loomed ahead of them, a dark, bulging path that sliced into the sea. Tamaki was happy for the distraction. He quickly sniffed and gestured for Kyouya to wait as he slid the unlit sparklers in his pocket. The rocks were piled a few meters high, so he had to clamber his way up to stand on top. He gingerly spread his feet around. His toes met edges and cracks, worn smooth under the pressure of water and time.

"They're not wet today," he said after a moment. "So I think we'll be okay, even though it's dark. Just be careful and watch for crabs."

"Crabs?" Kyouya repeated.

"Yeah, they live between the rocks and come scuttling out sometimes. They won't pinch you as long as you don't step on them."

Kyouya sighed. He ground out his cigarette and tucked the ashtray back in his pocket. "I really didn't dress for this," he muttered as he started to climb. Tamaki offered him a hand, which he took once he reached it.

The physical touch sent warmth tingling through Tamaki's palm and into his veins. The familiar hand felt completely unchanged once it was in his own-all the little physical differences in Kyouya melted away, and they were old friends again, clutching each other with a gentle, steady grip. Tamaki suddenly felt more at home, more perfect, than he had in over a year.

And then Kyouya let go, and the moment vanished. Kyouya murmured something as he brushed at his jeans.

Tamaki tucked his fingers against his palm, rubbing against the lost warmth. He was glad it was dark and Kyouya wouldn't notice.

"…can't shake the feeling I'm going to slip and kill myself out here." Kyouya squinted at the path of rocks stretched out before them. "How far out do you want to go, exactly?"

Tamaki shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "We don't have to go far," he replied. "It's just…quiet out there. And private. If you want to…" Tamaki cleared his throat. "If you want to talk."

Kyouya dug his hands into his jacket pockets. The breeze was stronger on the rocks, and his hair was getting ruffled in every direction.

"I do," he murmured.

Tamaki bit the inside of his cheek. He began to pick his way across the rocks, careful to stay slow enough so Kyouya could follow. They traveled in silence; Tamaki felt a new sense of purpose drive strength into his legs. Kyouya wanted to talk. He wanted to talk. The path led to some mystical place where Kyouya, finally, might tell Tamaki something real. Tamaki wanted so badly for it to exist.

He heard a slapping sound and Kyouya cursing. Tamaki turned to see Kyouya on one knee, struggling to stand again. Even in the dark Tamaki noticed the rip across his knee.

"You okay?" Tamaki asked. He took a breath, reached behind him, and silently prayed.

The hand slid back into his own again. Tamaki helped Kyouya up, but this time, he didn't let go.

They stared at each other a moment. Kyouya's hand was cool against Tamaki's sweaty palm, its grip firm but careful. Then it strengthened ever so slightly.

"Lead the way," Kyouya said softly.

Tamaki's heartbeat started to race. He swallowed that giddy, comfortable excitement swelling up inside him and instead focused on leading Kyouya down the rocks. He felt the awkwardness of the evening slough off him like dead skin-this was too affectionate, too natural to be embarassing. They were boys again. Best friends who'd shared more between them than they'd ever shared with anyone else.

At one point, Kyouya tripped and rammed into Tamaki. Tamaki nudged him back up with a shouder and giggled nervously.

"…What's so funny?" Kyouya asked, his voice unsuccessfully trying to sound gruff.

Tamaki squeezed his hand. "I just can't tell if you're a klutz or if it's those designer jeans."

Kyouya paused. "The jeans," he said quietly.

Tamaki hummed and led Kyouya forward. "It probably doesn't help that they're so tight, Kyouya." Feeling strangely confident in their newfound comfort, Tamaki pressed further. "Why did you wear a leather jacket and jeans to the beach, anyway? Were you trying to impress me or something?"

Kyouya didn't answer. He just stared down as he edged forward.

Tamaki's heart pounded a little louder in his ears. "They do look good on you," he said quietly, not sure he should be saying that one out loud.

Kyouya was silent. He stopped walking, which pulled Tamaki to a halt as well.

For several long moments, Kyouya didn't look up. When he finally did, Tamaki could barely see his eyes in the dark.

"Can we stop here, Tamaki?"

Ba-dump. Tamaki nodded, then unclenched his grip from Kyouya's hand. To his surprise, Kyouya didn't do the same. He just continued to grasp him, harder, which made Tamaki slowly close his hand around Kyouya's once more.

Kyouya took a full minute to collect his thoughts, which was obvious from the way he stared intently at the sea. The breeze tossed his hair, sent small licks of ocean to lap around the edges of the rocks around them. It was quiet in the night; all sights from the beach were distant blobs of light, any sound carried off to elsewhere on the open water.

It was just the two of them. Alone. Far away from their homes, far away from the world.

"I…I needed some time to myself when you were in Kyoto." Kyouya's voice was low when it finally broke the silence. Low, but soft. "I wanted to wrap my head around a few things while I was in a new context. My life, my family…" He frowned. "And you," he added.

Tamaki's mouth went dry. He could feel the sweat pool in his palms; he knew Kyouya would notice, but there was nothing he could do about it. He tried to stay calm.

Kyouya sighed. "I want you to be brutally honest with me, all right? Even though we both know I'm a coward about these things." He paused. "Do you…regret fooling around with me senior year?"

Tamaki's heart leapt to his throat. His hand started to shake; Kyouya gripped it harder. Tamaki squeezed shut his eyes.

Don't screw this up, he silently ordered. Don't, Tamaki.

Tamaki had an answer. He'd had over a year to deliberate on their short-lived sex life, something he mentally returned to whenever he was overwhelmed-it was the pulse point of their relationship, the brutal heart of their feelings where everything they loved and hated about each other exploded into fiery, violent sex. He thought of it with both tender fondness and extreme depression. He'd relived every moment over and over in his mind.

He needed, badly, to be honest about this. He braced himself and opened his eyes.

"Yes," he said quietly.

Kyouya's gaze was steel in the dark. There was no moon that night, so the reflection of the stars on the water barely shone in his eyes. Tamaki couldn't read him.

"Is it because of how I treated you?" Kyouya's voice was careful. "If I hadn't assaulted you, if I'd treated the relationship the way you treated it, would you still regret it?"

Tamaki frowned. He slowly raised his other hand and rested it on their clasped ones. Be honest, he repeated in his head like a mantra. Be honest, be honest.

"Yes," he said again. "Things might have been better, but I'd still be regretting it. We…agreed it was a bad idea, remember?"

Kyouya clenched his jaw. "So it's behind us."

Tamaki hesitated a little at that. It was physically behind them, but emotionally…

It had changed everything for Tamaki. The way he saw Kyouya, the way he saw men, the way he saw sex. He felt like he'd been dragged from childhood into adulthood through a sexual gauntlet, one that left him mangled and abused without any real answers. He thought back on those days before the champagne room with a sort of nostalgic envy. Tamaki believed in learning from his own mistakes, but he also knew that the mistakes with Kyouya could have, should have been avoided. He could've said no. He could've learned about sex without experimenting with his best friend.

And that day, when Kyouya had forced himself on him…there was a part of Tamaki that would never forgive Kyouya for that. For how Kyouya had handled himself through most of the sex, really. Kyouya had been terrible to him. Tamaki could claim responsibility for some of those mistakes, but not all of them.

"You…kinda messed me up," Tamaki said quietly.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"I know you're sorry. But that doesn't undo it."

They stood in silence for a few minutes. The night breeze was growing stronger, and Tamaki shivered in his tee-shirt. But his hands were warm, clasped with Kyouya's…Kyouya finally, carefully, put his second hand over Tamaki's.

"We're very alone out here," Kyouya breathed.

Tamaki swallowed. It was surreal, surrounded by nothing but ocean. The soft smells and gentle sounds of the water blanketed his feelings, calming him ever so slightly. He wondered, vaguely, if Kyouya had left some of his steely pride back on that beach.

"Then can you be honest with me?" Tamaki finally murmured. "You're never really honest with me, Kyouya."

Kyouya hesitated. "I haven't lied to you tonight," he said.

"That's not what I mean." Tamaki clasped tighter. He was getting embarrassed now, and he found it easier to stare at their hands than into Kyouya's eyes. "Tell me something you'd normally never tell me. A…secret, I guess. Something secret."

There was a long pause. Tamaki bit his lip. Then:

"I was trying to impress you." Kyouya sighed. "With this fucking jacket."

Tamaki looked up. Kyouya's face was a combination of angry, tired, and embarrassed. Now his eyes were locked on their hands. "I don't know, I thought I looked…cool in it or something."

Tamaki felt a nervous giggle bubble up his throat. He swallowed it back down. "What, like…the cool loner back from college? In his leather jacket?"

Kyouya scowled. "I don't know. I guess?"

Tamaki couldn't help but smile. That excited tingling between his legs started again. Kyouya's embarrassment gave him a weird sense of strength, of bravery. The wind howled over the open water.

"Well…then I have a secret, too." Tamaki licked his lips. "When you stepped out of that car, I…well, you look a lot more grown up now, like a man instead of a teenager, and you look a lot like your father even though I don't, y'know, think of him that way-I mean, I don't even like your father very much, I wouldn't normally say that but I know you have your own problems with him so you'd understand, but I mean, besides all that, besides the fact that you look bigger and more manly and I like girls and…" He trailed off, his bravery diminishing. He took a breath and pushed the final words out.

"I thought you looked…kinda hot."

Kyouya blinked. "You what?"

Tamaki felt blood rush to his face. But once the words were out, his own embarrassment made him a little braver, too. He smiled at Kyouya, his lips tight, and waited.

Kyouya frowned and averted his eyes. "I wasn't…expecting that," he murmured.

Tamaki gently bounced their hands. "Your turn," he pushed. "Now you have to tell me a another secret."

Kyouya's eyebrows furrowed. After a long moment, he muttered, "I really miss you at school."

Tamaki's excitement fizzled down, concentrating in a small, warm pulse inside his heart. He felt the corners of the tension melt.

"Really?" he breathed.

Kyouya sighed. "You're a very…genuine person, Tamaki. Even when you're playing pretend. Hell, you couldn't stop being genuine when we were necking, and that's what really bothered me about it." He squinted. "People are full of shit. I'm more full of shit than most. But in those rare times I want to be honest, it doesn't mean anything if there's no one I can be honest with. And with you gone, I just…" He tiredly shook his head. "I realized I can't do it. Not without you. You're the only one I trust."

Words died in Tamaki's throat. Heat pumped through his veins. He lifted one of his hands, affection fueling his bravery, and gently touched Kyouya's cheek.

"B-be honest with me now," he said shakily. "About everything, Kyouya."

Kyouya stared at him. Tamaki's finger trailed off Kyouya's chin, then rested gently on Kyouya's shoulder. Kyouya wasn't pushing him off, like he always did. He let Tamaki's hands do what they wanted. His shoulder felt tight under Tamaki's hand, but Kyouya didn't move.

"I didn't…only imagine girls when I was with you." Kyouya's breathing grew heavy. "You started to turn me on after a while."

Tamaki could feel his filters falling. Those delicate blocks, so carefully built up over years of practice, were being punched through by shared humbling in the middle of the sea. The path from his brain to his mouth was opening up, free and clear for everything to come spilling out his lips. Tamaki stopped controlling his thoughts at all.

"I've had wet dreams about us." Tamaki could hear the hoarseness in his own voice. "And in some of them, I'm the one on top."

Kyouya gave a weak sort of scoff. "I've had those," he replied.

"Sometimes I think of you when I'm touching myself."

Kyouya's lips twitched up at the corners in a weak smile. "Pervert," he said roughly.

"You never touched yourself to thoughts of me?"

"I didn't say that." Slowly, Kyouya reached up and gripped Tamaki's chin. He leaned in slightly. "But I prefer imagining Haruhi and a three-way."

"Ew." Tamaki's heart was racing. Kyouya was so close, so close, his breath warm on Tamaki's face. "I, um…get a little turned on by good-looking boys now."

"That makes one of us." Kyouya leaned in closer, his eyelids drooping. "I only ever wanted you."

Tamaki could feel the blood draining from his brain, pooling warmth into his groin. Another breeze whipped past them, and Tamaki unconsciously shivered.

Kyouya's other arm snaked around Tamaki's waist. "Do you want to share this stupid jacket?" he breathed.

Tamaki nodded, their lips so close.

Kyouya's forehead pressed against Tamaki's. "Do you want to…make out for a while?" he whispered.

Tamaki answered by crushing his mouth in.

And then Tamaki stopped thinking completely, allowing the rush from his heart to fuel him. Tamaki kissed Kyouya with everything he had-all the affection, all the uncertainty, all the pent up desire that would never have an outlet. He let his hands do what they hadn't dared: streaking through Kyouya's overgrown hair, scraping down over Kyouya's broad shoulders.

Kyouya grunted and pried open Tamaki's mouth, letting his tongue plunge in. Tamaki moaned as Kyouya shrugged his jacket down his arms, crushing Tamaki against his chest and wrapping leather around Tamaki's hips. Tamaki gasped against Kyouya's mouth and pressed against that warmth, his shield from the wind, from reality.

Kyouya's erection strained through his jeans, a hard lump against Tamaki's stomach. He growled and rocked his hips. "You can still do it to me," he wheezed between kisses.

Tamaki hungrily devoured Kyouya's mouth. He was so hot already, his penis hard in his loose beach shorts…he felt precrum drip down his shaft, and a wind blew up to touch it, making that droplet a freezing point on his desire. It enflamed him further.

"Kyouya," he moaned, bucking his erection against the tight denim wrapped around Kyouya's thigh. "Kyouya…we have to stop."

Kyouya grunted something-an affirmative, maybe. "Are you gonna jerk off when remembering this?" he murmured between their mouths.

Tamaki giggled and let his fingers slide down the back of Kyouya's collar. He moaned his own affirmative as he sucked on Kyouya's bottom lip.

"This is the last time," Tamaki breathed. "We really have to move on."

"Do you think you can?"

Tamaki slid his arms up and around Kyouya's neck, breaking their kiss so he could instead hug Kyouya as tightly as he could. He buried his face in Kyouya's hair.

"Now I do," he whispered.

Kyouya's hands slid down Tamaki's hips. Tamaki bit his lip, but Kyouya simply slipped a hand into Tamaki's pocket and pulled out something long and thin. Tamaki pulled back, his fingers still laced behind Kyouya's neck.

Kyouya dug his lighter out of his jacket and clicked at the end of the wooden stick. The sparkler crackled to life beside them. The sudden darkness was freckled with light, white and scattered as sparks blew up and out. Tamaki saw Kyouya's face, made sharper with shadows, stare intently down at the light as it burned fast and hard. Then, after only a few moments, the light fizzled away, and he and Kyouya were left in darkness. The charred, mangled remains of the stick sizzled softly in Kyouya's fingers.

Tears welled up in Tamaki's eyes as he unfolded his hands. Kyouya gently pulled away, then turned and threw the used sparkler as far as he could out to sea. It disappeared into the black.

"I love you," Kyouya murmured, his eyes never leaving the ocean.

Tamaki slid his arm through Kyouya's. He clung to him tightly, burying his wet eyes in the tobacco-scented leather of Kyouya's arm. He hiccupped and dug in his fingers.

But Tamaki didn't reply. After all the secrets, all the pain and tricks to get Kyouya to talk, that was the only thing he needed to hear.

At that point, and from then on, there was nothing left to say.


Please visit my livejournal (maggie-danger(dot)livejournal(dot)com) and vote on my next project. Also, formatting in is hellish and keeps changing, so the version of the story there is a lot neater. And go to tokyodemons(dot)com for an original project under my other pen name of Lianne. Thanks, guys.

Story © Maggie Danger, 2009-2011. Ouran High School Host Club © Bisco Hatori, Studio BONES, FUNimation, etc.