1Title: Sweet Dreams
Author: ibshafer
Rating: NC-17
Character/Pairing: Hitomi/Soubi
Disclaimer: 1I don't own Loveless and I make no money from writing these stories.
Summary: Hitomi-sensei is having a sweet dream. Or is it?

Warnings: somewhat non-con, for a while, anyway…

Genre: Loveless

Sweet Dreams

~ibshafer

She was struggling mightily, but he had her pinned down by his own weight. It was clear he was very skilled at control.

"Why are you fighting it, sensei," his voice, low and smooth, murmured. "Isn't this what you've always wanted…"

No! she tried to scream, but it only came out as an impotent squeak. Not like this!!

It was true that she had watched him as he waited for the boy, as he smiled a seemingly genuine smile for the girl, and something in her had always shivered, something unfamiliar and unfulfilled and yes, she wished he would pay such attention to her, smile for her, touch her...

But she was a teacher and, despite her scattered nature, possessed a level head: she knew it could never happen.

So, how was it happening now?

How was he here, in her home, in her bed?

His body was a hot, solid mass against her, his cigarette breath and odd blue eyes filled the space before her.

She was frightened beyond words, no matter how many times she'd painted his pale face and long body into her daydreams. To be this close to a man, especially one who had never been bothered to care she existed, only served to remind her what a naïve fool she had always been. She deserved to own her ears to the end of her days…

Except that at this moment, an act not altogether without violence was poised to spell a different fate.

"Sensei," the voice breathed, inches from her face. "Your heart is beating very fast. Does that mean you are happy to see me?" She fought against him again, struggling for the composure to respond, but then he bent to press his cruel lips to her straining neck and she was fighting for breath. "It feels like the pulse of a mouse, sensei," he murmured against her skin, tongue tracing the bone and sinew beneath. "A mouse caught in a trap." He paused for a moment, an ironic smiling lingering. "What a wonderfully contradictory image. A mouse with cat ears…" Long fingers stroked those ears to the tips, sending sparks of sensation along her nerves, following a path untested until now. She felt a tingling in her chest and an answering warmth in a place she knew was very naughty, but one she could not now ignore.

"A-aah!"

There was a chuckle and blue eyes regarded her with an unsettling combination of amusement and disdain.

"It would seem there is a women behind the long hair and glasses after all."

Now she found her tongue!

What was wrong with long hair and glasses? He had both himself!

"W-what are you doing here, Agustuma-san," she squeaked. She ignored the bitter silent curse at her own choice of words. Why could she never call him kun? "What do you want from me," she said through grit teeth, strength returning.

"Me?" Her attacker pursed his lips a moment, considering his reply. "Why, I want nothing from you, sensei," he fixed her with an indifferent glare. "I would much rather be scrubbing my bathtub right now than be here like this with you." He emphasized this last with a meaningful press against her, but the action left her wholly unconvinced.

W-was that his…his…

"I would rather be with the one I love right now, sensei, but I do as he wishes and he wishes me to be…nice to you." He grimaced, then looked wistful. "He wants his sensei to be happy. He is a child, but his heart is pure. If he wishes for his sensei and I to get along, then that is what we will do…" A hand slipped between them and strong fingers began to pull at the buttons of her sweater, the sensation making her gasp.

The boy!! What was their relationship and why did this strange, young man feel so bound to comply with what he asked?

"I-I'm sure he meant we should have tea, Agustuma-san! Discuss art and books!"

A thumb brushed against her where her body, in deepest betrayal, had peaked beneath the soft wool.

"Ah, but that is not what you want, sensei, is it?" He bent and pressed his nose against the nub, making her shiver. "This is what will make sensei happy and only this. This is what your eyes say as they watch from the window. This is what your beating heart craves. Tea and books?" She forgot to breath: he had opened his mouth and closed lips over her wool-covered nub, then teeth. Eyes unblinking and fixed to the scene before her, to the point where her body disappeared beneath his lips, she choked back a sob and felt her body begin to hum with sensation. "Tea and books would only satisfy you for a short while, sensei and then, yet again, you would want this…"

"No…" she whimpered, but even she no longer believed it, though her head tried to remind her otherwise.

Not this man. This man hates you…

He did hate her – she felt it in her bones, heard it in his cruel words – so how could he be touching her so and why, why was her body responding this way?

This was wrong! She was a good girl!

With a grunt, he finally freed the last of the stubborn woolen buttons from her cardigan and, breath hot against her skin, was peeling back the thick lavender knit. Aghast, mortally ashamed at the faded, nubby pink of her slip, the pale freckled skin beneath, she cried softly as he exposed her to the room, to his cruelly appraising eyes.

"A-agutsuma-san! No…" she whimpered, but he paid no heed, pulling at the neckline of her slip, stroking a thumb across her, across the heat and aching sensation. Hooking a finger into her under garment, he freed her from it, it slipped easily from her quivering shoulders, and with the slightest pause, perhaps to steel himself to this presumably unwanted task, he grabbed then guided her to his waiting mouth.

"Ah-ah!!" she choked out, writhing beneath him, but though she fought and though his touch was heartless, without feeling, she had never been touched this way before, and her poor, helpless body melted at the sensation. His teeth grazed her and the ache inside her intensified. She let out all her air in one long breath and against her will, felt her body press itself against him, seeking him out, searching for him, finding him, finding his body clearly responding, perhaps against his own will…

Oh, my god…

She knew she should find some way to push him off, to free a foot and kick him, to struggle against his strength in some way, but as unwanted as this attention was…she could not deny it was wantedjust as much…

She had never planned to keep her ears for so long.

She had not sat in her girlhood room and made a pact with herself to remain pure until marriage.

She had just been shy; had grown up without men in her life; gone to an all-girl university; had only female friends; worked in a profession peopled mostly by women.

She hadn't purposely avoided men.

That was just how her life had turned out.

And now, now this beautiful, callous young man, the strange friend of one of her students, was touching her in a way her body had long craved. He may have been acting against her wishes, and he was clearly acting against his own, but she could not deny it.

It was wrong - but she wanted him.

He was powerful and resolute but neither was he violent or abusive. She would not submit willingly, but well understood that it was futile to fight him. She would take from this what she could, accept from him what he gave, as wrong as it was.

Could she really do it? Could she allow herself to be used so, used not for his pleasure, or perhaps even her own, but at the behest of someone else? For the boy's piece of mind.

He wants us to get along. Even the boy realizes we do not.

She felt a pang of regret at the knowledge that the boy, as well, perhaps knew her true feelings for this young man, years her junior.

Perhaps he'd known just what he asked with his innocent sounding request?

She was brought from her thoughts by hot breath and sensation, now at her neck.

His lips had strayed to the delicate skin at the hollow of her throat and she felt her entire body flush, realizing her sweater now lay completely open and discarded beneath her. His mouth moved to focus on her ignored right nub and she arched into the sensation, shocked by her own behavior – and further aroused. His hands had strayed still lower and in a moment of returning panic, fear washing over her like a storm, she found herself gasping as he cupped her through her panties, traced the line of her, pressed harder, pressed inward.

"Agu—Agu—Agustum…" But that was all she managed before those fingers slipped beneath the frayed elastic and, finding her more than ready, within.

She felt as though her spine had disappeared. Her head fell back and her thighs relaxed and in spite of this, she moved. She moved against the movement of his fingers, seemed to seek the movement of his fingers and as her breathing grew deeper and her eyes grew wider, she knew to her core that she wanted nothing more than to feel more of him, right there, hard and fast and--

He was nothing if not intuitive and it seemed an instant and he was answering her silent plea.

Something hot and hard and so much heavier was laid against her there, seemed to seek purchase there and then, as if having found it, with steadfast pressure and his hot breath rasping in her ear, was forced beyond and within and all was light, pleasure and pain.

She heard herself utter a syllable of gibberish, then fell to guttural breathing, her panting harsh in her ears, unsettling the hair that had fallen into her eyes. She suddenly became aware that she had arched back completely and was now looking at the nightstand behind her, at her bedside clock and the romance novel she was currently reading, bouncing up and down in rhythm with his movements, movements at once intense and new and frightening and wonderful. A different sensation overtook her then and she looked up to see his hands, now on her breasts - weighty and pointed towards her face, grasping and massaging the flesh there, pinching where she was hardened, compounding the blissfully hot sensation between her legs.

The bed shook with his effort and his breath was faster, speeding as he picked up speed, then breaking when, much to her surprise, he let out the tiniest gasping moan.

"…oh…"

That was all she needed to hear: that unconscious, uncontrolled, unedited sound.

To know that she had broken through the shield he always held up; to know he was getting something from this…

Emboldened, enraptured, the pleasure-soaked her being and loosened her own control, chasing the Hitomi-shy away, if only for the moment; drawing herself back up to look at him, she slid her hands behind his neck, fingers winding into the silk of his hair, and pulling his startled face down towards hers, she kissed him.

At first he stiffened, taken aback, taken outside the moment by her actions, but then a moan from deep in his throat escaped him and his lips relaxed against hers, mouth opening, tongue seeking hers, claiming her depths here as he did those below.

For the first time in her adult life, she felt like something other than a child.

So this is what it means to be a woman…

All too soon, his mouth left hers, taken instead to gasping breaths, eyes squeezed shut in concentration and just as soon, she felt the buzzing hum begin to build in her, the pleasure spreading heat and warmth out to her fingers and toes, her belly, her nipples, her lips and with a gasp and a hoarse cry, she was bucking against him, hands grasping his narrow hips, holding him to her, holding him with her, riding a relentless tide that swept away her vision and her reason.

Exhausted, she fell back against the comforter, drawing him down with her, delighting in the way his big body softened against hers now, instead of holding itself stiffly at a distance.

She had no delusions, thought nothing more of what this had been but what it was; a departure. A favor. 'Nice…'

Her usually frantic mind was still, the nervous charge her thoughts normally carried soothed by receding sensation and the delicious warmth of his body lulling her towards sleep.

"Agustuma-san," she whispered and it was neither a statement nor a question, but simply an acknowledgement of the now.

He lay to her side, leg thrown over her body, his breath, no longer harsh, falling gently across her face.

Before the lethargy overtook her, she felt him run his fingers down her side.

In a voice so low it was barely a whisper, she heard him breath, "Thank you, Hitomi-sensei…" and then sleep overcame her…

She awoke relaxed and happy for a reason she could not name. A light breeze ruffled the curtains and morning birdsong filled the room. She had no memory of leaving her window open, but she was glad of it; it was a wonderful way to wake up.

The sweetest feeling was warming her chest, tickling at the edges of her remembrance like a happy dream one cannot quite recall, but whose pleasure lingers, carrying over into consciousness. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she stretched, happy that the languor yet persisted. Her every muscle, every nerve, felt relaxed and spent; her only frustration was that the thread of dream still eluded her.

Padding out of the shower some moments later, she was toweling excess moisture from her hair, when the remnants of the dream seemed to wash nearer to shore. Just as her fingers were smoothing the fine hairs at the tips of her ears, an act that was always accompanied by a tingle that traveled from her head to her toes, the wave broke, washing over her, deluging her with memories…

…his slender fingers tracing her body; his mouth at her neck, the hollow of her throat; his body long, lithe, powerful; she could feel him everywhere; he enveloped her, invaded her, made her feel things she'd never dared to dream, things she hadn't known were possible.

Agutsama-san!

She had dreamed that she'd…that she'd been…been with Agutsama-san!

She felt her face flush and she began to shrink in shame from the memory, but then a newly discovered power was filling her chest and the knowledge of it made her stand firm at the wanton images flowing freely now through her mind.

Truth or not.

Dream or not.

It had not been a one-sided encounter – not entirely. Whatever the reasons for it, whatever motivations his dream doppelganger had used to justify it, she had, her body had, gotten through his armor. Even though it wasn't real.

She had given something back to him, however inadvertently.

She had made him moan.

An hour later, she approached the schoolyard, and still that newfound strength had not receded.

There he stood, chatting in the fresh morning light with the boy and his two friends and while on any other day, she would have nervously bade them all good morning, studiously avoiding his cold blue-eyed gaze before scurrying into the building to set up for the day's class, today was not any other day.

The young man looked up at her approach and instead of barely registering her presence as would be usual, he met and held her gaze for a pace and then…he nodded.

Force of habit was strong and she had to fight the urge to fluster something unintelligible and run past them, particularly in light of what she had just dreamed, but she quickly overcame it, feeling almost giddy with the power of it.

For now she knew, whether it be truth or dream, that she had power and as power does, it infuses, empowers, every other aspect of one's life.

She was not a mouse. She was a woman.

Smiling, she greeted the children with her usual motherly concern, as a teacher, as their elder.

And to the young man, whose phantom body and hot breath she could still feel, she turned a steady gaze, not shying away when the unabashed look was returned in kind, suffused as it was with mild surprise.

"Soubi-kun," she said, her voice smooth, thrilling her. "How are your studies going?"

fini…