A/N: Hey people. This is something I've been wanting to do for a very long time. Something in second point of view and in the first tense. It turned out marginally cheesy, and didn't hold all the emotions I wanted to convey...but I still think it's perfect. I hope you guys think so too, since I haven't written a story for VK in awhile now. And, I know this would never happen, but this is out of character for Yuki and Kaname. Anyways, onto the story...
Summary: It's a him and a her—so intimately connected. And you have to watch it, because...you're afraid, that if you don't...you'll never get to see it again. YxK, OOC, AU.
Title: Him And Her
Authors: Breathless Tomb
2nd Person's POV
You walk down the empty hallways, listening to the loud echoes of your footsteps. They ring in your ears, deafening to the point where you're sure everyone knows you're there. But strangely, no one comes out looking. Perhaps your hearing is off, or perhaps they're too deep asleep. Either way, you're grateful. To this, you suck in a shallow breath, creeping farther down the hallway.
You've heard the rumours before—the rumours about where Yuki Cross goes every night. Of course, she's a Prefect, so usually you wouldn't care. It's her job to spend the nights patrolling the corridors and school grounds. But this is not usually. The rumours are not just about her. You've heard the rumours about a him too. A very infamous him—a him everyone had already foreseen since years ago.
As you descend the staircase—desperately hoping you won't run into the second Prefect, Zero, with his penetrating lilac eyes and heavy set frown—, the rumours ring around in your head. The rumours of their nightly activities—Yuki's and Kaname's. This rumour has been circling the school as of recently. You are unaware if Yuki knows of them, but you hope not. She doesn't seem like the type to take the news lightly, whether it be false or not.
The moonlight casts heavy glows into the hallways, setting off giant shadows and illuminating the way. You're disgusted with yourself. Filthy pervert, you think with a scowl, get back to your room! You shouldn't even be considering looking for this! But you can't help yourself. The curiosity is just too dire—too irresistible. It just doesn't seem plausible, and you have to find out for yourself. You have to be absolutely certain.
Besides, you promised some people to tell them if the rumours are true.
Before you fully realize what you're doing, you slide a window open, the autumn air hitting you and blowing your hair around. Cautiously, you climb out, thankful that there's a stone balcony surrounding all the windows. Releasing a shaky breath, you cross the balcony, overlooking the immense forest beneath you. You frown, pushing back a lock of auburn hair. Where will you start? More precisely, how are you going to get down?
You spot a looming tree close to you. Its thick branches rest close to the balcony edge—with a little effort, you're sure you can climb onto one of those branches. With this idea set in mind, you jog over to the hulking tree, placing your hands on the rail of the balcony that keeps you from plummeting to your untimely death. Gulping, you reach forward, your fingertips barely grazing the bark.
Suddenly, you tip over. With a shriek, you grab onto the branch as you fall. Luckily, your hands get a good grip on the branch, so you manage to hang on. For a moment, you hang there, your heart pounding, wondering if anyone heard you scream. There's no sign of any movement so you laugh it off, giving a shaky chuckle. Your blood is still racing furiously though, since you know what you're doing is wrong. So very wrong.
Carefully, you shimmy down the branch to the lightest edge, where the branch begins to bend slowly because of your added weight. Since there's another branch right underneath you, you let go, sending your branch flying back. Nimbly, you land on the balls of your feet, flailing slightly. You're no gymnast, but you have pretty good balance, something you're extremely thankful for at the moment.
With a few more leaps, you're on the ground, sprinting through the forest. You cringe to yourself, slowing down, trying not to make a lot of noise. Your feet feel like weights now—heavy and useless. You want to keep running, but you know that for the sake of your mission, you have to be especially silent. Silence is key to your success—and you must be successful. You have to know the truth. No matter what it ends up being.
You're speed walking now—not running, but close to it. The trees cover the sky above you like a blanket, only allowing hints of the moon's light to shine through. The air smells sweet, like cinnamon, but you're not sure why. Cinnamon sprinkled on caramel apples—yeah, that seems more accurate. Your eyes dart around, searching through the cracks between the trees.
There's nothing around. You're getting angry. It's just an ordinary night—and you're getting nowhere fast. You're frantic now—heart pounding, lungs burning, stomach churning. You're looking around wildly, but still trying to keep quiet. This had all been planned out! They were supposed to be here! You were supposed to see them! And now...there's nothing. An empty forest. A silent night.
Perhaps this was all wrong to start with. You've been alone for so long—your whole life in fact—and you just wanted to have a purpose to your dreary life. This non-discovery may be disappointing—not to mention a requiem to your pride—but...perhaps it was for the best. Even had the rumours been truth, it isn't your business—and you're a fool if you think it does pertain to you.
But these thoughts disappear the moment you hear a soft moan from your left. Your heart lurches into your throat and you race past the trees, your arms pumping at your sides. Something swells in your chest—joy, perhaps?—, and your earlier musings about private moments are gone. You're a girl with a purpose—a meaning—now, and you have people counting on you.
You suddenly stop and gasp—they're there. Him and her. The beautiful Night Class boy and the Prefect girl. Moving quickly, you hide behind two trees that are tightly packed together—with just enough room to glance through. Your hiding spot is perfect—neither of them has noticed your presence. Your excitement is nearly tangible—you can't believe this is actually happening!
The two of them are sitting there—innocently enough—, the moonlight shining down on them in thin streams, pinpointing random dots on them. She is straddling his lap; his legs crossed Indian-style, with one of her hands cupping his cheek. You can see he enjoys her touch by the way he leans into her palm with his eyes closed. She lifts up another hand to cup his other cheek, now cradling his handsome face in her dainty hands. And even though nothing has happened yet, you can't help but notice that this scene is already more erotic that anything you've ever seen before.
His eyes are open now, gazing at her with an unmatchable adoration in his wine-coloured orbs—the strangest irises you've ever seen, and you almost flinch back from the love that shines so brightly in those orbs. He puts his hands on her hips—and you're not sure if he does it to bring her closer to him or to reassure him that she's actually there. She leans her head down to press her lips softly to his. A delicate kiss.
"Kaname-sama," She breathes against his lips, her voice breathy and full of want. Her eyes are closed now, but you can see that he's still watching her, and he smirks, understanding her tone. He knows of her desires, because he too feels them. As if to answer her unspoken pleas, he moves his kisses down to her neck, peppering the pale flesh with loving caresses from his lips.
"Yuki," He breathes back, his tongue coming out to lap at her skin, "Just Kaname. I am not higher than you. I am your equal. We are equals." She arches her back, tipping her head back. You marvel at how his larger form seems to loom over her, as if trying to show that he is her protector. That he will guard her with his life, and kill anyone that threatens her. And she accepts it, allowing him to overwhelm her and keep her safe.
Your breathing picks up as one of his hands slips beneath the fabric of her jacket—and perhaps her shirt as well, but you can't tell. His other hand comes to pull at her tie, wrapping it around his hand. He tugs her closer to him before he undoes it, letting the crimson ribbon flutter to the forest floor. Your heartbeat speeds up—as does hers, since her eyes snap open to stare at him.
He's pulling off her jacket now, throwing it a few feet away. She removes her hands from his face to pull out his tie, slowly undoing it. They're leisurely removing their clothing now—her stockings and shoes, his socks and shoes, her blouse and undershirt, his coat and button-down shirt. Soon, they're nearly nude, him in his boxers, and her in her panties and bra. His hands are everywhere; running up and down her tiny body.
You have to place a hand over your mouth now, physically holding back a moan. You're trembling all over as she places her tiny hands over his pecs—and oh shit they're defined and glorious—, running her thumbs over his pebbled nipples. He licks her bottom lip, then lightly nips his way down to her collarbone. His hand reaches around to unclasp her bra, letting it tumble to the ground.
Her breasts are pretty and snowy white—small pale orbs. They're tipped with dark areolas, with little puckered nipples. He bends his head, giving a sole kiss to her nipple before taking it into his mouth. She moans loudly, clutching at his chocolate locks. There's a dizzying adoration to their movements, something that feels too intimate to watch. But you can't stop, because you feel like...this is the only time you'll ever see something so magical.
You see him raise his head to smile at her, one of his hands trailing down to grip her hip, toying with the elastic rim of her panties. His other hand follows, gripping the other side of her hip. He lifts her up, stretching out his legs and shimmying out of his boxers. He's completely naked now and your eyes bug out. You've never seen a more gorgeous sight in your short sixteen years of life. His body is toned—ripped, as the phrase goes—, and you wish you could run your hands over his abs.
But it seems like...only she can. Because she's made for him, as he is made for her.
He gently rolls them over, his eyes burning lustful trails down and up her lithe body. Her eyes are dark now with her desire—not dark as in, changing colours, but as in, her heavy eyelids cast shadows over her tawny eyes—, raking over him. You hold your breath, trying to anticipate what will come next. Subconsciously, your own hand comes up to lightly squeeze your breast—it's not the possessive hold of a lover, but it will suffice for now.
With an unmistakable love in his ministrations, he spreads her legs and crawls down her body. You can see the way her body quivers as he pulls down her knickers—she obviously wants this as much as he does, as even his limbs seem to shake in held back passion. He throws her undergarments somewhere far off, as if they offend him. You can see the barely concealed awe in his eyes as he gazes at her treasure, and you can read another emotion buried in those wine orbs: this is his. He owns this, as she owns the very erect lower anatomy on him.
Confidently—as if he's done this many times before—, he raises a hand to her womanhood, pushing a finger into her slick opening. You rub your thighs together as he pulses his finger in and out, coated in her sweet nectar. There's a fire burning in your core as well, and you wish something could relieve it. You watch as she comes undone, spasm-ing before relaxing. There's a lazy grin on her face, something that screams of unbelievable ecstasy and contentment. He lifts his nectar-coated finger up to his lips, sucking it dry. His eyes squeeze shut in pleasure, as if he's tasting ambrosia.
Now sated, she begins to draw him back up, allowing him to kneel between her parted legs. Her lust is returning, and quickly. You gulp deeply, then clamp a hand over your mouth. No. They can't hear you now. You need to see this finished. You think you'll die if you don't. You have to see their love complete. You have to see them become one.
He lowers his mouth for a sweet kiss before surging forward. She gasps and bucks against him immediately, her slender legs coming to wrap around his waist. He has to pause, the pleasure startling to him though he seems to be used to this. You watch as he draws back slowly before thrusting in again, knocking the wind out of both of them. Her delicate hands grip his broad shoulders, trying to hold onto something real.
Your hand is shoved up your skirt now, rubbing swift circles around your clit, the wetness flowing freely down your fingers. They're moving together now—bucking and thrusting in sync. He's cradling her in his arms, trying to give her everything, yet not hurt her. Suddenly, she extends her neck and clutches at his hair. She's urging him wordlessly to do something, and he complies, burying his face in her neck.
You're not sure what he's doing. All you know is that her face twists up in pain for half a second before smoothing out in pleasure, and he seems to be sucking at the flesh of her neck. But, this sucking seems to be getting him worked up—he's thrusting faster now, and harder. As if to help her along—to find her second release—, he reaches down to rub her little bundle of nerves. Her cry signals her unravelling.
They explode together, crying out each other's names before slumping to the ground in exhaustion. He rolls them over, letting her rest on top of him, with him still in her. Her petite body is covered in a thin sheet of sweat, her head lying comfortably under his chin. He's whispering sweet nothings to her now—and whoever said men get distant after sex obviously never met him.
The moment is fragile and peaceful; the both of them content to lay there forever. Before you can reach your release, you pull your hand back—you don't want to soil this beautiful moment with your raging hormones. Your eyes water while watching this scene played out in front of you—there's never been anything so touched with love and happiness. His hand comes up to twine in her short cropped hair, moving it so it shields the side of her neck. You wonder why.
But in that little moment, where your eyes seem to blur because the moment hits you right there. In the heart you once thought was dead—you never knew anything could move you so much. You have to look away, because you're sure that if you keep watching them, you'll burst into tears. So, the rumours have been confirmed. You curiosity has been appeased. Glancing up back at the school, you realize something. This moment is too private for you.
Or anyone else.
So you'll tell your friends no.
You never saw anything.
A/N: I love the style I wrote this in. I've honestly never attempted anything like it, and I find that the messy way it's written—it just seems messy to me—is just so magical. I would not mind doing something like this again. In fact, I'd enjoy it immensely.
To clear some minor things up, yes, Kaname is sucking Yuki's blood. It's a vampire thing (fetish, much?). And I spell Yuki with one 'u'. That's how the English manga spells it, so I'm going to stick with it. Don't review bitching about it. I will respond very sarcastically.
One last thing before I go. This is to any of my previous readers. Just a little message informing you that I will not be updating as frequently as usual—which isn't really frequent at all, so you know something's up. I have something big planned. Something completely original to any Fanfiction story. It's been roaming my mind lately and it needs to be done. I've titled it: Project Alternatives. You will not find sense in this title. It's for me and me alone. I'll let you know more about it when the details become final.