Author: Grasshopper (A.K.A. The Undertaker's Muse)
Warnings: Het via genderswap. Non-graphic sexual content.
Fandom: Uta no Prince-sama
Challenge: No True Pair
Prompt: Ren helps Masato out of those wet clothes...
Spoilers: Ren and Masato's history.
Summary: A boy, a girl, a white dress in the rain.
Author's Notes: I...totally did not plan on this when I started writing. Where'd the genderswap come from? Not that that's a bad thing, just. Unexpected.
Disclaimer: All characters and the series they come from belong to their creators. Grassy can only lay claim to the fic.
For years, Masato had loved Rena more than he knew how to convey, how to manage. She was inspiration and despair both, bringing him high and felling him low.
At times, his hatred - not of her, but of her actions and inactions - had nearly eclipsed that wonderful and terrible feeling.
Masato remembered the young girl he had first met at that party. Despite the pure white of her dress, Rena had been the only real color amidst the boring drones of society.
Rena's smile - sly, unladylike and brash - had tempted him as few other things had. Masato had escaped that party holding tight to her hand; had played, water splashing and turning her dress nearly transparent, until scolding and scowling caretakers finally tracked them down and pulled them away.
Not once had Masato ever regretted that night.
Once again, Rena wore white. The lacy, flowing lines of her sundress bared long legs as she moved. What would have looked innocent, virginal on any other woman seemed a flirty invitation on Rena. Something she was more than aware of.
The light summer shower didn't surprise Masato as it should have. Nor did the way Rena ambled along leisurely, drops of rain soaking her dress. As she approached, long musician's fingers scraped away hair from the back of her neck. Raindrops spilled from her lashes like tears as she caught his gaze invitingly.
Masato really hated how much he liked certain categories of Rena's manipulations.
Though not as much as he hated having no defense against them.
Her skin was chilled and damp from the rain, warming as they stood close to one another. Masato could feel Rena's soft shivers as he slowly slid down the zipper of her dress, fingers and lips lingering on the skin bared before him.
The lack of undergarments should have surprised him. But as Rena stepped away from where the dress had pooled at her feet, all Masato could feel was want. And the love he had never figured out how to run away from.
Masato was no longer running away. Neither was Rena.
The brush of her well-manicured nails over his skin as she divulged him of clothing left Masato gritting his teeth. She knew his body as well as he knew hers; knew how and when to tease him the most.
So when he grabbed her, rose above her on his bed with a look of hunger, heated kisses and demanding touches-
Rena smiled, accomplished.