Ouran fic: Bee to the Blossom: Mori
This is the other version of my first and only Ouran fic, wherein Haruhi gets Mori to scratch her itch instead of Tamaki. I did both versions because I adore her with either of the boys and couldn't really decide which scenario I preferred. I also wanted to break the typical paradigm of tab-a-into-slot-b that we usually get with het smut.
Tamaki's version of this story is available here.
Mori's version is dedicated to moko_moko for her birthday, because she is the best sister a person could have-- bright, funny, immensely talented. Here's hoping she finds a Mori of her own some day :) (incidentally, she did the art you'll see in the middle of the story)
Bee to the Blossom: Mori
Bee to the blossom, moth to the flame; each to his passion; what's in a name?
-- Helen Hunt Jackson
The limo rolled at a leisurely pace down the street, mostly because with Tamaki hanging out the window as he was, the driver was afraid of smushing the boy against another vehicle or a pedestrian. Tamaki had recently seen a romantic drama about love between a wealthy businessman and the prostitute he’d hired, and insisted upon a “field trip” so they could all see for themselves what it was like.
“This is amazing!” he gushed, head whipping back and forth between the sordid sights outside and the bemused expressions on the faces of his fellow club members within. “I never thought that television dramas were so accurate in their portrayals of the red light district!”
He paused, looking troubled. “The only thing that’s missing is the actual red light. The only ones I see are traffic lights, and I don’t think that’s what it refers to. Where did-“
“Hey, lovely boy,” one hooker called to him from her corner, effectively shutting him up. “Want a blowjob? For you, only ¥3000!” Even at the speed they were driving (and through the crust of makeup on her face) her leer was evident.
Tamaki paled and kicked back from the window, sprawling onto his back and looking around at his friends, wide-eyed with shock.
“Did you see that?” he demanded. “Did you? She propositioned me! With a- a--”
“Yes, we all saw,” Kaoru replied with a smirk. “She really liked you- gave you a discount!”
“A discount?” Tamaki gazed at the others. “How do you know?”
Kyouya calmly pressed the button to raise the tinted window, leaving them in luxurious anonymity once more.
“My research indicates that the standard going rate for fellatio in this part of town is approximately ¥5000. She would indeed have given you a substantial discount.”
“Not to mention herpes,” Hikaru snickered. “Genital warts. Gonorrhea-“
“I get it!” Tamaki shouted, slapping his hand over Hikaru’s grinning mouth to halt his words. “Where did you learn all this?”
“We’re going over sexually transmitted diseases this week in biology class,” Haruhi commented absently, eyes directed out the window at her side. She had a particularly thoughtful look on her face, one that guaranteed that she was soon to say something the others were sure to find extraordinary.
“HAAAAAAAAAru-chan!” exclaimed Honey. “What are you thinking about so hard?” He bounced in his seat, expecting Haruhi to come up with something profound.
“I think it’s really unfair that there are no men to provide that service for women,” Haruhi mumbled, still lost in thought. She propped her head on her hand and continued to stare out the window, pondering. She was fairly certain there were women out there who would pay quite well for such a thing, especially if their husbands were away on business a lot…
“What?” she said a moment later in response to Honey’s forlorn tugging at her sleeve. She looked up to see all six boys staring at her in amazement. “What’s wrong?”
“Haruhi,” Tamaki whispered, his tone both shocked and horrified. “Haruhi, Otou-san wants you to put that thought right out of your head. There’s no question of you finding someone to do that, ever ever ever.”
“What?” she repeated, a confused crease forming between her brows. “What are you talking about?”
“You never have to go that far if you want… that,” Hikaru told her earnestly. “Really, Haruhi.”
She stared blankly at them, wondering why they all looked as grave as if she’d just told them she were dying of cancer. Then it hit her, what she’d just said; once again she’d been thinking aloud and it had gotten her in trouble.
“Uh,” she began, but Tamaki’s self-control (never robust to begin with) slipped and he began babbling.
“You never have to sink so low as to pay for it, Haruhi! The very idea is absurd! There must be dozens- hundreds- of boys eager to do that to you! Why, any one of us would be happy- no, honored- no, delighted- to be the one to take you to that soaring pinnacle of-“
Haruhi launched herself across the limo at him, hands outstretched to cover his mouth or strangle him or whatever would shut him up.
“Stop it,” she muttered through gritted teeth. “Stop it now.”
Wide blue eyes blinked sorrowfully at her, and there was a single whimper behind the barrier of her hands. It sounded close enough to “I’m sorry” to appease Haruhi, and she returned to her seat by the window.
She stared blindly out at the street, not registering anything but a whirlwind of embarrassment and disbelief that, once again, the Ouran Host Club was making her endure more surreal weirdness.
“Tamaki has a point, Haruhi,” Kaoru said into the ensuing silence.
This is not happening to me, Haruhi thought. Not, not, not happening.
“All of us care for you very much,” continued Hikaru.
“If you’re curious about sex, don’t waste yourself on some boy who doesn’t love you like we do!” This unexpected wisdom from Honey, who never failed to surprise Haruhi with his rare but insightful age-appropriate remarks.
“No need to be embarrassed,” Kyouya said briskly. “It’s a perfectly natural act.”
“Just ask,” Mori intoned, speaking for the first time that evening.
Tamaki said nothing, just sat frozen in his corner of the limo doing a startling impression of a tomato, eyes fixed on Haruhi in equal parts mortification and distress.
She turned back to face them all, slowly, as if the extra time taken would somehow, magically, change what was being said.
“I don’t believe this,” she whispered, face flaming. “This… is too insane, even for you.”
She steadfastly refused to acknowledge that it was her own fault for bringing it up in the first place. And yet, her treacherous mind was already bringing her to places she did not want to go. What would it be like, asking her friends to do… that for her?
Scenario #1: the twins
“I wanna do it first!” Kaoru shouted, shouldering his brother aside. “I’m better at languages, so that means my tongue is more talented!”
“But I’m the straight one!” Hikaru protested, shouldering back and grabbing a handful of Kaoru’s collar, pulling him away from between Haruhi’s knees. “It’s wasted on you!”
Haruhi heaved a sigh when the first punch was thrown.
Scenario #2: Honey
“HAAAAAAAAAru-chan!” he exclaimed, popping up between her upraised knees. In one hand, he held a pint of strawberries; in the other, a can of Reddi-Whip. As she watched, gripped by an awful fascination, he shook the can with trademark enthusiasm.
“I’m ready now,” announced Honey, grinning widely, and aimed the nozzle at Haruhi’s intimate bits. “Are you?”
Scenario #3: Kyouya
“I can either add this to your total debt to the Club,” he said, “or you may pay me in cash. I regret to tell you I don’t accept either credit cards or personal cheques.”
He knelt before her, about to get to work, but paused.
“Oh, did you want fingering as well?” he asked. “Yes? That will be another ¥1000.”
Haruhi balled her fists at her temples and shook her head rapidly back and forth. “No, no, no,” she moaned. “Too weird. My brain can’t take any more.”
Leaning forward, she rapped on the glass divider behind Hikaru’s head.
“Driver, take me home,” she instructed, then settled wearily back against the plush leather and aimed a foul glare at the boys. “I forbid any of you to mention this again.”
They blinked, and slumped back in their own seats. When Haruhi used that tone, they knew she was serious.
~*~
Haruhi tried to banish all thought of it from her head, but the idea was an insidious one, and persistent. She’d eliminated four of them- the prospect of doing anything with Honey, Hikaru, Kaoru, or Kyouya was just too frightening to contemplate- but the last two were plaguing her existence.
Whereas before “that night” she’d never spared a second glance at any of the boys in a sexual way, now every time Tamaki or Mori spoke or smiled her attention was riveted to their mouths. Watching either of them for any length of time usually resulted in Haruhi having to excuse herself from the vicinity until her cheeks cooled and she was able to meet their eyes without blushing crazily.
Watching Tamaki speak or enjoying one of Mori’s rare smiles was almost torture. The sight of their lips or tongues made an odd and melty sensation ripple through her chest and down, lower, until she was fairly squirming in her seat.
Like now, for instance. Mori had finally succumbed to Honey’s exhortations to partake in the feast of sweets before them, and was nibbling on a cookie. The contrast between Mori’s huge hand and long brown fingers and the fragile sugar cookie they so delicately held had Haruhi’s mouth going dry, and when he bit into it, parting pink lips and revealing strong white teeth, she felt faint. Then Mori’s tongue darted out to catch a stray crumb on his lower lip, and Haruhi felt a jolt of fire roll from the tips of her breasts to between her legs, as if there were a direct connection between the three points.
She must have made some sort of choking sound, because the girls all around her began inquiring as to her health, and soon all of her fellow hosts were looking her way, frowns of concern on their faces.
“I, uh,” Haruhi stammered, and stood. She wrapped an arm around her waist in a facsimile of stomach cramps. “I need to use the bathroom.”
She darted from the room, ignoring Tamaki’s cries of alarm and studiously not glancing Mori’s way as she passed him. Just before the door shut behind her, she heard Mori say, “I’m closest. I’ll go.”
Oh, no! she thought in alarm. She’d left the room to get away from him, and here he was about to follow her. She broke into a full-out run, dashing down the huge central staircase and down corridors, around corners and through rooms until she found a small, vacant chamber with what appeared to be an old-time fainting couch on it, which was fortunate, because Haruhi was so appalled by the direction her thoughts had taken, and her idiotic reaction to those thoughts, that she felt quite close indeed to passing out.
The sheer humiliation alone was enough to end her. She never acted like that, never. This whole issue threatened to drive her insane. She flung herself on the couch and draped an arm over her eyes, trying to collect her thoughts and calm her racing heart after her hasty escape.
“What’s wrong?” asked Mori, and Haruhi jerked upright, arm falling away, to find Mori standing beside the couch.
“Aaahh!” she shouted in surprise. “How--” It was no use asking how he’d found her; he likely had the ears of a bat and could tell every step she took, and probably wouldn’t tell her anyway. She fell back again, shutting her eyes wearily. She felt like sleeping for a year.
Her eyes flew open again when his hands tucked under her arms, and she squawked in shock when he hoisted her into the air, feet dangling as she was raised to Mori’s eye level.
“What’s wrong?” he repeated. His face was bland, betraying no emotion. Haruhi knew he was not judging her, not drawing conclusions, not projecting his own feelings. He was simply waiting for her to tell him what was going on. She also knew that, no matter what she said, he would do anything he could to help her. The idea of exactly what he was able to help her with flashed through her mind, and her gaze was drawn yet again to his mouth.
She groaned, and clamped her eyes shut. “Nothing’s wrong,” she muttered, even as she felt sweat break out all over her body at the idea of it. “Please put me down.”
He didn’t answer, and she peeked out one eye to find him staring at her, not blankly like usual, or even with concern, but if the downward tilt of his eyebrows was any indication, he was... irritated?
“Mori-sempai...?”
“Don’t lie to me,” he told her. It somehow sounded much more serious in his deep, smooth voice.
Haruhi gaped in surprise. “Mori-sempai... I...”
“What’s wrong?” he asked for the third time. She had the feeling that if he had to ask again, it would not go well.
But could she tell him? She burned with mortification; how could she possibly say to him what she was thinking, what she was wanting from him? Those things simply weren’t done. Not ever.
“Your heart is racing,” he informed her. “I can feel it.” Haruhi remembered that, caught up in his hands as she was, he could feel her heartbeat pounding in her chest. “And you’re breathing hard.”
“I was running,” Haruhi tried to pretend, but he gave her a little shake that silenced her.
“I said not to lie to me.” Now he was looking downright annoyed, and Haruhi found herself gaping even more at the outlandish concept. Mori in a bad mood was unthinkable; Haruhi felt like the earth had been tilted off its axis and now threatened to spin right out of orbit round the sun. She had to get the normalcy (such as it was) back; to do otherwise was unthinkable.
“Put me down,” she said, placing her hands on his shoulders and bowing her head in resignation. “I’ll tell you.”
Slowly, carefully, Mori did not set her on the floor but stood her on the fainting couch, so she was still eye level with him. It was odd, being in such close proximity to his handsome face, but she was also used to being far lower, to looking up at him. When she was on her own feet, he was always at a safe distance. There was no safety at all, this near to him.
“Do you remember,” she began, voice high and uncertain, “the limo ride when we visited the red light district? Last week?”
“Aa,” he replied.
“Do you remember what we talked about? About, uh, how I never needed to pay anyone if I wanted, uh, that?”
Mori just nodded in reply. Haruhi was positive she was going to burst into flames, her face was so red and hot.
“You said I should... I should just ask, if I wanted...”
“That,” he supplied.
She ducked her head, staring not at his face but at the hollow of his throat, revealed by the loosened knot of his tie. Still, Mori said nothing, and she forced herself to be brave and meet his gaze once more, eyes beseeching.
“You’re asking?” There was an answering spark in his eyes, a glimmer of comprehension and wonder and even, just maybe, excitement.
Haruhi clamped her eyes shut and nodded. Her face was sore from blushing so hard. She longed to splash it with cold water, to calm herself, to bring her blood pressure down.
Then she sucked in a breath as cool lips touched her hot cheek, by the corner of her mouth, and her eyes flew open. “Mori-sempai--”
But opening her mouth to speak only allowed him to kiss her properly, his lips settling on hers and his tongue darting out to lap lightly against her teeth. Lightning seemed to streak through Haruhi, tightening her belly and squeezing at her heart, and she eagerly accepted him, arms winding round his neck to pull him closer.
He deepened the kiss, tongue slicking against hers, making her whimper and wonder how he knew how to do it so well; he was only eighteen years old, shouldn’t he be fumbling or unsure or something? But he was utterly confident, knowing just how to explore her mouth, how to coax her to kiss him back, until she was gasping, threading her fingers into his hair, pressing herself against him almost desperately.
She pulled back, needing to breathe. “When do you want to...?” she asked leadingly. “My father will be gone this weekend--”
“Now,” he interrupted, and lay her back on the couch, his long body looming over her petite one as he sealed his mouth to hers again.
Haruhi was pretty sure she was supposed to protest, or stop him, or at least slow him down; they were still in school, and who knew how long this room would stay deserted? But he was unbuttoning her shirt, and somehow her legs had parted and he’d settled between them, and there was this hard, hot ridge pressing against her in just the right way and all her perfectly good reasons for why this was a bad idea at the moment flew right out the proverbial window.
She heaved in a breath when he left off kissing her, only to have it leave her in a rush when his mouth sucked in not only one of her nipples, but most of the rest of her breast, as well. She barely noticed he was working at removing her trousers.
At the same time, even as he slid down the couch to reposition himself, Mori was rubbing himself against her leg. Knowing that he was aroused, that she had aroused him, turned Haruhi on even more. Her pulse was racing with excitement, her hands were restless with the need to touch him, and wandered over his shoulders, bunching in the fabric of his shirt, trying to draw him closer as he suckled her nipples, one and then the other, switching off so neither was neglected.
He’d skinned her panties down her legs along with the trousers so she was bare to him all at once, and Haruhi had barely had the time to acknowledge the coolness of air against her before Mori shifted down and drove his tongue into her.
“Ungh” is the closest approximation to the sound she made in reaction to the sensation: heat, wetness, suction, and her hands grasped whole handfuls of his hair to keep him from escaping. “Ohhhh,” she cried out, legs trembling on either side of him, body curling in shock at the pleasure of it.
Mori spread her open and lapped at her inner lips, then the outer, working from the center to the edges, licking all traces of her fragrant juices away. Beneath him, Haruhi was making little lurches with her hips, not knowing quite what to do but unable to keep from moving.
“You taste good,” he told her. His face, when he looked up from between her thighs, was shocking to Haruhi; all blankness was gone, replaced with an expression of such heat and hunger that her pelvis instinctively rolled toward him in response.
“Mori-sempai,” she whispered.
“Takashi,” he corrected, and bent down to her once again.
Haruhi threw back her head as he returned to his task, this time sealing his lips around the hard bud of her clitoris and sucking lightly. “Takashi,” she gasped, curling forward even more as lust tightened her muscles, made her strain toward the summit of pleasure that had begun to hover just out of reach. “It’s so good, Takashi... oh, god, more, harder--”
He duly sucked harder, and added a flicker of his tongue to the underside. Haruhi positively howled, arms reaching to clasp his head more tightly against her, frantically hunching herself against his mouth, riding his tongue and wailing as much of his name she could manage to enunciate.
“Takaaah! Ah! Aaahh!” Her voice rung off the gilt-paneled walls, and ecstasy obliterated her senses. Waves of heat and pleasure raced through her, and her heart felt like it would beat its way out of her chest. There was no time to enjoy the recession of it, however, because Mori raised himself to kneel over her, hands working to free himself from his trousers.
He was so tall and broad, so handsome and strong, that Haruhi felt her excitement not diminish, but build once more. “Takashi,” she panted, “what next?” It was a plea for guidance, for him to tell her what to do because she didn’t know, but didn’t want to stop.
“This,” he said simply, revealing himself to her. He was large, in proportion to his height, and well-formed (in Haruhi’s opinion from extremely limited experience). The head was flushed dark with arousal, and glistened at the very tip. He took himself in hand and rubbed himself along the drenched cleft between her legs, leaning forward to claim her mouth with his, swallowing her gasp at the feel of him stroking along her sensitive lower lips.
“Don’t you want to...?” she asked against his mouth, punctuating each word with a kiss. She was growing more confident with each passing moment.
“I’m fine with this,” he said, thrusting gently, sliding through her wetness, not penetrating. Her taste was in his mouth and it made her want him more, to give herself over to him and make him feel as good as he’d made her feel.
“I want all of you,” she said, hands running up under his shirt to stroke his sweat-damp back, then lower, the hard muscles of his backside flexing under her palms.
Mori buried his face against her neck, shaking his head a little. “Too risky,” he told her. “Don’t have any condoms.”
He had an excellent point, and Haruhi was in no condition to naysay him; the sleek way his shaft was gliding over and against her was sending her skyward again, and she wrapped her legs around his waist and tried to move against him in counterpoint. They discovered a mutual rhythm that had all the right bits connecting, and Haruhi’s vision went white as pleasure rocketed through her. Her fingers dug into Mori’s shoulders, and she wailed his name-- his first name, even-- as she came.
He wasn’t far behind her, her name stuttering on his lips as he gave in to the bliss of orgasm, his semen soaking her pubic hair, belly and the entire area between her legs. When he finally slowed his movements, he was careful to prop himself on his elbows and knees so as to not crush her with his weight, and Haruhi felt almost like crying at the tenderness of his consideration.
Then he raised his head and smiled at her, a smile all the more precious for its rarity, and Haruhi’s emotions abruptly shifted to the other end of the spectrum, laughter bubbling up out of her until she was giggling and hugging him tightly.
When she settled down again, he was still smiling at her, and dropped a soft kiss on her cheek. “Do we tell anyone?” he asked.
“Well,” Haruhi considered, “Tamaki will have a heart attack. The twins will, too, I think. Kyouya will just find some sort of profitable angle for it all. Honey will...” She trailed off uncertainly. How would Honey react? Would he be alright with Mori having her in his life, as his girlfriend?
“Honey will be happy,” Mori finished for her, and his voice was so deep and certain, Haruhi believed it.
“Good,” she murmured, snuggling deeper against him. “Do we reveal that I’m a girl? Or do we still keep the host club customers believing I’m a boy?”
“Whichever,” he replied, and kissed her other cheek. “I don’t care how we’re together. As long as we are.”
Oh, this boy was positively dangerous, Haruhi thought happily. She felt her outer composure threatening to crumble for the first time in her life, and somehow, she didn’t mind a bit.