{collab} - [Code Geass]: "Learning Curve" (shameless Suzu/Lulu porn that NOW HAS A TITLE)

[kill_me_faster]

The result of a collab between hopechan and I that somehow spawned in the comment threads of her other hawt porn fic that you should all go read. (That's right, even if you don't like het porn, you should READ IT ANYWAY.) :P Anyway, my overall opinion is that this is actually pretty hot, but that my contributions were useless and drunk and full of fail. Still, the effort was admirable, so I decided to clean it up and go ahead and post it proper on LJ. Hope, I trust this is okay?

Title: Learning Curve
Authors: hopechan and kill_me_faster, respectively.
Rating: NC-17. Smut, smut, and more smut. We originally aimed for a plot, but alas, this was funner and, subsequently, hotter. :P
Pairing: Suzaku/Lelouch. Most definitely in that order. WE ALL KNOW WHO THE BOSS IS HERE.
Summary: "Say," Suzaku says, "don't you always wager on chess?"
For: Hey Hope, let's give this to Jenn because a.) she hates fics that are just porn, and b.) she'll probably hate CODE GEASS PORN even more because she's an elitist douche like that. :P
Notes: There's one section that I wrote when I was VERY INTOXICATED and I will totally give someone brownie points if they can figure out what section it is without looking at the actual comment thread where this originally took place. Also, Hope, I cleaned this up a little bit (namely, made the transitions between the parts we wrote a little smoother, and, added like a single line to the ending to make it seem more like an ending and less of a "HEY FAG IT'S YOUR TURN NOW" kind of thing. XD;;

Word Count: 9,885. I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THIS SHIT.



It's not really that he's playing badly. It's just that he's playing really badly, shuffling his pieces around with little regard for sacrifice and strategy, and something about the way he does it, smiling easily, makes it become something that is increasingly harder for Lelouch to forgive.

Perhaps it's because everything with him is chess, now, and he feels an inexplicable sort of resentment for Suzaku, who can throw his pieces away harmlessly without the static background knowledge that the piece he has just tossed away has collapsed in a cage of metal and flames, or fallen soundlessly to wet cement with a bullet in the forehead from the crack of a gun. Perhaps he thought better of Suzaku, then, thought him smarter or sharper or perhaps a little less unknowingly cruel. (The brunette laughs, sheepishly, and throws his black bishop into the bin where nearly half of his pieces sit, conquered, and Lelouch already knows that he's given up on trying to save those who are left.)

"Are you even trying?" he mutters aloud, hands criss-crossed in front of his mouth in the pattern that works best, brows forked and fettered. "You're faring rather poorly for someone who initially was the one to challenge me." He unthreads his hands, for a moment, to slowly push forward a rook, before dropping his cheek on his fist, thoroughly bored.

Suzaku opens his mouth; "'It's not whether you win or lose'?" Lelouch interrupts, mildly, quirking his brow and managing a dry, polite smile.

Something shifts imperceptibly in the air around them; "Something like that," the brunette agrees, suddenly equally as mild, and Lelouch has a moment of panic when he wonders if he's somehow given himself away. They'd had words like this before, he's sure, when he had saved Suzaku from the metaphorical executioner's axe. He forces his voice to materialize as something amicable: "I'd gotten that impression from you, though it was hard to believe," he laughs, and it's almost genuine. "I think my scalp still aches, sometimes, from where you used to pull my hair."

Suzaku laughs, too, and nearly knocks over the board when he reaches across the table now to tug, lightly, at Lelouch's ebony locks. "You had such a ridiculous haircut," he remembers, though his eyes are inescapably fond; "like someone had started on it, but given up halfway through, when they realized that making you look a at least a little bit like a boy was a task that was utterly hopeless, after all."

Lelouch frowns exaggeratingly, pretending to be hurt, but his eyes bore holes into the chess board and the irony of it isn't lost on him at all. Suzaku still has his fingers wrapped gently around that lock of his hair, and isn't even thinking about the game anymore at all; why should he, when the outcome of chess wasn't even what he had been striving for to begin with? How embarassingly fragile, and never mind the fact that no matter how hard Lelouch tries to think of the next move he should make, that he can't conjure up any idea at all.

Well played, Suzaku, Lelouch concedes, silently, and ducks out of that dangerous grip.

Suzaku is so pleased with his tiny, minor, utterly insignificant victory that Lelouch could just about retch. He's humming to himself, almost smiling but not quite (which is a hundred times worse than if he were smiling outright). And Lelouch is able to come up with no suitable counterattack, nothing that would turn his defeat into - a stalemate, perhaps.

A rook to a-5 and "It's your turn," is all he has.

"Ah!" Suzaku's eyes don't leave Lelouch's as he blunders his queen straight into the path of a white knight.

Lelouch waits until Suzaku's fingertips have left the piece before he asks, "Is that really the move you want to make?"

When Suzaku looks at him, his head cocked quizzically to the side, Lelouch demonstrates, swooping his knight in from the side and finding less pleasure than he'd have hoped in Suzaku's thoughtful frown.

"Gee, I didn't see that." Not a lie, precisely, but with the laughter in Suzaku's voice it's worse than one. "Can I take back my last move?"

"No."

Suzaku leans forward and flutters his eyelashes - flirts, Lelouch realizes with some horror. "Please?"

"It's against the rules," Lelouch says, leaning away from his friend.

"C'mon, Lelouch, please?"

"It's against the rules," Lelouch repeats.

"There's no one here to know," Suzaku simpers.

Lelouch sets his mouth and takes Suzaku's queen.

Suzaku's fake-flirty smile turns into something more genuine as he taps at the nose of the victorious white knight. "Besides," he says, "since when have you ever cared about the rules?"

There's a subtle trap in there; or is there? Lelouch honestly would have thought no, assumed Suzaku incapable of laying traps as much as he is incapable of escaping them, but he's starting to suspect that this is no ordinary game: "I always follow the rules with chess," he allows, firmly, deciding the answer to be safe.

"And you wouldn't break them? Ever? Not even for me?" the brunette retaliates, in a half-whine, half-dare. He shoves a pawn somewhere - somewhere, anywhere, inconsequentially. It's no wonder he has only one left; "How cruel," he adds, flopping his face in his arms and staring up at Lelouch through a tangle of soft-looking chocolate curls.

"Are you even looking at the board?" Lelouch asks him, disdainfully, resisting the base desire to flee. To do so would be childish, and - perhaps more substantially - just plain cowardly. It's a game of bluffs (chess, that is, just the chess), and he's yet to lose at one of those.

He tries not to make his swallow noticeably visible when Suzaku stares at him, piercingly, from lidded green eyes, and answers honestly: "No."

Lelouch nearly puts one of his pawns in danger of the black king, before moving it safely out of play. He frowns at the board as though it, miraculously, holds some sort of answer. "You're going to lose," he says to the other boy, hoping to provoke him. He wonders if Suzaku would be more serious if he knew that Lelouch was envisioning people's lives with this game; "You're going to lose," he says again, and hates how it comes out like a plea. Please, just lose already.

"Am I?" Suzaku wonders, indifferently, not even moving his head from his arms as he sends his last bishop dancing breezily into the middle of enemy territory. He rolls his face to almost horizontal, and reflects with a sideways Cheshire-cat smile, "It wouldn't really bother me if I did."

"Then why start the game to begin with?" Lelouch counters, chewing on a thumbnail from behind the protective fold of his hands, only half-understanding of it all. His brow dips into an almost angry, V-shaped line; "Why bother initiating something when your only option is to lose?" Against his better judgement, he lets the bishop lie - taking it now would only serve to endanger his white knight.

"Because it's fun, of course," Suzaku answers throatily, eyes at half-mast. His hand lands possessively on top of Lelouch's - "Oh, sorry, I thought that was mine," and the taller boy jerks his fingers away. "I mean, aren't you having fun, Lelouch?" He crosses his legs under the table, and the two of them collide.

"Ah; sure," Lelouch agrees, not even looking away from the board anymore, but it's suddenly obvious that he's not even aware of what he sees until he notices that Suzaku has nearly managed to check his king. He can almost breathe normally as he calculates the effectiveness of putting his knight in harm's way; "But I do wish you'd stop fooling around and try to take this seriously."

"That's not fair," Suzaku protests, rubbing an enticing line along the length of the chessboard with his thumb and his forefinger, languidly. "I'm being perfectly serious, you know."

Lelouch laughs, stutteringly, and starts looking around for an escape.

"It's getting late, Suzaku," he says. "I have work to do, and I'm sure you do, as well, and since you don't particularly care about this game..."

"I care," says Suzaku softly. "You promised me a full game, Lelouch."

"Perhaps we can set it aside for another time. I have a test tomorrow in Calculus, and my grades are borderline at best."

"Are they?"

"I should study for this."

"Should you?"

It's an absurd tactic, simply parroting everything back at Lelouch. Normally, he'd have mocked Suzaku for it. But normally, Suzaku's hair wasn't artfully tousled to fall over one eye. Normally, he didn't watch Lelouch with one finger straying dangerously close to his lips. Normally, his eyes weren't hooded and fixed -

"We're almost done with the game, Lelouch," Suzaku says, and that finger actually dips for a moment into the corner of his mouth. "Surely you're not about to back out now?"

Three moves from endgame, Lelouch would estimate, with any sort of predictable player. But who knows how far with Suzaku?

"No," Lelouch agrees. He can win this. Black's against a wall, and while there are escapes Suzaku doesn't know where they are and might not even take them if he did. His finger rests a moment on his knight; he pushes his queen to the side.

"Say," Suzaku says, "don't you always wager on chess?"

Lelouch is trying to guess what move a rational person would make and ruling those out to try to predict Suzaku's next move. "What?" he asks, distracted, trying to will Suzaku into moving his pawn one square ahead.

"Don't you always bet?" Suzaku nibbles on his fingertip as he watches Lelouch. "The girls always complain about it."

"Yes," Lelouch says, and regrets having looked up into Suzaku's face. "Usually, I do."

"Hmm." Suzaku's voice is low when he says, "So what will I get if I win?"

"What will I get if I win?" Lelouch retorts, and he's parroting, too; no, perhaps floundering would be a more accurate term for his blind, baseless struggle. He moderates his tone into something a little less anxious; "The outcome is pretty much decided, after all."

"Well, the only pounds I've got left to wager are pounds of flesh," Suzaku rationalizes, painfully simple. He takes a moment to lean back, blessedly, on the rear two legs of his chair: "Is that all right?"

Is it? What tactic does one use in the face of such...such...? Mediocrity, Lelouch tells himself, firmly, but is temporarily deflated when Suzaku moves his king, instead. "If I gamble on this, then Shirley's tirade might be more than what it's worth," he throws out desperately, grasping at straws. He moves his rook, poorly, and slips up with a heartfelt curse as soon as he takes his fingers away.

"That's awfully rude," Suzaku murmurs, putting the front two legs of his chair back down on the floor with a thump and observing his pieces, thoughtfully; "for you to speak so lowly of your prize."

The clubhouse is empty this time of day. Even Nunnally has gone out shopping with Sayako-san. Is this, then, what it feels like to be on a battlefield, completely and helplessly alone? Lelouch gives no answer, because he doesn't have one, and braces his arms on the sides of his chair as though he's bracing for an impact. He's aware of the vulnerability of that gesture, so he stands, curtly, and makes all of the necessary preparations to go.

"But the question is, how many pounds is it that I should wager?" Suzaku continues, in a voice that's supposed to lead Lelouch to believe that he's speaking to himself, when he is, in fact, doing anything but; "that is, how many of them would you actually want, Lelouch?" and the black-haired boy jumps visibly at being directly addressed.

None of it, all of it, he nearly says back, but restrains himself with effort. He gestures to the board impatiently, still not having sat back down, "I'll worry about that after I win."

"Right; after you win," the brunette agrees, appearing deceptively satisfied, and successfully manages to take that rook. "You probably will, you always do. But you'll entertain the brief possibility that you might to lose to me for me, won't you, Lelouch?" Suzaku leans forward, hands folded in front of his mouth in either an intentional or unintentional parody of Lelouch's usual thinking pose; "I mean, you'd be a terrible tease if you denied me all the pleasures of a victory fantasy, wouldn't you?" A pause, a brief quirking of pouty, compelling lips. "Surely you're not that terrible of a tease, are you?" He licks his lips as Lelouch moves a pawn, hands shaking, "After all, think of poor, defenseless me," he adds, gesturing towards his beseiged black pieces with curling, wiggling fingers.

Defenseless, right; in the way that roses or perhaps kittens are defenseless. Lelouch tries to come up with 107 possible paths of this game that actually have something to do with chess; "Fine, then, what is it you'll want from me if you win?" Even if it's embarrassing, he may just lose on purpose. If it's even on purpose. He stares, horrified, as his opponent somehow manages to snag his queen, "What is it you want?" and he doesn't even care that it comes out high-strung and shrill.

Suzaku lifts his chin from his folded hands. "What I want," he says, serious and calm, "is to fuck you over this chessboard until your legs give out, and I honestly don't even care which one of us wins the game at all."

Lelouch gapes at him, dumbstruck.

But Suzaku stares back at him, as blithe as he'd be if he'd said, "You have to buy me lunch," or "You have to bark like a dog - "

No, no, no. No. No, no - best not to stray into that way of thinking.

"Ah," Lelouch says. He tries to swallow, but can't even manage that. "Ah," he says again, terribly aware of how shrill and small his voice is.

"I've always been curious," Suzaku confesses then, a tiny smile pricking at the corners of his lips. "Would you hold onto your composture, then? Would you be Stiff-Upper-Lip Lelouch when I'm sucking you off? Or could I make you beg..." The smile broadens and deepens. "Look at you now! I think I know the answer."

"Ah," is all he can say. Finally, after he steadies himself: "That's...not a funny joke, Suzaku."

"No," Suzaku agrees. "It's not."

A silence as Lelouch breathes and Suzaku smiles. What can Lelouch say here? What is there to say -

"It's your move," Suzaku reminds gently, cheerily.

Lelouch grabs a piece and shoves it somewhere, unable to break away from Suzaku's kindly predator eyes. He's relieved when it's Suzaku who looks away, to study the board.

"Oh, wait," Suzaku says. "Did I win?"

Slowly, Lelouch looks down, and with dawning horror realizes that he's blundered his king into checkmate. In spite of his material, in spite of the fact that he has control of more than half the board, in spite of his careful development, in spite of the fact that he's just the better player - he's lost.

"Can't take it back," Suzaku sings. "That's against the rules."

"Yeah," Lelouch agrees faintly, and stares so long that when he blinks he still sees the black-and-white. So he draws in a deep breath and says without looking away, "A cunning strategy, Suzaku. Throw the opponent off-balance in order to secure a victory. Perhaps you're more devious than I've always thought. Well done."

"Well, thanks, Lelouch," Suzaku says, still so cheerful, still carefree. Lelouch is glad for the tone of his voice, because that means that he's guessed right - that all that was just a strategy to win the game, to prove that Lelouch had underestimated him or some such thing. That means that tomorrow, he can come into class and look Suzaku in the eye without the unpleasant tautness that comes when he thinks of being bent over the table, the scattered chess pieces sharp points against his stomach and chest, a hand on the back of his neck keeping him down as another hand drags his pants downward and fixes an almost painful grip on his -

Lelouch stands so fast that his chair tips dangerously backwards before settling down on all four legs again. "Thank you for the game," he says, aware of how fast and how choked it sounds coming out.

He swings his bag up onto his shoulder and heads for the exit. An arm slams in front of him, barring his path to the door.

"I thought we had a bet going on, Lelouch," Suzaku says, his voice thick with laughter.

"You...you cheated," Lelouch scrambles to say, glancing around frantically for another suitable escape route; the window, the window - would he survive a two-story fall? No, probably not unscathed. At the very least, he'd break an ankle, and with a broken ankle he wouldn't be able to run away. He'd just be forced to huddle there, cowering, in the bushes, until a shadow fell over him and a hand dragged him up by the upper arm, saying -

"'All's fair in - '...well, you'd be more familiar with that saying than I would, wouldn't you, Lelouch?" Suzaku asks, still speaking in a half-singsong, half-laugh.

Yes, except that this was neither, or, perhaps, a strange combination of both; Lelouch has no idea. He takes a step back, with buckling knees: "I told you, I always follow the rules with chess."

"Well, so did I," Suzaku counterattacks, lowering his arm that was blocking the door but getting into that predatory stance that usually means he's about to run - give chase, more like it, and Lelouch has a moment where he considers the possibility that they might not make it back to the board; that he might just find himself on the floor, knees bent, head to the tile, fingers tangled in his hair, others touching his - "I always play by the rules."

"No, no, you didn't," Lelouch hyperventilates, frantically, considering the possible effectiveness of his school bag as a weapon. "Aiming below the belt is another form of cheating, you know - " he starts, foolishly, but cuts himself off as he realizes the fallacy of that statement; he starts going a little white.

"Ohhh, is that what you think?" Suzaku drawls, throatily, making a lazy swipe towards the waistband of Lelouch's pants that the taller boy manages to dodge, marginally. "I assure you, I had no intentions of aiming below your belt until after I'd won, Lelouch."

"That doesn't reassure me," the black-haired boy breathes, voice a trembling hiss. He yanks his school bag around to his front, guarding all of the more pertinent areas.

"You want reassurance, then?" Another lazy swipe, and Lelouch jumps back from it, panicked; "Well, unfortunately, I can't really promise that my justice will be dealt particularly slow or gentle." There's a haze starting to build over the brunette's green, green eyes. "It's your fault, you know."

"My fault?" Lelouch retorts, and indignation gives his voice at least a shadow of its former strength. "You're the one who suggested that we even play!"

"Right," Suzaku agrees, deceptively pleasant, and takes a slow, sliding step forward. "And you were the one who was clueness enough to think that I meant chess."

Lelouch recalls in his moments of panic the lead-up that ultimately brought about this unexpected situation:

"Let's play a game, Lelouch," the brunette had suggested, slung neatly over one of the couches in the Ashford Academy clubhouse and scissoring his legs, slowly, through the air. He regarded the taller boy upside-down with his hair a waterfall of soft, tousled locks; "something personal, but something satisfying, too."

In hindsight, in the present, Lelouch nearly slaps himself for his idiocy. He had been stupid enough to bring up the complexity and intimacy of chess. All of it, right down to his goddamned word choice, had been poor. He laughs, shakily, as he realizes that this game had been over before it had ever really begun.

While he's distracted, Suzaku takes advantage of the opportunity and strikes, swiping his hand down low again for that waistband of tight designer pants, and this time, Lelouch can't quite get away. He nearly overbalances, tripping over his own feet, but Suzaku holds him upright, fingers hot against the bone of his hip; the others wrapped securely in the belt loops of his pants, so that he can't get away.

"Does this mean you're finally going to stop struggling and pony up?" Suzaku asks, amicably, but his eyes are smoldering green fire. He jerks his wrists, expertly, and Lelouch goes flying against him in a collision of slim, jutted hips; "You see, I'd thought for a moment that you might have had it in your head that you could run," he adds, placidly, almost wonderingly, "as though doing something like that was particularly gracious or noble." He balances on one leg; rubs the knee of the other along the length of Lelouch's inner thigh, and the taller boy has to clench his jaw to keep from whimpering.

"Calculus," he says faintly, but Suzaku laughs, patronizingly, and shakes his head, using his knees to slowly nudge the other in the direction of the forgotten chess board, black pieces diminuitive yet strangely mocking in their victory.

"There's another lesson you have to learn, first," the brunette says, good-naturedly, and pauses for a moment to snap Lelouch's head back with the force of his deep, sudden kiss.

Lelouch manages to force his head back far enough to break away from Suzaku's lips, bending his back into a painful arc. When he turns his face away from Suzaku, though, the other boy captures his ear and bites just hard enough to hurt.

"Though you never have liked to admit that there was anything in the world anyone could teach you, have you?" Suzaku whispers, his teeth and tongue catching the lobe as he speaks.

"I - " He's Lelouch Lamperouge. He's the leader of the Black Knights. He is never - never - never at a loss for words like this, helpless not only physically but mentally, as well. His mind works. There must be escapes but if there are, Lelouch doesn't know them, and even if he did he doesn't think that he'd -

"I..." he starts again, then falters when Suzaku nips at the corner of his jaw.

"Is it scary, Lelouch?" Suzaku murmurs. "Not knowing something?"

Lelouch can feel the tension of Suzaku's smile against the skin of his throat, goddamn him. Lelouch Lamperouge, leader of the Black Knights, should have something scathing to say here, something eviscerating that would reveal him to have had the upper hand all this time, that would show that though it's his king in Lucena back on the chessboard, he's the victor here.

All he can manage, though, is a whimpered, "Don't make fun."

"Oh, I'm not making fun," Suzaku said, his hand sliding up under Lelouch's shirt along his back, just about burning Lelouch's cool skin. "I'm just curious."

The backs of Lelouch's knees bump against the chessboard. It's at that moment that Suzaku's free hand dives downward, beneath the waistline of Lelouch's pants, caressing the skin there. Lelouch tries and fails to suppress a gasp.

"Are you scared?" Suzaku said, his voice only just above a whisper.

Lelouch can't answer.

"Because you could yell for help," Suzaku says.

"I know," Lelouch says. That's the escape he knows, and that's one he's not willing to take. Pride, or something else?

As Suzaku leans over him in a triumphal arch, he realizes - something else, something else.

"Or you could fight back," the brunette suggests, in the low pleased tone of one who finds the unwanted to be anything but. "There's always that."

Lelouch, briefly, considers. Physically, he's at a disadvantage, and any strategy he might have intended to plan is sent whistling out his ears when Suzaku laughs, throatily, nose to his nose. No, escape is no option, and the animal instinct in him that was once telling him to run is now clamoring loudly for him to stay; to raise his hips (he does), and fold under that easy, knowing touch (a bit harder to acquiesce).

Still, he shies his face away; pulls his vulnerable throat and chest and belly back, until he's brought up short by his elbows hitting the top of the table with a thunk - everything wobbles, dangerously. He grips the sides of the table until his knuckles turn white, forearms flat against the wood and keens an audible protest as Suzaku frees his hands, both of them, to stroke at the skin of them, possessively.

"I stopped going to school when I was ten, did you know?" he asks, conversationally, but his voice catches somewhere around the middle and it comes out low; husky and predatory. "I picked up a few things, here and there - " He punctuates the information with a line of nails, shivery and blunt, down the vein's of Lelouch's wrist, " - but in the end, I could just never be as smart as you, Lelouch."

"Su...Suzaku," the black-haired boy whispers right back at him, voice breathless and high. It's this short of a beg, and Suzaku raises an eyebrow at him, interestedly.

"Oh? Are you tired of playing already? I didn't think you would fold that easily; what miscalculation on my part," he sighs, cutting the noise off abruptly as he leans forward, unexpectedly, and captures the others' lips with his own again; murmurs between sucks, strokes, and bites; "I do like it when you say my name like that, though. All helpless and needy."

He laughs, gleefully, and surges forward in a burst of fluid, juggernautical motion; Lelouch overbalances, feels his elbows give beneath him and the back of his head slams down on the chessboard with a crack. Chessmen roll everywhere, and his legs pinwheel uncontrollably in the air. He lets them drop, but the pressure on his spine is unbearable, and he's left with no leverage; he flings them, without thinking, across Suzaku's back, and the brunette stops laughing long enough to kiss him again, hungrily, again and again and again until it actually starts to hurt, and feel less like that of game.

"Do you need me, Lelouch?" Suzaku asks, softly, when he breaks away for air, smoothing his palms gently down the backs, the sides, the insides of Lelouch's thighs. There's nothing at all hungry or amused in his quiet emerald eyes. Truth, or trompe l'oeil? There's two answers in there, and one of them is the honest one, while the other is the one that's correct. Which is...?

"Suzaku," he says haltingly, and lets his voice be the answer.

Suzaku grins at that, almost feral, almost brutal, fully triumphant. Lelouch closes his eyes as Suzaku slides his hands down towards Lelouch's buckled elbows.

Of course that makes Suzaku happy. Suzaku needs to be needed, always has, and Lelouch knows that this is just an extention of that. This is no sort of affection, no sort of lust; he isn't desirable, and...

And Lelouch cannot focus on the Psychoanalysis of Kururugi Suzaku, not with the Tongue of Kururugi Suzaku slippery and hot on his collarbone. He can't bring himself to care with the Right Hand of Kururugi Suzaku slipping back under his belt to rake short nails against the sensitive skin of Lelouch's hip.

There's a lump where the inside back of his thigh presses against Suzaku's groin, and Lelouch grits his jaw and presses his eyes closed further. The thought that it's Suzaku bent over him, that Suzaku wants him as much as he wants Suzaku, is -

The other boy's hair is fragrant like crushed grass, and soft against the point of Lelouch's nose. His forehead is smooth against Lelouch's lips as his head rises. And his own lips are so inviting, tickling, thrilling, as he takes Lelouch's mouth and slides his hand around to grip Lelouch's cock.

"Suzaku," Lelouch gasps, arching against him. A knight is digging into Lelouch's tailbone, and his left elbow slips on a queen, but somehow his brain isn't capable of processing all this; he knows words but doesn't know what they mean.

A slow pump, and Lelouch cries out.

"Quiet, quiet!" Suzaku laughs against Lelouch's chin. "They'll think I'm murdering you in here."

He might as well be, with one hand in a slow slide and the other thumbing the corner of Lelouch's jaw. Lelouch can feel his own heartbeat in the jabbing pain in his back, and it strains with him as he tries to find more satisfaction than Suzaku is giving him. More of this, and Lelouch fears he might burst.

"Oh God," Lelouch mumbles.

And Suzaku laughs, again, the catching of his throat palpable to Lelouch, and gives another, harder stroke. Lelouch bites his lip, grimaces to keep back this moan, afraid that it would be audible to the whole of the school -

"Oh, bother!"

Lelouch just about mews when he feels Suzaku's hand leave him. He opens his eyes, and Suzaku's pulling back away.

"You're right, Lelouch, I didn't even think - " he's saying, and Lelouch is staring, trying to understand what these words mean. "I have that same test. How embarrassing! I really do need to study. Like I said, I'm not as smart as you."

But he's smiling, and breathing hard himself, and Lelouch stares.

After a moment, he gets it; calculus, it's calculus, and why the hell had he even bothered to make that excuse? Lelouch wiggles his legs, pointedly, and digs his heels into the small of Suzaku's back. If a function is linear, then the function can be written y = mx + b, where m = he had better put that hand back right now or there was going to be hell to pay. He nearly says it aloud, but withholds with effort.

"So, what?" he laughs instead, shakily, his entire body trembling with the effort of holding himself in check. His arm twitches, and a rook goes flying. "You want to take a study break, then?" He says it as though he can hardly believe it, which is half-true. He doesn't think Suzaku will stop. He also doesn't think, however, that Suzaku will continue until he gets that which it is that he wants.

"I told you," Suzaku replies, pleasantly, "that what I wanted to do was to fuck you over this chessboard until your legs gave out; you remember, don't you? Or maybe it's you who needs to study, Lelouch?"

Ah. Ah. He catches it in the subtle shift that Suzaku has made from boku to ore, and thinks he understands the subtle intricacies of this game. "You're right," he says, modestly, and stretches his hand slowly towards the button of Suzaku's pants; "I need to study."

But the brunette catches his wrist before he can even get there, eyes dark and heavy, and Lelouch is momentarily puzzled. Isn't this...? and he's momentarily terrified of what will happen if he screws up. He sees a hand over his mouth, and another drawing the curtains on the window, and can't tell whether the shudder he feels then is from fear or desire. He doesn't like the idea of losing himself. He doesn't like the idea of having to give in, to let go, to cave to such a weak and senseless part of his personality, even if it is in front of someone he knows wouldn't judge him for it; even if it is in front of his best friend.

"You still don't understand?" Suzaku asks, regretfully, and in his eyes for a moment is an inexplicable sympathy, a blink of sorrow. But it's gone in an instant as he shrugs, good-naturedly, and jerks Lelouch's wrist forward in a movement that slams the taller boy's hand right into the center of his crotch.

He winces, momentarily - it had to have hurt, it had to have - before letting out a low breath, eyes almost closed, and loosening his grip around the bones of Lelouch's wrist.

"Rise over run, then," he says, and starts to slowly rub circles over the hard, brittle carpal bone right beneath Lelouch's thumb; "you study that, first." He grinds his hips forward, slowly, and his emerald eyes don't stray.

Rise over run? Lelouch takes a deep breath and, though he can feel the heat rising in his cheeks, rubs his hand against Suzaku's...

Suzaku's breathing turns harsh, and he smiles, all teeth.

"Always a quick study," he says. Then he leans in and says, low, "Though you were off to a good start." Suzaku reaches back down and cups Lelouch's own crotch. "Choosing this over running."

Ah-hah, rising; clever, Suzaku. Still, Lelouch hopes his friend isn't getting the wrong idea. He manages to collect himself enough to whisper, "You know, that's just a mnemonic device; it doesn't actually mean a preference for one over - "

Suzaku leans forward and kisses him hard, grunts as Lelouch's hand tightens on his flesh in response. When he breaks away, he whispers, "Shut up, Lelouch."

Lelouch nods and whimpers when Suzaku nuzzles at his neck. How have they gotten here? How could Lelouch have so utterly misunderstood? It wasn't a difference of language - perhaps, all this time, Suzaku was merely base four while Lelouch was base ten. They used the same notations, but attempting basic functions would always yield errors. Perhaps Lelouch, with the jut of his hip, the point of his elbow and chin, is geometry; Suzaku is trigonometry, rippling a sine curve down Lelouch's chest, licking a circle around his belly button, a triangle on the flesh just above Lelouch's erection -

"Ah!" Suzaku nips at his skin and then pulls outward to trace a circle around Lelouch's cock. Lelouch scrabbles desperately for something to grab, finds Suzaku's hair with his right hand and a white knight with his left, grips them both so hard that he thinks his nails and the pointed carved ears might be leaving marks on his bone.

"I'm..." Lelouch starts, but there's nothing more than that; it just stands as it is, I am, not because he thinks - because he's barely thinking, now, with his legs over Suzaku's shoulders and his muscles trembling and little animal noises coming through his nose - but because he feels, because he is now like he has never been before keenly aware of every sensation.

He feels every bump on Suzaku's tongue.

He feels the point of the chessboard against the back of his thigh.

He feels the current of the air conditioner blowing cool air across his burning face.

With the curtains drawn, it's all so dim, Suzaku a feral shadow bobbing at the edge of perception, his own hands colorless as they fist so tightly a bone in his wrist pops. But for the strips of color tracing the edges of the window where the light worms its way through, everything here is reduced to black, or to white, or to gray.

"You're...?" Suzaku prompts, lifting at the edges of Lelouch's shirt, his face suddenly very intent. "Oh, and I think you'll be raising your arms here, if you know what's best for you," he adds, in a voice far too pleasant for so serious a threat, rising up a bit to get the proper leverage, and the tip of his nose leaves small trails of goosebumps from wherever it hits the other boy's flesh; "Ah, I see that you do." He rids Lelouch of his shirt, folding it halfway and pressing it over violet eyes for a moment teasingly (Lelouch bites on his lips, truly uncomfortable) before tossing it away, to slide to a slow-motion stop on the floor.

"I'm..." Lelouch tries again, but finds that necessary vocal functions have been cut off in order to provide sensory perception to other more favorable areas of his being. "I..." In contrast to the slow easiness that went with his shirt, his pants are veritably yanked down to his knees, brushing rough against the line of his cock, and he cries out; twists his fingers in the curls of Suzaku's hair, and feels a nerve in his other hand sting with pain as he presses his palm too tightly against the plastic of that white knight.

"Ouch," Suzaku says amiably, gently attempting to pry loose the fingers wreaking havoc in his hair. He catches sight of the knight buried deeply in Lelouch's other fist, and manages to dislodge it, holding it up in the dim light and inspecting it with bright, amused eyes. After a moment of careful deliberation, he throws it away.

"This isn't a fairy tale, Lelouch," he chastizes, lowering his head, "and there's no prince on a white horse to come and save you...eh?" He pauses, for once looking stumped, and Lelouch wiggles his hips insistently, letting out a little whine of impatience. Suzaku bites down on his lip, trembling, and there, there it is - he's finally starting to crack, to give, and Lelouch feels some of the tension go out of his arms, out of his legs, a little -

Curls in on himself, then, as Suzaku chokes, once, and lets out a poorly-contained, startled laugh. "W-Well, that's - " he starts, and has to swallow before he can go on; "that's...charming, I guess," and Lelouch looks down the line of his stomach with growing dread.

Oh God. His underwear. The black ones, the ones for girls. He'd bought them on accident, couldn't be convinced to go shopping again, and had been pleasantly surprised to discover that they were actually rather comfortable, when all was said and done. Black silk ones that didn't bunch up along his legs like his shorts had had the tendency to do, and he goes very still, face flushing an almost painful red. He'd never, of course, assumed that anyone would see them, in a situation like this least of all. Gym was an elective, and he hated it, so he didn't take it. He lived in the clubhouse, with only his blind sister and a polite housekeeper, and - recently - C.C., who he couldn't give a damn what she thought about his underwear anyway. This...this was...

He lets go of Suzaku's hair to throw his arms over his eyes, trembling badly. He flinches as an unseen hand brushes his sweaty bangs off of his forehead, gently.

"Charming," Suzaku says, frankly, drawing the line of his finger up the silk-covered shaft of Lelouch's cock, "and unexpectedly hot."

Lelouch presses his arms down over his eyes even harder.

"I never would have thought you were that kind of person," Suzaku just about purrs into Lelouch's hip.

'That kind of person'? Oh, god. Oh, god. "It's not like that!" Lelouch lies desperately. "The - the girls bought them for me, that's all, as a joke. You understand."

"And why are you wearing them now, then?" Suzaku laughs. Lelouch grinds his teeth. "Don't tell me you lost another bet?"

"That's not funny," Lelouch grits, then gasps when Suzaku grabs the fabric and starts deliberately sliding it over his skin.

"It's a little funny," Suzaku chuckles. Lelouch gasps again when Suzaku slides down to mouth at his cock through the silk.

The sensation is strange, unlike anything Lelouch has felt before (not, of course, that any of this is exactly familiar ground). Suzaku runs his fingers up Lelouch's leg then over the fabric and down again, and the contrast in sensations is...well. One hand plays with Lelouch's stomach, straying downward only to readjust some bit of skin, while the other slips around to press against the crevice of his ass. It's Suzaku's nose and lips and tongue on his cock, through the silk, and the feeling is so smooth and cool and intoxicating that when Suzaku takes his flesh lightly between his teeth, then slips his lips around it and sucks, and pinches just hard enough at his hip, and presses his fingers inward, Lelouch comes.

He grits his teeth and presses his eyes closed even beneath the shield of his arms. There's a warm spot, cooling rapidly, on the silk just below his stomach, and a primal, musky scent is starting to float through the air.

Suzaku laughs, but it isn't mocking. Indeed, there's something affectionate in it. He kisses Lelouch's hip and hooks his fingers around the waistband and drags the underwear to Lelouch's knees, too.

It's suddenly very, very cold in the darkened light of the clubhouse; or maybe it's that all of the tension that's been building in Lelouch's belly, his throat, has now been dispelled; either way, he's shaking, badly, barely able to keep the hold he has around Suzaku with his legs, and the brunette shrugs out of the blazer he'd been wearing to settle it, lightly, on the other boy's shivering shoulders. Lelouch finds, in that moment, that he can lower his arms, so he does, blinking at the bright spots flickering across his vision and the sudden clarity of the things around him. The clubhouse curtains ripple a bit from the vent of the central air system. His hair is damp, and there is sweat sliding between the knuckles of his hands. There are chess pieces all over the floor and Suzaku's fingers are doing something very strange inside of his ass.

He yelps, suddenly awake, and tries to back away, sending a trio of pawns the way of the other pieces, clattering loudly as they hit the tile. It's part indecision, but mostly confusion, and as he plants his shoes against Suzaku's shoulders and tries to push back, he clarifies; "It's over, right? The game is done - you've won."

"Oh, the game is over, for sure," Suzaku agrees, evenly, and one of his fingers curls - Lelouch bears down on it, not liking the way it intrudes. What the hell was this? Some sort of embarrassing punishment, for losing the match? He winces, squinching one eye shut, but keeping the other fixed on Suzaku as the brunette continues; "the game is over, but my revenge hasn't even begun."

"No; not revenge," he amends, seeing the sudden vulnerable way Lelouch closes his eyes, "but fun, how's that?" He smiles reassuringly, like he's speaking to a fifth-grader, and Lelouch doesn't like the way that such patronizing is actually making him feel relieved, "You're having fun, right?"

Fun? Is this fun? Embarrassing but satisfying is how he'd put it, like action and consequence, punishment and reward. Fun? Not as much. He squirms against the further advancement of that finger up his ass, finding it a little less intrusive this time. Suzaku's blazer smells like him; detergent and cologne, and Lelouch inhales, closing his eyes again and feeling something flop in his stomach again, interestedly.

"It's...informative," he allows, grudgingly, face buried up to his nose in that blazer.

"Well, I'm glad I could be of assistance," Suzaku laughs, amusedly, shifting Lelouch's legs over his shoulder a bit and brushing a bit of his hair down Lelouch's thigh as he dips his head, confidentially. Lelouch wants to hit him for not understanding the sheer amount that that admittance had cost him. He doesn't, though, because in the focused aftermath of his own satiation, he finally sees the way the sweat stands out on Suzaku's brow, and the way his hips are trembling, minutely, from the effort of holding himself back.

Those fingers push back in again, and for a moment he's confused as to how one leads to the other. When he gets it - at last, gets it - he freezes, and feels the muscles of his lower back stiffen, in protest. "You're going to...?" he starts, disbelievingly, and when Suzaku laughs this time, there's a note of self-depreciation in there that he's trying very hard to hide.

"Well, it hadn't been my intention," he admits, and rolls his hips towards his intended destination with a groan, "but I'm, ah, not so sure I can stop myself, anymore." He pillows his head in the juncture of Lelouch's thigh, and his hair is misleadingly soft; "Sorry." His fingers move again.

That moment of vulnerability, of doubt, makes Lelouch frown in spite of himself. Throughout this, Suzaku has been so composed that Lelouch never once thought that he might not know at every moment precisely what he's doing.

(Lelouch of all people should know, of course, that confidence and the appearance of confidence aren't necessarily mutually inclusive.)

There's only so much time for him to think about that, though, before Suzaku's hand moves inside him, and then all thoughts are driven completely from his head.

"What - " he starts, but can't finish, and Suzaku laughs. It's half apologetic, half eager.

"Hold on one sec." Suzaku pulls away again, and again Lelouch feels like he might fall from the loss of support. A moment later, when Suzaku returns, he picks Lelouch's legs up by the ankles and wraps them once again around himself, then smooths the skin of Lelouch's thigh in a surprisingly tender gesture.

One hand strokes Lelouch's cock, already starting to stir once again (Suzaku laughs at that, too, and Lelouch closes his eyes and grinds his teeth in embarrassment) and the other presses once again against Lelouch's ass. This time, his finger is slick and cool.

"What?" This time, at least, Lelouch manages to make it a question, rather than a garbled syllable torn loose from his dry throat.

"Just something to make it more pleasant for both of us." Suzaku's finger drives deeper more easily and touches something inside Lelouch that makes his back arch and his muscles tense.

"I thought - Oh," Lelouch gasps. "You didn't intend - "

Suzaku grasps the gist of his comment. "Well, I didn't. But it never hurts to be prepared, right? Relax, Lelouch," he murmurs, and easy for him to say. He's standing firm on the ground with absolutely nothing penetrating him at all, no Suzaku leaning over him from the gloom with a smile, drawing sensations from his skin with each circle of his fingertips.

"Relax, Lelouch," he whispers again, leaning in to whisper into his ear. "You'll like it, I promise."

Easy for him to say. He's the one who'll be doing the action, while Lelouch will just have to lay there and let Suzaku do whatever he wants to Lelouch, and Lelouch, slighter, inexperienced, will have to put himself completely at Suzaku's mercy, will just have to trust that Suzaku will make him like it -

"There we go," Suzaku whispers into Lelouch's chin.

It's still terribly invasive, but overall, it's not that bad. Currents are starting to ripple up and down his spine with every stroke, every slide, and he's starting to think that maybe the invasiveness is the point. The complexity and intimacy of chess is nothing compared to this, after all, and he nearly laughs out loud.

"A smile! I saw it; you chuckled!" Suzaku crows, all strong hips and hot breath just under the line of Lelouch's jaw. "Are you almost around the learning curve of this, then?" He pulls his fingers out, briefly, and for a moment there's a terrible loss that makes Lelouch growl, before they slip back in and it seems there's more of them than before. He wouldn't have guessed that he was even capable of holding more; wouldn't have guessed, of course, that his afternoon was going to end this way either, with him half-naked over a discarded chess game and his best friend's erection grinding slow across his thigh.

He doesn't answer Suzaku's question, because he suspects that he was never really meant to. He shifts his hips, a little, and there's that spark again; that lightning strike of pleasure that makes him, poorly, bite back a moan. Another laugh, low and throaty and rumbling against his neck.

"I told you, didn't I?" and this is a response that requires an answer; "that I'd make you like it, right?"

Did he? Lelouch remembers something vaguely of the sort, but shoves it to the back of his mind now, preferring instead to think of the pleased response all of this attention has been getting from his cock. He scrambles furtively through all of his wits for a response that won't betray his loss of control: "Yeah, but you're a cheater," is all he can manage, in a reedy, petulant whine.

Suzaku's laughter is nearly a bellow; all rich and pleased and hearty. "All's fair in," he says good-humoredly, and seals the other boy's lips with a brief, chaste peck. "Be right back."

For a moment, Lelouch has a horrible sinking feeling in his gut of oh, no he wouldn't before realizing that Suzaku is only drifting downwards, breath hot against his own blazer and fingers scissoring, slowly, in a way that makes Lelouch jump. He wonders for a moment at the angle of attack, until he sees the brunette's mouth open wide (frightening flash of bright white teeth) and sees it close over the line of his swollen, twice-hard cock.

He jumps, again, but there's no element of surprise like there had been before, and the desperate need to achieve satisfaction in a brutal, fast frenzy has already been fulfilled, so he's able to roll his neck back, closing his eyes, and express his pleasure with a low, muted hum.

It's better the second time around. There's still always the base element of fear, which is what he supposes makes coupling work; his heart has never pounded so furiously in his throat, nor have his shoulders shook so badly before at the point where they meet his neck. There is still the primitive uneasiness that comes from fingers probing up all the corners of his colon, but a strong rough tongue against the line of his erection and the smell of cheap five-and-dime cologne in his nose is enough for him to ignore it. It's better, completely, and he has to wonder at how much longer he can hold on to his silence. His pleasure is a pulse, now, beating evenly on the screen, but he has no idea how much longer it will take before it begins to spire crazily out of control.

Suzaku purrs, reverberating through his throat and out his nose, and Lelouch thinks that he doesn't have much time left at all.

"Are you ready?" the brunette whispers. How's Lelouch supposed to respond? No, never, of course; he can never be ready for this, he can never stop the tremors and the uneasiness that wars with the - Suzaku would call it fun, but to Lelouch it's ill-defined. Pleasure, maybe? Enjoyment, in spite of the humiliation and the discomfort?

Enjoyment, yes. Lelouch enjoys the sensations, and more than that he enjoys the coy and feline glee that Suzaku positively radiates as he nuzzles a moment at Lelouch's cock. When he looks back up, his eyes sparkling, his fingers working themselves even farther into Lelouch's ass, he asks again, "Ready?"

Lelouch nods, jerkily.

Suzaku moves quickly, then. He pulls himself away a moment, and then he's there again; something larger by far than Suzaku's fingers, something less lithe and yielding, pushes against Lelouch's ass. Lelouch can't help himself; he reaches out and grabs Suzaku's elbow, steadying himself, and Suzaku holds him back, petting the skin of his arm.

"Shh," Suzaku urges, and then leans down and kisses Lelouch's collarbone, his neck. "It's okay," he whispers. But as he runs his fingers up and down Lelouch's cock, Lelouch just grabs him harder.

"It's okay, Lelouch," he says, and through the dark Lelouch can make out a gentle smile. So he catches his breath, and forces his breathing to slow.

"Okay," he whispers. Suzaku reaches down, runs his hand along Lelouch's cheek and strokes the ridge of his cheekbone with his thumb. Then a pressure down below, a stretching, and slowly Suzaku slides inside him.

It's unpleasant and tight and different, so utterly unknown a feeling that even Lelouch (especially Lelouch?) squirms and pants and hates it. But Suzaku's hand is on his cock, stroking softly but surely, and Suzaku's face is...beatific, perhaps, would be a good way to describe it, his eyes half-closed, his lips just barely parted, the tongue occasionally darting out to wet them. It's that sight, the slow and visible pleasure on Suzaku's face, that, more than anything else, makes Lelouch force himself to relax and accept the pressure.

Suzaku is still, to allow Lelouch to adjust, but he looks down as soon as Lelouch stops squirming.

"Is this all right?" he asks. Even if Lelouch were to want to say "no," he doesn't think he could, not with that eagerness on Suzaku's face.

"Very informative," he breathes.

Suzaku laughs appreciatively and starts to push in a little further.

In truth, it's bigger, and longer, and overall, harder - the learning curve of this, that is - but it's also a hand palming tenderly down the front of his hard-on and the other stroking softly through his damp, wild locks. It's a series of wet, sloppy kisses that aim for his lips but usually wind up anywhere but. It's a pulse beating wildly under his fingertips; a stuttering laugh, to rival his personal best, that cuts through the air to punctuate itself as a halting, heartfelt moan.

Suzaku draws back, drawing breath with him, and surges forward again, this time with a little less trepidation than before. Lelouch feels his whole body shudder from the force, from the pleasure, of the sudden collision of their hips. When the brunette hits that same spot inside of him that he had hit with his fingers (furling pleasure, and a bundle of raw nerves), except this time with the hotter, thicker pressure of his cock, Lelouch nearly screams.

"It's amazing what a quick study you can be when the subject is something you actually want to learn," Suzaku acknowledges, slightly out of breath, and jerks his head a bit to shake his sweaty hair out of his eyes; "ah, a very good study," he rectifies in a groan, eyes rolling back in his head at the furtive, impatient wiggle that Lelouch is making with his hips. Another withdrawl, another push, and this time, the series of moans that reverberate throughout the empty room are in stereo, ringing and resounding and finally resolving themselves into a single, harmonic chord. It's a nice sound, and Lelouch lets it linger in his ears for a moment before he arches his neck back, reflexively, and takes in a very deep breath (how much farther could he fit in there, anyway?).

"More," he breathes in a whisper, and he's begging, and he knows it. Suzaku knows it, too, but if anything, it makes him lose his composure even more - he growls, ferally, and seizes Lelouch's lips in his own; moves his hips faster, jerks his wrist faster. If his knee-jerk reaction to begging was to acquiesce, then to hell with pride, or composure; "Please, more," he insists frantically, and ignores the prickling painful scarlet of his blush.

"Oh, God," Suzaku half-groans, half-laughs, stammeringly; "this - really - wasn't what I had - intended - at all - " and maybe it's the fact that he's laughing, gone half-mad with desire, or the fact that he's shaking, eyes deleriously bright, but either way, Lelouch grips the collar of the brunette's blazer with his teeth and holds his breath, suddenly painfully aware of the callouses on the hand that rubs his cock, of the way that sharp satisfaction is elevatoring it's way up from the back of his spine to his belly, flaring out his -

He loses himself to it. Everything becomes a fantastic whirl of stark-white pleasure. After a moment, he feels Suzaku lose it, too; a hard, shuddery jerk and something hot dribbling down the spot where they both meet, down the backs of his thighs, and a brief, now somewhat embarrassing choir-call of his name - "Lelouch - !" - before everything suddenly goes very still.

In the aftermath, everything is strangely quiet. Suzaku slumps against him, crushing his windpipe, and breathes heavily into his ear, tension leaving his body in a single, fluid drain. Lelouch turns his head away, trying to get some air, and the tip of his nose knocks a black knight from the chessboard onto the floor, where the clack it makes is obnoxiously loud in the silence. Curtains ruffle. A bird calls from outside of the window, and there is still a thump-thump-thump to Suzaku's heart.

Lelouch suddenly feels extremely awkward. "Are you all right?" he asks, not sure what exactly he's going to do if the answer is no.

There's a long moment as Suzaku just breathes, and Lelouch honestly starts to worry. But then a chuckle that he can only feel against his chest and side, and Suzaku pushes himself upright.

"Yeah," he says, cheerily, lazily. "I think I'm okay." He finds Lelouch's hand and kisses the palm. "You?"

Lelouch nods. "Fine."

"See? You didn't break, did you?"

Lelouch takes a moment to see if he's actually supposed to answer that absurd question. When Suzaku stares at him, clearly waiting for an answer, he allows, "I suppose not."

"And you didn't die of embarrassment, did you?"

Lelouch frowns at his friend and mutters, "No."

"And you're out of here in time to study for Calculus." Suzaku's grin is teasing. "Not that I'm calling you fast, of course."

He holds his hand out to Lelouch, who takes it and allows himself to be helped up. When he tries to stand, however, his legs buckle. Suzaku's there to catch him.

"See?" Suzaku whispers into his ear with such intensity that Lelouch looks up, wondering if Suzaku is intending another go. But with no more than a promising smile, Suzaku makes sure that Lelouch is steady and lets him go.

"Well." Lelouch clears his throat and starts gathering up his clothes. Suzaku helps and is, unfortunately, the one who picks up Lelouch's underwear.

"I like these," he says with a grin.

"Shut up," Lelouch mutters and takes them from him.

Suzaku leans in and purrs into Lelouch's ear, "Maybe you should wear them next time."

Lelouch could say any number of things as he pulls on the underwear in question. "You're a fool if you think I'll allow myself to be put into such a position, trapped and humiliated, on your silly whim" is one of them. Another is, "If we're doing this again, we're most certainly doing it on my terms." Or, "I assure you that that will never happen."

What he ends up saying is, "Well, maybe I will." And then he turns away and pulls his shirt back on over his head.

Suzaku's hands are at his waist, tugging the shirt down into place, warm where they come into contact against Lelouch's skin. He takes the pants from Lelouch's hands, then, and bends down and holds them in place. Lelouch smiles despite himself, and puts one hand on Suzaku's head for balance as he steps into the leg holes.

"There we go," Suzaku says, fastening the waistband around Lelouch's hips. Then he grabs Lelouch's hand and kisses the tip of his pointer finger and says, "So, in the end. Fun?"

Lelouch pulls himself away and gathers up his back as haughtily as he can. Finally, he nods. "I suppose," he says. "In a manner of speaking."

Suzaku laughs, then, a broad and genuinely happy smile splitting his face. He looks so happy that even Lelouch himself can't suppress a little smile.

The effect, however, is ruined when Suzaku says, "And I'm telling everyone that I beat you in chess, by the way."

Lelouch's smile drops away immediately. "You will not."

"Hmmm." Suzaku regards him once again with his crafty, calculating smile. "Maybe we can meet here Thursday at four to discuss suppressing this information?"

Lelouch nods and turns to go. "I suppose we can." As he minces towards the door, limping as though he's been wounded and trying desperately not to show it, something crunches beneath his feet and he looks down, lifting his shoe in surprise; it's the figure of his white knight, now split unflatteringly into two.

Next time, he thinks smugly, a devious smirk stretching across his face, and shuts the door on Suzaku's raucous laughter.

AN: Anyway, Hope, I hope that, like two-second addition to your ending is acceptable. :P It just seems more...eh, CLOSED that way, I dunno. IF YOU TRULY HATE ME INTERFERING WITH YOUR STROKE OF GENIUS, JUST LET ME KNOW AND I'LL PUT IT BACK THE WAY IT WAS. ;___;

In other non-stupid news, this was fun to write. :D I've never done a collab before, and while the parts that were written by each of us should be pretty easy to decipher, I still think the whole thing works as a whole.

SO HOPE THIS IS THE PART WHERE YOU PUT DOWN SOME NOTES FOR YOURSELF, OKAY, YOU ASS? I dunno, AIM them at me or something and I'll put them up here. ALSO, FEEL FREE TO PUT THIS ON caveat__lector and cross-post wherever the fuck you feel like it.