The Tigger Clock [R; Kyouya/Tamaki]
Title: The Tigger Clock
Author: worblehat
Genre: Ouran
Pairing: Kyouya/Tamaki
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Written for marksykins a while back. Unbeta'd.
Word Count: 796
It was possibly the ugliest thing Kyouya had ever seen. It was gaudy, it made a strange and bouncy noise each hour, it took up half the space one one shelf and, worst of all, it was bright orange.
Tamaki, however, seemed happy with his purchase, angling the clock several different ways before finally deciding where to situate it. He beamed at Kyouya.
"It's..." Kyouya tried to find the appropriate words. It was tempting to say something like awful, horrid, grotesque, absolutely hideous - but these would make Tamaki teary-eyed and it had been a long day and, well, he just wasn't in the mood. An indulgent smile was out of the question and something he rarely used besides. "...fine," he finished.
Tamaki blinked at him. "...you don't like it?"
Kyouya began to feel frazzled. He stopped typing for a few seconds to adjust his glasses and look at the clock, as if seriously considering it. He then looked at Tamaki. "I do not."
The immediate pain visible on Tamaki's face made Kyouya wince internally - outside, he still wore the same detached expression, the only minor betrayal of discomfort being his hands, which tightened around the top of the laptop as he pretended to pull it to a better angle. "You didn't need to buy me anything," he said calmly, not looking up.
He could hear Tamaki looking at the rug, poking at the tea table with his toe as he waited for Kyouya to say something more. When nothing happened, he took another step closer; then another; and five more until he was leaning over Kyouya's shoulder, something he knew aggravated "mom."
"What are you typing?" Tamaki breathed into his ear.
"Our winter budget," said Kyouya, forcing himself to remain put. Perhaps Tamaki really didn't know just how difficult it became to focus when he was breathing in Kyouya's ear - it made Kyouya's own breath catch a little and his hands felt emptier and it made him want to forget whatever he was doing, just for a few seconds, just to be able to touch Tamaki a little bit.
Tamaki leaned in a little more, pointing at the screen - not enough to smear, but enough to make Kyouya's forehead tense into small knots along his brow. "What are all these colours for?"
"I've grouped items into categories," Kyouya said patiently, his tone approaching a low growl as he reached for Tamaki's wrist, pulling it away from the screen. He turned in his seat, looking up at Tamaki.
Tamaki blinked down at him in response. "Kyouya? Are you okay?"
Kyouya pushed his chair back, taking care not to make Tamaki topple over. His hold on Tamaki's wrist remained steadfast as he pulled Tamaki towards him, his hand snaking around his waist. "I hate that clock," he said, watching Tamaki's face, noting the emotions flashing across his features: sadness, hurt, slight anger and then...forgiveness.
"I have one of piglet," whispered Tamaki. "I was going to give it to Haruhi but if you want I can -"
Kyouya kissed him, fast and accurate, tongue sliding out just as Tamaki gasped, slipping into his mouth, tongue against tongue as he urged Tamaki backward, near the small couch he kept in his room. Tamaki let himself be lowered onto it, Kyouya climbing on top of him, lips harsh, teeth biting as they kissed. Tamaki's hands slid up Kyouya's chest, around his neck, threading through his hair. Kyouya closed his eyes to everything and focused on his hands, where Tamaki's skin lie just beneath, a thin silk shirt the only thing separating them from -
Kyouya kissed softly at Tamaki's jaw before pulling away. He adjusted his glasses, standing up. He was hard, his heart was beating quickly - but he had a budget to finish.
As he sat back down, he smiled internally: Tamaki was looking at him, pouting a little as he fidgeted with the one button Kyouya had undone before stopping. "I hate it when you do that," said Tamaki, his voice barely audible.
Kyouya smirked. "Then we're even."
Both were silent, only the sound of Kyouya's typing cutting through the quiet; until Tamaki sighed. "Fine. If I take back the clock, will you stop typing and come here?" Kyouya waited; Tamaki whimpered a little. "Please?"
It took almost all of Kyouya's self-restraint to slowly push his glasses back onto his nose, pull his chair backward, and cast Tamaki an indulgent look - just before he crossed the room in four quick strides, straddling Tamaki's waist.
He smiled as his hands began undoing the rest of Tamaki's buttons. "Deal."
Author: worblehat
Genre: Ouran
Pairing: Kyouya/Tamaki
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Written for marksykins a while back. Unbeta'd.
Word Count: 796
It was possibly the ugliest thing Kyouya had ever seen. It was gaudy, it made a strange and bouncy noise each hour, it took up half the space one one shelf and, worst of all, it was bright orange.
Tamaki, however, seemed happy with his purchase, angling the clock several different ways before finally deciding where to situate it. He beamed at Kyouya.
"It's..." Kyouya tried to find the appropriate words. It was tempting to say something like awful, horrid, grotesque, absolutely hideous - but these would make Tamaki teary-eyed and it had been a long day and, well, he just wasn't in the mood. An indulgent smile was out of the question and something he rarely used besides. "...fine," he finished.
Tamaki blinked at him. "...you don't like it?"
Kyouya began to feel frazzled. He stopped typing for a few seconds to adjust his glasses and look at the clock, as if seriously considering it. He then looked at Tamaki. "I do not."
The immediate pain visible on Tamaki's face made Kyouya wince internally - outside, he still wore the same detached expression, the only minor betrayal of discomfort being his hands, which tightened around the top of the laptop as he pretended to pull it to a better angle. "You didn't need to buy me anything," he said calmly, not looking up.
He could hear Tamaki looking at the rug, poking at the tea table with his toe as he waited for Kyouya to say something more. When nothing happened, he took another step closer; then another; and five more until he was leaning over Kyouya's shoulder, something he knew aggravated "mom."
"What are you typing?" Tamaki breathed into his ear.
"Our winter budget," said Kyouya, forcing himself to remain put. Perhaps Tamaki really didn't know just how difficult it became to focus when he was breathing in Kyouya's ear - it made Kyouya's own breath catch a little and his hands felt emptier and it made him want to forget whatever he was doing, just for a few seconds, just to be able to touch Tamaki a little bit.
Tamaki leaned in a little more, pointing at the screen - not enough to smear, but enough to make Kyouya's forehead tense into small knots along his brow. "What are all these colours for?"
"I've grouped items into categories," Kyouya said patiently, his tone approaching a low growl as he reached for Tamaki's wrist, pulling it away from the screen. He turned in his seat, looking up at Tamaki.
Tamaki blinked down at him in response. "Kyouya? Are you okay?"
Kyouya pushed his chair back, taking care not to make Tamaki topple over. His hold on Tamaki's wrist remained steadfast as he pulled Tamaki towards him, his hand snaking around his waist. "I hate that clock," he said, watching Tamaki's face, noting the emotions flashing across his features: sadness, hurt, slight anger and then...forgiveness.
"I have one of piglet," whispered Tamaki. "I was going to give it to Haruhi but if you want I can -"
Kyouya kissed him, fast and accurate, tongue sliding out just as Tamaki gasped, slipping into his mouth, tongue against tongue as he urged Tamaki backward, near the small couch he kept in his room. Tamaki let himself be lowered onto it, Kyouya climbing on top of him, lips harsh, teeth biting as they kissed. Tamaki's hands slid up Kyouya's chest, around his neck, threading through his hair. Kyouya closed his eyes to everything and focused on his hands, where Tamaki's skin lie just beneath, a thin silk shirt the only thing separating them from -
Kyouya kissed softly at Tamaki's jaw before pulling away. He adjusted his glasses, standing up. He was hard, his heart was beating quickly - but he had a budget to finish.
As he sat back down, he smiled internally: Tamaki was looking at him, pouting a little as he fidgeted with the one button Kyouya had undone before stopping. "I hate it when you do that," said Tamaki, his voice barely audible.
Kyouya smirked. "Then we're even."
Both were silent, only the sound of Kyouya's typing cutting through the quiet; until Tamaki sighed. "Fine. If I take back the clock, will you stop typing and come here?" Kyouya waited; Tamaki whimpered a little. "Please?"
It took almost all of Kyouya's self-restraint to slowly push his glasses back onto his nose, pull his chair backward, and cast Tamaki an indulgent look - just before he crossed the room in four quick strides, straddling Tamaki's waist.
He smiled as his hands began undoing the rest of Tamaki's buttons. "Deal."