Work Header

Dark Grey Eyes

Work Text:

Byakuya Togami turned his alarm clock around so he could no longer see its red numerals, though the time lingered as a glow etched onto his vision. He had spent the previous hour in a state of inactivity only fractured by the few occasions when he changed which side of his body he lay on.

Half an hour passed; he checked the clock again and got up to pace the floor for a minute, returning to his bed afterwards. This getting up and pacing happened several more times, rising in duration and frequency until he found himself by his bedroom window with no desire to sleep. At a guess, two hours had passed since he flipped the lights off and he lost track of how many times he lapped his room.

His prolonged imprisonment at Hope’s Peak ended ages ago but he was still adjusting to the aftermath. They could go outside now, him and the other survivors, even if the bleak dystopian world proved little better than what they escaped from. Without the metal plates on the windows, he could see a gradient of muddy colours with the intermittent cluster of stars. Byakuya gripped the window sill and stared out over silhouettes of buildings either destroyed or in repair. More things had changed on top of all this. Junko Enoshima ensured the annihilation of the Togami Conglomerate, leaving him the task of rebuilding it to greater heights. And he changed, he supposed. He became stronger. Learned from his peers.

Dark grey eyes flashed across his mind. Byakuya stiffened.

The former students lived on the same floor in a building near the new Hope’s Peak. Each person received a rather small living space but were stationed close enough to the others for visits. Makoto Naegi and Aoi Asahina so far had mostly taken advantage of this, as they suffered nightmares about the mutual killings and often sought out someone else afterwards to comfort them. But not Byakuya: he didn’t need to depend on anyone in that way. He could deal with the footage his imagination tried to intimidate him with. Besides, more recently those dreams had petered out to make way for untroubled sleeps and... dreams of a different nature.

Like dreams with dark grey eyes.

Byakuya’s fingers curled inward, scraping across the tiles of the window sill. His father never had a single wife, instead procreating with high quality women who all went through a tedious selection process. Only the mother of the victor remained in the Togami family after the potential heirs competed, chiefly for public appearances. For business. For show. Not... Not for something like...

He tore his hands away from the window sill and paced again.

Part of him had hoped what he felt was a phase. Part of him still hoped what he felt was a phase despite however much time had elapsed. Or that it was a symptom of some illness. Or anything else because no one in the Togami family ever actually felt about another person what he might have felt at that moment - a strange stirring in his chest he always thought to be nausea, supplemented by those dark grey eyes. Not just those eyes but the body they belonged to.

Then again, the rest of the Togami family was dead.

Without him noticing, that nausea - that disgust - had developed into something else... or he finally learned to recognise it for what it was. But he regarded it as weakness nonetheless, even now. It was illogical. Irrational. Wrong. Feeling attachment to someone. It was wrong. Caring. Wanting. Bonding. It was wrong because feeling that way was a distraction and a liability.

Well. So he assumed until the final trial, where Makoto personified hope and brought the remaining students together into a powerful force that overcame the mastermind’s despair. On top of that, the growing closeness of Makoto and Kyouko Kirigiri suggested his view on these sorts of relationships may have been too harsh and hastily made. May have been.

Byakuya balled his fists.

No matter how often he tried to convince himself that he jumped to an incorrect conclusion about what he felt, or that he was above such things, he had still willingly slept with Touko Fukawa and he thought about her more than he should. In that he thought about her at all, like now - he thought about her persistence and loyalty and determination and strength, for she had made it through the mutual killings and the ordeal with Komaru Naegi and everything else. In fact, her love for him had made her stronger, it seemed, and he was beginning to think that love didn't make people weaker after all. Then there was her lewdness and her self-satisfied smiles that nearly always grated on his nerves, but there also existed what lay behind her stuttering and fidgeting that up to now he only glimpsed, and he almost thought he saw a bit of himself in there, and there was her intelligence as well, and her-!

He stopped himself there.

A short distance separated his apartment from hers. Nothing kept him from going to see her. She wouldn’t complain. She would enjoy a surprise visit from him. Byakuya’s neck twinged. Why couldn’t Touko have left him alone after he spurned her like he did everyone else? Why did she work her way under his skin when he always tried to ensure no one could or would?

These feelings had crept up on him and he hadn’t discerned their existence until Yasuhiro Hagakure commented that morning on how Byakuya apparently looked at Touko an awful lot. The others gave their unsolicited opinions as well; Aoi regularly reprimanded him about how coldly he acted as if he and Touko were already ‘together’, which obliged him to behave differently.

But they weren’t.

To Byakuya’s frustration, he didn’t fully understand what made this happen. Why did the idea not repulse him as much as it used to?

Then there was Touko herself. Why did she still try to be with him? She didn’t need his fortune, right? So what? What made her continue to pursue him after the mutual killings? Everyone was relatively safe now. Were her feelings toward him a lie that she convinced herself to be true? Was she still really that deluded? Did she think she had a chance?

Touko wouldn’t have had a chance... before, but she had since changed.

He looked down.

He had changed, in his opinion, far too much.

Running away would be cowardly and he was no coward. Byakuya needed to confront this anomaly head-on. Ensure he didn’t put his trust in someone whose loyalty was woven together with something as flimsy as fantasy. He turned on his heel and left his apartment, seeing no one in the hallway. No Yasuhiro fetching a glass of water and no Kyouko on a late night stroll.

Thank God. That meant no unnecessary questions.

Byakuya arrived at Touko’s apartment within seconds and rapped his knuckles on the door. As he waited, he wondered whether he should knock again or just go in. Back at Hope’s Peak, they all had reason to lock their doors, but here was different. Still, he didn’t want to barge in and find her barely dressed. He regained his composure and forced the mental image of what she possibly could or could not be wearing out of his mind.

The door creaked open slightly then fully.

“Byakuya-sama?” Touko blinked her dark grey eyes. She straightened up, more awake. To his relief, she was wearing a loose nightdress and not something skimpier. “Is... something wrong?”

His face hopefully hadn’t given too much away. In any case, he contorted it into a blank expression. “Let me in. We need to talk.”

“N-Now?” Touko prodded the corner of her mouth. “It’s late...” A smile played on her features and her eyelids sank. “P-People will think we’re up to something...”

“I know it’s late,” he said. The back of his neck prickled at her last remark and he estimated it to be around midnight. Byakuya narrowed his eyes. “That’s not a problem, is it?”

“N-No!” She stepped to the side.

The layout of everyone’s apartment was pretty much the same; it constituted of a bathroom, living room and bedroom. Byakuya closed the door behind him and followed her in. They entered the living room together, with its single sofa and coffee table.

Touko flipped on the lights. On the table was a vase with roses in it but they didn’t smell of anything.

He sat on the edge of one of the sofa cushions, most of his weight on his feet. “Sit with me.”

She sat next to him. “Byakuya-sama, did something happen?” Her hands sprung to her chest. “Y-You’re not hurt, are you? Did Asahina hit you again? D-Do... I need to kiss you better? Where did she hit you?” Touko’s face relaxed and she crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing at her shoulders with trembling hands. “Did... she h-hit you... down... there?”

To stop himself from literally shaking sense into her, Byakuya clutched his trouser legs. “Fukawa, this is important so cease your delusions.”

That shook sense into her. They were opposites in that regard - she thrived in her imagination, though nowadays she retreated to it less, while he liked to have both feet firmly in reality. Her hands dropped to her sides and her eyes flicked down just as quickly. “Eh? Byakuya-sama...? Why... are you here?”

Why indeed. He considered. “I want you to describe me.”

Touko’s forehead creased. “I don’t understand...”

“Fukawa, tell me what you think of me. Describe my appearance. Describe how I act. How do I come across to you?”

She looked briefly to the side and bit at a fingernail.

“Don’t coat it in purple prose,” said Byakuya. “I don’t wish to hear how you would introduce me if I was a love interest in a romance novel. Be as succinct as you can. What about me appeals to you? Think wisely about which words you use.”

“W-Well...” Touko clamped her legs together and hung her head.

Silence loomed over them but he didn’t let this qualify as an answer. She finally inhaled shakily.

“You’re...  You’re strong... and confident,” she said. “You always have a plan and you’re... never afraid to speak your mind. You’re honest...” Her tone warmed as she gazed at him, tenseness melting away. “You’re intelligent... and you’re not immature like a lot of people I know. You’ve... got an air of sophistication... and you always follow through on your plans... You’re perfect...”

“And...?” he prompted, leaning closer. These compliments differed from what she typically spewed and what he was accustomed to being told - not a bad thing, necessarily. “What about my negative attributes? What do you consider to be my flaws?”

She swallowed, noting the reduction in space between them. “You’re... cruel... at times...” He didn’t correct her though he thought it was more that he didn’t pander to people’s expectations. “B-But I don’t understand why you want me to... say this...”

His fingertips crept across the cushion, almost to her leg. Her nightdress reached just above her knees when standing up, and sitting down it reached around mid thigh. Byakuya glanced at her lap before focusing on her dark grey eyes.

“Continue,” he said in barely a whisper. He tried for a reassuring smile, aware of his heartbeat. “What else am I?”

“Y-You’re beautiful!” Touko blurted out, wide-eyed, twiddling her fingers and very pink in the face. She cringed at her usage of a vague word many editors would cross out in early drafts with a thick red marker pen. “But... But you know that already...”

The stirring in his chest intensified. “Well... yes. But I needed to make sure.”

Touko blinked.

“Fukawa, we’ve gone through a lot together, haven’t we?” It was as though he was reading from a script despite him not having drafted one prior. On one occasion, Makoto asked for advice on admitting feelings to someone else, and Byakuya simply told him to say, ‘Be mine.’ That didn’t seem appropriate now. It seemed too one-sided. “I don’t doubt we’ll continue spending time with each other. Therefore, I thought we could,” Byakuya forced the next sentence fragment out, “see how this goes.”

“This goes?” she repeated, attempting to make sense of his words.

“I mean we could be in a partnership,” he told her. “Or... as you would say... a relationship. An official one.”

There. He said it.

“In a...?” Touko squeaked and clapped her hands to her mouth. Her next words were muffled but he still understood them. “A dream... This is a dream... This can’t be anything but a dream... Please don’t wake me u-!”

He pulled her hands away from her mouth.

Touko fell silent.

“Fukawa.” Byakuya’s leg brushed against hers and he could see a few hairs out of place on her forehead. His ears burned but he kept his voice steady. “This is real.”

“Byakuya...” The honorific died in her throat.

Their previous kisses were all spontaneous, where one pair of lips crashed into the other’s and thought came later, but this time the barbed wire of fate connecting them constricted and they both knowingly leaned in. Four hands scrambled, his to cup her face and hers to palm against his chest.

She hardened her hold on his pyjama shirt and fell backward across the sofa, taking him down with her. At a guess, this was when they discarded their glasses: neither paid much attention to this minor detail.

He caressed her bare arms and started with light kisses on her lips despite the impatient beating in his chest. After he got used to the motions - it had been too long since they last kissed - he took her bottom lip between his teeth.

Touko moaned as their bodies mutually pressed together. Her fingers tangled in his hair and she wrapped her legs around his torso.

Byakuya drew back, in need of air, prompting Touko to cling onto him. Even after he relented and pushed back into her, she continued holding on and rubbing herself against him.

The kiss deepened. His hands moved to a bit below her armpits, hesitating when he couldn’t feel anything under her nightdress. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Why would she be wearing bra? Girls didn’t wear bras to bed, did they? This lapse of concentration gave Touko an opportunity to maneuver her tongue on top of his. In literature, authors often described this as a battle of dominance or as a bout of tongue wrestling, but they alternated between which mouth they stroked tongues in, mostly staying inside his.

Something in the room creaked.

Their lips parted momentarily, hot breath from both parties mingling. The lighting in the room made the colours on Touko’s face saturated and vibrant as if she was in an overexposed photograph.

Barring their panting, the apartment was silent.

“They’re probably all asleep,” she mumbled, feet flat on the sofa cushion and somewhat disappointed. “No one will hear us...”

His foot closest to the edge of the sofa almost slipped to the floor as he adjusted his position so he was on all fours, with his hands either side of her shoulders and his shins between her legs. In hindsight, they should have chosen somewhere roomier for their makeout session. Somewhere comfortable. Neither could lie completely horizontal due to the sofa’s short length. To fit, Touko either needed to curve her neck around an armrest, which she wasn’t doing, or bend her knees, which she was doing.

Byakuya wiped his knuckles across his forehead, nudging away bothersome hairs, before slipping his hands beneath Touko. He lifted her with ease and twisted himself around so he sat properly on the sofa with Touko seated on his lap facing him. Again he kissed her but only once on the mouth - his lips slid down to where her neck met her shoulder and sucked, and his fingers wandered to the hem of her nightdress.

She rose slightly for a moment so her nightdress wasn’t pinned down by her weight. He dragged it to the underside of her breasts, paused, and then dragged it over them.

Touko panted. “You... can touch them if you want...”

“Evidently,” he replied, still holding her nightdress up. “What about you? Do you want me to?”


Although he heard, he skimmed his teeth up her neck and licked at her ear. “Hm?”


His lips curled into a smile and he kissed her on the mouth again.

He cupped her breasts and kneaded them, reveling at the low noises he drew out from her core. As his hands explored, he noted the curvature of her breasts and how they shifted in his hands yet remained firm. Clothed, they seemed smaller, and never caught his eye unless she angled her body in a particular way, though their size had no impact on his overall opinion. Satisfied at his findings, Byakuya brought each thumb and index finger together into a tweak.

She gasped, hardening at his touch, her legs pressing into him.

Byakuya pinched again albeit less forcefully, fitting her nipples between his middle and index fingers so his thumbs could massage the underside of her breasts. He gave her another few squeezes before gently flicking a fingernail over her nipples, switching to more tender fondling.

Both the gentler and the rougher handling seemed to equally appeal to Touko, as both elicited similar breathy moans that he inhaled in a kiss, so he didn’t keep to the same method for too long. She tried to speak, to him or maybe just about him, but she could only communicate her intended message by stroking his arms and with the light behind her glazed-over eyes.

Breathing loudly, she rose until his mouth was at the same height as one of her breasts and she pushed the back of his head into her. Byakuya grunted in annoyance but closed his mouth over her nipple obediently, swirling his tongue and placing one hand onto her waist. His other hand stayed on her second breast, lazily massaging.

“Aah... that... f-feels good,” she managed to say, and she reached a hand down.

He exhaled slowly from his nose as her digits skittered across his neck and to his shoulders. Her thumb toyed with a button for too long; he sucked harder on her breast. She gave a shaky sigh and grabbed at a lump of his flesh. All he could taste was his spit tainted with sweat, and it leaked out when he slackened the suction from his mouth so his tongue could flick at her.

Pleasure flowed out of her, entwined with another sigh, resonating between his ears.

Another push had his head swap to the other breast, so abrupt that his tongue smeared saliva across her. Byakuya changed hands: he held onto the other side of her and rolled his palm over her wet nipple.

Touko crawled her fingers further down, plucking buttons out of their holes so she could slip her hands to his sides. There they stroked, riding over pinprick bumps forming on his skin. The furthest she went was halfway down his exposed chest, which she could only gift fumbling touches.

She extracted her hands and shuffled back a little, bending down so their eyes were almost level and so her mound left his mouth. Her hand patted at his inner thighs clumsily until she located the bulge in his right trouser leg.  Byakuya swallowed, expecting her to scream or make some kind of noise upon locating this particular part of his body; she didn’t and she wrapped her fingers around him, his pyjama bottoms stopping their skin from touching directly, and she jerked her hand.

The added friction from the fabric caused heat to surge to his face and between his legs. A yelp burst out.

Touko giggled.

“What?” he asked, trying to sound dignified.

“I... still can’t believe this is happening,” she explained, face soft. That might have been because of his lack of glasses.

“Honestly, Fukawa.” He stopped rolling his eyes halfway through doing so. “We’ve... already been intimate...”

“But this time it’s different.” Her grip on him tightened.

Byakuya winced, allowing himself a single twitch into her hand.

“D-Did that hurt?” she asked.

A pause.

He averted his eyes, able to feel his face colouring. “Do it again.”

Touko trickled drool and let go of him. Unvoiced dissatisfaction fizzed on his lips, neutralised by her hands gliding to his waistband. Her nightdress tumbled over her breasts, bunching over the nipples slightly, and she dropped to the floor to kneel at his feet. She wiggled his pyjama trousers to his ankles.

His nakedness earned from him a glance that he swerved to her flushed face. Touko reached between his legs with a surprising cool hand.

Byakuya arched his back as she rotated her wrist toward him, pointing his tip toward the ceiling.

“Mmm...” She trailed her tongue up the vein on his underside. This part of her was wetter and hotter than her hand and she folded her tongue into her mouth when she reached his tip. “Sh-Should I... put you in my mouth, Byakuya-sama?”

The honorific rippled through him. Byakuya’s neck felt stiff but he forced himself to nod.

“B-But it’s so big...” Touko flicked her tongue over his slit, looking up at him through her eyelashes. A beaded string of liquid connected her to him: saliva and something he didn’t want to give too much acknowledgement to.

This time, Byakuya didn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. “You’ve... had it in your mouth before,” his arousal accentuated his drawl, “twice.”

Touko hummed, eyeing her hand. “If you want me... to do it... you’ll have to say please...” She held on tighter and shuffled her knees forward.

He stared. “What?”

She licked a single circle around the head. Byakuya hissed. “S-Say you want me to... do it... Say please...” A lewd, self-satisfied smile bloomed across her lips.

It took him a moment to process her words and he raised his eyebrows. No adequate response came to mind.

Her tongue teased with more feathery touches and she had the audacity to watch him the whole time. Byakuya’s throat strained to keep in low moans. He could have bucked his hips, her mouth was open and in the right place, but that would be admitting defeat. “Fukawa, I’m not g-g-go,” she added another ring of spit, “gah!”

The ring of spit was sealed with a slobbery kiss.

If this was her attempting to turn him on, then goddamn was it working and goddamn did he need to evaluate what he found sexy.

“Please,” he mumbled, biting into his hand, and she took him inside her mouth.

One of her hands pressed against his thigh, raking fingers slowly across him, while the other remained fisted around his base. She shut her eyes as she fitted more of him in, gagging before he could prod at the back of her throat. Her head withdrew a little and she focused on sliding her lips up and down what she had managed to insert into her mouth, tending to the rest of him with a hand that twisted and gave small but firm tugs.

Byakuya’s hands itched, wanting to hold her hair, wanting to ram her teasing hot cavity into him, but that would be the same as losing as well. So he sat, holding onto the sofa cushions instead, unable to distinguish between his body shaking and hers. All this would be impossible to do alone, equipped with only his hands, and even then he wouldn’t have been able to imagine anyone except her. He bit into his lip, threatening to break skin and bleed pungent red. Red that would mix with spit, with sweat, metallic and disgusting but nevertheless demanding that he drink it, and he would. He would.

She shifted. Back. She slapped her tongue across the head, pecking onto it a kiss before moving her lips up and down him again, faster than before. By now, her free hand had sneaked onto his inner thigh, and a pinch brought to his attention the sensitivity of that area. The transient twinge faded and she picked her way to beyond his length, to his back, tickling him with messy touches.

He almost let himself melt into her handiwork. Mouthwork. Whatever.

Almost, because this wasn’t what he wanted. Not exactly. Not enough.

“Wait.” He furrowed his brow, trying to catch his breath. She hesitated, painfully close: he could feel her hot breath down below. “I didn’t bring any protection and I don’t have any in my apartment. I don’t suppose you have any here?”

Touko didn’t answer straight away. “No, but there are some condoms in the medical room downstairs, I think...” Her eyes widened. “Protection...? We need...! Y-You mean... we’re going to...?”

“Yes. Go fetch some,” he said, annoyed at himself for nearly getting carried away. “Be careful not to step on our glasses.”

Continuing without a condom wasn’t worth the risk; he would need an heir at some point but he had other things prioritised over that which a child would inconvenience.

“If anyone sees me coming out of your room like... this,” he gestured down, “at this hour, they’ll know what we’re doing. I’ll be waiting for you in your bedroom. Don’t take too long.”

Byakuya lay on Touko’s bed, staring up at the black ceiling with one hand behind his head, wondering if perhaps he got caught up in the moment. Relationships weren’t any of his areas of expertise and had never needed to be. Completely understandable. And what she did know about relationships? Really? Touko wrote romance novels and he had leafed through them, but the similarities between him and her male leads were superficial. Love wouldn’t solve all their problems. Like in Hell they would solve hers. Not even he could do that.

Maybe she didn’t expect him to, or need him to. Otherwise she wouldn’t bother attending the therapy sessions that Future Foundation supplied her with.

The door opened. Behind Touko, the lights in the living room were on.

“I... got one,” she said, seeming to contemplate whether to switch the lights in the bedroom on or leave the room dark. Byakuya had left them off, having no desire while alone to admire the scenery.

He lifted his head. “Did you meet anyone on the way?”

“No,” Touko said. “Shall I turn the lights on?”

“Don’t bother. Your bedside lamp will suffice,” he said, swinging himself forward.

Touko nodded and closed the door behind her. She seated herself next to him on the end of the bed. Every bedroom had been fitted with a bedside lamp, ideal for reading and what they anticipated doing, and she rose temporarily to flip its switch so the immediate area glowed.

“So...” Touko fidgeted, next to him again. “D-Do we... do it now? I mean...” She cracked a smile, voice dripping with desire. “Do we do... each other...?”

That was one way of putting it. “... Yes.”

She shuffled closer and he hauled her onto his lap.

A squeak popped out of Touko’s mouth, muted by their lips bumping together. Coating her lips was a substance akin to slime and he remembered the journey of her mouth minutes before: it was a combination of juices from him and her, and so it didn’t particularly bother him at the time.

He twisted the both of them around and pushed her into the bed so she was sprawled on her back, him between her legs. Before she left on her errand, she had put her glasses back on, so she tossed them aside. Her glasses clattered to the floor and the condom packet fell somewhere onto the bed.

Byakuya hushed Touko through pursed lips, hitching up her nightdress to her navel and sliding a finger into her wet folds of skin. He stroked, spreading out her moistness, and kissed her.

Touko’s body quivered and her heels pushed into the mattress. She whined as he crooked a finger inside of her, though her sounds weren’t of suffering. Once he gained some sort of rhythm with his twitching, he added another finger alongside the first.

By now her panting had significantly increased in volume and he hissed again for quiet, breaking their kiss. He swept his thumb across her nub before rubbing it in small circles. Her moans sent shivers through him, and he couldn’t think of much else that turned him on more than inducing this sort of reaction from a person with his hand, but the possibility of Aoi hearing them in the neighbouring apartment stuttered unpleasantly to his gut.

“Do you have to be so noisy?” he asked.

She poked a finger into the corner of her mouth. “Y-You can always gag me...”

The only immediate response that earned was a jolt to his extremities. “Maybe next time,” he said as he extracted his fingers. He unbuttoned his shirt completely and discarded the piece of clothing somewhere onto the floor. Where, he didn’t care to see.

A whine buzzed in Touko’s throat, but she gasped it out when he dipped his head and dragged his tongue through her slickness. Then he gave another lick. And another, tasting her gooey sweet tang.

Touko drove her fingers through his hair, securing them around his head, and guided his mouth to her inner thighs. Usually, this kind of control directed at him would be unwelcome, but Byakuya half closed his eyes and consented with two trails of kisses. One for each leg. Her toes curled.

“T-Tap your tongue there,” she mumbled, pulling him to where his thumb had rubbed circles. He tapped his tongue and she dug her nails into his scalp. “A-And,” puffs of air punctuated her words, “suck. Here. Please...!”

The shove she gave his head wasn’t so happily permitted.

“Fukawa.” Byakuya withdrew a bit. “Don’t do that.” Of his own accord, he sucked where she had requested he do so.

She squirmed but didn’t push him off, so he assumed she liked it. He also assumed she liked it when his tongue went a little lower to probe inside her, judging by the high-pitched noises that she gabbled. His tongue was more flexible than his fingers, more sensitive, able to taste. Every movement seemed to electrify her, she wouldn’t keep still, and through his hands on her inner thighs did he feel her tremble.

“I’m a bad girl... Y-You should make me wear handcuffs,” Touko suggested, chest heaving. “Kirigiri, ah, might lend you a pair... th-then I can’t...” The rest of the sentence was unintelligible.

“Why would Kirigiri own handcuffs?” Byakuya blew out air from his nose, feeling Touko shake even more uncontrollably. He swayed his tongue to and fro and finished the flickering movement with a swat. She moaned. “Kirigiri’s family are private detectives. She doesn’t belong to a law enforcement agency.”

Byakuya fixed his mouth back onto her, using two fingers to press circles above his mouth.

Touko spoke again. “B-But doesn’t it s-sound like... s-something she would be into - ooh - with Naegi...?”

“... Let’s not talk about that while my mouth is on your intimate parts.”

The conversation dissolved into unsexy slurps and somewhat sexier murmurs. Her breath rasped in her throat and she clawed at his hair with heightening desperation, no longer reacting to any specific action but to the overall feeling rising through her body. With a final hard suck from his mouth, Touko’s body convulsed and she cried out, flopping back and closing her eyes.

Byakuya retracted his tongue into his mouth, reducing the pressure his lips exerted but not rising until she had quietened. Touko didn’t seem to notice him get up, her head turned to one side as a smile spread across her features. Not a perverted smile but one of bliss that he studied for a minute.

He spotted the foil packet lying near Touko’s elbow. She was a lot wetter now so he picked it up and tore it open. Once he had rolled the condom onto himself and threw his pyjama trousers to the floor, he flipped the two of them over so he lay on his back and Touko knelt on his pelvis, her legs straddling him.

It was so sudden that she flinched belatedly. She chewed her bottom lip, one hand hovering by her neck and the other pushing down on his chest for balance.

As he bent his legs slightly, he noticed an obvious stain on Touko’s nightdress. The bedsheets would need to be cleaned in the morning. And his clothes too.

Nothing happened.

“What is it?” he asked, looking up.

Touko glanced away. “I-It’s fine. It’s just last time, you were on top and-”

“Yes, I was,” he said, refusing to admit he was curious to see what she would do in this position. Up to now, he always took charge, but he couldn’t deny that his heartbeat accelerated at how he now had someone he felt comfortable doing the contrary with if just once. The control she had over him during the blowjob glowed at the back of his mind. This would give him a chance to regain his energy, anyway. “But this is now, or didn’t you realise the timeskip since then?”

“I did,” she said, almost snapping at him. Touko hunched her shoulders. “Ah... I shouldn’t have got mad at you...”

“There isn’t any need for you to apologise,” he said in case she decided to narrate a spanking fantasy. Byakuya felt himself flush at the fact that it crossed his mind she might say such. He reined in his good mood and gripped her waist. “Personally, I think it would be interesting to do it this way but if you don’t wish to, we won’t. Otherwise it won’t be enjoyable for either of us.”

“I do! Want to, I mean.”

“Then show me.”

Touko grabbed onto him and descended. When he was inside of her, she put both of her hands onto his stomach. She stuck to light bounces initially, starting shallow but each time dropping to a further distance than the previous bounce took her, and he wondered whether she was still sensitive from their activity minutes ago or if her hesitancy was a result of being uncertain. The journey downward was gradual and Byakuya tried not to reciprocate with more force than she employed, simply twitching in response.

She reached his base, enveloping him in a pulsing snugness, and looked at him. Her skin partially absorbed the warm hues from the bedside lamp and tangled masses of hair hung in front of her shoulders. It should have disgusted him, her unkemptness, but for once he didn’t mind because her state was a result of his actions. Byakuya had done this to her. She stretched her lips outward, parting them to show a strip of teeth.

He pushed up his hips, restraint splintered. Touko shifted, throwing back her head and letting out a sigh that engulfed him in tingling goose pimples. Grasping his shoulders, she rode him more fervently, the bed groaning underneath them.

Had he been able to, Byakuya would have scolded Touko for her reckless behaviour, but his throat contracted and he could only get out ragged pants. His hips thrust with increasing frequency, offbeat with her movements but soon synchronising.

Doing it this way turned out to be interesting after all. Who would have thought she had it in her?

One of the straps of her nightdress slipped off her shoulder and he instinctively looked, glimpsing a bruise on her neck that wouldn’t be low enough to hide under her usual attire. He had created that mark on her. It was stark on her skin even without his glasses on, disappearing from view whenever her hair smacked over it.

Byakuya held onto her with more force. They huffed, moving together, unable to talk.

After a while, her hips, rather than bounce, gyrated before shunting back a little so she could shimmy down and forward, fingers pinching pink into his shoulders. “B-Byakuya...!”

It came out breathless.

He bared his teeth. For someone who apparently hadn't topped before, she was doing a good job. No, better than good. His chin was wet with his drool.

Touko’s jounces slowed as she concentrated on grinding against him, which didn’t stimulate him as much; however, she seemed to get plenty out of it so he contented himself with watching Touko adjust her angle. Her breathing became laboured and her nails dug deeper into him, arms wobbling to the extent that he readied himself to catch her should she collapse.

Thankfully, he didn’t need to. Touko extended out her neck, nearly lifting off him completely before going back down in a jiggling motion as if searching for a certain spot. For a few minutes, she explored her options, and then, without warning, she pounded into him, wet skin slapping wet skin, and her body seemed to implode in a rapid chain of clenches as his name gushed out of her mouth. The sudden flurry and the look on her face - a face of euphoria which he drank in until he was immersed in its searing intensity - unleashed a wave of pleasure from deep within him. He tipped his head back, throbbing where their bodies touched. In a matter of seconds, he found himself flooded with an onslaught of sensations that had his hips banging against hers.

Creak. The bed creaked. Then something. Hit. Another hit. Creak. Her face. Her hands. On shoulders. Creak. His shoulders.

“Fukawa!” That didn’t sound like enough. “T-!” He strained his mouth, failing to choke back the next name. “T-Touko!” Touko, Touko, Touko.

Byakuya’s vision hazed and he succumbed to the relief that exploded out of his accumulated tension. Once his body relaxed and his breathing reverted to normal, hips no longer moving, he released Touko’s waist. His hands hit the mattress with a dull pair of thumps and he was barely conscious of Touko carefully climbing off.

She lay down beside him and burrowed into his side.

“Hey,” Byakuya said. He felt her tense. “I need to use your bathroom.”

“Are you going back to your apartment afterwards?” she asked quietly.

Having someone catch him leaving in the morning would lead to awkward questions but the short journey seemed a lot more tedious in his fatigued frame of mind. In the morning there would be awkward questions, but that would be his future self’s problem. “I’ll tell you when I return.” Byakuya sat up and removed his condom, tying a knot near the opening. It didn’t take long to find his trousers, which would definitely need a wash to get rid of the sticky patch on the crotch, and he scooped them up on the way across the bedroom.

He didn’t spend long in the bathroom. The waste basket snapped shut after he dropped the condom into it and he splashed his face with cold water from the sink. According to the mirror, his neck and shoulders bore only a few pink marks that would be gone by morning.

Blinking tiredly, he clambered back into bed with Touko, deciding to stay with her for the rest of the night. She snuggled against his chest; he didn’t complain.

“You said my name,” she mumbled.

“Hm,” he went.

“You said ‘Touko’,” she told him, a bit louder.

“Hm,” he admitted.

She found his fingers in the dark and interlocked them with hers.

The proximity felt odd at first but he warmed up to it, even draping an arm across her by the time he fell asleep.

Touko and Byakuya were the last people to arrive at breakfast. Everyone ate their meals in the downstairs kitchen but as the other four had already finished by this time, they were playing blackjack at the table when the pair walked in.

Those two coming down to breakfast together wasn’t unheard of though Kyouko raised her eyebrows at Touko’s scarf.

“Hey, Togami-chi. Fukawa-chi.” Yasuhiro didn’t look up, his attention on the pair of playing cards in his hand. “Hit.”

Kyouko picked a card from the top of the deck at the centre of the table and passed it to him. She turned her head toward Byakuya and Touko. Both of them seemed to have bathed a short time ago, their hair carrying a recently washed sheen.

Yasuhiro counted the number of points his cards were worth. He grinned and set them face down. “Stick.”

Next was Makoto’s turn. Makoto deliberated over his hand, rolling his lips over one another in thought.

Byakuya opened the fridge. They had a rota for most chores, and Makoto even left a few leftover pancakes on the kitchen counter, but Byakuya disregarded them and opted for corn flakes.

Touko chose a pancake with the least crispy outer ring, holding the plate in one hand so she could adjust her scarf to cover more neck.

“Hit,” said Makoto.

“Fukawa-san, why are you wearing a scarf indoors?” asked Kyouko, giving Makoto a card that made him reveal his hand of two sevens and a king. “The weather doesn’t call for it.”

“She has a sore throat,” said Byakuya, raising an arm as if to block Touko from view. Touko closed her mouth and nodded.

Aoi frowned at the window, at the hazy blue sky outside.

Scarves did little to heal sore throats. Kyouko knew this and she also knew that Touko wasn’t suffering from a sore throat, unless she had been as loud as Aoi claimed last night at the two girls’ impromptu sleepover, and Kyouko knew Byakuya knew that she knew the true reason for the scarf. If he hadn’t known that she had known, he did know when she didn’t hide her smirk behind a playing card in time.

“We’ll leave you to your little game and have our breakfast in the recreation room,” said Byakuya with cheeks tinged pink. He glared at the table that had more than enough space for him and Touko to eat at regardless of games of blackjack. “We wouldn’t want to disrupt you.”

“That’s nice of you,” Yasuhiro remarked. A few seconds later, he realised the situation’s absurdity and let out a short laugh. “It should be the other way around, ‘right?”

“It should,” Byakuya agreed, already heading toward the door with Touko at his heels.

“Thanks for taking one for the team!” Yasuhiro waved an arm, receiving a ‘hmph’ in return.

After the door shut behind Touko, Kyouko said, “I believe we had a deal.”

Yasuhiro pouted and reached into his jacket pocket for his wallet, which he then rummaged through.

Kyouko turned to Aoi. “You as well.”

Aoi sighed and retrieved her purse from under the table. Next to her, Makoto was sorting through his wallet. She said, “I really thought they were going to wait for their honeymoon.”