A Late Spring

Title: A Late Spring

Author: Shirahime

Pairing: Yuzuru Suoh/Yoshio Ootori

Rating: NC-17

Summary: An intoxicated tryst grows into more than expected. No real spoilers.

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters or make any money from this.


Part One



Yoshio Ootori sighed as he sat at the bar of the luxurious Manhattan hotel. He found that the atmosphere didn’t lift his spirits much. He sipped his drink, ruminating over the business deal that he’d come to make with the American pharmaceutical company. While he’d been able to broker a deal with the other corporation, the terms weren’t what he’d been hoping for.

“Ootori?” a familiar voice said off to his left. He turned to see Yuzuru Suoh approaching him. “What brings you here?” the man asked, slipping into the vacant seat next to him.

“I’m here on business,” Yoshio answered, unable to keep all of the disappointment out of his voice. “That’s concluded now, successful although not as much so as expected.” He took a sip of his drink. “And you?”

“I was actually visiting an old friend,” Yuzuru answered brightly. “I ended up staying longer than intended, but I couldn’t help it. I love visiting this city. It’s lovely.”

Ootori made a noncommittal sound as he finished off the rest of his drink. Yuzuru smiled at him faintly. “You don’t think so?”

“Oh, it’s not necessarily that,” Yoshio answered. “I’ve only been here twice before on business, so I can’t really judge.”

“Well then, you simply have to come again,” Yuzuru answered before ordering himself a drink, and another of the one that Yoshio had been drinking. “You know, I can show you around if you have time before you leave for Japan.”

“Well, thank you,” Ootori answered as the drink was set in front of him by the bartender. However, he gave Yuzuru a questioning look.

Noticing this, Suoh answered it. “Our sons are such good friends. It would stand to reason that the two of us should become friends as well.”

“A good point,” Yoshio answered, sipping from the glass, “and one that I’m not opposed to.” He watched Yuzuru smile as he started to tell him about some of his favorite places in the city. It was pleasant, Yoshio decided, sitting here like this with the other man, who seemed amiable enough. He himself tended to be more reticent, though he had little difficulty being social for the sake of business. Yoshio even found himself smiling at a joke the other man made. It was nice to just talk for the sake of it, with no ulterior motives other than pleasant conversation. Of course, the pleasant sensation that began to hit him as a result of the alcohol helped matters along. It wasn’t something that Yoshio felt he needed to worry about. He was in his hotel, after all. It wasn’t as though he needed to drive, so there was little trouble that he could get himself into.

___________________________________________


Yoshio woke the following morning to a pounding headache and the realization that he was lying in the bed of a hotel room that was not his own. As his hazed mind tried to process this information, he realized that he could feel the warmth of a body spooned against him as he lay on his side, someone’s arm draped over him possessively. Hazarding a glance downward, Yoshio swallowed as he noticed that the arm did not belong to a female. He also realized with rising horror that he was quite sore in places that he never thought he could be.

Ootori frowned, coming to the conclusion that what he’d initially thought upon waking was a strange and erotic dream, was in fact the reality of what had occurred the night before. Yoshio turned to look over his shoulder at the sleeping face of Yuzuru, cursing under his breath. He watched brown eyes open sleepily to focus on his, a smile spreading across Yuzuru’s face as he leaned forward to attempt a kiss, which made Yoshio sit bolt upright and move as far away as he could without falling out of the bed.

His actions didn’t dampen Yuzuru’s spirits, who smiled as he sat up, the blanket pooling around his hips. “No good morning kiss, Yoshio?” he asked.

“Don’t be so familiar,” Ootori told him angrily.

Yuzuru gave him a sly smile. “After what happened, do you really expect me to call you ‘Ootori-san’?”

The stony look that Ootori gave the other man didn’t work half as well with the blush that rose to his face. “And how did I end up in your room?” he asked, pulling the blanket around his hips to better conceal what Yuzuru had already seen the night before.

Yuzuru gazed at him patiently. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember? We chatted and had a few drinks at the bar downstairs. You came back here for a nightcap and one thing led to another…” he trailed off as he sidled next to Yoshio to slip an arm around him. “I must not have been at my best if you truly don’t remember what happened. They say alcohol dampens your abilities.”

“Cut it out!” Yoshio told him angrily, pushing him away. “I’m not… this is some kind of mistake. This kind of behavior is not usual for me and can only be due to stress and too much alcohol,” he told the other man, putting on his glasses that lay on the nightstand. “I’ll be sure to never have so much again.”

Yuzuru frowned as he watched the other man rise from the bed to retrieve his clothes from the floor, putting them on hurriedly. “Where are you going?”

Yoshio glanced over his shoulder as he pulled up his pants, fastening them. “Where do you think?”

As Ootori straightened, slipping his feet into his shoes, he startled as arms slipped around his waist and a body pressed against his. “It’s alright to be nervous,” Suoh said near his ear in a low voice. Warm breath against the side of his neck made him shiver involuntarily. “But there’s no need to run away. I hardly think of this as a mistake. And,” he said, pulling Yoshio closer, “everyone knows that the actions of intoxicated men are what they’d truly like to do.”

Yoshio’s heart pounded in his chest as he stood in Yuzuru’s embrace. The foggy visions that came to him of the night before almost caused him to yield to it as Yuzuru’s arms tightened around him, Suoh’s chin resting on his shoulder warmly. But he found himself stiffening as he pulled away, heading for the door.

“Don’t speak such nonsense,” Ootori said without turning around, his hand resting on the door handle. It was a long moment before he was able to turn it, as if the promise of what lay in the dark eyes trained on him held him in the room. But he soon found the strength to turn it, exiting to close it behind him, muting the sound of Yuzuru calling out his name.

___________________________________________


Yoshio sat at his desk back in his office in Japan, trying to review the quarterly report for his company. This task was made extremely difficult by his mind straying back to the memory of that night in the hotel with Yuzuru. For the past few days since his return home, his thoughts had often wandered back to that moment. The memory of what was whispered in his ear as the man had moved within him made Yoshio shiver, though he was reluctant to admit it. Yoshio rested his cheek against his hand. He wondered if Yuzuru was having a similar problem. Somehow, he doubted it. He was almost sure that the tryst that they’d had was just casual sex to the other man. Ootori frowned, remembering how affectionate Yuzuru was the following morning. No, it was surely nothing more than this. His frown deepened as suspicions that Yuzuru had ulterior business-related motives occurred to him. Trying to push all of this from his mind, Yoshio tried to focus on the task at hand. The tightness in his trousers that he kept trying to ignore didn’t appear to be going away. Cursing under his breath in frustration, Ootori headed for the bathroom door on the other side of his office.

Once inside, he locked it, sitting down on the lid of the toilet. Willing the erection away had done little, so with a rising sense of embarrassment, Yoshio unfastened his pants, reaching inside. He could feel his cheeks flush in shame and arousal. What a picture he must make, he thought, sitting in a bathroom masturbating like some teenager. This was soon forgotten as visions of what had happened between him and Suoh swam in his mind. He closed his eyes as the scene of Yuzuru sinking to his knees as he sat on the bed played behind his eyelids. Yoshio’s head fell heavily against the wall behind him as he stroked himself in time with Suoh’s rhythm in the vision. He shivered at the memory of being inside that talented mouth, the agreed upon exchange for bottoming for the man. Yoshio could hardly believe that he’d played uke to Suoh, blaming the alcohol he’d drank for clouding his judgment. But what Yoshio refused to admit was that what he’d received in compromise was just the appetizer to the main course.

Yoshio groaned, his free hand loosening his tie and unfastening the buttons to his shirt only to sneak inside. He stroked the skin of his chest, imagining that it was Yuzuru’s hand as his face burned, plucking at his own nipples as Suoh had days ago. He turned his head to the side, moaning as he remembered the weight of Yuzuru’s larger frame on his and the sensation of being pierced by him, stretching around his girth. Yoshio remembered the initial pain that had made him momentarily regret his compliance, the pleasure that followed making him glad of it. The memory of how his hands had gripped the sheets as he groaned into the pillow, Yuzuru’s hands burning his thighs where he held him, steadying him to push deliciously inside. Yoshio gazed up absently at the bathroom ceiling through fogged glasses, his hand working his own flesh as he panted.

Moments later, Yoshio was groaning, spilling over his hand as he shuddered. His face flushed in shame, he cleaned up the mess he’d made. He stared at himself in the mirror briefly before exiting back into his office. He sat at his desk, annoyed at the fact that although he was spent, he was still unsatisfied, and refused to think about what it would take to be so. It wasn’t long before his secretary buzzed the office about a delivery. The door opened to reveal a delivery boy carrying an ornate vase of roses. Yoshio sighed after he left, suspecting who had sent the flowers. He plucked the card from the vase, which confirmed who the gift was from. The note spoke of the regret over their awkward parting, and of the longing to see him again. Yoshio paid no attention to the small part of him that was pleased that the man had some sort of attachment to him. The practical part of him won out, deciding that the type of relationship Yuzuru wanted between them would result in nothing but difficulty, not to mention the fact that it was just plain wrong. Rising from his desk, Yoshio intended to tell the man just that.

___________________________________________


“Ahh, Tamaki,” Kyouya said as he approached his friend in the hallway. The blonde was leaning against the windowsill with his arms folded.

Tamaki gave his friend a thin smile in response. “Hey, Kyouya.”

Kyouya frowned, knowing the answer to the question that he was about to ask from the teen’s behavior. “Did you ask your father if it would be alright for our club to use the school grounds this weekend?” It wasn’t exactly outside of the school rules, but some on the student council had taken issue with it, which was why they wanted to ensure that it was alright with the man.

“No, not exactly,” Tamaki answered as he combed through his hair absently.

“Tamaki…” Kyouya sighed, putting a hand on his hip.

“But what if he says no?” Tamaki interrupted.

“You won’t know if you don’t ask,” the brunette told him, adjusting his glasses.

Tamaki perked up. “Why don’t you come with me, Kyouya?” he asked, training glittering eyes on him, a tactic that he employed as often as possible. “If you’re there, I’m sure you’ll be able to convince him even if I can’t.”

Kyouya sighed. “Fine,” he told him, relenting. “Let’s go then.” The pair made their way toward the administrative building of the school.

___________________________________________


Yuzuru smiled as he opened the door to see Ootori standing there. He wasn’t put off by the stern look the man trained up at him as he made his way in through the door. “Did you like the flowers I sent?” he asked.

“Suoh,” Ootori started in a firm voice, walking toward the window on the other side of the room, “I’m not sure why you are persisting in this. I told you that what happened a few days ago was a mistake. I’ve already put it out of my mind, and you should as well. It would be best for both of us.”

Yuzuru frowned, not willing to admit defeat despite the man’s words. “There is no way that you can truly mean that,” he told him. “There’s no way that all of that passion I felt from you was a lie.”

Ootori regarded Suoh over his shoulder. “Passion? Hardly. Neither of us was exactly in our right mind at the time. And such passion serves no useful purpose. The difference between you and I is that I am not deluding myself that there is anything truly between us.”

Yuzuru approached him to grasp and turn the other man to face him. He looked down into chocolate brown eyes. “You’re wrong. Passion always serves a purpose. And if you are so easily able to forget what happened between us,” he said as he pushed Ootori backward onto the nearby couch, “then I can easily remind you.”

Yoshio looked up at him, eyes wide. “What are you-” he started to say, the rest of his question muffled by the press of Yuzuru’s lips on his in a deep and searching kiss. Yoshio placed his hands onto Suoh’s chest, fully intending to push him off. But the moment stretched, his hands sliding to grasp Yuzuru’s upper arms, clutching.

Yuzuru broke the kiss, panting as he gazed down at a flustered Yoshio. “There’s that look,” he said, noting the dazed cast to Yoshio’s eyes. “Those eyes of yours have been haunting my dreams. Not to mention,” he said as he kissed along the line of Ootori’s jaw, “the feel of your skin against mine.”

“S-Suoh,” Yoshio started, distracted by how the man was alternating in nibbling and laving his ear, “this really isn’t the place for…” He trailed off to moan, squirming as a hand snuck between their bodies to caress him intimately.

The removal of the stroking hand caused Ootori to give Suoh a sharp look, making him chuckle. “Enough of these half-hearted protests. We’re both men, Yoshio. There’s nothing wrong with taking what we want.” His face loomed closer to the man beneath him. “What we need.”

As lips sealed themselves to Yoshio’s, he complied, the practical part of him yielding for the moment to the small part of him able to recognize the need for satisfaction and pleasure. And perhaps, even what more could come from this. Ootori felt a hand loosen his tie, another fumbling with the buttons to his shirt. He aided those hands that trembled slightly though their touch was sure. Yoshio began to push Yuzuru’s pale suit jacket over his shoulders, giving in to the moment.

A knock came at the door which was quickly followed by a voice he recognized as his son’s as the door creaked open. “Excuse me, Mr. Suoh, but Tamaki and I would like to…” He trailed off as he noticed with surprise the fact that he and his friend had interrupted an intimate moment that the superintendent was having. Kyouya’s eyes widened as his jaw dropped at the sight of his father’s flustered face staring back at him as he lay beneath Suoh on the couch.

“K-Kyouya?” Yoshio managed to say, to which Kyouya was only able to answer with a questioning groan.



To be continued.