How to Make Love Like a Host

This'll probably end up stretching to 5 or 6 chapters when it's finished... I just don't know how you end this sort of a fic yet XD I'll figure something out.

The sexual pairings in this will probably be varied, but it's primarily Tamaki x Haruhi. I'm biased, I admit.
_____________________________________________

When Haruhi walked through the door to the third music room, what she had expected to find this early was a deserted room, empty dressing rooms, and the opportunity to change into the Arabian Nights themed costume for the day before the boys arrived. She didn't expect what she received, however, which was the sound of heavy breathing. It sounded rather odd echoing off the high pink ceilings, and though she knew it was unwise, she ventured into the room. Music room three looked as deserted as would be expected, but the sound said otherwise, and the effect was rather disconcerting.

"What could be going on?" she wondered out loud, standing just inside the doorway for a moment and glancing around for the culprit of the sound. There didn't seem to be anything particularly noisy going on, and it made her wonder. However, Haruhi was not the most curious of people, and soon she dismissed it as something that was not worth investigating. There was often some irritating sound distracting her in this room, and today seemed to be no exception. Reaching into her bag, she drew out the folded costume she was going to be wearing that afternoon and moved toward the dressing stalls. She had the next half hour (she had left her last period study hall early) to get changed, and it was a safe bet to say that at least at the moment, she wouldn't have to suffer through one of the other hosts barging in and seeing her change yet again. She had had just about enough of that to last a lifetime.

As Haruhi reached the dressing room stalls, she took the red velvet curtain that housed one of them in her hand. The breathing was much louder closer to the dressing rooms, and it was enough to make her draw back just a bit. The breathing sounded ragged, as though whoever it was coming from had just finished running a marathon. Slightly worried, she stopped to ground herself.

"Hello?" she asked softly, and there was no answer. She was left with two options; she could either leave and forget this whole mess, or she could move the curtain. The second option was fulfilled almost unconsciously; without her real consent her hand slid the curtain out of the way and she peered inside. Immediately she understood what the situation was, and she felt stupid for not knowing what was going on sooner.

Up against the back wall of the small changing stall, one leg raised and the foot resting on the ornate velvet-upholstered chair that could be found in all the changing stalls, stood Kyouya. But it was not Kyouya as Haruhi had ever seen him. His glasses were off and his hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, his dark eyes looking off somewhere into the distance, his skin flushed, his face a mask of passion. Somewhere between his legs, Mori hovered, head bobbing, eyes closed. Mori's large hands gripped Kyouya's bare hips. They were both entirely naked and Haruhi felt her cheeks flushing as she watched them. She felt dirty and she knew immediately that she should not be here, but somehow she couldn't make herself move. There was something almost entrancing about the two dark-haired boys in this position, and she stood almost tranfixed, trembling just slightly. In a way, she supposed it was simply curiosity; she had no real experience with sex or anything even remotely like it, and so naturally she was intrigued. Curiosity, however, could not account for the heat she could feel beginning to pulse between her legs. It was embarrassing, to say the least, and she covered her crotch with her hand, hoping she could stop it, but this just seemed to exacerbate the problem. Almost instinctively her hips moved against her hand, and her cheeks grew hotter.

This entire situation seemed to be getting out of hand, and Haruhi backed quickly out of the changing stall before they could spot her. She stumbled a few feet until her back found the nearby wall and she simply leaned against it, tense and embarrassed, her body hot and feeling oddly tight. There had been something so odd and alluring about the scene she had witnessed that she could barely wrap her mind around it, and could not deny her physical response to it. As much as it embarrassed her, Haruhi was hopelessly aroused and with no place to go. She could see only one possible solution, and it made her cheeks grow even hotter at just the thought.

"You can do this, Haruhi," she muttered aloud to herself. "It's going to be obvious to the others if you don't take care of this..." the last thing she needed was for the other hosts to see her redfaced and trembling with her breath uncontrolled and shaky. Slowly, almost painfully so, Haruhi undid the button on the front of her trousers. She slid the zipper down halfway and then simply stood there, too embarrassed to go forward with it for a moment.

"It'll be quick," she reminded herself. "And then no one will have any idea..."

Slowly, she slid her hand inside her pants, squeezing her eyes shut as though somehow it would make it less embarrassing. She knew there were more private places to do this, but her knees were weak and her hands were shaking, and she just wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. Cautiously, she touched herself through her underwear, and it felt good. With unsteady movements she slid her hand inside her underwear as well and experimentally moved her fingers around. She had never done much in this area but clean it in the shower, and she was surprised by how different it felt now that she was so aroused. Her skin was hot and swollen, and as she felt around, she blushed when she realized how wet everything was.

Haruhi was surprised to find how good her clumsily inexperienced fingers felt on her own body. She slid her fingertips slowly over herself, never daring to press inside (that was far too embarrassing at the moment). She found her fingertips sliding over folds and down deeper, everything slick with moisture. When her fingertips touched the center of her pleasure she whimpered a little, biting down on her lip hard to avoid making noise. She was variably bucking against her own hand now, her breath coming in short gasps that no longer embarrassed her. This felt nowhere near as dirty as she had expected; it felt too good to be dirty and somehow it felt normal, like maybe she wasn't some sort of freak for doing this to herself. Everything seemed to be caving in around her and she was off in her own little world, so closed off that she didn't come back down until she heard what sounded like a strangled scream.

Immediately, Haruhi's eyes flew open, and she found herself staring straight into the face of Tamaki Suoh, who stood several yards away, frozen in place with a look of absolute shock on his face. The papers and costumes he had been holding lay around him, and his eyes were locked with hers. He looked shocked, a little horrified, and somehow... like Kyouya had looked in that changing stall. It made her blush to realize that this last part had nothing to do with displeasure.

"I... I wasn't touching myself," she informed him, her hand sliding quickly out of her pants and behind her back, as though she could hide the evidence.

"I... I see..." Tamaki replied. His cheeks were red.

Haruhi was so embarrassed that she felt like crying, and she looked away from him, hoping that somehow breaking the eye contact would save her from her shame. It didn't. She knew that her denying the matter didn't make it any less obvious that she had been masturbating. "I'm sorry, senpai..." she said finally. It was even more embarrassing to be this embarrassed, but she couldn't help it.

"Sorry?" Haruhi was aware that he was coming toward her now. She heard his expensive shoes echoing on the tiles. "Haruhi, there's nothing for you to be sorry for."

"Yes there is..." she said, letting out a hard puff of air. "I was acting like some kind of... some kind of slut in your club room, and I'm sorry."

"Haruhi..." Tamaki said softly as he reached her. Somehow she didn't want him close to her at the moment, but she said nothing. His hand fell gently on top of her head, and he smiled softly at her. "Masturbation is perfectly natural! The fact that you're feeling these things that make you want to do it just mean that you're growing up."

Haruhi loathed when he spoke to her like a parent, but she simply blinked up at him in response. "It's not natural," she argued. "Because the reason I'm doing it is... that I saw Kyouya-senpai and Mori-senpai doing... things in the changing room, and I couldn't help myself." she wasn't sure why she was telling him this, but it felt good to let it out.

Tamaki's face screwed up just a little and then he let out a small sigh. "So, you know, then," he said softly, covering his eyes with one hand.

"Know about what?" Haruhi asked, and Tamaki sighed again.

"As hosts, we spend a lot of time around women, but we never act on the natural urges we have as men and as teenagers because we are gentlemen. But there are times when even gentlemen need release, and for the most part, we turn to each other for that," Tamaki looked a bit humiliated, as though he couldn't believe he was saying all of this to her. Haruhi really couldn't believe it either. Normally in this kind of situation he would have simply run for the nearest corner and babbled like an idiot. "So that way, we get what we need and never have to inconvenience the customers with our advances."

"So you're all..." Haruhi swallowed. Somehow, her own situation didn't seem nearly as embarrassing now.

"Yes," Tamaki admitted, blushing a bit.

"Even Hunny-senpai?"

"Even Hunny-senpai," Tamaki said. He looked vaguely miserable. "The six of us don't have any... romantic feelings for each other, but this all makes it a little easier to function. With all the stress, it can get hectic without a bit of release now and then. But please don't tell anyone. It's not supposed to get out."

"Who would I tell?" Haruhi asked.

Tamaki laughed slightly, looking just a touch more comfortable. Haruhi was surprised at how calm and collected he was being. She would have figured he would simply fly into hysterics and not even bother trying to explain. "Good point. But you understand, I'm sure, just how difficult it can be to get by without release."

"I wouldn't have before today," Haruhi admitted. Tamaki smiled at her, and then his eyes got a bit darker, a bit less understandable, and he looked at her with a heated stare.

"It seems to me that you're in need of a bit of release yourself at the moment, Haruhi," he said softly, his eyes smoldering. Haruhi wasn't entirely prepared, and she choked just a bit before she gazed wide-eyed up into his stare.

"Huh?" she asked, so taken aback she could barely think. She had never seen this side of him before, and it was intriguing as it was odd.

"You didn't get to finish, did you?" Tamaki asked. Before she knew what was happening he was guiding her away from the wall and sidling up behind her. His breath was hot on the shell of her ear. "Would you like me to help you find release? It's something the host club does for each other, and you are, by all means, a host..."

Haruhi's eyes widened and her breath caught just a bit in her throat as he kissed the side of her neck. Her entire body was trembling and she felt like maybe, just maybe, she was going to die. He felt far too warm and far too good against her, and the hot breath skittering against her neck was too arousing. She nodded slowly, breathlessly. "Okay," she replied in a thin voice, nodding again. She was losing her mind and she was sure of it, but she didn't care as much as she would have a few months ago. Maybe a little insanity was just what she needed at the moment.

Tamaki had been waiting for her answer with bated breath, and then she agreed he almost immediately went to work. He bent his torso and head and turned hers with his fingertips so he could kiss her, crushing his lips to hers. At first he was gentle and tender, but when he opened his mouth and sought out her tongue, he began to display more mad, blind lust then tenderness. She enjoyed it in some strange, perverted way. They kissed rough and deep as one of his hands slid down her middle and into her pants. Experimentally he stroked her crotch through the fabric of her panties and when she moaned softly he thrust his hand inside the waistband. His fingers were warm and they worked with an almost stunning precision.

Haruhi moaned rather louder than she meant to as he stroked her bare flesh, moving at a steady pace. His fingers felt much better than her own, and already she was beginning to feel that edge of almost physical panic that had overtaken her when she touched herself toward the end. Those fingers stroked her folds leisurely, touching and exploring and finally pressing deeper to the core of her pleasure. She was beginning to get a crick in her neck and turned her head away from the kiss, pressing her back against him. She allowed his fingers to take her higher than she could have ever imagined, and she was off in a world of bliss so deep that when Tamaki slid a finger inside of her, it shook her to the core.

"Tamaki-senpai..." she muttered in surprise as he began to move his finger in a slow "come hither" motion inside of her. She squirmed against him; it simply felt too good. His fingertip was rubbing something she couldn't name, and it was filling her with warm, crushing bliss. He moved his finger steadily, almost gently, and as another finger began brushing at her entrance, preparing to squeeze inside, his thumb rubbed at her clitoris.

"You're the first girl I've ever touched this way," Tamaki whispered huskily in her ear. This was all happening so fast and Haruhi wasn't entirely sure what to think. She was embarrassed rather than flattered by his statement, and didn't know how to respond. "I'm sorry if I don't really know what I'm doing, or if it doesn't feel good."

Haruhi swallowed. "It does," she choked out, barely able to speak in the face of the things his touch was kindling in her. She couldn't see his face, so she had no way of knowing if he was as embarrassed as she was. This felt far too good to be real, and the fact that it was her senpai who was touching her this way made it just a bit deliciously forbidden. A week ago she could never have imagined she would be in this situation, but somehow this was happening, and it was almost too much to grasp. "Senpai... this is okay, isn't it?"

"If it's okay with you, then it's okay," he whispered softly against the shell of her ear. Tamaki was hard to deal with at times, could be noisy and irritating and insufferable, but he was above all else kind, and she could feel that part of him coming out surely as he nuzzled her slightly with his cheek. "I'll stop at any time if you want me to. Just say the word."

Haruhi nodded and then relaxed a bit against him. His free hand snaked up her torso and inside her blazer, where it clasped gently around her breast and began to massage it. Breath catching just a bit in her throat, Haruhi gasped at the new sensation. Skilled pianist's fingers kneaded her flesh ever so gently, with just enough force to spark sensations. Tamaki began to alternate between massaging her entire breast and rolling her nipple as best he could through the cotton of her buttonup, and while Haruhi was distracted by the new sensations, he slowly slid the second finger into her. It was a tight fit and made her wince just a bit, but he was gentle with his motions and soon he had the finger sliding smoothly with the first one, pressing at things inside that made Haruhi swear the world was going to break apart.

"That feels... really good..." she gasped softly, her cheeks flushing slightly at her own words and and how breathless she sounded. "What are you doing, exactly?"

"I don't know," Tamaki admitted softly, and it was odd to hear the self-proclaimed host club king sounding so unsure of himself. "I've seen... some shows about how to do this, but I'm not entirely sure if--"

"It's fine," Haruhi muttered, cutting him off when she realized he meant porn. There was something embarrassing about the thought of her senpai watching pornography, and she wanted the subject changed quickly. After that there was only silence, Tamaki's breath coming nearly as hard as hers as his hands continued their work. The fingers inside of her moved at a mad, steady rhythm, rubbing and pressing at that spot that made her gasp and whimper. The thumb on her clitoris rubbed in smooth, needy circles, and the hand on her breast touched her relentlessly, massaging at a rhythm that was perfectly in time with his motions down below. She could feel something pooling, something knotting, something tightening impossibly fast deep inside. It started in her belly and grew simultaneously in her groin, a heat that was so impossibly intense she swore it would burn her. This all felt so good, so shatteringly good, and she couldn't really contain herself.

"Tamaki-senpai..." she gasped just for the pleasure of saying his name. He was so good at this and she wanted to tell him so, but she couldn't seem to find the words. He was doing the things she couldn't do herself, pushing her over the ledge of sanity and into the abyss of pleasure that threatened to consume her completely. She swore his fingers were magic for a moment. They made her do things she couldn't control; clutch the sleeve of his blazer, moan almost embarrassingly loudly, squirm against him like a mental patient. Something was coming, and she wasn't entirely sure what. She had enough basic knowledge about sex to know orgasms existed, but she had no way of knowing if that was truly what was on the horizon. At this moment, all that she could focus on was his hands on her.

"You're so wet, Haruhi," Tamaki whispered huskily, and his brazenness exhilarated her as much as it embarrassed her. She pressed her back harder against him and was surprised to find his hardness pressing against the small of her back. Before she had time to react to it, he was bending to kiss her again, turning her head with the hand that he removed from her breast. He kissed her hard and deep, and as he did the heat built further, coiling tighter and tighter.

Desperate, Haruhi ground herself against Tamaki's hand, her breath coming in short little gasps. Her entire body felt hot, particularly between her legs. Her legs could barely support her and she leaned heavier on him, focusing on the strangely arousing feeling of his erection pressing into her back. They kissed with a wild abandon, Tamaki's gasping breaths in sync with her own. His hand moved crazily, his fingers curling inside of her and his thumb rubbing out of control. Something was on the edge of shattering, a masterpiece close to completing itself. It was as though Haruhi stood on the edge of eternity, waiting desperately for the time when she could jump.

"Je voudrais vous voir a poil, Haruhi..." Tamaki whispered heavily in her ear. Haruhi had no idea what it meant, but somehow, there was something so ridiculously sexy about the way he said those words that she passed that final barrier. The orgasm flashed through her like a bolt of lightning, crashing from her sex to the rest of her body in rapid succession. It throbbed, seared, ached, almost like pain but worlds away from it. After a few blissful seconds Haruhi was left to slump, spent, against the body of her senpai. She stood weakly, panting, as he drew his hand out of her pants and stepped back.

Haruhi was not entirely ready to hold herself upright, and she stumbled a bit. Tamaki busied himself with straightening out her blazer and buttoning her pants, all the while red in the face and trembling. He was as aroused as she had been, and Haruhi was just a bit impressed, through she would never admit it out loud.

"Thank you," she said awkwardly when she could speak. There was something ridiculously otherworldly about the fact that Tamaki had just given her an orgasm. She expected him to look different to her somehow, but he didn't. He was still the same old Tamaki, attractive beyond all reason and taller than any second year she had ever seen. Granted, he was more awkward and embarrassed than she was normally used to seeing him, but he was the same old Tamaki all the same.

"You're very welcome," he replied, his face going a shade darker. "Like I told you before... we all turn to each other when we need release. So if you ever... feel stressed or just need it for any reason... you can come to me."

"I'll... be sure to ask you," Haruhi felt like running away. It didn't all seem real. She closed her eyes for a moment to test it, but when she opened them, Tamaki was still there watching her. She couldn't actually imagine herself going up to Tamaki Suoh of all people and asking for a hand job. The whole idea was positively ridiculous. "Thanks for the offer..."

"Don't mention it," Tamaki squeaked, flustered. Something warm and affectionate tugged at her heart at the sight of him so humble, smiling nervously at her as though he was afraid she would judge him. "Any time. Really, any time..."

"Thank you," Haruhi said again to shut him up. It was a little too embarrassing and she didn't want him to say any more.

"Well, I have some things to take care of," Tamaki said, turning to go without bothering to pick up the things he had dropped. "I'll... see you in a few minutes for the club!"

"Yeah, see you," Haruhi replied, her head still swimming as she watched him go and leaned down to pick up his things. The double doors swung shut behind him, leaving her rather confused and unable to see straight.