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kinkfestTitle: Red Hot
Author: Cadence
Rating: R
Warnings: Genderfuck, implied sexual situations
Word Count: 1,123
A/N: Prompt: Ouran High School Host Club, Kasanoda/Haruhi: Genderfuck - Kasanoda doesn't find out Haruhi's gender (at least not as soon)
"Look out!"
Kasanoda heard it, but he had no time to turn and look. His eyes were fixed on Fujioka, and he barely saw him raise his head before he heard a metallic sound. He turned in time to feel the wet splash across the side of his face and across his chest. He blinked a few times and his eyes fixed on the canister Mitsukuni had kicked before it registered as paint.
He forgot about it immediately after, with the appearance of the rest of the Host Club and the Sendou goons and Tetsuya, who was Sendou Tetsuya, and he ended up holding an umbrella and looking at Tetsuya smiling and feeling like a ray of sunlight had broken into his blizzard-cold life.
Sunlight which unfortunately illuminated the fact that he was covered in red paint.
"Ah, I'll have to ditch these clothes, I guess," he said, blushing slightly. "And, oh—Fujioka, did any paint get on you?"
"Hmm?" Fujioka blinked, looking himself over. "Just a few drops on the arms of my jacket, I think. I should go see if I can wipe it off before it dries." He smiled, and then looked concerned, and Kasanoda's heart did a little twisting thing which he steadfastly ignored. "Do you have anything to change into?"
"Uh, my gym clothes, I guess?"
Tetsuya piped up, "No, you can't do that, master, you'd catch cold walking home like that!"
"We probably have something in the club room you can wear," Fujioka smiled at him again, which almost distracted him from the way the twins' eyes glinted in evil unison beyond him.
"I, er—"
"I'll see you back at headquarters, then, master," Tetsuya said with a smile and a bow, and that was that.
Fujioka excused himself on the way back to the third music room. Kasanoda made it a few steps inside before he found himself stripped to the waist—and the zipper to his pants open, which was a violation he really should have noticed.
"W-w-wait. I really don't need you do do anything now, I'm okay, just—if you had a normal shirt and a jacket I could borrow, there isn't even that much paint on my pants—"
"Oh, no, we couldn't do that." The Hitacchin twins chorused. "We'll have to get your uniform cleaned for you!" And with that he was toppling over backwards as his pants were pulled off his legs.
"Now, we don't have any spare uniforms in your size except this one—" a girl's uniform, of course, yellow with sleeves that looked like they'd never fit around his arms "—but since you're just going home, there's lots of things you could wear." Things which were suddenly all paraded in front of him, more than he could track. But far too many of them involved dresses.
He was just about to yell something like "dammit, there is no way I'm walking back into headquarters in a skirt," really he was, when Fujioka walked back in, and he realized he was flat on the floor in his boxer shorts.
He blushed furiously, then tried to shake himself out of it. Fujioka is a guy, he told himself frantically. There's nothing here he couldn't have seen more of in the locker room, except for the fact that he's clearly not in PE, because I would have noticed.
"Don't let them give you a hard time," Fujioka said as his brain was still working on wait, I would have noticed? The twins scoffed, but stopped trying to push lacy frills on him. Then Fujioka walked up and crouched down next to him and his brain shut down entirely.
"Here," and Fujioka reached out to his burning hot face, swiping at his skin with a damp cloth. "You still have some paint on your face, see?" He showed the tint of red on the cloth.
"Er," Kasanoda managed.
"Let me." And he reached out and rubbed further at his face, which didn't help the warm feeling at all. In fact, it felt like he was blushing down to his ribcage now, but he didn't dare move his head to look. Then Fujioka rubbed once hard with his thumb across his cheekbone, and it sent a shiver-shock through Kasanoda's whole body.
He leaped up. "Thank you Fujioka and thank you all for your help and I'll return these tomorrow," he said all in one breath and grabbed the first clothes he saw, and was out the door before anyone could respond.
He put on the clothes in the hallway. His choices could have been worse—he'd gotten hakama pants and what looked like a fairly warm long sleeved black shirt, which wouldn't have been bad at all except the hakama was a shade of pinkish red just off from his hair, and the shirt contained lace in strategic places and was clearly tailored for a woman.
He got strange looks walking home. Even stranger ones from his men, but at least he knew they weren't scared of him now. Tetsuya only smiled at him, which meant maybe he should be worrying about what exactly Tetsuya thought about him, but he had other things to worry about now.
He shut himself in his room and stripped off the ridiculous clothes, refused food and turned the incident over in his head until he was insane, but he couldn't make it make any more sense. Eventually he fell asleep, head still spinning. He should have figured that Fujioka would show up in his dreams, too, just to torment him.
It was a replay of the scene in the club room, with a few changes. They were alone, this time. And rather than crouching by his side, Fujioka was straddling his legs.
And instead of a damp cloth on his cheek, there was a tongue. He was dazed, at first, with the dream logic of it, enough that he just enjoyed the feel for a while. Lick, lick, across his cheek, the edge of his jaw, across the shell of his ear. Then the tongue hit his bottom lip, and he reached up around Fujioka's waist to pull him in for a kiss.
Then the rational, detached part of him snapped out of it, and reminded him, sounding loud and panicked, that Fujioka was a guy.
His dream didn't respond to that the way he expected, and as lips touched his he felt something hot and hard against his thigh.
He woke up then, his own boxers uncomfortably tented. He slammed his head into his pillow a few times, then froze utterly as a realization hit him.
He had to go back to the club to return the clothes tomorrow.
...He was so fucked.
Author: Cadence
Rating: R
Warnings: Genderfuck, implied sexual situations
Word Count: 1,123
A/N: Prompt: Ouran High School Host Club, Kasanoda/Haruhi: Genderfuck - Kasanoda doesn't find out Haruhi's gender (at least not as soon)
"Look out!"
Kasanoda heard it, but he had no time to turn and look. His eyes were fixed on Fujioka, and he barely saw him raise his head before he heard a metallic sound. He turned in time to feel the wet splash across the side of his face and across his chest. He blinked a few times and his eyes fixed on the canister Mitsukuni had kicked before it registered as paint.
He forgot about it immediately after, with the appearance of the rest of the Host Club and the Sendou goons and Tetsuya, who was Sendou Tetsuya, and he ended up holding an umbrella and looking at Tetsuya smiling and feeling like a ray of sunlight had broken into his blizzard-cold life.
Sunlight which unfortunately illuminated the fact that he was covered in red paint.
"Ah, I'll have to ditch these clothes, I guess," he said, blushing slightly. "And, oh—Fujioka, did any paint get on you?"
"Hmm?" Fujioka blinked, looking himself over. "Just a few drops on the arms of my jacket, I think. I should go see if I can wipe it off before it dries." He smiled, and then looked concerned, and Kasanoda's heart did a little twisting thing which he steadfastly ignored. "Do you have anything to change into?"
"Uh, my gym clothes, I guess?"
Tetsuya piped up, "No, you can't do that, master, you'd catch cold walking home like that!"
"We probably have something in the club room you can wear," Fujioka smiled at him again, which almost distracted him from the way the twins' eyes glinted in evil unison beyond him.
"I, er—"
"I'll see you back at headquarters, then, master," Tetsuya said with a smile and a bow, and that was that.
Fujioka excused himself on the way back to the third music room. Kasanoda made it a few steps inside before he found himself stripped to the waist—and the zipper to his pants open, which was a violation he really should have noticed.
"W-w-wait. I really don't need you do do anything now, I'm okay, just—if you had a normal shirt and a jacket I could borrow, there isn't even that much paint on my pants—"
"Oh, no, we couldn't do that." The Hitacchin twins chorused. "We'll have to get your uniform cleaned for you!" And with that he was toppling over backwards as his pants were pulled off his legs.
"Now, we don't have any spare uniforms in your size except this one—" a girl's uniform, of course, yellow with sleeves that looked like they'd never fit around his arms "—but since you're just going home, there's lots of things you could wear." Things which were suddenly all paraded in front of him, more than he could track. But far too many of them involved dresses.
He was just about to yell something like "dammit, there is no way I'm walking back into headquarters in a skirt," really he was, when Fujioka walked back in, and he realized he was flat on the floor in his boxer shorts.
He blushed furiously, then tried to shake himself out of it. Fujioka is a guy, he told himself frantically. There's nothing here he couldn't have seen more of in the locker room, except for the fact that he's clearly not in PE, because I would have noticed.
"Don't let them give you a hard time," Fujioka said as his brain was still working on wait, I would have noticed? The twins scoffed, but stopped trying to push lacy frills on him. Then Fujioka walked up and crouched down next to him and his brain shut down entirely.
"Here," and Fujioka reached out to his burning hot face, swiping at his skin with a damp cloth. "You still have some paint on your face, see?" He showed the tint of red on the cloth.
"Er," Kasanoda managed.
"Let me." And he reached out and rubbed further at his face, which didn't help the warm feeling at all. In fact, it felt like he was blushing down to his ribcage now, but he didn't dare move his head to look. Then Fujioka rubbed once hard with his thumb across his cheekbone, and it sent a shiver-shock through Kasanoda's whole body.
He leaped up. "Thank you Fujioka and thank you all for your help and I'll return these tomorrow," he said all in one breath and grabbed the first clothes he saw, and was out the door before anyone could respond.
He put on the clothes in the hallway. His choices could have been worse—he'd gotten hakama pants and what looked like a fairly warm long sleeved black shirt, which wouldn't have been bad at all except the hakama was a shade of pinkish red just off from his hair, and the shirt contained lace in strategic places and was clearly tailored for a woman.
He got strange looks walking home. Even stranger ones from his men, but at least he knew they weren't scared of him now. Tetsuya only smiled at him, which meant maybe he should be worrying about what exactly Tetsuya thought about him, but he had other things to worry about now.
He shut himself in his room and stripped off the ridiculous clothes, refused food and turned the incident over in his head until he was insane, but he couldn't make it make any more sense. Eventually he fell asleep, head still spinning. He should have figured that Fujioka would show up in his dreams, too, just to torment him.
It was a replay of the scene in the club room, with a few changes. They were alone, this time. And rather than crouching by his side, Fujioka was straddling his legs.
And instead of a damp cloth on his cheek, there was a tongue. He was dazed, at first, with the dream logic of it, enough that he just enjoyed the feel for a while. Lick, lick, across his cheek, the edge of his jaw, across the shell of his ear. Then the tongue hit his bottom lip, and he reached up around Fujioka's waist to pull him in for a kiss.
Then the rational, detached part of him snapped out of it, and reminded him, sounding loud and panicked, that Fujioka was a guy.
His dream didn't respond to that the way he expected, and as lips touched his he felt something hot and hard against his thigh.
He woke up then, his own boxers uncomfortably tented. He slammed his head into his pillow a few times, then froze utterly as a realization hit him.
He had to go back to the club to return the clothes tomorrow.
...He was so fucked.
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