chineseink | [OKHC] Lapse, PG, General, Kyouya/Tamaki

I am not sure I like this AT ALL. But I sat down and forced myself to write on the spot because I was suffering some kind of awful writer's block. Also, I like my pretty 2D boys drunk and sexed-up, occasionally with cigarettes. This fic, however, has no cigarettes and practically no sex. (Kissing doesn't even count.) I fail two out of three.

Dammit.

I should write some more. And get in some sex and cigarettes. Yeah?

Lapse
Ouran Koko Host Club, Kyouya/Tamaki, PG, 837 words
Kyouya forgets a vital piece of information.

Lapse
by

meitachi

Kyouya had a lower tolerance for alcohol than he cared to admit; it would be an advantage over him that no one needed to have. Like Tamaki, he had been sipping at wine since young, red or white with the exquisitely-seasoned soups or meats that made up his dinner. Occasionally, when their cooks whipped up the traditional Japanese meal, Kyouya would have a cup of sake with the rest of his family. He had had plenty of exposure to alcohol, he thought.

However, his exposure had not, apparently, covered liquor. High school and friends with the same devilish look Kyouya recognized now in the twins' eyes had introduced him to whiskey and rum and gin. He had developed an affinity for none of them, though he kept his expression impassive as he indulged and experimented, and came to the unfortunate conclusion that he was an easy drunk.

The only saving grace that Kyouya could see was that at least no one but himself could tell that he was drunk--he always ended up sitting very still, with a bored expression on his face, and though he suffered a certain amount of giddiness and swirling thoughts, none of it was exposed to the rest of the world. And so Tamaki, along with the rest of the host club, thought that Kyouya was completely sober when he tugged on the wrist of a swaying, tipsy Tamaki and pulled him down onto the sofa.

"K-Kyouya," Tamaki hiccuped with a sleepy smile.

So pretty, Kyouya had always thought of their king. Insane and reckless and horrible at paying the slightest attention to the little details that made up his big dreams, but so utterly beautiful.

He was drunk, he admitted to himself, and blinked when he found his face rather too close to Tamaki's. Perhaps he shouldn't have allowed himself to drink this much, but the host club had been celebrating their anniversary and Kyouya had relaxed his guard. He trusted these few people that much (though he'd kept an eye on the twins and their stash of vodka).

"You smell nice," said Tamaki, breath feathering across Kyouya's cheek. And then he added, a somewhat vacuous but still sweet smile on his lips, "Than's for org'nizing the party."

The twins were wrestling and shouting in the background, laughing hysterically and taking an occasional break to swig back another shot of vodka and lemonade. Honey was crawling and bouncing excitedly--evidently he was a hyper drunk who had a higher tolerance than his body weight might have indicated--over a sleepy Mori, who had an unconscious Haruhi in his lap. Whoever had given her that much to drink would regret it, Kyouya determined, once Tamaki was sober enough to realize what had happened. And, perhaps, Kyouya thought fuzzily, once he was sober enough to figure out who it was and tell Tamaki. For a price.

He was a litte distracted at the moment by the warmth curling along his side. His vision was blurry and, belatedly, he realized that Tamaki had removed his glasses at some point and his hair was falling over his eyes.

Tamaki was staring at him with those wide, slightly dilated blue-violet eyes, and his lips pursed. "'S not fair thachur not drunk," he told Kyouya, petting Kyouya's cheek. He leaned close again, pouting, and Kyouya remembered again that he had a very low tolerance for alcohol, despite appearances.

"I am very drunk," he said slowly, carefully. He was fleetingly grateful that Renge wasn't about with a camera because the material for blackmail was rife. "Extremely drunk." Then he pulled Tamaki the rest of the way over and kissed him.

Slow heat curled through him as Tamaki's mouth parted under his. Kyouya's tongue snaked inside and slid against Tamaki's in slow, sinuous exploration. His arm wrapped around Tamaki's waist, holding the other boy close from where he'd fallen into Kyouya's lap. Kyouya resisted the urge to rock his hips against Tamaki's, instead busying himself with trying to identify the taste of Tamaki's mouth.

Alcohol, was all his muddled brain could fully process. Something sharp and a little sweet, but warm. Maybe rum. Some chocolate too.

Tamaki sighed into his mouth and slid closer, adjusting his position until he was straddling Kyouya's lap. "Kyouya," he murmured, his lips slick and swollen against Kyouya's.

Kyouya made an inarticulate sound and slid his hands down to grip Tamaki's hips.

"You're drunk," said Tamaki, sounding faintly amused, and the breath that accompanied his words puffed lightly against Kyouya's lips, cool. He wondered why Tamaki was talking. The blond did always have too much of an affinity for words.

"Yes, I am," Kyouya agreed and tilted his head up again, reaching for Tamaki's mouth again.

Tamaki obliged, bending his neck, his hair falling a swath of blurry gold across Kyouya's vision before he closed his eyes.

"Did you forget, Kyouya," Tamaki added as Kyouya's tongue flickered lightly over the corner of Tamaki's mouth, his grip tight on Tamaki's hips, "that I have a very high tolerance for alcohol?"

Oh, thought Kyouya as Tamaki kissed him again. I did.

--

Started/Finished: 08.26.2006

Notes: Written on the spot. I WANT KYOUYA/TAMAKI SMUT. WHO WANTS TO WRITE ME KYOUYA/TAMAKI SMUT?

Also, drunkeness as an excuse for all OOCness. HAH. I am so much fail. Alas.