My eyes went wide.
Real fear, a sharp sting, cut through my usual calm.
Kyouya-sama's gaze wasn't cold and precise anymore; it was something raw, unreadable. His arm pressed against mine, and my skin felt strange. His scent, usually clean, now had a faint, sharp edge I couldn't name.
"Kyouya-sama? What are you—" I started, my voice barely there. The question died in my throat.
His grip tightened, not painful, but firm. His dark eyes, still burning intensely, fixed on mine. "Don't play coy, Mei. Not with me."
His voice was low, quiet, but it commanded me. "Be honest with yourself."
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that made me shiver. "You want to betray her, don't you? That loyalty you show… it's a cage. A fancy one, but still a cage."
My breath caught. How did he know?
A faint, cold smile touched his lips.
"Don't deny it. You lied to Himari. You said you were going to the toilet, but you were giving me your intel. A simple lie for your own simple truths."
His words hung in the air, exactly right.
My world felt shaky. He didn't just guess; he knew. Every careful step, every quiet report, every secret I thought was safe for Himari—he saw through it all. And now, he was calling me out, not for lying to him, but for my own hidden wants.
My eyes, which had fought against his, finally dropped. My shoulders slumped. It was a quiet surrender. I didn't answer the whispered question. The raw truth was out.
My lips opened, and one word came out, barely a sound. "Yes."
My answer seemed to unleash something in Kyouya-sama. His tight control, his calm look, snapped. He closed the space between us, pressing his body against mine, pinning me to the wall.
He lowered his head.
His mouth, no longer careful, came down on mine in a wild, untamed kiss.
My gasp was swallowed. It was a jolt, a surprise, and a strange, primal pull. Our tongues twisted together, a desperate, hungry dance. It tasted like betrayal, a bitter-sweet mix of wrong and exciting. My chest pressed against his hard body.
It was a stark difference, but a strong pull. The thinking part of our talks vanished. All that was left was hot skin on skin, breath mixing with breath. Just raw wanting.
"Nghhh, Kyouya-sama... it feels so good."
I moaned softly, his name a breathless whisper in the wild kiss. But then Kyouya-sama's hand, still driven by hunger, moved low, near my private area. A cold, sharp rush of adrenaline cut through my haze. Just as he reached my core, I pushed against his chest with surprising strength, breaking the burning contact.
His eyes, still dark with desire, blinked, confusion crossing them as he felt my push.
My breathing was fast, my uniform a bit messy, but my eyes, though flushed, now held a new, firm look.
"Kyouya-sama," I panted, my voice tight but steady.
"Please, not here. Not like this." I looked around the expensive room.
It was too open. The maids were gone, but someone could come back, or surveillance might be active. It was too risky.
"There are… other places. Somewhere truly safe. Where no one will ever know."
Kyouya-sama's gaze sharpened. The raw urge faded, replaced by his calculating look. "Safe..." he repeated, testing the word.
His mind, always planning, instantly saw it. His own private room.
Soundproof. Completely secure. A place for his most private things.
And now, for this.
My words, "Somewhere truly safe. Where no one will ever know," clicked in Kyouya-sama's mind like a key. They released his last wild urges, letting his calculating mind take over again. The hot glow in his eyes didn't vanish, but it now burned with a controlled, focused heat.
He leaned in again. This time, the pressure was less about force, more about closeness. His voice dropped to a low whisper, promising secrets and forbidden acts.
"My private room," he murmured, holding my gaze.
"Soundproofed. Absolutely secure. No interruptions. No prying eyes. Not even a whisper could escape its walls." A faint, unsettling smile played on his lips. "We can take 'it' even further there, Mei." The unspoken invitation hung heavy, a dark promise of closeness that went beyond just bodies, going into the very core of our unspoken desires and shared betrayals.
A slow, subtle smile, one Kyouya-sama had never seen, grew on my lips. It was real, and clearly naughty. A hint of something wild inside me mirrored the desire still in his eyes.
"Lead the way, Kyouya-sama," I replied, my voice a soft murmur, filled with a pleasure that was both surprising and completely captivating.
He walked, his steps steady. I followed, my heart pounding.
This was it. The end of my spy work, of secret glances, of a hidden pull that had completely broken my old loyalties. His private room.
A safe place. A place where even Kyouya-sama's rules seemed to bend to raw urges.
The heavy door to his private rooms clicked shut. Silence. Deep and thick, broken only by our fast breathing. It was a silence that swallowed sound, promising absolute secrecy. The room was simple, efficient, but clearly expensive. Dark wood, soft carpet, a huge bed.
No cameras. No one watching. Just us.
Kyouya-sama turned. His eyes were still dark, still intense.
He didn't speak. He just reached for me, pulling me against him.
My uniform felt tight, a barrier to the heat already building. He kissed me again, deeper. A possessive claim that shut down my thoughts. My mind, usually so neat, felt blank. Only the pressure of his lips, his taste, his strong hands as he quickly took off my clothes.
My uniform fell in soft piles. Then my underwear.
The cool air touched my suddenly bare skin. It felt strange, a mix of nerves and something like a professional interest. I stood still.
Vulnerable. Exposed.
He looked at me.
His gaze swept over my body.
It felt less like desire, more like an inspection. I didn't move.
A professional. A subject for study. I tried to detach, to see this as data, too. My heart beat hard, but I told myself it was just my body reacting to something new. Nothing more.
Then he was on me. Not gentle. Not soft.
Just raw, demanding power as he pushed inside me.
A sharp, almost unbearable pressure.
My eyes went wide. A sudden, burning pain in my lower stomach.
My breath caught. It was… intense. Much more physical than I'd thought. My body wanted to pull away, but his weight held me down, his hands firm on my hips.
I tried to focus. To categorize the feelings.
The stretching. The tearing. The surprising discomfort.
Was this it? Was this the big, terrifying intimacy everyone talked about?
My mind struggled to understand. To feel emotion.
But there was only the physical. A sharp, burning ache, then a dull, full throb.
He started to move. A deep, steady thrusting. Very powerful.
I felt stretched, filled, used. I heard his rough breathing, his low grunts. But my own reaction… it was muted. Flat.
I felt the rubbing, the physical impact, his sheer presence. But the emotional storm, the great pleasure I'd read about, the complete surrender… it just wasn't there.
I pushed away the fear, the awkwardness, the stark fact that I felt so little beyond the physical. I made my face show nothing, my eyes open and steady, trying to look fully engaged.
I watched his face: his jaw tight, sweat on his brow. I tried to move with him, to match his effort, to play the part I thought he wanted.
I was his data point. I would be the best, even at this.
When his movements sped up, when his breath hitched and he cried out, when he finally shook and fell onto me, I felt the warm rush inside. It was a physical release, yes, but it felt… clinical. Done, but without the shattering joy I had expected.
He lay heavy on me, breathing hard. I lay still. My own breathing was calm, even, very different from his. The humid Portuguese air stuck to our sweaty bodies. I felt the stickiness, the lingering warmth, the aftermath of a big physical act.
He shifted, lifting his head to look at me. His eyes were glazed with spent pleasure, a deep, lasting satisfaction.
"Mei," he rasped, his voice thick. "Are you... all right?"
I met his gaze, my face showing nothing. No discomfort. No joy. "
Yes, Kyouya-sama," I replied, my voice steady, showing nothing of how surprisingly bland it had been for me. "I am perfectly... functional."
He frowned a little, a flicker of something I couldn't read in his eyes, before it was replaced by a satisfied smirk. "Good," he murmured, then collapsed back onto me, pulling me into the contentment he clearly felt.
I lay beneath him, listening to his deep, happy breaths. My body was sore, stretched, but my mind was clearer than it had been in hours. The data was collected. The experiment was done. And my first time… it was remarkably, disappointingly, bland.