Style

WC: 1,690

Summary: This would either end in burning flames or paradise. –Oneshot–

Note: Inspired by the song 'Style' by Taylor Swift.

...

...

"Can I come pick you up?"

Ayako's hand gripped the phone tighter. Why did he know that she was awake? It was almost midnight. It had never been her policy for her to let men know what her sleep schedule was before.

But here they were, and she couldn't even feign innocence.

"Yes. I'll be ready when you're here."

Her voice echoed back in her ears after she hung up. It was too high-pitched and unstable. Was that how she always sounded when she spoke? She stared at the receiver as if it would answer her thoughts.

I'll be ready.

Generally Houshou Takigawa only called when he was about to walk out the door. It wouldn't take him long to reach her apartment.

She walked the short hallways back to her bedroom, situated at the back of the apartment. She had gotten the apartment recently and it showed through its plainness and indifferent attitudes. She hadn't had the time to decorate the boring décor, but she had also been finding it hard to motivate herself.

If this was a new reflection of her demeanor, then Ayako had lost all her inspiration.

Out of her closet she pulled a fitted long-sleeved top. A tight little black skirt. Strappy black heels. At her vanity she styled her hair. Applied mascara. Red lipstick. Perfume.

The person who looked back at her in the mirror seemed watery. The image didn't know which person to reflect. It only showed the human she was, but hidden beneath a film of confusion.

Make-up had become a mask for her in her mid-teens. It was something that had become more than just a cover-up for acne or blotchy skin, but had given her leeway to not just be awkward 'Ayako' but persuade people to believe that she was the 'Ayako' that she wanted to be – smart, stylish, rich.

Happy.

Ayako dropped her eyes from the mirror. She knew the difference between the doppelganger.

Her family did, too.

You're getting too old. Shouldn't you get married by now?

She talks to trees more than people.

It's always unfortunate when a woman goes after a career before she's even had children.

You look like a hooker with that make-up on. How can I even call you my daughter?

The sound of a car pulling to the curb drifted in through her window. She turned off the lights as she left.

...

"Well, this is a surprise," she said as she peered in through the window. A smile was on her face, the one everyone was familiar with.

"Something about this perfect fall night said that it should be shared with someone." He returned the smile, and she wondered if it was as fake as hers.

She slid into the passenger seat, and crossed her legs once she was comfortable. His eyes watched.

"I haven't heard from you in a while," she said as the car lights dimmed around them. "How are things?"

"Fine." He put the car into drive and started down the long road. "How about you?"

"The same."

With a twist to her gut, she wished that she hadn't answered the phone. Why did she do this to herself? Was it really so hard for her to break away, to know that this relationship could never work out? If they could never move past such a ditch, all they were going to do was go around in circles.

Maybe that's what he wanted. But what was it that she wanted?

The streetlamps lit up his features as they drove. His shoulder-length blonde hair, still wet from a possible shower. His eyes shifted consistently from the road to her. Jeans, white T-shirt, black jacket.

She reached out and let a finger run down his earlobe, dragging slowly across the earrings. He shuddered, his back going stiff. She drifted her fingertips through his hair, making them damp from residual water. She trailed a single finger down his jaw line, feeling that he hadn't shaved today. Going down lower, she traced his strong collarbone. Palm flat, she steadily brought her hand down his shirt. She slipped underneath the fabric and lingered her fingers against his stomach. Warm skin on her hand, she closed her eyes until the car tires screeched, and made her jump from crash expectancy.

"What are you doing?" she said.

"I'm going back."

He turned the car around, headed back to her apartment. He caught her eye and she had to look away first. She crossed her arms, her whole body a symbol of a barrier. Her hand still tingled.

Normally their car rides never had destinations, because they never knew if they would still want each others company by the time it was over. Too many of these rides ended in wounding arguments.

This was one of the shortest ones she had ever been on with him, and maybe that was a good thing.

Yes, she wanted to go home. But she hadn't decided if she wanted to leave him at the door or drag him down onto her carpet.

She was sure that the neighbors would gossip, as she got back out of the car with a stranger that had never introduced himself.

She felt his eyes on her as she opened the apartment complex's main door. These shoes were new and made her walk different, with more of a roll to her hips that she was sure he noticed.

Up against her back as she tried to open her apartment door, he sighed into her ear. Rested his hand against her waist. Dared to drop further to the edge of her skirt…

It was dark in her apartment, all the lights being turned off barely fifteen minutes prior. She didn't have time to turn anything on once she had been backed up against the wall. Hands on her hips as he kissed her.

Her head was tilted up to match his height. His lips were dry as they scratched against her lipstick. Hot breaths between gasps as he took hold of her lower lip between his teeth and suckled.

Ruffling up her skirt, his hands traveled up underneath it. It was too tight to freely move around so he ended up pushing it up as much as possible. He pulled her closer to him as he gripped her ass.

They moved away from the wall while still kissing, and ended up being stopped again at the kitchenette's counter. He helped her take her too-tight shirt off. She hadn't bothered to put a bra on.

"Listen," she said, and she felt the tension thicken. His lips hesitated against her throat. "I've heard you've been seeing somebody."

"I wouldn't take it that far."

"But it's true?"

He turned his head up so he could look at her. "Yeah, but I can't stop hoping that it's you every time I look at her."

Neglecting any further form of eye contact, he brought his head down and kissed her breast. His thumb brushed against her nipple, his tongue lapped circles around it.

In her foggy memory, she had to admit she couldn't remember the last few guys she had dated, because she was only doing it to try and forget him.

"I guess I've been there too a few times."

She tugged at his jacket until he pulled his hands away from her to take it off. Her hands slipped up underneath his shirt, her fingers grabbed and stroked until he tossed it away to land on his jacket.

She hooked her fingers in the waistband of his low slung jeans. Her heartbeat and breathing had run away with her. She kneaded his hips and tried to get as close as she could to him, simultaneously biting at his neck and kissing his shoulder.

When her legs buckled underneath her they ended up on the carpet. He had straddled her waist as she was stretched out below him.

"Are you okay?" he said, his hair falling forward to surround his face.

"Yeah." She turned her head to the side, closed her eyes and tried to resist the urge to touch him. She wanted to feel his cheek and caress his face, cradling him against her as they both fell asleep.

But she was always too shy to initiate it, and too timid to ask if he wanted it, too.

He brought his face down to hers and kissed her slowly. His hands came up her sides and down again in a tease. He continued until she was jittery and her hips were starting to twist and shove on their own against him.

He stood up on his knees and undid his belt, and she tried to assist him in removing his jeans but kept getting distracted and ended up just watching, helpless.

She hoisted her hips up as he pushed into her. Sighing alongside him, she dug her fingernails into his back, ranking against skin as he moved with her.

"Kiss me," she said softly.

It wasn't a normal request for her, and his eyes showed surprise, but he granted her wish. They kissed in between breaths and gasps, tongues tangled together as long as they weren't clenching teeth or throwing their heads back. His chapped lips left hers burning, and made her lick her lips instinctively even as he kissed her.

She didn't know the next time he would call her, or the last time he would kiss her, and wanted it to last as long as possible. To savor every moment against his skin and sweat. His breathing and lips. His smile and laugh.

It was these moments where she fell in love all over again, until she was once more left in the process to wonder if there was a next time. To awkwardly banter and argue on a case and pretend like nothing happens behind the scenes.

Was it her fault, or was it his?

Her hips clenched around his and she dropped her head back against the floor as her breathing hitched. He hid his face in the crook of her neck a few moments afterwards, biting the skin there, trembling against her.

Did it matter?