An extra special author's note: For all those who read "Firecracker" and called for more, this is your long-deserved reward. What took so long was my own reluctance to write any sort of follow-up to what was always meant to stand alone; but when the story started coming, I just had to pull out all the stops. So I present for your reading pleasure, the unapologetically unadulterated account of what happened to Kyouya after the popsicle epsiode, and you can decide for yourself, dear reader, what to make of it.

Getting a Rise

"Hikaru, Kaoru, can I speak to you in private?"

The twins must have known by his deceptively gentle, almost maternal tone of voice that something was bothering Kyouya—something he could barely contain behind a strained air of civility. Their brief glance at one another said it all, before they stepped back inside the third music room and closed the doors behind them.

"What is this about?" Kaoru said.

Instead of answering, Kyouya gestured to the sofas where Tamaki had only a short time ago been entertaining this afternoon's guests. "Please, have a seat."

That only made the twins more suspicious, but they sat down anyway. "Are we in trouble or something?" said Hikaru.

Kyouya settled on the sofa across from them and adjusted his glasses. "You might say that. I had a talk with a certain young woman from my class earlier today, and she had something very unpleasant to tell me. I think you know whom I mean. She came to me in tears saying you two played a mean trick on her at lunch—"

"'Mean trick'?" Hikaru echoed. "She was the one who left the note on my desk. We were just testing her."

"I thought you two had outgrown that childish game."

"That was the whole point of joining the host club," Kaoru said, his usual patience strained by Kyouya's reminder of the affair. "So we wouldn't get any more stupid confessions from stupid girls who don't care enough to tell the difference between us and shouldn't be confessing in the first place! No one else has a problem understanding that, so what did she honestly think made her so special?"

"You're missing the point," said Kyouya. "As representatives of the host club, your actions outside of it reflect on the rest of us. You two should have handled the situation better. I do hope you realize what your little game is going to cost me to clean up."

Hikaru shrugged. "So we'll reimburse you for a nice big bouquet and a box of chocolates to be sent to her home—"

"No, Hikaru." Kaoru's jaw was resolutely set as he stared at Kyouya. "In principle we didn't do anything wrong."

"But the money's no big deal, Kaoru."

"Exactly. Kyouya-sempai's the one who deserves our apology. He's the one we've inconvenienced with our actions." A grin he tried to suppress pulled up on the corner of Kaoru's mouth, giving him a devious look as he said, "Isn't that what you're saying, Sempai?"

Kyouya nodded. He couldn't help smiling himself at Kaoru's astuteness. "That is more or less what I'm saying, yes."

Hikaru looked up at him. "So how are we supposed to make it up to you?"

"I haven't decided yet. I thought I would leave that up to you two to figure out, since you can probably come up with a harsher punishment for yourselves than I could devise."

A quick glance at one another out of the corners of their eyes was all it took for the twins' trains of thought to fall into line, like a needle into a record's groove—a seemingly insignificant glance that most people would have missed. Even Kyouya had to think twice about whether he had just imagined it.

"Well, the punishment should fit the crime, I suppose," Kaoru said.

"I couldn't agree more, dear brother," Hikaru sighed as he stood.

He tugged on the knot of his necktie, sitting up above the "v" of his sweater vest, and flicked open the top button of his shirt—the motion so effortless and so casual as to appear entirely innocent, like Hikaru was simply making himself more comfortable. The same went for the nonchalant way in which he seated himself on the sofa next to his upperclassman and locked eyes with his brother across the coffee table.

But Kyouya knew better.

"As long as Kyouya-sempai gets something out of it," Hikaru said.

"Of course," Kaoru all but purred. "There wouldn't be any point if there wasn't anything in it for Kyouya-sempai."

If Kyouya had closed his eyes, he still would have been able to feel their mirrored gazes on him, the intensity of their stares burned holes through him. And the way they talked about him, as though he were in another room, the linchpin in their private conspiracy, made Kyouya's heartbeat quicken, the capillaries in his face and armpits open. But he willed himself to remain unmoved, telling himself that perhaps it was he who was reading innuendo into the situation where the twins meant none.

After all, knowing them, it would have been just like the Hitachiin brothers to lead Kyouya along for their own gratification, just as they were fond of doing their female admirers—to fool him into taking the bait with a false sense of compatriotism, only to spring their trap when he was most vulnerable, declare it all a big joke, and congratulate themselves that they were able to make cool, unflappable and all-knowing Kyouya-sempai fall for it utterly and eagerly.

However, there was always that chance that this time they really weren't fooling around.

"Although, if you look at it our way," Kaoru said, hands folded on his lap, his right leg crossed over his left.

"We're in a bit of a stalemate," Hikaru said, left leg over the right.

"Because we have a bargaining chip—"

"More like a sword dangled over the shadow king's throne."

"—With which to negotiate."

"A secret Kyouya-sempai would never, ever want to get out," the two said in unison.

Were they blackmailing him? Blackmailing Ohtori Kyouya, of all people, challenging Ouran's resident master of the art form? Kyouya would have laughed, if he hadn't had any idea what they were talking about. Seeing as he did have some idea, he thought it safest to play along, feel them out.

He held his smile and said, "Interesting. Though it's really too bad I can't say I know what it is you two mean by that."

"Can't you?" Hikaru said disinterestedly as he examined his nails. "You mean you don't know?"

"I haven't a clue."

Kaoru's smile widened to match his upperclassman's as he uncrossed his legs and stood. "Let's put it this way," he said as he joined the other two on their sofa, seating himself on Kyouya's left. "We know all about your sweet tooth for popsicles."

Kyouya's heart skipped a beat, but they were merciless.

"We felt your eyes on us the other day, when the air conditioner broke down," Hikaru said on his other side. "Not that everyone else wasn't watching us, too, but . . . A draft, Sempai? Really?"

"Pathetic," said Kaoru.

"You know as well as we do the air in here was deader than the Dead Sea that day."

"Which leads a person to ask," they said together.

Kyouya felt a hand alight on each of his thighs. He stiffened underneath them as they slowly made their way up his trousers, setting his flesh on fire through the fabric of his uniform. . . .

"Why did Kyouya-sempai really refuse to leave his seat?"

That did it. Kyouya had had enough of the brothers' games, all the more so because the closer they came to the truth (and the closer those hands came to his groin), the more their manner toward him affected him. And that was certainly not how he had planned for this little talk to go. He, Kyouya, was supposed to be in command, not on the defensive. It was time he seize control back, before the twins committed a mutiny of his self-restraint.

Still staring ahead at the sofa across from him, now empty, Kyouya clamped his fingers around both of those hands, impeding their progress.

"There's just one thing you two don't seem to have considered," he said, grinning beneath his glasses. "If you intend to threaten me, you're digging your own graves."

He only realized after saying that that he could not have issued the twins a better invitation.

They looked over at him. "Threaten you?"

"I think you misunderstand, Sempai," Kaoru said. "We intend to seduce you." He cocked his head. "Is it working?"

Which made Kyouya turn to him, incredulous that he would admit it so openly. "You're not seriously suggesting making this up to me with your—"

He never finished the sentence. It seemed in hindsight that Kaoru's words had been merely to distract Kyouya from Hikaru, who had in the meantime raised himself to his knees, turned Kyouya's face toward him, and without any further ado pressed his mouth hard to his upperclassman's.

Kyouya's mind swam like he had gotten up too fast. All his cool composure and impeccable talent for finding the right response to any situation abandoned him. He could feel it slipping farther out of reach each second longer Hikaru's lips remained on his, teasing his open with their kneading, with the urgent scrabbling of his fingers reaching to bury themselves in the hair at the nape of Kyouya's neck. . . .

Kyouya sighed into Hikaru's mouth, only realizing his eyes had been closed when Kaoru said in a low voice at his shoulder: "We're absolutely serious. We never would have imagined our forbidden brotherly love act would get such a reaction from our shadow king. Not that we can say we were surprised exactly, but . . . Well, we'd be mad not to jump at the opportunity you presented us with."

"So you two see me as just another game to while the time away, in other words," Kyouya muttered against Hikaru's skin.

He felt more than saw the smile on Hikaru's lips, felt more than heard his low chuckle. "Only if that's what you want it to be, Sempai. We aim to please, you know."

"You can think of it as a game," Kaoru added, and then he was pressing close as well, his hand sliding across Kyouya's chest to the knot of his necktie, which his fingers hooked themselves into; "or simply our way of apologizing. Either way, play along and it never has to leave this room."

His voice was the voice of a devil, as silky on Kyouya's ear as Hikaru's tongue, and Kyouya couldn't find a reply. Unlike the girl who had set this ball rolling, Kyouya knew well the difference between the two brothers: It was Hikaru who played the part of the instigator, boldly making first contact; and Kaoru, the evil mastermind lurking behind the gentle and passive persona that he assumed in front of the paying public. The animal eagerness in Hikaru's warm breath echoing in Kyouya's ear, and in his teeth's nipping at Kyouya's earlobe, was nonetheless inexplicably purer than those infinitely gentler kisses Kaoru traced along the edge of Kyouya'ss jaw, or the way his fingers slowly and expertly pulled the necktie undone.

Screw a reply. With two warm bodies pressing against him, two warm, wet mouths exciting his flesh, breathing heavily in stereo into his ears, Kyouya wasn't even sure anymore what it was he was supposed to reply to. He closed his eyes and let his head tip back, let the breath he had been trying so hard to keep so measured escape him all at once in a long sigh, and lost himself in the twins' ministrations, no longer caring to distinguish who was doing what.

Someone tilted his head—to the left, so that was . . . Kaoru, he guessed—and kissed him full and deep, sliding a tongue between his lips as easily as if Kyouya had invited him in. Definitely Kaoru. Kyouya drank in the taste of him, the faint fruitiness of the tea he had been drinking in the club meeting a short while ago—swallowed each of the tiny whimpers his underclassman unconsciously made like drops of wine, unsure whether some of them were actually coming from himself. Hikaru had his hands on Kyouya's body in the meantime, making quick work of the buttons of his shirt—sliding a hot hand inside once they were all undone to caress the naked skin of his stomach, his chest. . . .

A fingertip brushed his nipple and Kyouya's composure finally failed him. He let slip a sharp moan against Kaoru's lips and arched his back under Hikaru's touch, against the unforgiving back of the Rococo sofa. He should have been ashamed, but even his sense of shame seemed to have jumped ship some time ago. The smoldering look in Kaoru's eyes, in his smile, when he pulled away and Kyouya opened his eyes went straight to Kyouya's groin.

"Kaoru . . ." Hikaru murmured in the most pleading tone of voice Kyouya had ever heard from him since they began performing their little incestuous acts. His fingers entangled themselves in his brother's copper hair, cupping the back of Kaoru's head and holding him in place.

As Kyouya watched, through lenses still foggy from his and Kaoru's breath, Hikaru leaned forward and captured his brother's lips in an osculation the raw, sexual urgency of which made the blood rush to Kyouya's cock. For some reason, he had long entertained the thought, seeing the twins' faces come within centimeters of each other during club activities, that if their lips ever should meet it would be something of mirror-like symmetry, like Narcissus making out with his own reflection in the pool.

The reality, unfolding a hand's width or so from his face, was impossible like that, but there was also something more, something Kyouya couldn't put his finger on, but which was undoubtedly what Tamaki would have lambasted them for as being unnatural and aberrant had he been here to witness this. It was in the way Kaoru's expression went from questioning to familiar and his eyes drifted blissfully closed under the possessive kiss Hikaru laid on his lower lip. The sheer need in their stifled moans, their breathless gasps, in their eager fingers twisting in each other's hair and clothes over Kyouya's lap, in the way they tilted their heads until Kyouya could see the Adam's apples bobbing in their throats so that they might fit tighter together, plunge deeper into one another's mouths, was the farthest any two people who had shared the same womb could be from natural and fraternal and chaste.

And Kyouya could not, nor did he want to, look away.

Hikaru's hand dug painfully into Kyouya's thigh as he used it as leverage to get closer to his brother. If not for that, Kyouya might have thought he was dreaming everything. The twins pulled away from one another, licking lips made full and pink by the friction, and Hikaru pushed Kaoru back against the arm of the sofa. There wasn't much room in which to move around, so it was with some amount of care that Hikaru maneuvered his legs over Kyouya's to intertwine with his brother's. His mouth found Kaoru's throat, his hands tugging Kaoru's shirttails out of his slacks and diving greedily underneath them, pushing the fabric up to expose his brother's pale stomach—which rose immediately to meet his, the muscles fluttering underneath with each of Kaoru's shuddering breaths.

Everything Hikaru did was conscientious of Kyouya's line of sight. He made sure to give his upperclassman the best view he was able of Kaoru, who writhed underneath him, tilting his head and gasping for breath under the tongue tracing the sinews in his neck. As well as of Hikaru's own ass, over which the fabric of his trousers was pulled taut. "Ah, Hikaru . . . yeah, just like that . . ." Kaoru groaned, fingertips white against the sweater vest as he clutched Hikaru tight to him. They had done this before, of that Kyouya was certain; the pair was a well-oiled machine. But how much of their act was just for show and how much genuine pleasure, Kyouya couldn't be sure, nor did he particularly care. Even if it was all an illusion, it was a flawless one, and that was all that mattered to him.

"It would appear you two have been practicing more than your host routine," Kyouya observed. "If you pulled something like this on club time, we would be forced to take out a liability policy. For all the fainting that would ensue."

Hikaru smiled at that. "Which do you prefer?" he muttered against Kaoru's ear like he was asking Kyouya to play the "Which one is Hikaru?" game. His hands were lost as he asked it, buried somewhere under Kaoru's shirt and sweater vest. "Watching the brotherly love act?"

The grin returned to Kaoru's lips, and he tugged Hikaru's hips to his by the belt loops, watching for Kyouya's reaction as Kaoru ground himself up against his brother.

"Or participating in it?" Hikaru finished around a chuckle.

"Maybe a little bit of both," Kaoru answered for him, and Kyouya had to admit he had hit that nail right on the head.

"Maybe," Kyouya echoed with a coy smile.

Hikaru took that as his cue to push himself back off his brother and straddle Kyouya's thighs. "Then I guess we'd better make it worth your while."

"Perhaps you two should redouble your efforts."

Hikaru seemed to like the sound of that, bad as the pun might have been. Kyouya could feel a shiver course through his underclassman's body when he took Hikaru's narrow hips in a more authoritative grasp, and when those hands moved slowly up his sides. Breath quickening, Hikaru wrapped his arms around Kyouya's shoulders and crushed their lips together, opening his mouth wide for Kyouya's tongue, which he suckled with a suggestive trepidation.

Which only served to remind Kyouya of the uncomfortable tightness of his own uniform trousers. He tried to shift himself into a better position, slouching lower against the sofa's back, and inadvertently rubbed his cock against Hikaru's crotch in the process. It might have been unintentional, but it did not have unpleasant results.

"Sempai . . ." Hikaru groaned as he pressed himself as flush against Kyouya as he was able; nor was Kyouya about to complain about the consequences of his actions. He cupped Hikaru's buttocks, holding Hikaru to him with each teasing undulation of the twin's hips. It only surprised Kyouya that Hikaru wasn't nearly as hard as he was—which he took as further evidence of the twins' acting ability. It was all the reminder he needed that they had only started this at his demanding reimbursement for his troubles.

Shirttails falling back over his midriff, Kaoru dutifully rose to his knees to join his brother. Kyouya watched him out of the corner of his eye as he stroked Hikaru's back in a warm, fraternal gesture that, considering the circumstances, struck Kyouya as somewhat out of place. He felt a second shiver run up Hikaru's back in response.

Shooting Kyouya his own sideways glance, Kaoru lowered his mouth to Hikaru's shoulder. He brushed his lips over the white cotton of his brother's short-sleeved shirt, and lazily breathed in the fabric softener and Hikaru's own scent that was on it. One arm circled about Hikaru's waist, Kaoru's wrist resting atop Kyouya's as he blindly tugged his brother's shirt free of his trousers, just like Hikaru had done to him; and Kyouya needed no clearer invitation.

As Kyouya slipped one hand up underneath the front of Hikaru's shirt, as he relished the silken sensation of Hikaru's bare stomach sliding agianst his, Kaoru eased himself behind his brother, bracing himself against Kyouya's left leg for support. With one hand spread flat against Hikaru's stomach, Kaoru's lips sought out the junction between his neck and shoulder.

Which made Hikaru break away from Kyouya in a gasp, burrowing his face in his upperclassman's shoulder. However, it wasn't so much Kaoru's mouth as his hand that got such a reaction out of Hikaru, Kyouya noticed soon enough, as it had slid itself not-so-innocently between their two bodies to stroke the front of Hikaru's trousers. It took all of Kyouya's self-restraint not to grind his erection against the back of Kaoru's hand, but the twin's knuckles were already teasing him to a painful state of arousal.

"Do you plan on sharing with me, Hikaru?" Kaoru murmured to his brother, but his eyes remained on Kyouya's.

It reminded Kyouya of the last time he had witnessed their twisted notion of sharing. But at that time, Kaoru's way of asking the same question had seemed innocuous, genuinely needy, not nearly as wicked as it did now.

"Don't I always?" Hikaru said, and he shifted to allow Kaoru in once again.

Kaoru swiped the tip of his tongue across Kyouya's lips, as though tasting Hikaru on them, before teasing him with a string of kisses that were much too light and too brief for Kyouya's liking, slowly driving him mad with their transience. The grinding of Kaoru's groin against Kyouya's hip bone was much more insistent, as were Hikaru's hands as he worked the fabric of Kyouya's shirt and jacket down off his shoulders, baring his chest to the rougher weave of their sweater vests, and the much softer and warmer weight of their traveling hands.

And baring his shoulder to Hikaru's mouth, to his hot breath, which traced a slow trail down over Kyouya's clavicle, to the tender bit of skin above his armpit, and to Kyouya's right nipple, which Hikaru teased between his mouth and thumb. Kaoru's fingers found the other one, on their way to their upperclassman's navel, and further south yet, to the buckle of his belt.

His touch sent a jolt of anticipation up Kyouya's spine. His grip on Hikaru's thigh tightened; his other hand he slipped under Kaoru's shirt and pressed against the base of his spine.

Whatever Kyouya might have meant by it, Kaoru certainly seemed to take it as a sign of encouragement. He smiled against Kyouya's lips as he slowly backed away, chastising his upperclassman in the same register one might use to slow down an excited child surrounded by birthday presents, "Whoa, don't get too eager on us, Sempai. We haven't even gotten to the fun part yet. Right, Hikaru?"

"That's for sure," Hikaru said, exchanging a conspiratorial look with his brother.

Which left Kyouya wondering—if the "fun part" was yet to come, what did they consider all this?

"I hope I don't have to remind you two," he managed to say with a steady voice, as his belt was pulled free with all the false starts (however mostly unintentional) of a striptease, "that there will be dire consequences if this turns out to be leading up to another one of your pranks."

"Don't you trust us?" said Kaoru.

"Would you trust you?" Kyouya shot back.

The other raised an eyebrow. "Good point."

Hikaru chuckled at that. "You always have to be so diplomatic, Sempai? Why don't you just call us a couple of cockteases and get it over with?"

Needless to say, hearing him say that word while his brother's hand was so close to the actual thing was not helping any.

"Don't worry." With the belt out of the way, Kaoru let his fingers travel spider-like to the button of Kyouya's fly. "We won't leave you so unsatisfied."

"You'd better not—"

The last word came out in a sharp intake of breath. The button popped, Kaoru dragged the zipper down ever so slowly; and as he did so, the tips of his fingers traced a line up and down Kyouya's erection through the thick fabric, so that it took all of Kyouya's self-control not to thrust upward as he was aching to do. He glanced down, entranced by the sight of Kaoru's hand sliding underneath his trousers and the waistband of his boxers. But Kaoru was careful to avoid the actual source of his trouble while he edged Kyouya's clothing down.

Apparently Kyouya was not the only one absorbed in what he was doing. "Hikaru," Kaoru said after a moment, "are you going to keep staring or help me?"

"Just waiting for an invitation," his twin said, and his hands too dove under Kyouya's uniform at the small of his back, pushing the trousers and boxers together off Kyouya's backside. Hikaru brushed his lips against Kyouya's cheek as he did so, his own cheek rubbing against his upperclassman's glasses, and muttered against his skin, "Lift your hips."

Kyouya obligingly did as asked, raising himself a little ways off the sofa cushion on trembling arms. That was all he could do, what with the distraction provided by Hikaru's hands stroking his backside a little too slowly for pragmatic purposes, and Kaoru's, the front of his thighs. It was an alien sensation when Kyouya sat back down, to have nothing between his ass and the sofa cushions but air—a sensation all the more disconcerting as it was someone else (two someone elses, in fact) who was disrobing him with such measured diligence.

Yet for once the discomfort Kyouya experienced being in a position of almost no control, itself quite an alien sensation, was far outweighed by the pleasure that had been promised him. He was outvoted anyway, by a three-to-one majority: his lonesome ego against his id and the twins.

As though reading his mind, Hikaru said against his ear, "How are you doing?"

Somehow, Kyouya found, he had managed to hold on to his sarcasm through it all. "I still haven't seen enough to make me forgive you two yet, if that's what you're getting at."

"Too bad for us," Kaoru lamented through his wide grin. "I guess we'll just have to get down on our knees and beg, then, won't we?"

Pressing one last lingering kiss to Kyouya's lips, Hikaru pushed himself off the back of the sofa, and kneeled down on the floor between Kyouya's legs. His brother had left Kyouya's erection alone, and it still tented the front of his boxers, waiting patiently for attention whenever the twins deigned to show it.

Which Hikaru did now. He eased down the boxers' waistband, leaning intently over Kyouya's lap as though he had no idea what to expect to find underneath. His breath was hot on Kyouya's cock, and once it was freed, Hikaru took just one tentative lick and promptly closed his lips over the head.

Kyouya's hips jerked. It was an instinct he could not help, watching his cock disappear inside the warm, wet cavern of his underclassman's mouth. Apparently it got to Kaoru as well, game or not. Kyouya caught him shifting uncomfortably out of the corner of his eye, and when he turned to look at the twin, it made Kyouya's pulse race to see Kaoru lick his lips, and his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard.

"Hikaru," he cooed once again, refusing to meet Kyouya's eyes, "don't forget, I'd like a taste, too."

Kaoru's cheeks colored as he said so, even after all the two of them had done to Kyouya thus far.

It was all Kyouya could do not to protest when Hikaru's mouth left him. But when Hikaru pulled back, it was with a wicked look in his amber eyes. "Help yourself. There's plenty for both of us."

"Lean back," Kaoru told Kyouya. Rather than wait nicely, however, even as he said that he already had a hand on Kyouya's shoulder, and was urging him back against the far arm of the sofa.

Kyouya shifted himself accordingly until the two were satisfied they had him where they wanted. It was easier said than done, what with his shirt and jacket hanging off his shoulders restricting his movement, and some sense of propriety continued to prevent Kyouya from losing his trousers any further. But no sooner was he settling himself against the uncomfortable arm of the sofa than Kaoru was ducking between his legs for that aforementioned taste.

This time Kyouya thought he was ready, but he soon found he could not actually have prepared himself for it when Kaoru dragged his tongue slowly up the underside of his cock.

"Nh—" Kyouya stifled a cry, breathing Kaoru's name. He grabbed at the cushions of the sofa, squeezing them hard. It was the least Kyouya could do to keep from thrusting upward when Kaoru swirled his tongue around the head and drew it into his mouth. The gentle suction—and the sight—was so intoxicating. Just like with Hikaru, but also notably different, and not unpleasantly so. Not in the least.

"Kaoru . . . ?" Hikaru echoed—mewled, was more like it in Kyouya's judgment, like a kitten for the teat—as he leaned in toward his twin.

For a moment it reminded Kyouya how wrong this scene was, to have one brother going down on him while the other watched. But it soon became clear it was not any belated sense of wrongness that made Hikaru plead like that, so much as it was a desire not to be left out.

Hearing it, Kaoru released Kyouya, and locked gazes with his brother beneath heavy eyelids. What passed between them with just that look, Kyouya could only guess. All that really mattered to him at the moment was Hikaru wrapping his fingers around the base of his cock and kissing the shaft. Unlike Kaoru, who was careful about breathing through his nose, Hikaru's exhaled breaths were feverishly hot against Kyouya's flesh, and Hikaru's groans of pleasure vibrated through Kyouya to the tension coiling behind his balls.

His glasses were beginning to fog up again around the edges. Which made it that much harder to believe it when Kaoru bent his head again and Kyouya suddenly felt two pairs of lips, two tongues and two hot streams of breath working him from opposite sides. With a care belied by their enraptured expressions, they managed to share Kyouya's cock exactly as they had implied they would. The onslaught of sensation was more amazing than Kyouya ever could have imagined from merely watching the two fellate a popsicle in a sweltering room only a short time ago. Hikaru took care of the base, his fingers massaging the blood flow upwards; while Kaoru flicked the tip of his tongue underneath Kyouya's foreskin, making Kyouya knead the sofa cushion that much more urgently. Yet Kyouya was determined not to cry out. A few gasped expletives managed to escape him, but what he really wanted was to hear them—the moist sounds of their ministrations and the moans coming in stereo from deep within their throats.

Then both were licking wet, languid trails upward, their mouths finally meeting again around Kyouya's glans. Hikaru glided his tongue over the very tip, lapping up the beads of precome that were starting to gather there. They glistened on his tongue as he pulled Kaoru toward him once again by the hair, and invited his brother to a taste from his own mouth. Kaoru's own tongue did not leave Kyouya's skin even when Hikaru's lips locked with his. They shared a kiss around the head of Kyouya's cock—awkward and sloppy around the obstacle it provided, but also deep and ravenous, any last traces of modesty abandoned.

Kyouya was close to losing it. The fact that he had not yet despite their best efforts was testimony to the Hitachiin brothers' skill. They must have done this before, but even Kyouya's insatiable curiosity could not be bothered to ask on whom at the moment. It was enough to simply enjoy what their skilled mouths were doing to him—to watch the tip of his cock be engulfed by both their mouths, and teased by both their entwining tongues at the same time. To know what bliss that popsicle had felt as it was being devoured.

Apparently they thought it was enough as well. After a loud, satisfied kiss that had nothing to do with him, the twins parted and Hikaru raised himself back to his feet. Kyouya's still-tumescent cock, glistening with their saliva, fell back against his stomach, aching with ungratified need.

Kyouya pulled himself up just as Hikaru was sitting back down on the sofa behind Kaoru. "What the hell—"

"So, which one of us do you want to fuck?"

Kyouya went still as he watched Kaoru's smiling lips, unabashedly moist and vermilion, form those words. He blinked behind his glasses. He must have heard wrong. "Wha—"

Kaoru laughed at that. "What, didn't you understand the question?"

"Usually I do Kaoru," Hikaru jumped in. He draped himself over Kaoru's back to stare almost groggily at Kyouya. "But we don't mind switching places if you want to do him. I like being on the bottom, too." His grin turned positively wicked as another thought occurred to him. "Unless you want me to do you while you're doing Kaoru."

As he said so, Hikaru snaked one arm about Kaoru's hips and unzipped his brother's trousers, plunging his hand inside to cup Kaoru's waxing erection. As though to say to Kyouya, Act now and get everything you see here. No money down, no obligation to buy, cancel any time. . . . Who could pass up a two-for-one offer like that?

Not that Kyouya needed any more convincing. His cock throbbed at the mere thought of being inside one of them—it didn't matter which—who was himself impaling his twin brother with every thrust of Kyouya's hips—of hearing his own name tear itself from their throats in stereo as they writhed against one another, begging him desperately for release. . . .

Finding himself speechless, Kyouya exhaled sharply. Unbelievable. He had never thought it possible, but the depth of their depravity had finally managed to shake him. They truly were little devils.

The image of fucking them was almost enough stimulation to make him come on its own. But, as Kaoru reminded him when Kyouya hesitated to answer, as though once again reading his mind, "You're a little too deep into this to be content to just watch. Isn't that right, Kyouya?"

—o—

"Isn't that right, Kyouya? Just because it's summer vacation doesn't mean we're content to just sleep the day away, no sir!"

When he still received no reply, Tamaki decided to take matters into his own hands. He was getting tired of feeling like he was talking to himself.

So he bent down and grabbed Kyouya by the shoulders, and gave him a hard shake. "Come-on-Kyou-ya! Up and at 'em, pardner! I've got a whole day's worth of fun planned, and there's no time to waste."

Tamaki counted his classmate's subsequent moan and groggy shifting under the comforter as a sign of victory, and beamed down at Kyouya as he reluctantly cracked open his eyes.

Of course, what Tamaki could not have known, unless he was possessing of cajones the size of Mongolia—which, since this was Tamaki, he most assuredly was not—was the sheer magnitude of Kyouya's displeasure. First of all, at being woken up on a Sunday, let alone a Sunday on his vacation. And second, at being woken up (as the digital clock beside the bed told him) at seven o'clock in the morning on said Sunday.

But for that most grievous of all offenses, waking Kyouya up from the middle of the most explicit, most vivid sex dream involving himself and the twins he had ever experienced—and not for wont of trying, mind—just as it was getting to the really, really good part—while he was still sporting a raging hard-on, which each one of Tamaki's shakes was just grinding harder into the mattress . . .

To say it was unforgivable was a gross understatement.

His bleary-eyed, still-half-asleep glare did not seem to have the effect Kyouya intended it to, and his mumbled threat didn't exactly come out as intelligibly as it had sounded in his head.

Tamaki just put his hands on his hips, quite satisfied with himself, and grinned like the damn fool he was. "There's a good boy," he said. As Kyouya's most unfortunate luck would have it, his friend had hand-picked today as a fine day to patronize him as well. Tamaki gestured dramatically to the open windows which the sunlight poured blindingly through. "See? Isn't it a glorious morning? Aren't you happy I wouldn't let you miss this?"

Unbeknownst to Tamaki, however, as he breathed in deeply of some imaginary fresh, summer breeze, it would be the last morning he ever saw.

Because the first instant Kyouya was actually able to climb out of bed, he was going to murder Tamaki.

End.

Election Day, 2006.