Silence in the Library, a princess tutu fanfic

If Ahiru wanted to be completely honest, she would say how thoroughly unhappy she was with Fakir at the moment.

Not that he didn't make her happy most of the time. He made her the happiest she had ever been. Even when she was still a duck, the writer had remained true to his word and stayed by her side, bringing her bread, stories, and subtle affection. After three years beside him, the duck-girl had even come to the conclusion that she loved him just as much as he loved her. When she woke up as a girl one day, her elation was indescribable. And the very first thing she said to him (despite her very naked figure at that moment) was, "I love you." She wasn't Princess Tutu, and he wasn't a prince, and that gave her the confidence to speak the words she had never said out loud in her life. The redhead didn't fear his reaction; he whispered it to her one afternoon when she broke her wing, tenderly caring for her and holding her close. She was almost driven to tears that day.

So one could only imagine her confusion and hurt when Fakir's eyes widened in absolute panic, stumbling away from her and asking her how the hell she was a girl again right before running from the room. Dammit, she was bare and mature now.

That had been two weeks ago. Still, Fakir had refused to embrace her or even speak to her unless he absolutely had to. He allowed her to remain in their small cottage by the lake, but he never let her visit anyone in town or reenroll into the Academy, or even tell her that he loved her, too. Instead, he continued to make frequent visits to the library, isolating himself and being far more distant than what she deemed normal. It reminded her strongly of how he used to be, and it frightened her.

What had she done wrong?

Did he change his mind about his feelings for her? Did he meet someone else? Was she being too forward with him by saying how she felt right away?

Ahiru felt lonely. Far more lonely than she ever had as a duck. As a duck, Fakir was still with her. Now, everything was falling apart. She wished more than anything that she hadn't wished on that shooting star to be a girl again. What was the point of being a girl when she couldn't even get to hug Fakir like she wanted to? Or even get to kiss him? Just once…

This was the day, she decided one afternoon as she stepped closer to the library with a determined, clumsy stride, that she would get her answers. Fakir couldn't just keep avoiding her forever. Even if he didn't love her back anymore, she still dearly missed their friendship.

That had to be enough. Right?

A large book slammed shut on the desk on the second floor of the library, and Fakir had to pinch his nose as he heard the distinct command to keep it down from the lower floor. Mumbling a halfhearted apology to Autor below, he slumped forward against the desk, leaning over and releasing a weary sigh. His hands ran through his thick, dark, tussled locks with frustration.

He was a mess.

The top three buttons of Fakir's shirt were undone, his sleeves rolled up, dark bags under his tired eyes. Two weeks of nonstop research and still nothing at all. His skin was pale with exhaustion and hair mussed, almost as if he had just gotten out of bed. Then again, he hadn't slept at all these past few days.

By all accounts, he knew that deep inside, seeing Ahiru as a girl and hearing her say out loud that she loved him had him almost crying on the spot. Three long years, he had tried to content himself with being happy with her being a duck. He loved her for who she was, not what. Knowing that she returned his feelings at all was enough.

So when she suddenly appeared naked in his bed, a beautiful, young woman with the bright smile that haunted his dreams and the sparkling eyes that took his breath away and the soft skin that he'd longed to touch for so long…

Fakir grunted, letting his forehead fall forward to collide with the surface of the desk.

What was wrong with him? The reason he had been in the library for this long was to figure out why she changed back. Not to dwell on those damn fantasies that shouldn't even exist. Fakir had long since forbidden himself from ever looking back on those dreams that he had of her. She was far too young. Far too pure and innocent. Nothing but a child.

Or, at least, she was a child.

He noticed that three years were kind to her, to say the least. It appeared that she had aged well and developed an elegant body, with soft curves and a proportional figure with just the right amount of swell to her breasts… And yet, she was still Ahiru. The light in her eyes never once dimmed, and her smile still had him weak in the knees. And the way she stumbled so clumsily over to him while proclaiming her adoration for him was just so Ahiru that he wanted nothing more than to take her right then and there…

But Fakir stopped himself.

He couldn't bring himself to revel in that incredibly happiness that threatened to drown him. Because he had no idea how she became a girl again. Was Drosselmeyer back? Was there another writer at work here? Certainly, he toyed with the idea of writing her a story, but he simply didn't know how to begin or if that was even what she wanted. He was a coward, and so he allowed himself to just sit and watch as she floated peacefully on the surface of the lake. The last thing he expected was her naked form beside him and opening her arms to him like some dream come true.

And that was why he didn't allow himself to embrace her. He couldn't hope that it would last. Any day now, he would wake up from this dream. Any day now, she'd be a duck again and fly away without any memory of who he was and who they were to one another. Any day now, this would end, just like every fantasy did.

He stayed away from her, not daring the bask in her presence. He had to find out who was making a new story and stop them from continuing, no matter how much he just wanted to take Ahiru into his arms, into his room, into his bed, and love her until he was certain that she would never question his desire and his adoration for her.

Heaving a sigh, he lifted his head from the desk and reached for another book.

Fakir had to keep looking. For her safety, and for his sanity.

Ahiru slowly creaked the door open and poked her head into the familiar, dim building. It'd been so long since she'd visited. Even if Autor seemed to remember the events in the story, unlike the rest of the town, he was adamant about "pets" not permitted in the building. Now that she thought about it, maybe that was why Fakir refrained from visiting the library while she was a duck. Biting her lip, she stepped fully into the library, immediately spotting the glare of Autor's spectacles. She still wasn't fond of him, but Fakir didn't seem to mind him too much.

While she didn't seem at all surprised to see him, his own eyebrows shot up upon spotting the shock of red hair coming through the door. He had begun to wonder why Fakir had suddenly started showing up at the library as of late--perhaps that duck of his flew away or died if the green-eyed writer looked so frazzled and much less dignified than usual. He hadn't expected that the reason for Fakir's exhaustion would be her transformation back into a girl. With the way he was so attached to her, shouldn't he have been happier about this? He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, attempting to mask his initial, surprised reaction. "Hm. A girl again. Was this Fakir's doing?" A slight smirk appeared on his face.

Ahiru only frowned. "I dunno," she mumbled in reply, "Where is he?" She was cranky enough as it was. She had no desire to talk to Autor before figuring out what was wrong with Fakir first and why he was being such a controlling jerkwad.

Autor did have quite a few questions, but he supposed he could wait until later. He would be sure to discuss it with Fakir after she took her leave. "His usual spot, of course. Where else would he be?"

His usual spot was up the stairs, wasn't it? She'd forgotten. Three years was a long time. Even now, two weeks after transforming, she still wasn't used to the elongated limbs or the ability to use human speech. Though, it wasn't as if she was allowed to be out and about anyway. Stupid Fakir. One moment he loves her, the next he shuts her away in their cottage while he's stuck in a book all of the time.

The redhead didn't reply to Autor, and simply made her way up the steps where she could see the glow of candlelight from the balcony in the second floor. She sighed when she heard Autor command her to stay quiet and climbed the rest of the steps slowly.

There he was.

Ahiru stared at the back of Fakir's head, his hair loose and out of its usual ponytail. He was slumped over a desk, arms cradling his head above the open book beneath him. Was he asleep? She supposed that it wouldn't surprise her. He'd been so tired lately and it was more than likely that it was her fault. Biting her lip, she adjusted her brown skirt and white blouse--Miss Raetsel's old clothes that Fakir found in old storage chests in Karon's attic--and reached out to grasp his shoulder.

"Fakir?"

"Nngh…Ahiru…"

She blinked in surprise, retracting her hand away from him. Was he awake? Would he be angry that she decided to follow him?

It was then that she noticed his appearance in more dteail when she leaned over and tilted her head to get a better look at his face peeking out from the cradle of his arms. He was still sleeping, but from Ahiru's eyes, it looked as if he was having a nightmare. A thin layer of sweat coated his brow, making the dark, loose locks of his hair cling to his slick skin. His shirt was rumpled, and he was the very picture of turmoil, his breaths shallow and uneven. It really was a nightmare, wasn't it?

Trying to ignore the attractive way his hair fell over his eyes and how a drop of sweat rolled down his neck and beneath his button-up shirt, she nudged him again, concern pooling in her eyes. "Fakir?" He had to wake up before his nightmare got worse. Or at least before he started drooling on that book beneath him. "Fakir? Hey, Fakir?"

"Fakiiiiiir…"

A shudder rushed through him as he held her down against the bed, thrusting into her tight passage relentlessly. Her skin was hot against his, and her every squeal and moan of his name drove him closer and closer, teetering right at the edge. He loved her. He wanted her. And the way she clung to him so desperately…

His pace only increased, slamming her down against the mattress, inciting her to scream his name into the air…

That's it. So close--!

"Fakir!"

"Ahi--!"

His eyes snapped open and he glanced frantically around. And Ahiru immediately released a sigh of relief. That must've been a terrible dream. He literally just screamed her name, after all. And he looked like he was in pain, panting heavily and shifting about in his chair as if he didn't know what was going on.

"Will you please be quiet?!" came a familiar holler from the first floor.

"S-Sorry!" She had completely forgotten where she was for a moment.

Fakir, on the other hand, was suddenly all to aware of what was happening and jumped to his feet, uncharacteristically stumbling and scrambling away from the redhead. He stifled a yelp and quickly whirled around, face burning and turning toward a nearby bookcase. He couldn't even bring himself to look at her, or allow her to look at him. Dammit, he should've stayed awake. He never should have had those dreams again. And worst of all, she was right in front of him when he woke up. How was he supposed to explain…?

Then again, he had specifically ordered her to stay in the cottage. Why the hell was she here out in public? It was dangerous as long as Fakir didn't know who caused her transformation. Didn't she understand anything?!

And so, in the midst of his flustered, exhausted, aroused state, he lashed out with harsh whispers at her, sending a sneer over his shoulder at her beautiful adult form. "What the hell do you think you're doing walking around in public? I told you to stay home until it's safe."

As far as Ahiru was concerned, Fakir had no right to do any of this. He might've taken care of her for three years, and he might've been the man she was in love with, and he might've looked incredibly handsome looking so mussed and scruffy, but there was absolutely no way she'd let his grumpy butt push her around. She had been nice and understanding up until now, but she was going to get her answers.

Completely oblivious to his arousal--she couldn't see the obvious bulge at the front of his white slacks when he was turned around--the fiery redhead reached out to grasp his ponytail and give it a painful yank.

"GAH--! What the hell--?!" Fakir turned around and snatch her hand from his hair, desperately trying to ignore how soft and warm her skin was--just like that damn dream.

…His erection was tight in his pants.

But before Fakir could say anymore, Ahiru exploded, livid and face a bright, cherry red. "Why are you acting like this?! You're not talking to me at all and you're pushing me away and you're being dumb!" She pulled against the grip around her wrist, hand curling into a fist.

Fakir was just not in the mood for this. He couldn't deal with her. Not when the blaze in her eyes and the flush to her cheeks affected his burning arousal in ways he didn't want to consider, his barred manhood throbbing against the fabric of his boxers. The fire in her eyes drew him in, and her full, frowning lips looked so damn delectable. Shutting her up would be a damn tempting idea as well…

He was determined to stay focused, however. He wouldn't dare try to show any sort of appreciation for the transformation. What if that was all part of the story written by another writer trying to be the next Drosselmeyer? Fakir couldn't stop being too careful, no matter how much the sound of her very human voice saying she loved him made his heart soar.

If a writer was going to ever permanently change Ahiru back, he would be the one to do it.

For now, however, he would focus on getting Ahiru to leave this instant before he decided to slam her right up against the bookcase and ravish her until she was screaming his name like she had in his fantasies (even if screaming in the library with Autor present in the building was an impossibility). He shifted, trying to keep the bulge in his pants from view while maintaining a firm grip around her wrist. As much as he knew the smartest decision would be to just leave and come back to argue after he was relieved, he couldn't leave her out alone in public without protection. "None of that matters! I specifically told you to stay at home for a reason."

"IT'S NOT LIKE YOU TOLD--!!"

"Shhhh!!" came the frustrated sound from Autor below.

Ahiru continued on, her voice hushed, but eyes and expression never losing the comical, duck-like ferocity. "It's not like you told me what the reason is! You're not the boss of me, so don't treat me like you can just push me around!" They were far past that point by then. "I wanna know what your problem is!"

"Why can't you just shut up and trust me enough to listen?!"

"Why can't you trust me enough to tell me what is wrong with me being a girl again?!"

"There's nothing wrong with it. But how do you explain your transformation?! Haven't you even stopped to consider how dangerous the cause of this could be?!"

"No! I was too busy telling you that I love you!"

"Be quiet!"

There was a long moment of silence after Autor's threat in which Fakir and Ahiru found themselves staring one another down, her eyebrow twitching and his erection throbbing, both of them feeling more than ready to tackle the other for very different reasons. Or perhaps the same reasons. For Ahiru, it was hard to be sure. She knew that what she felt for Fakir was special, but he riled her up in ways that she had never experienced with anyone else. And the frustration of it made her wonder why she felt so warm. Was it the human body that was making her feel angrier than usual? Was it even anger at all? It had nothing to do with the fact that the perspiration rolled down his chest and beneath the fabric of his partly-opened button-up shirt. She could see where his pectoral muscles began, reminding her vaguely of those times when he was in his dance attire, showing such strength and confidence with every perfect movement of his solid, calloused body…

…Yes. It had nothing to do with that at all.

Determined to keep this up until she got her answers--funny how she just kept getting sidetracked by his deep, piercing, glaring eyes--she crossed her arms over her chest and huffed, keeping her voice down. "Why aren't you talking to me?" She tried to keep the hurt from her tone, but Fakir knew her well enough to catch on. "I can finally talk back and you're acting like…like a butt and you won't even tell me why!"

He snorted at the butt comment. Even as a beautiful young woman, she would never change. Voice even and quiet and as cold as he could make it while still suffering through the intense need to have her all to himself, he replied with, "You wouldn't understand. You just don't get the danger you're in right now." His only problem was getting her home safely and keeping her from noticing the bulge in his pants at the same time. Fakir's grip on her tightened, and he had to actively stop himself from yanking her body up against his. He shouldn't want her this badly. She was too innocent and naïve to possibly comprehend his insane desire for her.

"Maybe I'd get it if you actually stopped to tell me what's going on in the first place!" She stomped her foot childishly, then stepped forward to poke him in the chest. Her other hand continued to struggle against his own. "I thought…I thought that me being a girl would be a good thing! I thought you'd be at least a little glad to see me like this again! I didn't think you'd hate it or something!"

"Don't overreact, you idiot. I don't hate it." On the contrary, he loved it too much to be considered even remotely healthy, as evidenced by the dreams and their obvious (and still present) effect on him. "But one of us has to keep a level head and question it! This could be another damn story and I'm only limiting the risks."

Truth to be told, she really hadn't wondered about the cause. Her face grew even more scarlet, a mixture of aggravation, embarrassment, and…well, something else. "S-So what if I didn't think about it too much?! You and your dumb-dummy head acted like I didn't matter at all, even when I said those things and I hugged you and wanted to--!"

He interrupted her before she could say anymore, lest her words entice him to take her right then and there and make him regret it later. "You didn't have to know! All you had to do was wait at home and I would've fixed this on my own."

"So you really don't trust me!"

"This is about your safety!"

"Just because I'm a girl again doesn't mean something bad is going to happen!"

"I can't protect you if you won't do as I say!"

"What you say is stupid!" She shoved against him, throwing all her weight against his body, and he stumbled back to a sitting position on the chair behind him. Despite the fact that her face burned and she was straddling him, and the fact that he panicked as soon as the space between her legs brushed flush against his front, they never lost eye contact, eyes staring one another down. She wondered at the back of her mind what was poking at her from beneath, but didn't bother to stop and question it. "I thought we were best friends! I thought we were partners! I thought we were more than that! I thought this was our chance to be happy together!"

Fakir grit his teeth, pulling her forward to roughly squeeze her warm upper arms, inadvertently crushing her small chest up against him. His erection throbbed, begging him to just rip her clothes off and--!

"If we're going to be happy together, it will be because of my story and no one else! I'm going to be the one to give you what you want!"

"Do I have to throw you both out?!"

And with Autor's final threat, they broke, the closeness and heat almost suffocating in intensity.

In a matter of seconds, Fakir stood with her still in his grip and her legs around his hips, stumbled forward, pinned her into the nearest bookcase, and crushed his lips against hers in a desperate, frantic kiss. He couldn't handle it anymore. He needed to shut her up, and he could think of no other satisfying way to do it.

And Ahiru not only accepted it, but encouraged it as well, returning the bruised contact, prying her arms from his grip in favor of yanking at his hair, moaning against his lips. This was the attention she had been craving. The desire for his arms around her and his lips claiming hers for the first time almost had her melting in his hold, tightening her legs around him and relying on him to keep her upright. She had been wanting and wishing for her first kiss with Fakir, but she had no idea it would be anything remotely close to something like this. She thought of it often as a duck, wondering what Fakir's lips would feel like. Would he hold her hand or dance with her right before he would romantically pull her into his arms? Would he slowly tilt her chin up like a prince would do for his princess?

No. He wouldn't. And this was far better than anything she had imagined. While she never considered her first kiss to feel so hot and wild like this, she wouldn't have it any other way. It wasn't a kiss of fairytale princes and princesses. It was a kiss between a writer and his idiot, full of love, desire, and absolute frustration.

And she only wanted more of it.

Her lips parted, eager to taste more of him as he held her trapped up against the bookcase, the shelved digging into her back. The pain didn't matter; how could it when having him so closely pressed against her felt so good? It didn't hurt that Fakir was insanely good at kissing.

He was far too aroused to even think straight, not hesitating in plunging his tongue into her mouth when she had given him the access, the sweetness of her unique taste egging him on. One of his hands lowered to cup around her soft rear, squeezing the round cheek and pressing her hips into his own. He sandwiched her between his solid body and the bookcase behind her, effectively trapping the redhead completely. A deep, rumbling groan escaped him as he enthusiastically explored the expanse of her mouth, tongue slicking wetly across and around her own, trying to incite her to retaliate.

All rationality left within his clouded mind implored him to stop this. She didn't want this. She didn't understand this. He was taking advantage of her--!

And yet, the way she clung to him with equal fervor, kissing back eagerly and hands roaming through his thick, loose hair and over his shoulders and collarbone spoke otherwise. How could he possibly refuse the opportunity to make his fantasies a reality? Three long years of dreaming and longing… Safety or not, there was no going back now. He would deal with the consequences of his actions later. Much later.

If he did stop, Ahiru most certainly would force him into continuing. Initially, she was shocked to find his tongue in her mouth; she most certainly has never heard of doing that while kissing. All the same, she accepted it and enjoyed the intimacy of being explored in this way. She squeaked into his mouth when his hand found her backside, the hard, hot angles of his body manipulating her own softer and smaller form into fitting closer and perfectly with one another. Finding the strength to lash her tongue out against the intrusion of Fakir's probing muscle, their mouths battled messily with one another, soft pants and moans escaping from between their joined lips. All ready, Ahiru could feel a strange, unfamiliar warmth pooling in her lower abdomen and the area between her legs. She didn't exactly know what this feeling was, but it felt good, and if Fakir was the cause, it couldn't be a bad thing.

Story or not, they both had to wonder why Fakir didn't turn her into a human girl sooner.

There, now. The Shakespeare volumes were in complete, perfect order. Autor smirked in satisfaction. He could get so much done in complete silence.

For once, those two were staying quiet and doing what they were supposed to do.

Somehow, between one moment and the next, the two on the upper floor began to grind their hips against one another, panting heavily into the connection of their mouths as Fakir pressed her harder into the bookshelf behind her. He was all-too-aware of the dangers of this--the threat of another story, taking advantage of her, being a goddamn public library with Autor right downstairs--but Ahiru could care less, and her returned enthusiasm and encouragement simply forced him to submit to the overwhelming sensations of her center rubbing up so deliciously against him. Before she knew it, despite her inner confusion, the desire and frustration overwhelmed any sense she might've had left, and she lowered her hands to run up and down his front, fingertips fluttering over the exposed skin of his chest. He growled into her mouth, tongue curling around hers as she bucked her lower regions into his hips as much as she could in her restrained position in his arms.

Never one to let someone else take the lead, both of his hands supported her weight and gave a rough, hard squeeze to her backside, inciting a tiny yelp to escape her into his mouth. In return, she suckled hungrily on his tongue, her own running along his bottom lip.

As much as her noises sounded like music to his ears, he had to make sure she stayed quiet. And if he had any choice in the matter, he would give her a reason to scream. She deserved the torture for torturing him for so long. With that thought, he abruptly pulled his tongue from her mouth and disengaged from her lips entirely. He had to smirk at the utterly dismayed and huffy expression on her face. Lips swollen and eye cloudy and face flushed, it took every ounce of will to keep from capturing her lips once more. And, gosh, she wanted to be kissed again. Why did he have to stop?!

Angrily, she pushed her hips against his even harder, rolling up into the bulge of his pants. "Y-You can't just--!"

He dipped forward to nip at her bottom lip to repay her for her rather bold and electrifying maneuver. "Idiot. Be quiet. This is a library."

She whined quietly, eyes clenching tightly when Fakir resumed the movement between his aching erection and her burning center.

Autor shoved his hands in his pockets. He didn't really like it when he had nothing to do.

…Oh, no. He couldn't possibly be thinking that he'd rather have their noise! Finally, peace and quiet and he was suddenly wishing that their usual racket existed again?

He sighed. They were probably both hard at work if they were so silent. There was obviously something wrong with him.

Fakir's fingers quickly pushed the fabric of her thin panties away from her dripping core, calloused fingertips fluttering over the damp skin beneath, her brown skirt riding all the way up to her upper thighs as his hands continued to wander. Shuddering almost violently from the caresses and his attentions, Ahiru leaned forward to pepper soft kisses along the side of his neck, muffling soft whimpers that threatened to escape her. Her hands made good work of his shirt, leaving his front open for exploration. As his fingers ventured through her most sensitive, private regions, her own traced the expanse of his scar, as if trying to soothe and heal every wound of his body and soul.

They both noticed how much the other has grown. The girl in Fakir's arms, so warm and willing against him, was now a beautiful young woman. And was Fakir always this assertive? So strong and protective… It was a wonder that she hadn't noticed how utterly attractive he way at first sight. And they belonged to each other. No one else.

Soon enough, he began to realize that he simply couldn't wait any longer. He ached to be inside of her, needed to see her reach that crest of pleasure because of him. From the moisture coating his fingers and the heavy panting and clutch of her hands on his chest, he could absolutely tell that she needed it just as much as he did. For the both of them, now wasn't the time for thinking. They wanted to feel each other, no matter where they were. Even in the middle of the public library with Autor just downstairs.

Ahiru clung desperately to him as he pulled his hand away from her center much to her immediate dismay. That is, until she heard the distinct sound of a zipper being pulled. She didn't know exactly what was about to happen, but her body yearned for whatever he was about to do. Fakir knew what he was doing; she trusted him with every fiber of her being. Deep in her heart, she was certain he would take care of her.

Adjusting his hold around his backside with his other hand, Fakir fumbled to push down his pants and his boxers just far enough to free his aching, throbbing hardness.

God, he could feel her warmth all ready…

She shivered in anticipation, and he could feel the trembling body pressed against his own. As if in a small measure of warning, his rested his palm against the damp fabric of her panties, rubbing slow, soothing, stimulating strokes against her.

"Ahnn…" She breathed against his neck, fingers digging into his scalp. "Fakiiiiiir…"

…Just like his dream, dammit. His eyes clenched shut. "A-Are you…sure…?" After this, there would be no going back. He would have to face the consequences. She would have to experience the pain of the initial penetration. They would give their bodies to each other for the first time and, perhaps, the last time if this was only a story by another writer. This was the point of no return, and he had no idea if he would be able to stop once the threshold was crossed.

And yet, Ahiru was sure. She was so, very, sure about being with him. There would never be anyone else. And as far as Ahiru was concerned, she wanted to enjoy this moment while she was a girl. "Yes," she whispered breathlessly, "I need you…"

She braced herself as Fakir brought his hips down against hers, sheathing himself in her in one smooth, quick movement, pushing her fully against the bookcase, breaking the thin barrier, bridging the gap that had been separating them for so long. He filled her to the brim, and the ecstasy was instantaneous. Her tightness squeezed beautifully around his shaft, and it took every ounce of his dwindling will to keep from yelling out into the dimness of the library, candlelight flickering.

But, for Ahiru, it hurt.

He was bigger than she expected, stretching her to her limit and she struggled to adjust to his size. Tears prickled the corners of her eyes, her nails digging painfully into his shoulders. "Ah…It--!" Her legs struggled to keep their hold around his hips, and she leaned back to gain support from the bookcase behind her.

Regret and worry crashed down upon Fakir in waves, almost matching the intensity of the overwhelming pleasure assaulting his senses. They shouldn't have done this. They shouldn't have done this. They shouldn't have--!

And yet, she found the strength to reach up and caress his cheek, nibbling softly on his earlobe. "Just…gimme a sec…I…It's okay…A little time and…nngh--!" Part of her just knew that Fakir would be upset to see her hurt. And the last thing she wanted to do was stop. Despite the sharp pain of his penetration, she felt so wonderfully close to him in ways she hadn't even imagined before. Slowly, the pain was beginning to ebb away, giving way to something far more beautiful and breathtaking and warm. Finally, they were connected…

Leaning back from his neck, she gazed up at him with clouded blue eyes, watching the swirl of emotions brimming in his own green orbs. And with that look alone, they both knew that they were ready.

Ahiru moved forward to place a tiny, chaste kiss to his lips, only to receive a heated liplock in return, pushing her head back against the spines of the books sitting behind her. His tongue smoothed across the space between her lips, a vague apology for the pain she had to endure. He would make it worth her while, he swore to himself. He'd make it all up to her. The pain, the cold shoulder he had given her for the past two weeks…for everything.

Pushing her further against the bookcase, he slowly pulled out until only the tip of his member remained, and slid back into her tight entrance with a low groan, burying deep into her core with aid from her own lubrication. She stifled a gasp into his mouth, eyes clenching tightly.

The pain had dissipated completely.

Autor scanned the sheet music in front of him, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

…What could they possibly be focused on that could make them so quiet?

Ahiru was at his mercy now, her toes curling and breathing becoming more rapid as Fakir began to move; each thrust assaulted her with profound accuracy, forcing moans to rip from her throat as he possessed her body, the bookcase beginning to creak a bit as he rammed her against the wood. Ahiru struggled in his hold before lifting her arms to clutch at the bookshelf, grip turning white, needing something to grip as her body instinctively arched against him, pushing up to meet his thrusts. She gasped and arched her back harder, pleasure wrapping around her like a sheath, smothering her senses.

Fakir continued to rock his body solidly into hers, one hand squeezing her backside and the other clasping almost painfully tight over her mouth to keep her silent. Her nails scraped down the expanse of his back beneath his open shirt, and he bit down on her neck to stop himself from growling into the air of the library. He assailed her body mercilessly, forcing her toward the edge with explosive fury.

His thrusts spiraled out of control as he plunged in and out of her slick entrance, one of her shoes falling from her foot from the sheer power behind every stroke. She was so trapped, so restrained--his hand clamped over her mouth, his body plowing her into the bookcase, his breath against her neck--but his dominance over her was incredibly arousing (not that she'd ever admit to submitting to him). And he filled her so beautifully and completely, as if he was simply belonged inside of her. And Fakir could only focus on the intense tightness and sweetness of her body surrounding him on all sides, squeezing the life out of his penetrating shaft with every swift movement in and out of her core…

It was--It couldn't even be described, and they were simply too close to the edge of oblivion that they didn't even care to think on what was happening--!

And in an instant later, they reached that peak together, throwing their heads back, arching into one another, mouths open in silent screams as they convulsed with pleasure and an ecstasy that couldn't be attained any other way. White-hot sensations shot up and down their spines and they latched onto each other with growing desperation, unwilling to let this moment stop. They were blinded with liquid electricity as he released within her, his milky essence filling her as her own sweetness dripped over their legs.

A rather large volume fell from the bookcase.

Autor literally jumped when the silence was broken by the loud crash that came from the upper floor. After so many minutes of nothing but quiet, how could he not?!

Actually feeling grateful for the noise--not that he'd ever admit to that--he stomped up the stairs, ready to chew them out for their disturbances. It'd finally give him something to do, at least. And he knew that nothing was terribly wrong if there was some semblance of sound.

As soon as he stepped onto the second floor, his eyes narrowed. There they were, casually sitting at the desk, looking over a large book. Hah. A likely story. They were probably having a book fight behind his back! "Haven't I told you two enough to keep it down?!"

Fakir sent a glare over his shoulder. "Hn. Nevermind that. We're leaving." Slamming the book shut, the dark-haired writer, adjusted his rather wrinkled shirt--was it just Autor or were the buttons done through the wrong holes on his shirt?--and made his way past the bespectacled young man. Ahiru casually followed after him--holding his hand and walking a bit awkwardly and hair completely tangled in all places?--giving a rather glowing smile and a wave in Autor's direction.

And he stood there for a long while, even after they had left.

Was he missing something here?

"So I guess that means you're okay with me being a girl?"

Ahiru stopped in front of the entrance to their cottage, staring up at him with trusting, sparkling blue eyes, full of devotion and appreciation for what they had shared together. And he returned that with a not-frown. "…It's fine, I suppose."

Maybe it was simply a magic of a wish between the two of them. After all, why would anyone in their right mind write a story about an encounter like that in the middle of a public library?