Hello, everyone! I've revisited this story and edited grammatical and typographical what-nots in each chapter. Mostly, I did it for my own satisfaction, but of course, I did it to prevent you readers from twinge-ing (And I know from experience-I twinge a lot when I see errors...just my own thing.

Before you plow further, I have to warn my dear readers that I have this bad habit of leaving my fics un-updated for quite a while. But that doesn't mean I won't finish it at all. So, before you ask, yes, I do intend to finish this however, the updates may take a while since I am quite busy with school. I am quite slow when writing chapters, too, so there. Don't say I didn't warn you!

I accept rants, so long as they make sense and are connected as a review to the story. Criticisms are accepted; I am but a human after all and make mistakes, too. Anyways, I love reviews...in fact, I sort of thrive in them, especially when they're long and wordy. It's a way for me to know my readers as well. ;)

Disclaimer: The amazing Kaichou wa Maid-sama belongs to Fujiwara Hiro

The Maid Turns Clinical!

Prologue

The lacey skirt hiked up her thighs when he cupped her hips, lifting her against him. His mouth trailed slowly down her neck, nipping and leaving his mark as he went further. The rumble on her throat—a cross between a moan and a whimper—excited him. Feverish, he ripped her blouse open, revealing twin buds of hardened nipples protruding through the thin undershirt she wore.

"Tiny," he murmured as he thumbed each protrusion simultaneously, and her already red face went a darker shade.

"You—!" but stopped short of a gasp when his mouth—his warm mouth—swooped down over her left breast. Her hands gripped his back for support as an onslaught of unwanted pleasure swept through her. When he suckled, drawing the combined taste of clean fabric and her, she threw her head up and bit back the scream which fought to climb out of her. Her breaths came fast and hard, a mad synchrony with his equally harsh breaths.

As his attentions went to her other breast, her thoughts went fuzzy—she briefly forgot they were in a cold alley, that her back was pressed violently against concrete. She forgot that the only reason she was here was because she was running away and had no choice; that she wanted to be the master of her own fate, and circumstances can't make her do something she didn't want to do.

She didn't want this—this was her very last thought before the desire exploded in her.

Takumi Usui peered into her face—dazed eyes and face flushed with desire. He gripped her harder against him; he wanted to be inside her now. If this were any other prostitute, he would have fucked her senseless against the wall and tucked a bill neatly between her breasts. But this one was different; after all, her reasons for doing this were different from all others, twisted as they are.

Salvation, he thought grimly and looked at her face, guilty of the pleasure she didn't want to feel.

He will make her feel it, he promised. He will make her remember that she wanted him to be ultimately her first.

"Look at me." When she did, she realized how beautiful his eyes were; for a fleeting moment, she wished it was a little brighter so she could clearly see the emerald quality of those irises.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, keeping desire in check with that very thin wire of control. Her round brown eyes were already sleepy with desire but he asked nonetheless; he wanted her to realize her mistake, her powerlessness in such a situation.

She chuckled bitterly, somehow regaining control of herself. "You're seriously asking a honker for a honk? Is that a habit of yours?"

"No," he admitted. "You must be special, Misa-chan."

She bit her lower lip. He knew her nickname; he must have heard that from the guys running after her. The blasted pimp—when he heard she was a virgin—tried to sell her off to a rich middle-aged client with a fetish for popping cherries. She took one look at the man's greedy hands and lewd eyes then turned tail. Unfortunately, the bastard had his bodyguards chasing her—how in the world did they even get her name? Did it even matter?

Seeing the wheels in her head turn, Usui grinded his hip against her and other thoughts went fuzzy again. Think! Control yourself! Remember why you're doing this!

He smiled. "Well, Misa-chan, why are you doing this?"

Did I actually say that out loud? He licked the side of her neck and bit not too gently the base of her neck. Electric shots of desire made her shiver but she managed to gasp in reply. "I alre-ready told you w-why!"

"You expect me to believe," he murmured softly as he trailed his fingers down to her pelvis, found the wetness, and nudged experimentally on the tender skin. When he pressed against that little nub, she moaned and he continued. "You expect me to believe that you're doing this because you want your first time to be someone you chose, instead of someone who is buying you?"

Gritting her teeth, she nodded. At that, he viciously plunged his fingers into her incredibly tight and wet orifice; when she actually screamed, he trapped her scream with his mouth. He pulled and pushed his way into her relentlessly, making sure that each stroke went in and touched the delicate nub at the same time. He was aware of her peaking and coming, her fluids coating his fingers, dripping down to the wrist as she convulsed against him each time. She scratched his back, both in pleasure and agony, almost tearing his shirt. He swallowed all her screams until she was hoarse. Her thighs were almost limp against his torso but he supported them and crushed her further against the wall. She must be aching, but he hardly cared.

When he stopped, his own member was throbbing almost painfully in his pants but he tried not to heed it. Both their breathings were harsh.

"Was that what you wanted?" he asked.

"You haven't really fucked me yet," she panted hoarsely.

"I know."

"Do it."

Usui looked at her, really looked at her. Her face was covered with sweat and she smelled exactly of both salt and sex. But the expression on her eyes, though tired, was both challenging and furious. He shook his head in amazement; here they were, in a seedy alley, her legs wrapped around him, his fingers still deep into her, and she still had it in her to glare at him as though she had the upper hand. "You could do this—with someone special, Misa." He dropped the "-chan" altogether and pulled out his fingers agonizingly slow, eliciting another shudder from her; he licked the wetness which oozed of her sex up to the base of his wrist. "That's why I was hesitant."

Helplessly, Misaki raised her hands briefly and chuckled. "This doesn't look hesitant."

"That's why I said 'was'. I wanted to scare you at first, see how you would react. Now I see you really are serious about this."

She didn't say anything, couldn't. Her eyes ached and tears threatened to spill out. But she wouldn't let this man—this stranger—see her cry.

"Before I do this, tell me first—why me," he asked.

Clearing her throat, she answered. "It was random."

"Bullshit. Why me?"

She looked away. "You—you seemed trustworthy."

"Bullshit again. You don't know me, Misa. I could be a rapist, or a serial killer for all you know. Why me?"

Misaki gulped. He continued, "When you were running earlier, your eyes widened when you saw me, as though you knew me from somewhere. And then you pulled me with you in the chase and dragged me in this alley."

She closed her eyes. She suddenly realized how uncomfortable her position was and she eased herself by leaning in to embrace him, her head hanging over his shoulder. After everything, shame should no longer be an issue to her. "I—saw you before…you were always in the park. I had a sideline there before, selling cotton candy."

Vaguely, he remembered a cotton candy stand in the park but didn't remember the woman selling there. And frowned. "I don't remember you."

"That's natural—it was a short sideline—around 3 days or so. I was just filling in—there was a kid there who got lost. He was crying. I was about to go to help when you approached him and helped him find his mommy." Her eyes softened at the memory. "I just thought you might be a nice person, even though you always seemed bored and lonely."

He grinned. "Funny. It's the first time I've been described as lonely by anyone."

Her eyes went back to meet his. "Aren't you?"

They were silent. Gently, he let her down from her position yet her arms remained wound around his neck for support.

"Hey! Don't back out on me!" she said furiously.

"I'm not. But if I am going to be the first to fuck you, don't you want it to be a little more special? It's bad enough that I'm a complete stranger."

He covered her with the coat he had taken off earlier and carried her over his shoulder as though she were dead weight.

"H-hey! Where are you bringing me?"

"In a hotel."

"But they might find me—"

"I'm bringing you to a different hotel—but we'll still do it, I promise. The first time should be a better memory than a dim alley."

She huffed. "Well. You're pretty old-fashioned, aren't you?"

He ignored the comment. "What's your real name?"

"Misaki. Just—just Misaki."

He stared, then shook his head. "Fine then. I'm Usui. Just Usui. And when I fuck you like hell, I want you to scream out my name over and over. Do you understand?"

The tone of his voice made her remember the sensation of fingers plugged deep inside her; she shuddered again, knowing she would be doing just that. "Y-yes."

"Good," and he walked off and hailed a cab. When they were secure at the back of the ride, he ordered the driver to bring them to The Diamond Hotel.

Five-star, she realized dimly. Whoever this man was, he's very rich.

"Usui?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

He shrugged, not really understanding why she was thanking him in the first place. Nevertheless, he answered. "No problem"

That happened half a year ago, mused Usui Takumi as he read the morning papers. Truth be told, it was not habitual for him to buy a fuck; most women would gladly spread their legs wide for him to ravish. Nevertheless, she was his last fuck in six months.

Isn't "made love" the better term? He mused, wondering why he was pondering over semantics. Regardless of what was, he had been on a sabbatical since then. A whole year ago, he dropped out from medical school; in anger and disillusion, he wasted money on casinos and women. Somehow that one encounter enacted a chain reaction of change in him; needless to say, he was a far cry from who he was then to who he is now.

Funny how one night with a strange woman changed his life.

Too bad he never saw her again.

And what would you have done if you see her again?

He shrugged to himself and drank the coffee he personally brewed in three long gulps. He stretched his sinewy arms and finally stood up. Today, class starts again. Today, he returns to the world of medicine, and this time, there won't be any stopping. This time, he will succeed.

"Seika Medical School," he murmured satisfactorily to himself as he slung his black backpack. "You better be ready for me."

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