So here she was (having cowardly run away), slumped over on a curb by the flower bed in the university's "music" garden. Mamori lamented her cruel fate and wrapped her arms around herself, burying her head into her knees. Hiruma would probably laugh in her face. She would never be able to look him in the eye again. She might even have to quit being the manager. Mamori chided herself for being overly dramatic. If anything, Hiruma would be blackmailing her to never quit as his personal manager, or rather, slave.

That's how Hiruma found her. He had known exactly where she would run to. She had loved the garden the moment he had black—I mean talked the university council into authorizing renovations for. She always came here during lunch to eat and study. Not that Hiruma had ever joined her, but he knew. The same way he knew she preferred pink peonies over red roses.

His spy network of course.

"Fuckin' manager," he began.

She clutched her arms tighter around herself.

"Fuckin' manager," he said again.

She continued to ignore him.

"Tch," he sighed. "Mamori!"

"Hiruma-kun," she answered miserably. She still wouldn't look at him, though. She was too distraught to lecture him about using her given name without permission.

"I thought we were past the honorifics?" he teased.

"Nnn..." she mumbled and let out a long sigh. "You saw it?"

Hiruma made an affirmative sound and sat down next to her. He made sure to sit close enough that his arm and legs would brush against her. This was going to be fun.

Mamori tensed but didn't pull away. After what felt like forever but was really only about ten seconds, Mamori couldn't stand it anymore. Best to get it over with, like ripping off a bandage, she thought. Slowly, Mamori lifted her head and looked straight ahead. She knew exactly what he had read, what he had seen in the magazine. She had looked at it in the store and it had cemented her resolved to hide the issue from everyone as long as she could. Which was now turning out to be not long at all.

"What are you going to do to me?" she finally asked.

"Nothing," he said slowly, staring at her profile. "Maybe everything," he continued after a slight pause.

Surprised and confused as to what he could mean, Mamori quickly looked at him before looking forward again. "What do you mean? Are you going to laugh at me now?"

Hiruma slowly turned his body to face her.

"Look at me," he commanded.

"I'd rather not," she grounded out between clenched teeth.

"Look at me," he commanded again with more authority.

"Hiruma..." she said softly.

At least she didn't use an honorific.

"What is this? You're afraid to look me in the eye?" he asked. "Is this the woman who stood up to Gaou? Remember Gaou? The guy who breaks bones like twigs? Big. Hairy. Neanderthal-looking. Is this the woman who dared to try to discipline the Demon of Deimon? Remember the Demon? Tall. Blond. Handsome. You know, the guy you're in lo—"

Before he could finish, Mamori whipped around and covered his mouth with her hand. When she realised what she had just done, she pulled her hand back and abruptly stood up with the intent to run away. Where to? She didn't know, but anywhere where she didn't have to look at that damn Hiruma. How dare he make jokes at a time like this. She was in a love crisis here. It was. Not. Funny.

Hiruma grabbed her arm and pulled. Mamori lost her balance and fell right into his arms. With a few adjustments he had her exactly where he wanted her. In his lap.

Mamori made a strangled sound. "I can't believe you're enjoying my embarrassment like this!" she managed to squeak and tried to wiggle free.

"Stop it!" he said.

When she continued to wiggle he pulled her tighter against him and slightly ground his pelvis against her backside. Mamori froze instantly.

Hiruma grinned and whispered, "If you don't shut up, sit still, and let me talk, I'll show you again how much I'm enjoying this."

Mamori was mortified. That better be a gun in his pocket. She could feel her face heating up with an intense blush so she covered her face with her hands.

Hiruma gave her a quick, tight squeeze before relaxing his arms slightly, but still not letting her go. "Mamori, look at me, please," he requested politely.

It took her a moment but Mamori slowly put her hands on her lap and turned to face him. Slowly, ever so slowly, she struggled to bring her eyes up to his. The moment her eyes finally met his, they were both captured. Neither could look away.

Hiruma had only ever called her Mamori in jest, when he was making fun of the way Sena and the others called her Mamori-nee or Mamo-nee. Usually, it was "fuckin' manager".

"Mamori," Hiruma whispered her name. He knew he would have to be the one to make the first move if he ever wanted his fantasy to come true. It was bad enough that her secret had come out like this, and he could only imagine how horribly embarrassed she must be feeling. He didn't want to scare her away by teasing anymore. Now that her love for him was confirmed to the world, he could express himself without fear of rejection.

Fear of rejection. It's the only reason anyone needs to never speak of their love and Hiruma had never intended to let her or anyone know of his. He had feared rejection. Mamori, perfect Mamori, and Hiruma, the devil Hiruma.

"Fucking manager," he laughed humorously. "I'm only going to say this once, so you better be fuckin' listening carefully. "

Mamori tensed as Hiruma took a deep breath and exhaled heavily.

"You don't know," he began gently as one hand began stroking her back while the other remained resting on her hip. "How long I've been fantasing about this. About you."After a pregnant pause during which Mamori stopped breathing, he continued while maintaining eye contact, "About us."

Mamori's eyes widened.

Hiruma smiled ruefully. "I always thought you were too good for me," he rushed to say. "So I tried to distance myself by refusing to say your name. But I've always wondered what it would be like if you were mine. How would your lips taste? When I watch you eating, I'm jealous of your spoon because it gets to touch your lips." Hiruma blushed and admitted, "that was really corny, but it's true."

He waited for her reaction. She continued to look into his eyes, searching for a sign of deception. Mamori was so afraid to believe that this was all real, that it wasn't some elaborate, cruel hoax on his part. She was hoping that is wasn't a dream.

Before she could change her mind, Mamori leaned in and gently pressed her lips against his.

Hiruma felt his heart skip a beat and as Mamori started to pull away, his hands came up to tangle in her long hair as he crushed his lips against her. Running the tip of his tonge along the seam of her mouth, he convinced her to open up to his sweet assault of her senses. One hand gripped the back of her head to keep her from pulling away as he plundered her sweetness in a bid to conquer heaven. She tasted even better than he could have ever imagined in all his dirty fantasies. His other hand slid under her shirt to caress the soft skin of her back.

After a period that was clearly not long enough for Hiruma, Mamori managed to pull away after tenderly nibbling on his lower lip one last time.

"Hiruma," she sighed.

"Yoichi," he replied. "I want you to call me Yoichi."

"Yoichi," she smiled.

"I was going to make you scream it, too," he added. "But I'll let you off the hook here since you've already been embarrassed enough already."

Mamori blushed at the reminder as Hiruma loosened his arm and allowed her to stand on shaky legs.

"So," Hiruma started casually as he pulled a packet of gum out of his pocket, unwrapped a stick and popped it into his mouth. "We're officially dating now?" He asked, wanting her official affirmation.

"Yes, Y-Yoichi," stuttered Mamori, somewhat shyly.

Good, he thought, how he could redirect some of his resources. Once word spreads that they were officially a couple, no other man would be trying to approach her. His "Manager Protection" division would no longer be tasked with discouraging romantic interest in his Mamori, and they could now be reassigned. To the "Girlfriend Protection" division. He grinned.

Standing up, he offered Mamori his arm. "Let's go, fuckin' girlfriend!"

"Yoichi," Mamori resignedly sighed as she took his arm.

Leaning down, he tenderly kissed the top of her head and said one more time, "Fuckin' girlfriend."

The End.