The weapons of a woman

“The thing you want most, Charles, I can give to you.”

 

The tip of her nose brushed against his, and he shied away as best as he could, until the arm of the couch prevented him from going any further.

 

“What do you–?”

 

Her red lips curved upwards into a wicked smirk, sending chills down the Music club president’s spine.

 

“You don’t need to play pretend, you know,” she spoke in a low purr that warmed the small space of air between them. “You don’t need a fake family, when you have your own. Your mother…”

 

Charles’s eyes went wide and he sat up quickly, momentarily forgetting their close proximity, and grateful that she leaned back with him as he moved, to keep their foreheads from knocking.

 

“How do you know—?” He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t form a complete sentence—maybe the too dim lighting in the room, maybe the glint in her eyes, maybe the heavy and not good feeling forming in the pit of his stomach.

 

“Charles, I can help you see your mother again.” She paused there, to see the way his shoulders stiffened and his eyes started to swim, as the words sank in. “I can do that, if you agree to marry me.”

 

“Wh-What? What kind of deal is that?”

 

She blinked, batting her lashes in mock innocence.

 

“It was your grandmother’s idea.”

 

His expression hardened then and he turned his head to the side, making sure his glare wasn’t directed at her as he muttered, “Of course it was.”

 

“Well, if you don’t like, you don’t have to do it.” She said, sitting up straight and looking ahead with an air of disinterest. “After all, you’ve gone this long without seeing your mother.” She turned her head to look at him then, quirking an eyebrow. “Haven’t you?”

 

His eyes met hers in an incredulous stare. He could barely believe what he was hearing.

 

“You’re serious?”

 

“Very.” She pushed him down on his back, keeping her hand pressed firmly on his chest, keeping him there. With her free hand, she pushed slightly at the short sleeves of her dress, easing them over her shoulders. She couldn’t help the swell of pride she felt when his eyes darted below her collarbone and down, and his cheeks reddened. “And if the prospect of meeting your mother isn’t tempting enough…”

 

“Believe me, it is.” He swallowed audibly. “But I—”

 

“Then, consider this a preview of things to come, fiancé.” The word slipped like syrup through her lips, lips which were smiling and moving closer. And then she was kissing him.

 

And he was sitting there—well, lying there—letting her kiss him, because he couldn’t think of a polite way to ask her to stop. And because he wanted to see his mother. And because…this suddenly seemed like the right thing to do. Marrying her. Moving to France. Dissolving the Music Club. He was being selfish, keeping them all in the group, forcing them into roles of his pretend family. He closed his eyes as he felt Éclair’s hand on his chest start to move; he saw the image of Laurent being hit by his father. He felt guilty, and he knew he would feel the way every time he laid eyes on his best friend’s face.

 

“Charles.” Her voice broke his train of thought; he opened his eyes. “What are you thinking about?”

 

“Nothing.” He lifted his hands to place them on her bare shoulders, caressing the skin lightly with his fingertips. “You.”

 

“Liar,” she smirked, removing his vest and starting on the buttons of his shirt. “But, keep going.”

 

He kissed her, moved to tangle his fingers in her hair. He got goose bumps where her hands stroked at his revealed flesh. Her dress started to fall, lower and lower, as she shifted and situated herself on the couch, halfway on top of him. His mind and heart were racing—I shouldn’t be doing this, what would Anna think? Maybe she’d be jealous? Jealous? Really? Oh, Anna—and then he remembered. He remembered that Anna wanted to be a lawyer, and that was why she was at Ouran in the first place. Studying to become a lawyer would be hard work for her; it would take a lot of time. Time that he had helped her waste by making her pay off her debt as a Music. He’d been standing in the way of her dream. He really was selfish.

 

A soft moan sounded close to his ear; apparently, thinking about Anna had caused his body to react in ways that Éclair approved of. He moved to bring his mouth to her neck, kissing along the stretch of her neck. Her hands moved down and started to work; he felt his body go warm, despite himself, as she tugged down at his pants and pressed tight against him, the material of her dress riding up to her waist. She rolled her hips and his head fell back, lips parted in a silent gasp. It felt good. He wished it didn’t, but it did, and he couldn’t help the way he jerked against her in response.

 

“I want you to tell your club about us,” she said into his ear as she moved again; she smirked and felt powerful at his shaky intake of breath.

 

“Yes,” he said, moving his hands to feel the skin of her back.

 

“Speaking of which, about the club…”

 

“It’s over.”

 

She lifted her head to look at him from under seductively lowered lashes.

 

“What?”

 

“I’m dissolving the club.”

 

She was momentarily surprised, but it passed quickly, and she dipped her head to kiss him firmly, feeling pleased and in control. Charles kissed back, and though his body was happy with his current situation, he just felt guilty, regretful, and lost. And though he had the promise of seeing his mother to keep him going, he had the feeling that he was going to be very lonely from now on.