(Slightly 18+)
The expensive room, with its heavy velvet drapes and polished mahogany furniture, was now bathed in the soft, golden light of late afternoon. The earlier tension from the intellectual "exercise" had completely faded, replaced by a strange, heavy quiet that seemed to hum with unspoken desires. Hours had passed since Mei's surprising, almost naughty smile, and Kyouya's chilling invitation to his private sanctuary.
Now, Kyouya sat on his vast, opulent bed, the rich silk blanket pulled up to his waist, barely concealing the muscular plane of his stomach. A sprawl of academic papers, covered in complex equations, intricate diagrams, and meticulous notes, lay scattered across the duvet. He moved a sheet of paper, his fingers brushing against a particularly dense mathematical derivation, his eyes scanning the data with the same unwavering, almost obsessive focus he applied to everything in his life. The test results, the raw intellectual output of his chosen subjects, were his new obsession.
Mei was beside him, her head bowed in silent devotion. She was already naked, a stark contrast to her usual demure maid uniform, her pale skin glowing softly in the subdued light filtering through the heavy curtains. Her movements were graceful, almost ethereal, as she attended to him, a silent priestess in a private ritual. She worshipped the enormous, masculine part of him with a quiet reverence that was both incredibly intimate and unsettling in its intensity. Her touch was feather-light, yet deeply profound, as if she were tracing the very blueprint of his power. This was a new way for them to interact, a physical manifestation of the betrayal she'd so readily embraced, a willing surrender to a different kind of master. She waited on him, a servant to his desires and his sharp, calculating mind, her earlier hesitation and divided loyalty a distant memory in the charged, thick atmosphere of his private sanctuary.
After a long, quiet moment, broken only by the rustle of papers and the soft slide of her hand, Mei spoke. Her voice was a low murmur, a sound almost out of place amidst the crisp academic sheets. "Kyouya-sama," she began, her touch on him light, almost pleading. "About the test results... if it would please you, could Himari-sama win?"
Kyouya paused, his pen hovering over a complex math problem, a theoretical solution to the pool's calculus. A sharp, humorless scoff escaped him, a sound that cut through the silence like a razor. He didn't even turn to look at her, his gaze still fixed on the numbers. "Ridiculous," he stated, his voice flat, devoid of any warmth or compromise. "The results of this experiment are purely objective. Based only on academic skill. To change them would compromise the integrity of the data."
Mei's hand, which had been stroking him with a gentle rhythm, stopped. Her usually composed face, which rarely betrayed anything beyond polite neutrality, showed a quick flicker of cold disappointment, a brief crack in her mask, before it smoothed back into its customary emotionless mask. He noticed it, of course. His gaze, though still fixed on the papers, seemed to see right through her, observing every minute shift in her expression, filing it away as more data.
A subtle annoyance pricked at him, a minor dissonance in his carefully constructed world. He wasn't looking for sentiment, especially not now. He put his pen down with a soft click, finally turning to face her, his expression unreadable. He reached out, his fingers tracing the delicate line of her jaw, a feather-light touch that held an undercurrent of something far more possessive.
"You know, Mei," he began, his voice softer now, almost thoughtful, a low rumble in his chest that resonated against her bowed head. "During our... time earlier. You were incredibly still. Like a doll, almost. Completely blank." He paused, his gaze drifting from her jaw to her face, a hint of something like frustration, a tiny spark of irritation, flickering in his eyes. He'd never say it aloud, not to her, not to anyone – the very idea was antithetical to his calculated persona – but for his first time... a little more reaction would've been nice. A little more fire. A little less perfect, emotionless composure.
Mei's gaze, still holding that blank quality, met his. There was no defiance, no shame, only a stark, unwavering candor. "I didn't want to get emotionally involved," she stated, her voice flat, devoid of the soft murmurs she'd used moments before, devoid of any warmth. "It complicates the data. And the objective."
A low growl rumbled deep in Kyouya's chest, a sound that was less annoyance now and more a spark igniting into a roaring flame. "Complicates the data?" he scoffed, his eyes narrowing, the dark pupils widening. "You misunderstand, Mei. Emotion is data. The rawest, most volatile, most revealing kind of data there is. And you, my dear, are about to provide me with a wealth of it." His voice dropped, becoming a low, fervent murmur, laced with a dark possessiveness that sent a shiver through Mei, thrilling and terrifying her all at once.
He tossed the papers aside with a sudden, decisive motion, the soft rustle barely audible over the sudden acceleration of his breath, a sharp intake of air that spoke of surging desire. The silk blanket fell away, pooling around his hips, revealing the full, undeniable power of his form, the hard planes of his stomach and thighs. With a swift, predatory movement, he pulled her off the floor, his hand gripping her waist, swinging her onto the bed beside him. She landed with a soft gasp, her eyes wide, no longer emotionless, as he loomed over her, his shadow enveloping her.
"Objective, you say?" His voice was a low, resonant thrum, laced with a dark possessiveness that sent a thrill, sharp and dangerous, through Mei. "Then let me show you true objectivity. Let me show you what it means to be truly worshipped."