Ouran High School Host Club Fan Fiction ❯ Product of Excellent Breeding ❯ Product of Excellent Breeding 2 ( Chapter 2 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Rowenpoe 
"You truly are a beautiful person Ranka" Kyoya meant that.
Anime/Manga: Ouran High School Host Club Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Hentai / Romance / Angst / Shounen | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 06.13.2012 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.0K | Visits: 207 | Status: Work In Progress
"You truly are a beautiful person Ranka" Kyoya meant that.
Anime/Manga: Ouran High School Host Club Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Hentai / Romance / Angst / Shounen | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 06.13.2012 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.0K | Visits: 207 | Status: Work In Progress
Product of Excellent Breeding 2
Rioyi Fujioka or rather Ranka walks out of the Okama bar at 3 am. He is exhausted, it was a very busy night at the bar and he can’t wait to go home. With one final goodbye to his okama colleagues, Ranka buttons up his coat, hoists his purse on his shoulder, and starts the forty-five minutes’ walk home, a walk in high-heels mind you as much as his feet hurt.
Barely a few blocks away from the bar a sudden chill runs the length of his spine, and the sensation of being watched creeps over him. He glances nervously over his shoulder but the deep shadows in the alleys and the poor lighting on the sidewalk makes it impossible for him to see who, if anyone, is lurking about. He tries to shake the uneasy feeling, but it only intensifies, growing more paranoid with every step, making him walk a little faster. After all, though rare as the events are, it wouldn’t be the first time a little too enamored costumer fallows him around. With that thought fear grips him as he realizes that; if he is indeed being fallowed and he knows this is the case, he can’t go home. No, it would put his precious daughter in danger.
Thinking quickly Ranka decides to turn left instead of right and almost double back his way to the bar. After a few more blocks, and an eternity of pretending to be calmly walking home, the okama stops at the entrance of an apartment complex, much like the one he himself resides in if only a little bigger and nicer. The lights in the apartment 107 are on and Ranka could’ve cried in relief, a few more meters and he’d be safe. It takes all his will not to run, but casually walk to the door, he fishes a ring of keys from his purse and as he unlocks the door he calls in.
“Honey, Ranka is home!”
To anyone it would’ve sounded like a cheerful greeting. In truth it has the resident of the apartment reaching for the baseball bat next to the night stand, and hurrying out to receive the newcomer.
Ranka saw the shadow of his friend in the hallway “Welcome home love,” he hears the familiar voice say and he closes the door behind him. Leaning against it he sags in relief, his purse sliding down his arm and falling on the floor forgotten.
The man walks into the room bat in hand and peers out the window scanning the street. After a few minutes he can see a suspicious man lurking outside.
“Do you recognize him?”
Ranka’s eyes go wide and his heart skips a beat. He had hoped he was just being overly paranoid. He peers out and with a sinking feeling he nods.
“He was at the bar tonight. He was being a little forceful so I had to seek Satake on him. He went screaming and kicking all the way to the street. I hoped it be the end of it,” Ranka explains with trepidation.
After a few tense minutes the man finally walks away. The moment the lurker is out of sight Ranka sinks to the floor, one arm wrapped protectively around his middle, the other covers his trembling lips; his entire frame shakes like a leaf.
Alarmed the owner of the apartment drops the bat and kneels before the distressed okama. “He’s gone, you are safe,” he reassured embracing Ranka gently.
The transvestite clings to the man, hiccupping as tears run down and smudge his make-up along his cheeks.
The man just hugs him whispering soothing words until Ranka calms down.
Pulling away from the embrace Ranka reaches for his forgotten purse.
“I’m sorry you had to see that, Seii,” he apologizes fishing for a handkerchief in his purse. “I’m also sorry for barging in unannounced, and bring you trouble at such late hour,” he dabs at the streaks of dark, run-down mascara he knows are staining his face. “But I really didn’t know what else to do. I just couldn’t lead that man home; not with Haruhi alone there almost every night,” the last comes out a little choked but Ranka manages to keep control.
“It’s no problem, I understand; and you did the right thing, ensuring your daughter’s safety. You are always welcome in my home Rioyi,” the man said with a smile. “Come, help yourself to a hot shower; I’ll heat you some miso and rice, and call Haruhi to let her know you are staying the night in case that guy is still out there.”
“Thanks Seiichiro,” Ranka says softly and makes his way to the bathroom.
Seiichiro was a close friend of Kotoko, Ranka’s late wife. A fellow senior law student that had helped Kotoko start her lawyer career, and has kept close contact with the Fujioka family long after her death. He is a tall, well-built man, no more than a couple of years older than Ranka himself, with eyes the color of terracotta and light brown hair streaked with silvery strands at the sides –that testify not to his age but the stress of working in a court of law. Seiishiro has an open honest smile and gentle disposition. He has never judged Ranka’s way of life and respects the way in which he is educating his daughter, offering to help Haruhi with her dream of becoming a lawyer, as he did with her mother.
After a shower Ranka finds himself sitting on the floor at Seii’s table; make-upless, hair bundled up with a couple of pins and dressed in a decidedly too large t-shirt and sweatpants; a steaming cup of miso and a bowl of plain rise before him.
“How is Haruhi?” the father asks.
“Worried, naturally,”
Ranka flinches, he hates to be such a burden on his daughter. Sometimes it feels like he is the child and she is the parent.
“I assured her you are safe and she said to tell you: ‘be careful and goodnight dad’. Now eat.”
Ranka eats in silence; Seii pretends to work on a case’s files, while he watches the other man intently until he finished his meager meal, the lawyer retrieves the dishes and puts them in the sink.
“What do you plan to do with that guy?” he asks.
The transvestite sighs, “There is nothing I can do. He comes to the bar from time to time, but not enough to be a regular and like with most other costumer I’ll bet he uses an alias. I can only alert the security guys and hope it gets better without getting worst.”
Seii walks back to the table; this time he kneels behind Ranka, his hands reaching up to massage the okama’s tense shoulders, kneading the muscles gently.
“You should be accompanied at all times Rioyi. I can pick you up at the bar for a few nights, bring you home with me, seeing you accompanied might discourage the stalker,” Seii suggests pressing his lips to take the base of Ranka’s neck, he lets his hands slide down to wrap his arms around the slim waist.
Ranka lets himself relax against the lawyer. Since Kotoko’s death, Seii and he had become very close, in more ways than one. The man had become quite taken with the okama and they had evolved into fuck-buddies according to Ranka, though Seii preferred the term friends with benefits, hence the reason why Ranka has the keys to man’s apartment.
“I’ve missed you Rioyi,” Seii whispers in Ranka’s ear. Licking the curved shell softly, the large hands slide under the loose shirt to caress a flat stomach making the younger man shiver.
“Ranka,” the okama corrects.
The lawyer chuckles “Of course, come to bed Ranka,” he concedes, using the stage name the transvestite preferred to be called by whenever they engaged in sex. As if to save Rioyi only to Kotoko and her memory.
It’s almost noon when Ranka wakes up feeling content and warm.
This is not my room, is his first thought. As he tries to awaken his groggy mind he becomes aware of the muscular chest spooning his back, the heavy but comforting arm draped over his waist, the powerful thick thigh squeezed teasingly between his own and the hot, soft breath tickling his neck.
Seiichiro, his mind concludes as he remembers why he had come to the man’s house. Ranka allows himself a moment to feel safe and cared for. He basks in the companionship for a long moment until a misplaced but relentless feeling of guilt starts to gnaw at him. Slowly he extricates himself from his cuddly bed partner, careful not to wake him; they had a very late night verging in early morning and after imposing on the lawyer the least he can do is let him rest. In the meantime he will clean up, text Haruhi to let her know he’d be home by the time she returned from school, then make some coffee and maybe a late breakfast as thanks for Seii.
He is distracted at the stove when a pair of strong arms wrap around him, the gesture so familiar by now that he lets himself fall back in Seiichiro’s embrace.
“Hmm, it smells good,” the older man says nuzzling the okama’s neck.
“Me or the breakfast?” Ranka inquires with a chuckle.
“Well I would say you, but flattery won’t get me anywhere and it won’t get you back in to my bed, so I’m gonna say food,”
“Well thanks for the honesty and good morning to you too,” the younger man says in mock irritation and a playful swat with the spatula.
Seii laughs and pulls away from the red head to serve himself some coffee.
After eating, Ranka prepares to go home.
“Are you sure you are alright?” Seii asks concern.
“I am, thanks for everything Seiichiro,” he assures the lawyer and gives him a warm smile when the older man helps him with his coat.
“It’s my pleasure Rioyi. You should drop by more often, you are always welcome in my home, and in my bed Ranka,” Seii says sincerely handing the okama his purse.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he gives Seii an affectionate peck on the cheek, as he walks out he throws a wink “Ciao.”
Rioyi Fujioka or rather Ranka walks out of the Okama bar at 3 am. He is exhausted, it was a very busy night at the bar and he can’t wait to go home. With one final goodbye to his okama colleagues, Ranka buttons up his coat, hoists his purse on his shoulder, and starts the forty-five minutes’ walk home, a walk in high-heels mind you as much as his feet hurt.
Barely a few blocks away from the bar a sudden chill runs the length of his spine, and the sensation of being watched creeps over him. He glances nervously over his shoulder but the deep shadows in the alleys and the poor lighting on the sidewalk makes it impossible for him to see who, if anyone, is lurking about. He tries to shake the uneasy feeling, but it only intensifies, growing more paranoid with every step, making him walk a little faster. After all, though rare as the events are, it wouldn’t be the first time a little too enamored costumer fallows him around. With that thought fear grips him as he realizes that; if he is indeed being fallowed and he knows this is the case, he can’t go home. No, it would put his precious daughter in danger.
Thinking quickly Ranka decides to turn left instead of right and almost double back his way to the bar. After a few more blocks, and an eternity of pretending to be calmly walking home, the okama stops at the entrance of an apartment complex, much like the one he himself resides in if only a little bigger and nicer. The lights in the apartment 107 are on and Ranka could’ve cried in relief, a few more meters and he’d be safe. It takes all his will not to run, but casually walk to the door, he fishes a ring of keys from his purse and as he unlocks the door he calls in.
“Honey, Ranka is home!”
To anyone it would’ve sounded like a cheerful greeting. In truth it has the resident of the apartment reaching for the baseball bat next to the night stand, and hurrying out to receive the newcomer.
Ranka saw the shadow of his friend in the hallway “Welcome home love,” he hears the familiar voice say and he closes the door behind him. Leaning against it he sags in relief, his purse sliding down his arm and falling on the floor forgotten.
The man walks into the room bat in hand and peers out the window scanning the street. After a few minutes he can see a suspicious man lurking outside.
“Do you recognize him?”
Ranka’s eyes go wide and his heart skips a beat. He had hoped he was just being overly paranoid. He peers out and with a sinking feeling he nods.
“He was at the bar tonight. He was being a little forceful so I had to seek Satake on him. He went screaming and kicking all the way to the street. I hoped it be the end of it,” Ranka explains with trepidation.
After a few tense minutes the man finally walks away. The moment the lurker is out of sight Ranka sinks to the floor, one arm wrapped protectively around his middle, the other covers his trembling lips; his entire frame shakes like a leaf.
Alarmed the owner of the apartment drops the bat and kneels before the distressed okama. “He’s gone, you are safe,” he reassured embracing Ranka gently.
The transvestite clings to the man, hiccupping as tears run down and smudge his make-up along his cheeks.
The man just hugs him whispering soothing words until Ranka calms down.
Pulling away from the embrace Ranka reaches for his forgotten purse.
“I’m sorry you had to see that, Seii,” he apologizes fishing for a handkerchief in his purse. “I’m also sorry for barging in unannounced, and bring you trouble at such late hour,” he dabs at the streaks of dark, run-down mascara he knows are staining his face. “But I really didn’t know what else to do. I just couldn’t lead that man home; not with Haruhi alone there almost every night,” the last comes out a little choked but Ranka manages to keep control.
“It’s no problem, I understand; and you did the right thing, ensuring your daughter’s safety. You are always welcome in my home Rioyi,” the man said with a smile. “Come, help yourself to a hot shower; I’ll heat you some miso and rice, and call Haruhi to let her know you are staying the night in case that guy is still out there.”
“Thanks Seiichiro,” Ranka says softly and makes his way to the bathroom.
Seiichiro was a close friend of Kotoko, Ranka’s late wife. A fellow senior law student that had helped Kotoko start her lawyer career, and has kept close contact with the Fujioka family long after her death. He is a tall, well-built man, no more than a couple of years older than Ranka himself, with eyes the color of terracotta and light brown hair streaked with silvery strands at the sides –that testify not to his age but the stress of working in a court of law. Seiishiro has an open honest smile and gentle disposition. He has never judged Ranka’s way of life and respects the way in which he is educating his daughter, offering to help Haruhi with her dream of becoming a lawyer, as he did with her mother.
After a shower Ranka finds himself sitting on the floor at Seii’s table; make-upless, hair bundled up with a couple of pins and dressed in a decidedly too large t-shirt and sweatpants; a steaming cup of miso and a bowl of plain rise before him.
“How is Haruhi?” the father asks.
“Worried, naturally,”
Ranka flinches, he hates to be such a burden on his daughter. Sometimes it feels like he is the child and she is the parent.
“I assured her you are safe and she said to tell you: ‘be careful and goodnight dad’. Now eat.”
Ranka eats in silence; Seii pretends to work on a case’s files, while he watches the other man intently until he finished his meager meal, the lawyer retrieves the dishes and puts them in the sink.
“What do you plan to do with that guy?” he asks.
The transvestite sighs, “There is nothing I can do. He comes to the bar from time to time, but not enough to be a regular and like with most other costumer I’ll bet he uses an alias. I can only alert the security guys and hope it gets better without getting worst.”
Seii walks back to the table; this time he kneels behind Ranka, his hands reaching up to massage the okama’s tense shoulders, kneading the muscles gently.
“You should be accompanied at all times Rioyi. I can pick you up at the bar for a few nights, bring you home with me, seeing you accompanied might discourage the stalker,” Seii suggests pressing his lips to take the base of Ranka’s neck, he lets his hands slide down to wrap his arms around the slim waist.
Ranka lets himself relax against the lawyer. Since Kotoko’s death, Seii and he had become very close, in more ways than one. The man had become quite taken with the okama and they had evolved into fuck-buddies according to Ranka, though Seii preferred the term friends with benefits, hence the reason why Ranka has the keys to man’s apartment.
“I’ve missed you Rioyi,” Seii whispers in Ranka’s ear. Licking the curved shell softly, the large hands slide under the loose shirt to caress a flat stomach making the younger man shiver.
“Ranka,” the okama corrects.
The lawyer chuckles “Of course, come to bed Ranka,” he concedes, using the stage name the transvestite preferred to be called by whenever they engaged in sex. As if to save Rioyi only to Kotoko and her memory.
It’s almost noon when Ranka wakes up feeling content and warm.
This is not my room, is his first thought. As he tries to awaken his groggy mind he becomes aware of the muscular chest spooning his back, the heavy but comforting arm draped over his waist, the powerful thick thigh squeezed teasingly between his own and the hot, soft breath tickling his neck.
Seiichiro, his mind concludes as he remembers why he had come to the man’s house. Ranka allows himself a moment to feel safe and cared for. He basks in the companionship for a long moment until a misplaced but relentless feeling of guilt starts to gnaw at him. Slowly he extricates himself from his cuddly bed partner, careful not to wake him; they had a very late night verging in early morning and after imposing on the lawyer the least he can do is let him rest. In the meantime he will clean up, text Haruhi to let her know he’d be home by the time she returned from school, then make some coffee and maybe a late breakfast as thanks for Seii.
He is distracted at the stove when a pair of strong arms wrap around him, the gesture so familiar by now that he lets himself fall back in Seiichiro’s embrace.
“Hmm, it smells good,” the older man says nuzzling the okama’s neck.
“Me or the breakfast?” Ranka inquires with a chuckle.
“Well I would say you, but flattery won’t get me anywhere and it won’t get you back in to my bed, so I’m gonna say food,”
“Well thanks for the honesty and good morning to you too,” the younger man says in mock irritation and a playful swat with the spatula.
Seii laughs and pulls away from the red head to serve himself some coffee.
After eating, Ranka prepares to go home.
“Are you sure you are alright?” Seii asks concern.
“I am, thanks for everything Seiichiro,” he assures the lawyer and gives him a warm smile when the older man helps him with his coat.
“It’s my pleasure Rioyi. You should drop by more often, you are always welcome in my home, and in my bed Ranka,” Seii says sincerely handing the okama his purse.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he gives Seii an affectionate peck on the cheek, as he walks out he throws a wink “Ciao.”