Ouran High School Host Club Fan Fiction ❯ Rubbing The Lamp ❯ Ch 24 Granting Your Wish ( Chapter 31 )

Disclaimer: Ouran Host Club belongs to Bisco Hatori. I make no profit off this story. If Bisco Hatori-san wishes, I will remove this from the web upon her personal request.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 32

 

The end of the year banquet had been a rousing success.

 

Tamaki had been more charming than ever as he danced with practically every girl in attendance, each of them practically swooning to be attended to by the king of the Host Club.

 

Huni, rather than seeming cute and young, had donned the air of a charming protector - much to the girls' delight. His growth spurt finally recognized, it was necessary to shift from his loli- role. It was amusing, at first, to see him take on a James Bond type attitude, but he seemed to play it well.

 

Mori was a quiet as ever, but still managed to be caught smiling several times during the course of the evening. His silent strength was now viewed by the girls as the safeguard to back up Huni, should he ever find himself in tight spot.

 

And of course the twins were just as mischievous as ever. They'd spent most of the evening getting their fans to compete for the right to dance with them. The Which One Is Hikaru game was the game of choice, but for a change, they would let a girl win every now and then, and then the winner would be escorted to the dance floor where the two of them would slow dance with the girl between them. The tricks they'd discovered as very effective when courting Haruhi in the Wish Debacle - as they had now taken to calling it - would cause their prey to become so flustered that more than one had fainted and been subsequently carried off the dance floor to recuperate in the atrium.

 

Haruhi oversaw the whole event, keeping things on track and ensuring all the guests were looked after - especially those who had succumbed to the twins' attentions. Her tailored tuxedo looked quite smart and dapper; no one would have ever guessed her true identity. She didn't dance with any of the patrons - she just couldn't master how to take on the role of the guy there. So that was left to the other hosts.

 

Kyoya, however, danced with almost as many girls as Tamaki. His greatest asset was still his cool indifference. Oh, he was charming. Charming and untouchable. Girls who designated him considered calling him frigid, except it was too strong a word, as he was perfectly polite and attentive. And that only added to his charm. It seemed a great deal of the girls fantasized about how they might melt down his protective shield to discover what fires might lay within the suave, dark prince. Yet none succeeded.

 

There was also the press. The paparazzi had been running articles that the third Ootori son was engaged to a mystery woman, who was as of yet unidentified. When asked, he would neither deny nor confirm the claims. Not a few girls sought him out to find out what was truth. If he was engaged, it would explain his indifference. And some took it as a challenge - they'd win him away from whatever arranged marriage he'd found himself stuck with. Again, none succeeded.

 

After the event, the rich bastards left the bulk of the cleanup for Haruhi to attend to, while they, themselves, went home. It was alright, though. She'd grown used to it. And the new rule was that she was to earn a share of the profits equal to her work. It was likely to pay her way through both undergraduate and graduate school as she became a lawyer. Those crazy girls really had no idea of the value of a yen.

 

Finishing up, she put everything back in its place and looked over the third floor music room. So much had happened here - her entire life had been changed by events that had taken place in this room. And next year, it would all be different. Would the club even go on? Who knew?

 

With a sigh, she shook her head and smiled. No sense worrying over that which can't be changed. She exited the room and headed toward the front of the school, where Tachibana was waiting for her.

 

Since the night of their engagement, she couldn't go anywhere without him. Kyoya had assigned him to be her personal bodyguard. She protested at first, but he absolutely refused to listen. “I've already shown you that my life is not worth living without you. Consider this an investment in ensuring I stay alive.” She'd just rolled her eyes, but given in. And Tachibana was a pretty nice guy, all things considered. If she preferred to walk to school, he'd park the car and walk with her. He wasn't overly solicitous, and when she complained about his silence, he actually would hold a decent conversation with her.

 

He walked her to the limosine, opened the door for her to get in, then started the car and pulled out of the school grounds. She leaned back against the leather seat and let out a sigh of exhaustion. She'd worked very hard. Exams had been as difficult as she'd expected, but she felt as if she'd done well. And now, she'd get a week off for relaxation. It was simply a lovely luxury.

 

After several minutes of driving, she opened her eyes and looked out the window. Her forehead crunched as she looked at her surroundings in confusion. This wasn't the way home.

 

“Tachibana-san,” she called. She never put the divider up, it was just too weird for her, too… class-ist.

 

“Yes, Fujioka-san.” He'd tried to call her Fujioka-sama when he was first assigned to her, but she refused to respond, saying the sama was ridiculous.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“Kyoya-sama's orders.”

 

She sighed and leaned back. `Never manipulate me, my ass!' she thought. Of course, that wasn't really fair. If he was having Tachibana take her somewhere unexpected, there was bound to be a good reason. One thing certainly had never changed: there was always an underlying reason for everything Kyoya did.

 

Her gaze went to the ring on her left hand. It was still a plain platinum band. When she'd shown up at the first Club function with it on, many of the girls had commented, asking if she'd secretly gotten married. She'd chuckled and replied, “No. I'm much too young to be married. Besides, I have to focus on working hard to get into college, so that I can be a lawyer like my mom.” That had earned her sighs and squeals about the poor commoner trying so hard to honor his dead mother, and what a great son - his mother was surely watching over him and smiling.

 

Of course it came up again a few more times. But she was able to deflect the queries effectively. Once she said, “I just thought it looks nice on my hand,” which resulted in the girls going into a tizzy to complement her on her looks. Honestly, rich girls were odd.

 

Staring at the ring on her finger, her hand rose to where, hanging from a chain around her neck, the real engagement ring rested against her chest. He'd given it to her only two days after the plain band. It was so beautiful, and she would have protested the cost, but he told her he had it designed specifically for her. She'd joked, “What would you have done with it if I had said no?” And he'd replied, “Kept asking until you said yes.”

 

Softly, her mouth curved upwards in a smile. She really did love the rich bastard. She unclasped the chain around her neck and swapped the rings, putting the expensive one on her hand and the platinum band on the chain to rest between her breasts. There was no way she could deny the ring looked well on her hand.

 

The car stopped as Tachibana said, “We're here.”

 

Here, apparently, was a small, well-kept traditional-styled house that was surrounded by acres of natural looking land. It reminded her of the house that the twins had taken her to for the fashion show, except the house seemed to be just a house, not a mansion.

 

“Huh,” she stated as Tachibana held the door for her to exit the limo. “What is this place?”

 

“Kyoya-sama said that once you entered the house, I should leave until I'm called back.”

 

“Did he now?” She shook her head. “Thank you, Tachibana-san. Have a good evening,” she called over her shoulder as she headed toward the front door.

 

As she would have guessed, it wasn't locked. She entered to see a home that was apparently devoid of any people. Moonlight filtered in from the windows, giving her more than enough light to not trip over anything, but not enough to really make out the details of the residence. Immediately, she took off her shoes and stepped inside. She mused, “I wonder who lives here,” as she looked at the wall for a light switch.

 

A whiff of cinnamon tickled her nose just a fraction of a second before two arms wrapped around her from behind. Warm breath brushed against her ear and she heard her fiancé whisper, “You do.”

 

Wait. What?

 

Wriggling out of his grasp as she flicked the light on, she was rewarded to see him flinch at the sudden brightness while she said, “What do you mean, I do? Kyoya Ootori-”

 

“No,” he interrupted, “I didn't buy it yet. I wouldn't want to be held down for Huni to punch again for not talking to you first. But I did secure us the right to stay here for a week to see if we like it.”

 

Sighing, she turned and took several steps away from him. It was hard to be disapproving when his arms were around her, his breath selling cinnamon dreams directly to her brain.

 

“Kyoya…”

 

“That reminds me, your exam results came in.” He waved an envelope, effectively distracting her; she turned back to him with hopeful eyes. When she reached for it, he yanked it out of her grasp. “First, a tour.”

 

She heaved a disgruntled sigh. “Tell me again how this isn't being manipulative?”

 

“You want a tour anyway,” he replied matter-of-factly.

 

She sighed again, glared at him, then gestured impatiently for him to lead on. He grinned his I-win smile and walked deeper into the house.

 

X

 

“And this would be our bedroom.” He'd somehow managed to get behind her and wrap his arms around her middle again. Warm breath caressed her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

 

“You know, Kyoya,” she forced herself to be reasonable, work against the spell he was trying to cast over her, “it's not going to look good for either of us to be living together before we're married.”

 

His hand stroked up her arm from where their fingers were intertwined over her flat stomach.

 

“So, do you want to get married? Tomorrow?” He played with a lock of hair. Dammit. He knew that she loved how that felt.

 

“Uh…”

 

To change the subject, he pulled out the envelope, and, with her trapped in his embrace, opened it in front of her, so that she could see the results.

 

“I… I got in?” Her head was tucked under his chin now and she felt him nod above her.

 

“Of course you did. You worked very hard.” She could feel satisfaction radiating off him. “And your profits from the Club well exceed the cost of six years tuition at Tokyo University.”

 

She breathed, “I did it,” and sagged against him. He held her firmly in his embrace and breathed in her clean scent. Slyly, he stroked her arms, guiding her with subtle nudges toward the king sized Western bed that lay directly under a beautiful skylight.

 

Then a thought struck her, “You already knew, didn't you?”

 

“Un. My contacts called me with your scores as soon as they were typed and made ready to mail.”

 

Of course. Typical. She would expect nothing less of his information network. After all, she'd seen first-hand how well it worked, running the club, planning events.

 

“Oh!” she turned toward him suddenly. “I forgot to thank you for arranging for the original host members to come back for tonight's banquet.”

 

His voice was sly, “Did you think you would be able to keep them away? It was your last official duty as a Host. The third annual Brotherhood Banquet. Also, they were kind of expecting you to finally reveal that you're a girl.” He was glad she hadn't noticed that he'd neglected to turn the lights on in the room.

 

“I think most of the girls already knew. It's not like Éclair is good at keeping secrets. They just wanted me to be a boy one last time, so I was. Actually, you wouldn't believe how many of them came up to me and wished me `Good luck with Kyoya,' as they left.”

 

He cocked his head, “So, they actually figured out that the mystery fiancée that the papers have been writing about was you?” He sat on the bed, patting a place beside him for her to join him.

 

“Maybe. Or maybe they just…”

 

“Sensed how desperately in love with me you are?” he smirked.

 

“Sensed how desperately in love YOU are with ME,” she replied matter-of-factly.

 

“Well, that is true. I am desperately and completely in love with you.” He leaned in and kissed her softly, pulling her down to lie beside him on the bed. Two years engaged and he could still get her to blush.

 

The light flickered overhead as clouds blocked intermittently the ambient glow of the moon through the skylight.

 

His warmth pressed up against her side. She swiveled her head right, toward the inviting heat that pressed up against her only to find her gaze captured by huge, deep eyes staring into her own. Her name, “Haruhi,” whispered in the night, broke the stillness of the room.

 

The moonlight flashed off his glasses and she smiled, reached to remove them from his face, folding them and setting them on the side table before returning to lie by his side. He grasped her hand, threaded his fingers through her own. As he leaned in toward her, she felt his breath like a warm ghost passing through her.

 

Slowly, so slowly, her hand was raised. He twisted her hand up to look at the ring, smiling to see she'd exchanged them in the car.

 

She turned to look in his eyes. So deep. While his cheeks had filled out again so that the scars of his week without her were no longer readily visible to everyone, she could still see the pain, the need in his eyes. It ran as deep today as it had two years ago. Maybe even deeper.

 

His glasses normally allowed him to hide so that no one ever saw his true feelings. But now they were off, and she saw the pain resolve itself into desire. In a flash, he was over her, his frame aligned with hers, but far enough apart that the cool air in the room was unbearable.

 

“You never did tell me what you want, Haruhi.”

 

Her voice quavered as she whispered, “Kyoya,.” and leaned up to kiss him, pulled him down so that his body pressed fully up against hers. Oh, yes, that was what she wanted - to feel more of him. As they broke, he kissed down her chin, up to her ear, nibbling softly.

 

His motions caused him to brush lightly against her breasts and her nipples had hardened. And then she'd sighed softly, her breath warm against his ear and sending bolts of electricity through him.

 

He gasped, his body was pressing… Oh, pressing. So close.

 

Pulling back, he could see that she'd closed her eyes and tilted her head back. She was beautiful, delicate yet strong, like an orchid or night-blooming jasmine. He wondered if she had any idea - as her involuntary movements, her hips moving up to press against his own - how she undid him.

 

His voice called her name sensuously. “Haruhi.” His palm pressed against her cheek, lending its warmth to her already flushed skin. She opened her eyes again, looked at him and now her own eyes were lit with a fire that burned to match his own. Her eyes, holding him…

 

Captive. That word wasn't quite right. He was trapped; there was no escape. But why would he look for escape? What could possibly pull him away.

 

“Marry me, Haruhi. Tomorrow.”

 

She lifted one hand to grasp his wrist, brought his hand to her mouth, slowly, opening it and drawing his forefinger inside, to suck on his finger, her tongue wrapping around the digit as she did so.

 

It was oh, so rewarding to watch the emotions change on his face. Surprise melted toward panic, which melted into… his mouth fell open, then clicked shut. Sucking a bit harder, she sounded out a low, humming, “Mmmmmm.”

 

Soft, delicate, but strong and capable - that described every part of her. But now... He should be letting her go. He didn't want to, and she wasn't complaining. But, he could wait until tomorrow, he'd force himself to wait, if she would just say yes.

 

“Please,” he whispered. “Please. Marry me.”

 

She sighed softly, and he pulled his finger from her mouth, traced the side of her face and whispered, “Please.”

 

Reading his eyes, she reached her hands up to grasp his face, hold it in front of her. “You're really wishing you had a debt to hold over my head right now, aren't you?”

 

A heartfelt groan erupted from him and he lowered his head, forehead resting on her shoulder.

 

With a husky chuckle, she whispered, “I'll marry you tomorrow on three conditions,” stroking one hand down his back.

 

He lifted his head, his eyes questioning and she saw her eyes and swallowed hard. He'd never seen her look like this before. Predatory. Hungry.

 

“First, we get married at a temple, with both our fathers, your sister, and all the rest of the Host Club present.”

 

That was easy. He knew he could pull that off. “Done.” His breathing was erratic, his heart was the thundering of horses hooves.

 

Cocking her head to the side, her hair spread out on the bed underneath him and he swallowed hard.

 

“Second, you promise that you'll never try to make me into a traditional wife or use your influence to buy my success. We have to be partners, Kyoya. That means you trust me and I trust you, and we trust that the other can handle his own business.”

 

He nodded, knowing this would be harder than it sounded, but well worth the effort.

 

His head lowered again as he waited for the third condition. His breath was warming one of her breasts. It was a groan that ripped out of her. Really. Not a moan. And his was a groan in response, too.

 

“Kyoya.”

 

Lifting his head again, his face hovered above hers. His breath ghosted over her skin, a trace of cinnamon in the scent it left behind. The air of the room was so cool in contrast.

 

His breath warmed her lips. Unthinking, she opened her mouth, as if she wanted to taste the cinnamon, as if she wanted to let it in. His lips moved closer.

 

“My final condition,” she whispered. His lips moved closer still. She could feel the heat from his body as he was bent over top of her.

 

“Is that you make me yours now. Tonight. I need… I need you. I don't want to wait any longer.”

 

They were positioned perfectly, her knees on either side of his thighs, her hips perfectly aligned with his own. As he gaped at her request, she pressed her hips up to his again, and moaned at the contact.

 

Fire exploded out of him. His mouth captured hers, their tongues battling. Her hands ran up his back. His heat caressing her, she was overly conscious of all their clothing. Because underneath it was skin - his skin. It was such a fine line, the fabric preventing her from feeling his smooth, firm skin. She wanted to feel him. Needed to. Needed it more than the air she breathed.

 

Her fingers scrabbled to pull his shirt out of his pants, ran under it, to finally - oh, finally touch him. Each finger pressed against his back with all its strength, pulling at him, grasping, each finger's individual strength solely focused on closer, closer. Still, their mouths were sealed over each other. His tongue ran along hers, twined with it, his hips pressing into hers.

 

She needed to touch more of him. Her hands moved around to the front, pushed him back enough so that she could try to unbutton it. After the first two seconds of fumbling, though, she gave up and just grasped the shirt and pulled. Buttons popped and material tore, but it opened up the front, right to the necktie, which held it closed at the top.

 

Growling, she pushed him back and said, “If you don't get that off, I'm going to strangle you!” It was part fact, part threat and he couldn't help but laugh.

 

Lifting himself off her, he sat back and untied the tie, looked down at the ruin of his shirt. He slipped it off and tossed it aside, then turned back to her. She'd propped herself up on one elbow.

 

“Your turn,” his voice was deeper than she'd ever heard it, making her shiver. Her fingers came up to begin unbuttoning her shirt.

 

“Ah, ah, ah,” he commented, pushing her hands away. “Let me.”

 

Slowly, he pulled her tuxedo shirt out of her pants, unbuttoned the lowest button, then moved up to the next one. As her skin was revealed, he leaned in to place a close mouthed kiss on her tummy, and up, up, up with each button that was released. God, so slowly. It was torture waiting for each button, each kiss. Didn't he know she wanted him *now*?

 

A pale coral lace bra revealed, made him harden even more, but he skipped over it. A kiss right in the valley between her petite breasts, then up to undo the top - and he leaned to suck lightly at the pressure point at the base of her neck.

 

“Ahh,” again, she thrust upward, to meet air, he was off to the side now. Her hands reached, groped. As one traced the fine musculature of his back, the other slid down his chest, down, down, until it encountered his firmness. Her fingers wrapped around it as best she could, with the fabric holding it back. His moan into her neck was loud enough to be a shout.

 

Abruptly, he pulled back. Then pulled her into a sitting position.

 

`No,' she thought. “If you stop now-” She got no further, as he pushed her shirt and jacket off in one go. As it cleared her hands, he pulled one hand up and kissed her palm. A soft pink tongue licked up from her palm to her wrist. Then kisses were peppered up her arm to her shoulder. His lips continued to work down, stopping to lave her breast through its lace prison. His fingers were tracing a scrollwork pattern over her torso, her arms, anywhere they could touch.

 

Finally, his lips worked down to her waistband and his fingers came down to unbutton her pants. He pulled back and looked up at her. All he could see was love in her eyes, saying, “Yes. Yes.”

 

How could anyone have lips this soft? She marveled at the feel of him kissing down to her lace panties, lifted her hips so he could pull the tuxedo pants off her and discard them to one side of the room.

 

How could anyone have skin so like rose petals? He couldn't get enough. The feel under his fingers, lips, it was maddening, addictive. But the sight of her displayed for him in just coral lace deserved to be preserved in his memory for eternity. It would be an image he could come back to later, in bad times, and think, `Yes, I've seen troubles. But I've also seen this, so it balances. In fact, I think the odds are stacked somewhat in my favor.' Just like the image of her coming out of the dressing room would come back to him any time he started to get too cocky, as a reminder to focus on what was real and important.

 

He just gazed at her for one second, two - however long it takes to cement an image in your brain for eternity. “Are you sure?”

 

Again, she growled, pouncing off the bed and pinning him beneath her hands and knees. Her hands worked at his belt, unbuckled it. Swiftly, she unbuttoned, unzipped his pants and began tugging them down until he grasped her arm and pulled her back to him, crushing her in his embrace.

 

Like a magician performing a trick, he somehow managed to roll her over and kick his pants off all in one move. Then, he got off the bed, stood, and turned away from her as he slowly removed his silk boxers.

 

She saw his skin as it was exposed. His ass muscles firm, chiseled, made her swallow involuntarily. As he turned around to face her, she could tell he was slightly embarrassed. Head cocked to the side, her smile warmed him. And he saw her reach behind herself to unfasten the hook that held her bra in place. When it was open, she slid the straps off her arms and exposed herself to his sight. Now it was her turn to be embarrassed.

 

There were so many beautiful girls at Ouran, and at Tokyo University. She knew she couldn't compete with their looks. Yet Kyoya had fallen for her anyway. Intellectually, she knew there was no reason to be embarrassed. Still… still.

 

He walked back to the bed, staring at her, then bent to kiss her. His lips, soft as ever, plyed her own and she opened to him. His weight pushed her back to her elbows, and then his hands were at her hips, fingers sliding under the sides of her panties. With a thrust of her hips upward, he slipped them over and down, down, down, off, never breaking his kiss. Now his arms wrapped around her, pulled her to him, and he could feel her skin - her smooth, perfect, rosepetal skin, pressing up against him. The nerve endings on his chest, thighs, oh, yes, and there, too, reveled. Touching her, Skin on skin. This was the most… no words but more and yes, oh yes.

 

She felt his firm, toned body press against hers, felt her softness welcome his strength. It could never be enough. Never, her arms wrapped around him. Again, her fingers sought purchase, pressed into him, clung. Her legs opened so that she could wrap them around him so that more of her would be touching him - she wanted to feel as much of him as she could - he was the only thing in the world, and she needed to feel him or drown in him and it didn't matter which. Pulling him in toward her, pressing her legs around, he aligned and she could feel his manhood pressing against her core. She wanted him in her eventually, she knew that, but just feeling him there, up against her at long last, she moaned into the kiss and swiveled her hips up - press harder, prove to me that you're there.

 

Could there be anyone in the world he loved more than her? Never. Never. And hot, he needed her heat, he needed. He wanted to be inside her, feel her completely surrounding him, yet arms and legs encasing him felt so good, too and did he want to pull back enough to… Yes. Back, one hand and instincts to guide him, her own legs pulling him along, helping him to slide… And then the barrier. This was it. If he broke through-

 

Her legs tightened, forcing him inside of her, tearing the membrane that had kept them apart. It hurt. She wouldn't lie about that. It was a douse of cold water to dissuade her ardor. But he looked into her eyes with horror at the pain he'd just seen and she smiled at him. He was the man she loved. And his skin was pressed against hers, and the feeling, oh, the feeling.

 

Sooner than she'd imagined, her fire was not only restored, but amped to new heights as their eyes remained linked, and she thought, I'm making love to Kyoya. Oh.

 

Backward, her head fell, her eyes closed, as she thrust her hips up at him and felt him now even deeper. This. This was why people went so nuts. This felt like… She was striving, wiggling, her hips moving up and back.

 

He'd hurt her again, but she'd only smiled and now, now, she was moving - and his vision turned golden around the edges, his consciousness thrust aside and he was thrusting in her, and her mouth open in an “O” and his lips latching onto her breast, her hands grasping his shoulders, her legs pulling him in, wrapped tight. He could feel her, feel her, he was over her and in her and her head was shaking from side to side, her voice calling his name, his name, his name.

 

And then, impossible, it was impossible, it had to be impossible, she was even tighter around her and all sound stopped coming from her, her head so far back, her mouth open - was she even breathing? Her whole body shook and it was shaking him apart and he was thrusting faster now, faster, she was the whole world and she had him, had him, had him. His own head fell back, his own mouth open in a soundless yowl as he poured himself into her. Once, twice, again. Never, in all the times of standing in the shower with shower gel and dreams had it ever been like this. Had he turned inside out for a moment? Did the world actually just explode? Did he cease to exist?

 

When the pulsing stopped, he could still feel every nerve ending in his body tingling. Her legs had fallen to the bed, and she was panting as if she'd just run a marathon.

 

With a gasp halfway between pain and ecstasy, he slid out of her and rolled to the side.

 

Both out of breath, their hands still managed to find each other, grasp, allow their thumbs to stroke the other's hand. It was all that could be managed.

 

After an hour - a few seconds - who knew how long, she managed to roll her head to look at him. Hearing the movement, he did the same and was stunned to see the contented smile on her face. No one had ever seen that face but him. Jealous, he knew he'd kill anyone if they ever did.

 

Sighing happily, the woman who'd changed his whole life said, “So what time's the ceremony?”

 

Smiling back, he replied, “Whenever you would like.”

 

“Mmm,” she breathed. “Let's make it early. I want to have a large dinner afterward.”

 

When he raised one eyebrow, she replied, “We're going to need our strength for tomorrow night.” With an effort, she stood, walked to the head of the bed and pulled down the covers. “Let's get some sleep, Mr. Ootori.”

 

“Anything you wish, Haruhi.” He climbed in next to her, pulled her into his embrace.

 

As she fell asleep, the last thing she heard was him saying, “Thank you for granting my wish. For loving me.”

 

The last thing he heard was a half-asleep, “Baka. Aishiter-zzz.”

 

 

 

AN: All that's left is the alternate ending, folks. Your tastebuds cannot withstand lemon of this magnitude!

 

Secondary Disclaimer: All characters in this story are at least 18 years of age. While that might seem unlikely - as three of the characters are only sophomores in high school, I figure it this way: if Bisco Hatori-san can ignore the students graduating for two years in a row and keep everyone in the same grade, I can then apply that logic to their ages. Therefore, Haruhi, Kaoru and Hikaru are just 18. Kyoya and Tamaki are about to turn 19. Mori is about to turn 20, and Huni already is 20. (Therefore, according to Japanese figuring, Huni is the only adult. :P )