Decadence ~Say Yes version~
Pairing: Hibari/Haru
Rating: NC17 (it's for the kink meme; I try to make those porny)
Warnings: Timeline, What Timeline?
Prompt: Hibari/Haru, dirty dancing


For those who may be the least bit interested in this sort of thing, I listened to a heck of a lot of Kuroda Michihiro while writing this. The man does amazing work, and some of his songs seem like they'd be good for sexy dancing. If you aren't familiar with his post-Iceman work, I recommend it! In fact, have a Mediafire folder full of my favorites! (Please be sure to delete files after 24 hours, sample purposes only, yes "Decadence" is in there, etc. etc.) </shameless plug>

And yes, the fic is sort of named after a Rin song. I am an unoriginal namer.


Prompt:

This Meme Needs More Het. >.>
Hence anon would like to request any of the following pairings:

Gokudera/Haru
Hibari/Haru
Yamamoto/Chrome

Prompt: Dirty Dancing or Clubbing.

http://community.livejournal.com/rebornmeme/479.html?thread=146911#t146911

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Hibari hated that he had to do this. He had fought it, but no one else could go. "Previous commitments" his ass. Sawada was up to something.

Whatever that something was, it forced him to make an appearance at this... establishment. He bristled. Strip clubs were definitely against Namimori discipline. The place was seedy, and dark, and even worse, crowded. All these herbivores, paychecks in small bills, waiting for some trashy female to shake her tits for them, they infuriated him.

He wished he at least knew when his contact was appearing, so he could have come just for her, but she didn't have the sense to tell him a time.  It was revenge, he thought, for the beautifully obvious love-bite he'd given her just before this job started. The stupid woman was making him wait.

And wait he did, sitting near the stage and glaring at the poledancers as they performed. Finally, she came out, dressed in a ridiculous outfit of white sequins and fringe. The song she danced to was fast-paced, and she rolled her hips and swung around the pole and shook her hair in a way that flouted every regulation about proper dance in the Namimori manual.

The worst part, worse than the crowd, was the way she looked at him with smoldering eyes until he forgot there even was a crowd around him.

Damn Sawada. Damn Sawada and his stupid Family and his errands, and damn the undercover mission that had sent Haru to this dive in the first place. Hibari wanted her out of here, out of that white fringe that caressed her legs when she swung her hips. He wanted her to take her top off where no one else could see, where she would be all his again. Instead he had to watch as the fools around him tossed bills onto the stage, since supposedly none of them were allowed to touch the dancers. He would though, he would soon be touching all of her, and no flimsy costume or non-Namimori regulation would stop him.

Haru grasped the pole and stretched back, kicking one leg out, drawing attention to her smooth skin and the white leather boots she wore. She slid a hand down her chest, pulling a card from her bra and making the sequins covering her breasts flash in the light. She strutted over to Hibari's side of the stage and leaned over- from the waist to give the men a show, but Hibari hoped she didn't hurt her back like that, practicality overriding lust for a moment. She reached out and tucked the card into his breast pocket, caressing his cheek with her fingers as she stood and mouthed, "Call me."

After that, the song couldn't end fast enough. Hibari was on edge, sick of the crowd and the noise, suddenly territorial. He was ready to pull out his tonfa and start destroying all these men, regardless of whether they were pimps or johns or rival mafioso or just regular guys blowing their cash on a pretty girl. All of them were staring at his woman.

He made it through the song, just barely, his fingernails digging into his palms from the force with which he clenched his fists. It wasn't until Haru was replaced by some bottle-blonde with perky tits that he remembered to look at the card. The phone number she had written was the code he needed for the mission. He stepped outside, called Gokudera with a terse message, and cut him off when he asked for him to elaborate. He had more important things to worry about than Sawada's stupid mission.

Haru met him out back by the employee entrance, a robe over her sequined costume. She looked like a stripper waiting for her trashy boyfriend to come collect her earnings and blow it all on booze.

"Don't look at me like that," he said gruffly.

"I know you don't approve," she told him. "It was necessary."

His hands twitched in that way he wasn't quite used to yet, the way that meant he wanted to reach out and pull her close. "I need to speak with you. Alone."

"I can't- All right." She had almost argued, but his stern expression stopped her. She took his arm by the sleeve and led him inside. She spoke briefly to one of the girls and then took him to a separate room.

"No one will bother us," she said. "I told her you were getting a private show." She tried to smile, but it faded quickly.

"How?" he demanded of her. "How can you get up there and flaunt yourself?" He wanted her, terribly, wanted to claim her, but he also wanted to know.

"I pretend it's a costume, and I'm in a show. Which is sort of true." Her cheeks flushed, embarassed. "Sometimes I pretend it's just me and you."

Hibari hated Sawada then, hated his mission and his stupid family. He hated Haru for getting under his own skin, for becoming his but still loving Sawada enough to do this for him.

"This mission is over," he declared, grabbing her arms and pulling her close. "Sawada can send his own woman if he needs to consort with this garbage."

Haru protested. "I can't let Kyoko do this sort of thing! I can carry this burden."

"I won't allow it."

"I'm a grown woman, and can make my own decisions!"

"Do you always argue for the sake of arguing?" He hadn't raised his voice at all, the level tone cutting through her indignation. "You have what you came for. This place violates every regulation in the book. Leave it behind."

She seemed to wilt against him. "I know. It's just... I wanted to be useful to Tsuna-san."

He couldn't respond to that, didn't quite understand the feeling. But she acquiesced, and that was enough. They stood together in awkward silence for a moment. He looked down at her, meaning to read her expression, her face. But his eyes seemed drawn by the hint of shine on her chest from the sequins peeking out of her robe.

"What was this about private shows?" he asked softly.

Her face was pink as she laughed, and Hibari was afraid his own cheeks were that color, they were so hot.

"Sometimes the girls make extra on the side, with private dances- or more," Haru explained.

"Show me."

"Hahi?!" She gaped at him, her eyes wide and doe-like. She was such an herbivore... But Hibari had come to understand the simple fact that most people were, and he was the beast that hunted them. He liked it in Haru; courting her had been like chasing prey, except he could do it again and again.

"Show me," he repeated, and sat on the bench behind him. "You said they dance. So show me."

"But it's embarrassing!" She hugged her arms to her sides, pulling her robe closed. Hibari could see her breasts swell beneath it, and somehow, it made him angry.

"So you can dance in front of all those strangers, but for me, it's embarrassing?" He slammed his hands down on the bench, like a spoiled child. Haru squeaked and threw herself at him.

"Don't you dare break anything!" she scolded, her hands on his arms, as if she could stop him with strength.

He pulled her into his lap. "Then explain. How can you dance for them but not for me?" He tried very hard to remain calm, to not sink his teeth into her smooth skin.

She fidgetted and mumbled and he almost bit her when she finally said, "Because I've never done a private dance before. I'm nervous."

"Don't be." He shifted so she could feel him; he was hard from watching her earlier, his desire barely faded. "I saw you before," he said in a whisper.

She looked down at her lap, at his arms looped around her waist. He waited, reminding himself that she was prey, and a hunter was patient. Outside in the main room, a new song started.

Haru slipped off his lap and shimmied out of her robe. It slid to the floor, and he got a better view of her costume. It really was just sequins and fringe, with a few scraps of fabric to hold them in place. She rocked her hips, making the fringe on her tiny shorts sway. He reached out and placed one hand on her hip, pulling her closer again.

She turned to face away from him, slowly, letting his fingers glide over her skin without breaking contact. One step back and she was able to crouch a little, her rear just above his crotch as she undulated to the music. He slid his fingers up her back and unclipped the stupid sequined bra.

She straightened and turned again before he could reach her breasts, and he'd never been more pleased by her contrary nature. She didn't let him touch them yet, but she slid the bra down her arms, slow and teasing, so he could see. He liked her breasts; they were the sort of breasts poets wrote lengthy tanka about. Not too large, not too small, but just the size to rest in his cupped hand so his thumb could flick her nipple easily, as he did when she finally dropped her bra to the floor. He was little annoyed by the slight tan she had, since his hand looked so white against her skin. He liked her pale, not him, so that each one of his love-bites showed up clearly.

Haru straddled his lap, resting her knees on the bench on either side of his hips. She seemed determined to keep part of herself out of his reach. She sat on his lap, put her hands on his shoulders and leaned back. He rested on hand on her lower back to support her and keep her close, but her lips were too far for kissing. When she shifted up onto her knees, her nipples brushed his chest and he could kiss her, but her hips were too far from his.

It was slow torture, but two could play that game. He started using his teeth.

He kissed her shoulder, with a quick hard suck on her skin. She gasped out his name, his given name that she almost never used, at least in public. He mouthed her breast and she sighed; a bite and she made that little squeak he liked.

Her hips still moved, but it was only in time with the music by coincidence, Hibari was certain. His lips were on the swell of her breast, his fingertips sliding down into the back of her flimsy shorts. The fringe swayed against his pants as she pressed against him. He licked her nipple and she let out another small noise. Her hands went for her buttons.

With her shorts undone, Hibari could fit his hands in the back, his fingers massaging her buttocks.

"Do you always get this hot when you dance?" he asked, his voice a low purr.

"No," she moaned, her hands running through his hair and keeping him in reach of her breasts. All pretense of teasing was gone. "It's because it's you."

He kissed her again, his teeth leaving a red mark high on her breast after he was done. She'd need a full bra to hide it, but he'd done worse. He intended to do worse. He had weeks to make up for, weeks were other men had seen her nearly naked and he had nothing. He moved to her other breast, pausing to leave a painful-looking mark over her sternum.

She called his name again and scolded him, but her nipples were still hard and she still ground against him. She always said his bites were painful but she never asked him to stop.

Her hands trailed down his jawline from his hair, and she pulled him close for a kiss. It was long and hard and he knew that she missed him, she put so much force and passion into it. Just one kiss like that wasn't enough, though, and when she broke away, he immediately  captured her mouth for another.

When he finally released her, she looked down at him with regret in her eyes. "We shouldn't, not here..."

He could feel his eyes narrow and his mouth stretch into a frown. "I highly doubt this place has never seen such activities. I'm not letting you go now." He shifted his weight, turning her so she was on the bench next to him. She squealed in protest, but he pushed her down and loomed over her. "Tell me no one's ever gone against regulations here, and I'll let you up and we'll go home. If not..." He let the sentence hang, knowing he had nothing to fear.

Haru sighed in defeat. He grinned, predatory, with his eyes barely open and only the tiniest hint of teeth, and kissed her again. She leaned into it eagerly, and he knew her protest had been just for show, like most of her objections. Her hands went to his shirt, pulling it out of his waistband, and her fingers slipped into his pants, echoing what he'd done to her moments before. She rubbed his erection and he bit back a moan. She smiled at him as she undid his zipper.

Then she reached under the bench blindly, feeling for something. He let her up a little to look, and wasn't really surprised when she returned with a handful of condoms. "Pick one," she said in a breathy voice. She pushed down his pants as he ripped open a packet, and she helped him roll it on.

"When we get home, we're having a talk about this," he promised, annoyed. He hated the pause, even though her fingertips rubbed him, too gently, as she got him prepared. It was too much like the teasing, and he was sick of that. It was time to take what was his.

He thrust his hand into her shorts, making her gasp again as he parted her labia. He wondered vaguely if she was lying when she said dancing didn't normally make her hot, because she was slick and ready.  He started sliding down her shorts. She lifted her hips to help him, but he thought better of it. He hated the shorts, with their tacky fringe that tickled him when she moved and the implications, that other men saw her in them. He ripped them open on the side, tearing the seam.

"Kyouya! That hurt!" She pounded on his back once with a fist, but he ignored her. She gasped out his name yet again as he pushed into her. Even with the thin latex between them, the heat of her body and the friction of her movement under him was maddening. She rolled her hips up to take him deeper even as the force of his motions pushed her into the wall.

Haru braced her shoulderblades against the wall, tilting her chin so she could reach his mouth for a searing kiss. His hands rested on either side of her, giving him leverage to pound into her.

He hadn't planned on this at all, but it had been too long since she'd gone on this stupid mission. He couldn't wait, couldn't hold back, couldn't treat her delicately. Seeing her dancing for other men, treating him like a handsome stranger, even for just a few moments, had roused his fighting instincts. And just like dating was similar to hunting, fighting was remarkably similar to fucking.

Hibari rested his forehead on her shoulder and thrust hard, making her cry out as he watched her chest heave and wished he could reach her breasts without contorting himself. She dug her nails into his back and pulled her legs up, allowing him to push even deeper into her warmth.

He didn't last as long as he wanted, not with her bucking her hips and her nails sliding over his back and the sight of her breasts moving with his thrusts. His eyes screwed shut and he could feel his mouth go slack, his lip brushing her shoulder, as his hips snapped forward. They both let out a small noise, a moan from his throat and a gasp from hers, as he came. He rocked his hips in the last throes of his orgasm and her body shuddered around him in a way that made him moan again, low and almost weak, as she seemed to purr as much as any human could.

They couldn't stay like that long, as much as he wanted to curl up with his head on her breast and sleep. He forced himself up, gratified by the look of regret she gave him when he pulled out, and cleaned up quickly. She wrapped her robe around herself and complained about her ruined shorts until he was done straightening his clothes.

He looked at her with smoldering eyes until she shut up. "This mission is over," he told her again. "We're going home." When she started to protest, he grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder. She squealed and pounded on his back, but he just strode out of the club with her like that. He almost hoped someone would say something. He was certain he could easily fight with one hand while carrying her. In fact, that sounded exciting.

There was no reason at all that tonfa couldn't be used in foreplay. He would definitely try it next time.