Second Wings

note re. comment response

Thu, 26 Mar 2009 00:44:38 GMT

I'm just dropping a quick line for any old friends. See, I used to not reply to comments, 'cause I never knew what to say, or it had been a long time since the comment was posted before I saw it. But that's kind of aloof (also there was a big to-do on Fandom!Secrets that made me feel like an asshole for not responding ^^;;; ) So I'm going to make an effort to at least say Thanks! to everyone who takes the time to comment on something.

We'll see how long my lazy ass can keep that up ^^;; Wish me luck!

And if I don't comment on your comment, it's because I don't know what to say, most likely. Or it's been like a week since you left it. Seriously, does responding to comments have a stuate of limitations? Like, should I not bother if it's been a couple of days? *fusses*

Please be patient with me, and know that I love you all, even if you don't/can't leave a comment or if I don't respond! If I made you even a little happy with one of my stories, then I'm happy.

more kink meme fill: Xanxus/Cervello

Wed, 25 Mar 2009 03:18:51 GMT

Triple post. I'm sorry, f-list, I'm an asshole. But I really want to get this up since it's not going to get any more edited and if I have to stare at it in my "not posted" folder much longer, I'll scream.

I need a Xanxus icon......

Not a Prediction
rating: NC17
pairing: Xanxus/Cervello

Prompt:
In honor of rereading the Varia arc and http://www.onemanga.com/Katekyo_Hitman_Reborn/135/12/ this page here, anon wants:

Xanxus/Cervello (one or both at once, doesn't matter to me)

Uh. ...I really don't care what the kink is. I just wants it.
http://community.livejournal.com/rebornmeme/479.html?thread=290527#t290527
--------------

Xanxus could feel her cool hands on his cheek, just like when he had lost against Sawada. The Cervello woman, the one who wore the shorts and the puffy white shirt and the one shoe laced to her knee, because God forbid a Cervello have a name, stood at his head almost like when he lay prone after the failed battle for the Vongola Rings. She touched him so gently, he almost believed she cared.

"Get out," he growled. He didn't need caring or pity or whatever she was here for.

"Xanxus-sama." Her voice was even, unphased by his anger. Just like always. It infuriated him.

"I said get out. Are you deaf?"

She stroked his hair and sat beside him on his hospital bed. "I'm only here to thank you for playing your part." The change in angle of her petting didn't quite remind him of his loss, but she was still touching his scarred cheek and his hair without his permission. He sat up, gingerly because of his remaining bruises and tender ribs. Her hand fell to his bare shoulder.

He wanted her gone. "You've said it. Now leave."

"You don't believe me," she said flatly. If it wasn't for her expressionless, masked face, he would have thought she was annoyed with him.

"Why would I?" he snapped at her. "You led me on a merry chase, knowing the whole time I'd humiliate myself. Two of your fellow Cervello died because of it. Why would you thank me?"

"We only ask that you play your part. You did that. We knew the danger of your wrath before we ever spoke to you."

"And you still returned to face it again? I should kill you for your stupidity." He sneered at her. The woman obviously had a death wish.

"You won't," she said confidently and leaned close. "I'm not here for that, Xanxus-sama." Her lips brushed his cheek, her fingers playing on his skin, rubbing his shoulder to loosen the muscle.

He laughed scornfully at the shift in mood. "Trying to seduce me? Tell me, will it work?"

"Only if you allow it." She raised her hand to his cheek again, her caress pulling his chin toward her for a kiss. He kept his eyes open, just to see if she closed hers, to see when those eery white eyes slid shut, and if they would be black like the mask. They were.

"I'm an injured man," he pointed out, more to taunt her than from any unwellness.

"You're healed enough for a seduction." There was something in her voice that made him stop wanting to kick her out.

He looked at her, searching for signs of her real intentions. Her eyes were unreadable, but her lips were parted slightly, her breathing deep, her legs tense. He may not be the Blood of Vongola, but his intuition was good. He reached for her, his hand on her breast.

"I'll allow it," he said, and kissed her.

He was not gentle. She had not planned to seduce him until he let his anger rise, he could tell, and if his anger was what she wanted, then he would give it to her. His lips were firm against hers, his arms tight around her. His hands on her body forced her to wriggle onto the bed.

When he raked his teeth over her neck, she arched into him with a tiny noise. It was his anger she wanted, the rough, ruthless man she had worked with before. It made Xanxus want to laugh, a cruel grin on his lips.

"Are you sure you can handle me?" he taunted her.

Her voice was just the faintest bit husky when she replied. "You're not totally healed, Xanxus-sama. Please be gentle with yourself." She straddled his hips and ran her hands over his chest. "You're still too important to injure yourself."

He didn't speak; he snarled at her and dug his fingers into her arms, his teeth into her neck. He had lost his battle, and she was trying to tell him he still meant something? If she was trying to boost his esteem, she was failing; she merely infuriated him. But that fury excited both of them. He pushed her jacket off her shoulders as he sucked, leaving a heavy purple mark on her dark neck, easily visible above her frilly blouse. She shifted her hips into his.

The contact sent a jolt through his system, making his blood rush. He told her, "You'd better not be teasing me, woman, because I will burn you to ashes. You and all your-"

She silenced him with a kiss. It was far more gentle than his, with no teeth and less crushing force. Nonetheless, it was a very serious kiss.

When she pulled away, looking at him with that eerily blank mask of hers, he knew she wasn't teasing. "I won't stop," he said- warning her because he was feeling solicitous- and he yanked her blouse over her head. He pressed his lips between her breasts where her bra made a tempting valley before he slid his hands around to unclip the undergarment. He sucked on the exposed skin, not enough to mark but enough to really feel, making his way to her nipple. The feel of his teeth, light as the contact was, made her gasp, and he smiled against her breast.

She ran her hands through his hair, coaxing him onward. He played along, his mouth on her warm skin until she relaxed into his lap. Her guard down, he rolled her under him.

"Xanxus-sama! Your injuries!" she tried to scold him.

"You said I was healed enough for a seduction," he said. "And you've been right about everything so far." He covered her mouth with his in another hard kiss.

His right arm supported him as his left moved between them, hand trailing down her body. He massaged her breast, liking the way it made her arch up into him. Then he moved, fingers running over her stomach to the clasp on her shorts, and that was even better. She whimpered and shifted her hips and practically begged him to finish undressing her.

He slid his hand over the clasp without undoing it and smirked at her. She called his name again as he rubbed her over her clothes, feeling her heat. "Tell me what you predict now," he said to her, his fingers moving.

"We don't make predictions," she gasped out, still speaking for all the Cervello even though she was the only one of them in the room.

He unbuttoned her shorts, tugging with one hand. "Indulge me."

"You'll have your way," she said as she reached up. Her fingers slid into his hair, over the shaved section above his ears to fiddle with the black strands. "Today, you will get your way, as you are accustomed to."

Xanxus leaned over her, his lips next to her cheek, both his hands still. "Are you really prepared to let me have my way? Do you understand what that means?"

"We- I am prepared, Xanxus-sama."

He thrust his hand into her shorts. She gave a sharp inhalation as his fingers found the wetness between her legs, and he bit back the urge to make snide comments about her preparedness. Instead, he pulled down her shorts, and her panties with them, and went back to teasing her with his fingers.

She still had her hand in his hair, and she used that hand to pull him towards her. Her other hand reached lower, sliding over the few remaining bandages on his torso and making him moan against her neck. The feel of pressure on his aging bruises was a jolt, the kind he got from fighting and winning and throwing things at Squalo. It was a tiny thunderbolt of pleasure.

She reached inside the elastic band of his hospital pajamas, her hand clasping around his erection, and that was much better than one little jolt. It was like Squalo's indignant cries after the glass hit him, like the feel of his guns in his hands as he pulled the trigger and watched the Flames of Rage obliterate their target. It was electrifying and comforting and God did he want more.

Her grip was firm, her skin soft, and he probably could have come just from that.

But she said he would have his way. He could feel her hips lift, pushing against his hand as he kissed her chest and her grip tightened on him. He wanted that warmth around more than his fingers. He pulled his fingers out, pushed his clothes off his hips, and shifted, positioning his knees between hers. Her eyes flicked to his arousal, although how he could tell, he would never be quite sure. But her masked face seemed somehow hungry, with her flushed cheeks and parted lips. She guided him toward her eagerly, her legs spread.

"Do you whore yourself out to all your pawns?" he growled low into her ear. "Count yourself lucky that I'm feeling nice." He nipped her shoulder on the last word. The tip of his erection brushed against her clitoris and she cried out. That sort of noise would surely bring the nurses, so he covered her mouth with his in another harsh kiss.

He found the place he wanted to be, her entrance between those dark, wide-parted thighs, and pressed inside. Her cry was muffled by his lips, reduced to a whimper.

He wanted to sigh himself, enveloped in her, warm and slick and when he moved it was like loading his guns, pouring a little Flame of Rage into each chamber, building up power and heat into something far greater. He had thought there was no greater feeling than that of his guns, but fucking her was close, maybe equal to it.

The Cervello pulled her legs up and tilted her hips, taking him deeper, letting him thrust harder. She bit her lip to keep quiet when he broke away, panting into her hair. She had her arms around him, and he noticed that she dug her nails into his back when she made soft sounds like she was choking back a scream. He almost made her stop- almost. But nail scratches were a badge of honor, like the tiny bruises forming on her neck from his teeth, and he let her make them.

Xanxus could feel the muscles in her body tighten, her legs locking around his waist. She was close; so close he was determined to make her come before him. He evened out his thrusts, harder, deeper, and kissed her shoulder. It made her gasp loudly, and he knew he was on the right track. She called out his name when she came, shuddering around him. He buried his face in her hair and fought to stay silent.

But it felt too much like handling his guns, warm and comforting, and he thought of pulling the trigger, of calling the Flames, of throwing liquor at Squalo. He thought of her legs around his waist, her nails in his skins, her voice calling his name, and he was done. He thrust hard, making her squeak, and couldn't contain a soft moan of his own as the tension in him burst.

They lay still for a moment, the only sound their panting and their heartrates as they slowed to normal. She put her legs down and he pulled out. He lay next to her, his spot on the narrow bed cool and dry.

He was starting to drift off, sated and exhausted and no longer angry, at least for the moment, when she ran her fingers through his hair and shifted like she was about to get up. He threw an arm around her to stop her.

"Running away?" he asked. His voice sounded hoarse and weak in his ears, and if he wasn't so pleasantly lethargic, he would have been annoyed with himself.

"I have to go eventually," she said.

"What about me getting my way? Will you break your own prediction?"

She didn't get up, didn't smile at him, but she did turn toward him and pull him close. "We don't make predictions," she insisted. She cradled his head against her breast. "You might regret this tomorrow," she said softly as her fingers toyed with the feathers in his hair. "You'll be sore again."

He bristled at her words, implications that he was weak. Nevermind that he was only half-healed and probably over-exerted himself and wouldn't be able to move at all. But he couldn't get truly angry, not with his body so spent and her soft hands on him. "A little soreness is worth having my way. You know that I'm not afraid of pain." There was no force behind his words and they both knew it.

The Cervello stroked his hair and simply said, "Yes, Xanxus-sama."

In the media room (Squalo/Tsuna for the kink meme)

Wed, 25 Mar 2009 02:51:14 GMT

More kink meme fills! What can I say; these are lots of fun. Apologies for the double post on your f-lists, but since this and the edits for Decadence were done, I posted.

In the media room
Katekyou Hitman Reborn fic
pairing: Squalo/Tsuna
rating: R/NC17 (NSFW)
summary: Squalo. Tsuna. Library media room. Handjob.

prompt:
Squalo and Tsuna having sex in a library. Silence is a must xD
http://community.livejournal.com/rebornmeme/479.html?thread=362207

---------

Tsuna didn't know quite how it happened. Somewhere after Yamamoto convinced him the Varia swordsman wasn't that bad but well before five minutes ago, he'd decided Squalo was good-looking and he wouldn't mind fooling around a bit. He just hadn't expected 'wouldn't mind fooling around' to become 'actually fooling around' so quickly.

Five minutes ago, Squalo kissed him. In a public building. Granted, they were in the back of the media center, behind a gigantic microfiche machine, but anyone could come in. Anyone could walk to the machine, tiny film in hand, hoping to read something. That anyone could come around to the side and see them, lips pressed together, hands groping for more contact...

"Shut the fuck up," Squalo hissed. Tsuna flushed, suddenly aware of the small whining noise he'd been making. He was scared of being found, but Squalo's hands- real and fake- felt nice, really nice, and he wanted more.

He sat on top of Squalo, staddling his lap and facing him so they could kiss. He had his arms around Squalo's neck, his hands in his long, silver hair, their chests pressed together. Squalo's real hand ran up and down his back, the false one cupping his rear end.

"We should-" Tsuna started to say, but Squalo pulled him closer for another toothy kiss. Any protest Tsuna had died before it reached his lips, captured as they were by the other man. He wriggled in a last-ditch attempt to preserve his sanity and dignity (even though his libido was screaming "Fuck that! Do him! Dooooooo hiiiiiiiim!").

His wriggling only served to make him want to escape less, as his already swelling erection brushed Squalo's. Squalo moaned in his throat, like he was holding back his response, and his real hand went up the back of Tsuna's shirt to touch his skin.

Tsuna gave in. He rolled his hips forward, thrusting against Squalo's clothed front. He pressed his lips together to keep any sounds he made in, not trusting himself after the little whine he let out from just some groping over his clothes. But Squalo's hands were firm, more massaging than caressing, and felt so good, he wondered idly why he'd once been afraid of the man.

He was reminded, just a bit, when Squalo started nipping at his jawline. His real hand slipped between them, the backs of his fingers rubbing Tsuna's not-quite-ticklish belly, dipping lower as Tsuna's hips thrust in earnest. Somehow, Squalo got his pants undone despite the motion and reached inside his boxers. Tsuna inhaled audibly.

Footsteps drew near and they froze. They could hear someone, a light someone wearing heels by the sound, stop and pull out a book. Squalo shifted his hand, stroking Tsuna once like he couldn't help but move, and Tsuna nearly bit his lip to stay quiet. He could see Squalo smirk out of the corner of his eye.

After the footsteps retreated, he whispered, "Jerk," and Squalo smirked again. He took the word as a command, rather than an insult, pumping Tsuna's erection. Tsuna writhed on his lap, fighting to stay quiet and wondering how Squalo, of all people, was silent when he ground up against his crotch. Squalo was always yelling something, always complaining or boasting. But now, the only way Tsuna knew he was affected by their actions was his heaving chest and the way his lips were pressed together in a thin line and the hardness he rubbed against.

Tsuna gave a little gasp when Squalo released him. He focused on catching his breath while the swordsman undid his own pants. He didn't know what he would do, but he wasn't frightened. He was too achingly hard to be nervous, he thought.

He suppressed a shiver when Squalo's freed erection brushed against his own. Squalo captured them both in his real hand, the warmth of his palm pushing their heated flesh against each other. His false hand braced against the microfilm machine, making him lean back a little and pulling Tsuna forward. Tsuna could see the words displayed behind Squalo, but the feel of his ministrations kept him too distracted to even care what they said. All that mattered was the feel of their erections in Squalo's large fist and the imperative that they both stay silent or it would end too soon.

Tsuna's body trembled with the effort of staying upright and quiet. His ears strained for the slightests noise to warn him of an approaching interference. He was embarassed by his reaction, somewhere deep down, but Squalo's motions chased the thought away. He didn't care if he was doing something bad. Squalo was bringing him close and this would be his first time with someone else and he was in public and what was he thinking!?

Squalo felt him tense and stroked harder. He was thinking too much, that's what he was thinking. They were hidden and how did Squalo know how to do that because that was amazing, the way he twisted his hand...

It was all he could do not to pull Squalo's hair when he came, brought over the edge by that rolling motion of his hand and his harsh kisses. He buried his face in Squalo's collar, his face flushed with heat. He wanted to stay there, basking in his warmth, but the other man made a small growl in his throat, and Tsuna remembered that he hadn't found his release yet.

He reached down, gently capturing Squalo's wrist. He raised his hand to his mouth. Tsuna almost stopped after the first lick, it tasted so bad. Like pickles left out in the sun, or maybe salt and vinegar chips with something gross and bitter on them. But Squalo made this pleased face around the lip he was chewing to stay silent, and Tsuna liked that so much that he continued in spite of the taste. He fumbled between them with his free hand, clasping Squalo's erection in his fist. He wanted to make Squalo feel as good as he did, but he had to do it quickly. And quietly.

Squalo had no right to complain about him being loud, though. Not when he was the one now losing control. His eyes were squinted shut and he made this weird grunting whine from having to keep in what was surely a yell. Tsuna pumped harder and tried to imitate the twisting motion he'd liked as he sucked on Squalo's fingers.

It must have worked; Squalo came hard, choking back a cry. All that escaped his lips was a whispered, "Fuuuuuuuuck..."

Squalo's breath had barely evened out when they heard heavy footsteps approaching. The swordsman quickly wiped himself on Tsuna's shirt and rearranged his clothing. Tsuna tried not to protest loudly, a chant of "Library, library, library," in his head keeping him quiet.

"Are you fucking done yet?" a rough voice came at normal volume from the entranceway of the microfilm room.

"Yeah, Boss," Squalo said, leaping to his feet and dumping Tsuna off his lap onto the floor in the process. A startled squawk escaped Tsuna's lips.

Xanxus cuffed Squalo on the side of the head in greeting and smirked down at Tsuna, who hastily made sure his shirt covered any skin he might be flashing. "Clean this up for him," he commanded, making a broad gesture toward the microfilm display that surely included Tsuna. He whirled, feathers in his hair flaring dramatically, and strode out of the media center.

Squalo paused to help Tsuna up. He leaned close, and in a hoarse whisper told him, "Thanks, brat. See you again some time. Come better prepared, though." Then he was gone, trailing after Xanxus with a load shout and totally ignoring the whispered shushes he got. "Voooii! Wait for me, you asshole!"

Tsuna tucked himself back in his pants, face burning crimson. As he put away the microfilm version of the Mafia Times' "Making of a Sword Emperor" special edition, he wondered just what the hell he had gotten himself into.

HibaHaru- Decadence ~Say Yes version (NSFW, another kink meme fill)

Wed, 25 Mar 2009 02:31:42 GMT

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

------

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.

KHR 6996- The Red Dress (NC-17, for the kink meme)

Sat, 14 Feb 2009 03:16:20 GMT

Another kink meme prompt. I swear I have other stories I'm working on, one or two of which may even be serious, but I love filling meme prompts. It's like giving someone a nifty present. Of course, this was for the old meme and not the current one so who knows if the OP'll even see this, but hey. It's written, it's done, I'm posting.

"I want a ChromexMukuro that shows more than a few moments in the act. It should have how they got into the situation, during, and after. Bonus points if everything happens because Mukuro gets jealous of anyone/possessive of Chrome."

http://khrmeme.livejournal.com/520.html?thread=1101064#t1101064

I went for the bonus points ^_^

And since I apparently can't write without hitting up some sort of research at least once- Today's research was on color. Check out the Wikipedia entry for "scarlet (color)" for the hex code and mythology of that color. Then compare it to crimson.

--------

Chrome found it easiest to reach Mukuro-sama when she slept. As she lay her head down, she would think of him and 'wake' in the world of illusions he walked in. Tonight, her mind has wandered a little from just meeting him; she still thought of him, just less in the chaste fatherly way and more in a loving boyfriend way.

She had fallen asleep wondering what it would feel like to be in his arms.

She could see Mukuro when she arrived in their world, so her potentially embarrassing distraction had not prevented her from reaching him. He was facing the other way, looking out at something she couldn't quite see or talking with someone she couldn't sense was there. He turned when she called out to him.

The smile on his lips immediately faded when he looked at her. She stopped, puzzled. His expression was hard, disapproving- the kind of expression he saved for Ken and Chikusa, if they screwed up. He'd never looked at her like that before.

"Chrome," he said in a chill voice, "what are you wearing?"

She looked at herself then, feeling first for an eye patch. She was wearing one that felt silky, with a single string. The Ring of Mist was heavy on a chain around her neck, nestled between her breasts even though she normally wore it on her finger. Her dress was light and airy and swirled around her thighs when she moved, and when she looked down, she saw it was bright red.

She only ever wore white here.

"It's red," she said dumbly, surprised.

"Scarlet," he corrected. Mukuro knew his colors.

He stepped closer to her, and he seemed almost menacing. "Why is your dress scarlet, Chrome?"

"I... I don't know." The color made her think of the daring women she saw on TV, the kind of woman who went after what they wanted. It wasn't a bad color but she wasn't a very daring woman- not like that. Her daring was forced, borrowed from Mukuro. She suspected she looked awful in it.

Mukuro reached out and ran a finger over her neckline, tracing the hem from her tiny spaghetti straps over the swell of her breast. The dress came down lower than her bra, exposing a large margin of black lace. She was afraid to take a breath, afraid of her own reaction. He frightened her a little with his strange response to her dress, but his hand was gentle. Surely he could feel her heart speed up... He stared down at her, and she saw that his smile had still not returned.

"Are you a cardinal now?" he asked in a vicious tone. "Or perhaps the Whore of Babylon? Scarlet is their color, you know."

"Mukuro-sama?" She didn't quite understand his reference, but she knew it was bad, knew he was angry.

He didn't acknowledge she spoke. He just traced the lace trim of her bra with his finger and put his other hand on her hip. "I know you haven't found religion. So are you a scarlet woman now? Who was it, Chrome?" He looked at her face again as his hand cupped her breast, possessive. "Who took you away from me?"

"What?" His hand distracted her. She'd thought about the moment he touched her, finally touched her as a lover, and it had never included such a ferocious look and accusations. She couldn't tell if his touch excited her or frightened her; all she knew was that his warm hand made her heart pound. "No one's taken me away-"

"Don't lie to me," he said harshly. "You come here dressed in a whore's red and expect me to believe you? You are mine, Chrome Dokuro, and I do not like to share." His hands tightened on her, squeezing her breast and hip, and she gasped.

"Mukuro-sama, please!" She gathered her courage and tried to dislodge the hand on her breast, the one that hurt more. "You're hurting me," she whimpered.

He loosened his grip and slid his hand to her shoulder. "Tell me. It was one of the Vongola, yes?" His eyes bored into her. "Ken and Chikusa know better. It must have been one of them. Or more than one. Chrome, tell me. The truth, please." He was keeping his voice level but Chrome could sense his tension.

"I don't understand," she said again. The pain from his hands had distracted her from his words. "What do you want?"

His hands tightened on her and he spoke through clenched teeth. "Your purity, Chrome. Who has taken what belongs to me? Tell me, and I will kill him quickly and with little pain. Delay and I will torture him a thousand years for every second you protect him."

"My..." Her face felt hot and she was sure she was blushing. "Mu-mukuro-sama! I, I haven't... I'm not like that!" She tensed, squeezing her eyes closed as if to protect herself from his intense stare.

"Oh? Then what am I supposed to think, with you wearing these colors, this cut?" He traced her neckline again. She was acutely aware of how close his fingers came to brushing her nipple through her bra. "A scarlet dress, black lace, and I have never once touched you. Are you telling me that you are still a virgin in this whore's gown?"

"Stop saying that word!" She clenched her little fists and raised her voice and looked him square in the eyes.

He smiled, close-lipped and cruel. "Which one?" he taunted her.

"Wh-whore. Stop saying it. I'm not."

"So you say you are still untouched?"

If it was anyone else, she wouldn't answer. It would be none of their business. But Mukuro was Mukuro, and she was his, no matter how unfair he was being. "I am."

"Really?" He didn't seem calmed at all. "So you swear Sawada Tsunayoshi has never blushed and called your name? Hibari Kyouya has never cornered you on the roof? Yamamoto Takeshi has never plied you with kisses? Gokudera Hayato has never charmed you in Italian?"

She shook her head at each example, astounded by his imagination. What did he do when he wasn't with her? She had been sure he was planning his escape or coordinating his other subordinates (except when he was very, very bored; then he liked to gossip and pretend to match make). Sometimes she liked to think he was doing innocent things, like helping Guido with his homework. Never had she thought that he worried about her getting involved with Boss or his family- and if he was angry about something involving Boss himself, it truly bothered him.

"Where is your white dress, Chrome?" he asked, suddenly subdued. It mattered to him, the color of her dress.

"I don't know. I'm wearing this instead." She gestured down to the dress he hated so much. "I was thinking of you and no one else before I came."

He laughed at her then, suddenly amused, and she blushed at her unintentional innuendo. "Then I, and no one else, am the cause of such a risqué ensemble?" Chrome nodded. "Do you swear?"

"I do."

He pulled her into his arms, gently. This was how she wanted it to be. "Tell me then, my cute Chrome, just what you were thinking."

She was certain her face was still bright, and she glanced down at her bare feet. "I... I was thinking about how it would feel... to have you hold me."

"Like this?" he asked. She nodded shyly. Standing up to Mukuro-sama, and then admitting she had silly romantic thoughts about him, and then dealing with his quicksilver moods, was really quite draining.

He put a hand in her hair, toying with the crest that emulated his own style. "Perhaps I was a little foolish," he said softly. "I should know better than to doubt you, my precious Chrome."

It was all the apology she would ever get, but it was all she needed. She rested her head on his chest. "I'm sorry I worried you," she said into his shirt. He laughed.

"I'm sorry you had to see my ugly side," he said. She looked up at him, surprised. Perhaps Mukuro was willing to apologize after all. He stroked her hair and continued. "You see, I am very far away from you. And I realize you may... become fond... of someone else in my absence, but I don't have to like it."

She gripped his shirt and looked up at his face, words stumbling over themselves to get out of her mouth. "Only Mukuro-sama is good!" became the result. She blushed and he laughed again. "I mean, you're the most important person to me. No one could ever replace you!"

"And my evil plans don't change that?"

"Which evil plans do you mean?" She knew all about the possessing world leaders and starting a world war plan, and the destroying the mafia plan, and even the "Set Gokudera up with Haru" plan that he sometimes toyed with when he was very, very bored and gossip wasn't fun anymore. They were all various degrees of evil, but it didn't make her feel any different about him.

"The one where I keep you all to myself." His voice was low and Chrome felt very warm hearing it.

"I... haven't heard about that one," she said. Her blush was never going to fade if he kept saying things like that.

He laughed his familiar "kufufu" laugh. "It starts a little like this," he said. "Although I always pictured the scene with you in your cute white sundress." He kept going before she could apologize. "I would hold you just like this, and you would put your arms around me." She obeyed, sliding her arms around his neck. "And now that we're all set up, shall I show you Plan A?"

"Yes."

"Then close your eyes."

Chrome was an obedient girl. She closed her good eye and waited. She could feel Mukuro shift against her, and then his lips were touching hers. He was warm and soft and gentle- she knew it was just for her, because Mukuro-sama was distant and commanding and had a quick temper, even if he tried to hide it. She had always imagined his kisses would be more... possessive. And she had hoped, even if she didn't believe, that he would be more passionate.

She tried not to be disappointed. But after having his hands on her breast already, a chaste, closed-lipped kiss just seemed anticlimactic. She had wanted him so much, for so long, she was surprised she had never come to their world in transparent lingerie.

"Hmm," Mukuro said thoughtfully as her hands slid down to his chest. "I don't think Plan A worked." She blushed- again!-, embarrassed by her lack of appreciation. He'd tried so hard to be gentle! But he continued before she could apologize. "Plan B then. I never imagined you were a Plan B girl..."

He slid his hands up her arms, his fingers closing over her biceps. "I will no longer play nice, Chrome," he warned her. He pulled her body against his, roughly, and kissed her again.

It was how she imagined it; a long kiss with lots of movement and his hands all over her back, once she pressed against him and he let go of her arms. It was the kind of kiss that made people uncomfortable to watch, even in movies, like they were seeing something they shouldn't. It made her heart pound and her breath uneven, her chest heaving with the effort when he let her go. He smiled, quite pleased with himself.

"Is that what you imagined?" he asked. She nodded dumbly. "So cute," he murmured, and kissed her again.

She pressed herself flush against him, their bodies so close no drop of water or breath of air could flow between them. His hands caressed her, sliding down her back and over her buttocks. She shifted at the feeling, her hips pushing against his, and she could feel him harden. It made her stomach tighten, a little like a cramp but good, the organs he created reacting to her desire for him.

"Mukuro-sama," she whispered when he broke the kiss.

He smiled at her and brushed her hair from her face. "Breathless already. I am sorry I distrusted you for a moment. Your reactions are so sweet and sincere..." He leaned in and kissed her cheek.

"No one else could ever make me feel this way," she told him. For all she knew, it was true; could a womb created by his illusions even register that another man existed? Could the stomach formed by Mukuro twist at the sight of anyone else? Even her heart, still the original she was born with, could it leap for someone who didn't laugh and call her "my cute Chrome" like she was his possession? She didn't think so at all.

"So tell me," he whispered. "If Sawada Tsunayoshi put his hand on yours-"

"I would feel only the pressure."

"And if Yamamoto Takeshi took you to dinner?"

"It would be only work."

"And if Sasagawa Ryohei wanted to go dancing?"

"He does something besides boxing?" Mukuro laughed and continued.

"And if Gokudera Hayato spoke sweetly in Italian?"

"He doesn't speak the right dialect."

"And Hibari Kyouya? If he caught you alone and instead of fighting, wanted to kiss you?" Here was the test; ever since they'd gone to that awful future and come back, Chrome had a soft spot for the man Hibari might become. But he wasn't that Hibari, and he certainly wasn't Mukuro-sama.

"I would remind him who I belong to, and we would fight instead," she said.

Mukuro shifted his hips against her, and she could feel his erection twitch in his pants. He was aroused by owning her, by destroying other men in a battle for her attention, by her confirming that she was his. She thought vaguely that a smart woman would be wary of such a man, but Ken had always told her she was stupid. She liked that he wanted her to himself.

"My cute Chrome," he said, "Hibari Kyouya does what he wishes. If he wished to touch you?"

It was such a strange game Mukuro was playing with her, but not a hard one. Being confident was easy now, with Mukuro-sama's soft What-If's in her ear and his tangible approval of her pressed against her body. "He is not you. No matter how powerful he is, he cannot touch me without your consent. I would find a way to beat him."

Mukuro moaned against her cheek. "How? How would you defeat him?" he murmured, his voice thick and husky like he was asking her how she wanted him to fuck her.

"I would wrap him in illusions, and get enough distance to use our trident and best techniques." Mukuro's hands slid up her arms to her shoulders. "You've taught me well; I think I could hold him off."

"He is very strong, and resistant to illusions." Mukuro kissed her earlobe, licking it before he moved to her neck. "I wonder if you could."

"I'm not a weak little girl anymore," she said, harsher than she intended. He slipped the straps of her dress from her shoulders and the red fabric fell to the ground around her ankles.

"No, you are not," he said. His gaze was hungry as he looked at her in the lace bra and panties. "I think you should be rewarded for having the bravery to face down Hibari Kyouya." He sank to his knees and touched his lips to her stomach. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to keep in the little squeak that she almost let out. His hands rested on her hips and he kissed her again, right below her navel. His touch was warm against her skin, and her whole body tensed in anticipation. The Ring of Mist slid on its chain in response to her smallest movement, brushing the sensitive skin over her breastbone.

His lips trailed downward, pressing against her panties as his fingers slid into the waistband. He drew the lacey underthings down her thighs, seemingly heedless of her trembling. The nearness of him was excruciating; his kisses were too soft, too teasing, when she was starting to ache from want. His hands caressed her legs after she kicked her underwear off, and his tongue darted out, tasting her skin.

She let out a soft noise then, making him laugh. "So honest," he murmured, pressing his lips to her stomach again. His right hand trailed up her thigh. She tensed, the movement making the Ring of Mist brush against her chest again. There was something arousing about the silver on her skin, the movement of the ring and the weight around her neck. But it paled in comparison to Mukuro's lips, his fingers between her legs, his tongue against her. She nearly choked on his name and shifted so he could reach better.

His hands held her steady, one on her hip and the other parting her soft flesh as his tongue lathed her clitoris. Her heart pounded against her ribs and her body felt tight and achy from desire. He seemed to know just what to do to her, keeping his tongue moving and eventually making her legs tremble. He stopped and looked up at her. She nearly cried with frustration.

"You're ready," he told her more than asked. She nodded and sank to her knees, her hands going to his buttons. Together they undid his shirt; Chrome pushed it from his shoulders then he unzipped his pants. Her heart beat faster. She was nervous, but the heat coursing through her body made her press onwards. She slipped her hands inside his underclothes.

He was warm and hard and she wondered vaguely how he compared to other men because she had been expecting something frightening or even gross, by the way other girls talked when they thought no one was listening. But instead, she had something that her two hands could hold comfortably after she pushed down his pants. He wasn't frightening at all.

"My cute Chrome," he said. His voice was husky but otherwise he acted like he was having a normal conversation, despite his cock resting in her hands. "Tell me, what are you thinking?"

She shifted her hands, stroking him as she answered. "I'm thinking maybe I am a scarlet woman," she said, her face flushed with embarrassment and want. "Because I want you to..."

"Yes? Want me to what?"

"I want this inside me," she blurted out. Mukuro gasped as she stroked him hard between her palms. He reached behind her, unclipping her bra with skilled fingers and pulling the lace away from her skin. The only things she was still wearing were her eyepatch and the Ring of Mist.

He kissed her between her breasts, where the Ring hung, and lowered her to the ground, her back on the soft grass. She could feel the tight ache between her legs spike as he leaned over her, his fingers sliding over her clitoris and caressing her entrance.

"Here?" he asked. She let out a gasping, "Ah!" in reply. He slid one finger inside her.

"Like that?" he prompted. She managed a weak nod and spread her knees farther apart. "My Chrome, are you sure you're not a whore? You open yourself easily."

She didn't bother to scold him about his word choice again; he seemed to like being vulgar and taunting. "For you," she said as his moved his finger and added another. It wasn't enough to ease the tension and she continued, hoping to prompt him into another action. "Only for you. Mukuro-sama!" He pulled his fingers away and moved his hips over hers. "Please!"

He smiled down at her, caressing one of her breasts as he shifted. His other hand moved between them to steady his erection. "Only for me? No one else in the world has tasted you? No Vongola has ever held you this way?" He pushed against her, insistent.

"I am only for you," she said, and he was inside her.

She moaned and squeezed her eyes closed. She thought it would hurt, that the first time was awful, but it was more like stretching and fullness and Mukuro-sama. There was no resistance; her body accepted him until his hips were against hers.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

"Hmm?" Mukuro made a soft noise and looked down at her face. "What is it?" He seemed genuinely concerned, if a bit distracted.

"I'm sorry," she said, dragging each word out because every time he moved, she wanted to cry out. It was very hard to talk with Mukuro-sama between her legs. "I'm too easy."

"Don't be silly," he told her, mood shifting from taunting to reassuring in one smooth thrust. "You are mine, and I am here. That's what matters, isn't it?"

"I mean, shouldn't there- ah!- there have been... you know... proof. That I'm only yours?"

"Oh, Chrome," he laughed. "Now is not the time to worry about your virginity. I believe you. And either way, you are mine now." He thrust his hips in emphasis and she bit back a squeak. "You trust me, don't you? My cute Chrome."

She nodded so eagerly that her breasts moved and the Mist Ring slid over her sternum. Her body jerked at the feeling. Mukuro let out a soft breath.

"Then forget everything except me," he commanded.

She obeyed. The world consisted only of his warmth, his weight above her. There was the heat of his lips on hers and his hands pulling her legs up, and then he moved faster and deeper. Each thrust of his hips pulled a gasp from her, a small, shrill almost-moan, encouraging him. She felt tense, her ache only partially assuaged by him, and that made her guilty. Wasn't that want supposed to be filled now that her legs were wrapped around his waist? Instead the tightness built, as it had when his mouth was on her, but didn't release.

She moved her hands, ghosting down his back over the hard muscle of his ass. He pushed hard, making her cry out and dig her nails into his skin. She was surprised at the sound he made. It was a throaty gasp, almost a growl, and the moment it escaped his lips he shifted slightly and thrust into her, fast and forceful.

Mukuro kissed her roughly, his mouth muting her small noises as her body seemed to coil like a spring. Her hands clenched almost of their own volition, her toes curling and all her muscles tightening. She felt her hips raise, bucking up to him. He moaned against her lips. He may have been murmuring encouragement, but she no longer needed it.

She almost cried out, would have if his lips hadn't captured the sound, as her legs locked around his hips and the tightness in her snapped. Mukuro whispered something and buried his face against her neck, but she was too overcome to make out his words. The shock of pleasure from her orgasm hadn't faded yet when she felt his, his body stiffening and pushing his warmth deeper inside her.

His breath was hot against her skin when she realized what he was saying, just "My Chrome," over again. "My sweet Chrome, my precious, lovely Chrome..."

"Mukuro-sama?" she called softly.

"Yes, my sweet Chrome?" He leaned up and brushed her hair from his face. He had such a pleased, gentle expression on his face that she might have been alarmed, if her own senses weren't misted over with pleasure. Mukuro was rarely so gentle- only today, only for her.

"You're... a little heavy." She hated to admit it, but he laughed.

"Of course," he said. She made a small noise of regret when he pulled out of her, but he immediately lay beside her and put his arms around her again. One his hands rested on her chest, and he slid his little finger into the Mist ring, still on its chain around her neck. She let out a soft noise at the feeling, halfway between a tickle and a caress. She was certain that if he did it too much, she would want him again, for all that she was sated and a little sleepy now.

Mukuro looked at his hand as if admiring the ring. "This ring," he started, "I wonder if it is too heavy for you?" She started to sit up, to say something, but his hand pressed her down, his thumb tracing circles on the swell of her breast.

"This ring... makes our family quite large," Mukuro said as he pulled her closer. The hand on her breast moved up to her cheek, the metal of the Mist Ring brushing her lips.

"I don't even feel the weight when you're wearing it," Chrome told him.

He laughed and kissed her forehead, stroking her jaw line and making the chain around her neck glide over her skin with each movement.

"Then when it becomes heavy, when such a large family becomes a burden, you will come here, to me."

"I will," she breathed.

"And if Sawada Tsunayoshi calls you to his office, you will call to me."

"I will." She reached up to play with his hair. "And if Yamamoto looks at me too hotly, and if Gokudera whispers in Italian, and if Sasagawa asks to spar, and if Hibari corners me in the hallway, I will call to you."

He seemed to relax beside her, nestling against her. His hand rested against her cheek, Mist ring still on his finger. "And you will stay with me, as long as we can." It wasn't a question; it didn't have to be because it was true for both of them.

Mukuro leaned over her, leaving his finger in the Ring of Mist and using his free hand to grab a piece of their clothing to pillow under their heads. It was Chrome's red dress. She was certain it had been scarlet before- orange-ish, bright and bold and burning like flames.

Now, as Mukuro tucked it under his cheek and cuddled against her naked skin, it was the blood-colored crimson of his mismatched eye.

Tie a red string (kokuyo fic, gen)

Sat, 06 Dec 2008 03:28:15 GMT

Tie a red string
rating: G
characters: Chrome, Ken, Chikusa
summary: Mukuro is the red string of fate, and he's tied their fingers to each other.
notes: Loosely based on the red string of fate, which in Japanese manga is more often depicted as being tied around the pinkie finger than around the ankle, as listed in the article.
Also, bonus art at the end! I needed to practice my tablet work ^_^;;
I'm also very glad I finished -something- in time for Chrome's birthday <3333

~***~

"What are you doing?"

Ken had found Chrome in their living space (it could hardly be calling a living room, even he knew that), on the floor near Mukuro's couch. She had a sewing kit spread out in front of her.

"I need red thread," she told him without looking up, and resumed her search. Ken decided to ignore her and play one of his video games.

Chikusa merely looked her when he came in, his expression blank as usual, before he made himself comfortable on the couch and put on his headphones. Ken glanced up, saw her comparing three different colors of thread, all of them red to his eyes, and turned back to his game.

After a while, he looked at her again, his concentration ruined by the sound of her packing up the sewing kit. She had one of the red spools set aside. When she was done, she shifted onto her knees and leaned toward the couch.

"Chikusa," she called softly, a tone that was eerily similar to Mukuro's. Chikusa pulled his headphones off one ear. "Could you... give me your hand?"

"What a pain," he muttered, but held out his hand for her. She gave him a little smile, the one Ken couldn't decide if he liked because it was cute or hated because it was hers and not Mukuro's, and she unwound some of the red thread.

"What's that for?" Ken demanded. The girl blushed, of all things.

"They say that people who are destined to meet have a red string around their fingers," she said shyly as she tied the thread around Chikusa's pinkie. "You follow it from one person to the person on the other end, and that's how you know they're meant to be together." And she looped the other end around her own.

Ken couldn't hold back his horrified expression. The girl was in love with Chikusa?!

She wasn't done talking though. "And since we're all Mukuro-sama's... We're all meant to be together. You too, Ken." She reached for his hand, and he let her take it. His face felt warm at her touch. Did she like him or Chikusa? Or was he being stupid? Was he reading her wrong? This was why she made him uncomfortable; she was assertive and then submissive, did unfathomable things, wasn't Mukuro.

She tied a new string around his pinkie, with the other end around Chikusa's, and then another string between her and Ken.

The two boys looked at her blankly.

Chrome held up her hand with their strings tied to her little finger. "These are Mukuro-sama," she said. "Just because he's not here... It doesn't mean he doesn't still connect us. He was the one who first tied these strings between us." Her cheeks were pink and she looked at them in that defiant way she had once in a while, as if she was embarrassed to be taking charge of them and afraid they'd challenge her.

Ken tugged on the string that connected him to Chikusa. Chikusa smiled, a slight upturn of his lips. It felt like Mukuro, in a way. He tugged on Chrome's string. He felt Mukuro, not at the end but in the string itself, a slight pull and a premonition of pain if he pulled too hard.

She tugged back.

"Mukuro-sama," she repeated, her voice commanding and confident, and Ken decided he really did like her smile.

Thorns (NC17 KHR Xanxus/Haru for the kink meme)

Wed, 29 Oct 2008 01:05:45 GMT

Thorns

fandom: Katekyou Hitman Reborn
pairing: Haru/Xanxus (yes the order is right)
rating: NC-17/ mature audiences only
word count: 3997
warnings: crack pairing, femdom, scar fetish, smut, and swearing
summary: For the old kink meme. Xanxus doesn't let Haru see him undressed. There's a reason- one that she doesn't particularly agree with, and is extremely successful in refuting.
prompt: Xanxus/Haru, undressing (which totally got out of hand when I started writing!)

http://khrmeme.livejournal.com/520.html?thread=1070344#t1070344

It's hopefully not too bad, but it helps if you know a little about Japanese honorifics while reading Haru's dialog. In canon, Haru calls pretty much everyone except her female peers "(Name)-san" which is kind of formal and respectful. Tsuna-san, Reborn-san, Yamamoto-san, Gokudera-san... The ending -sama is extremely respectful, and is often translated as "Lord." And using no honorific at all is a sign of closeness and friendship and intimacy (or contempt, depending on the character).

As a warning, I didn't proofread this nearly as much as I normally do. It took me forever to write and frankly I don't feel like working on it anymore. I mean, it's not that I'm ashamed of it; I just want it to be DONE so I can move on to some of the other projects I'm working on.

Also, I hope the OP doesn't mind that his/her/it's "undressing" turned into "undressing, scar fetish, Dominant Haru, with a side of pussy-whipped romantic?!Xanxus." Haru got a little out of control and just... took over.

-------

The fight for the Vongola rings had been years ago, but Xanxus had never been one to let a hard-earned grudge die. He was free now, and his punishment was over and never to be discussed again on threat of death or worse. But he was still angry, still seething at Sawada Tsunayoshi. So he lashed out, any way he could.

One of those ways had been seducing Sawada's bride. He had two (or three or four, depending on who you asked and where they put Gokudera) but surely losing even one of his precious family would hurt.

The joke had been on Xanxus. Miura Haru was an impossible woman, and not even the one whom Sawada loved the most. She was loud and annoying and easily frightened but somehow confident and cheery. She had actually brought the Varia closer to Sawada's Vongola, despite Xanxus' misgivings. Now, her squealing was a fixture of the Varia orchestra, a counterpoint to the "UOOIII!" and the "Ushishi" and the various "Boss!" that filled his day.

Sometimes, he thought he should defenestrate them all and have done with it.

But he'd spent a lot of time training this trash, so they were his trash- even Haru. He'd been planning on tossing her aside when her purpose was served, but somehow, days had turned to weeks and the weeks to months, and she was still with him.

Today, he'd decided to reward her for it.

He entered her room without knocking, as always. She was standing in front of her vanity, fiddling with the flowers he'd made Belphegor get for her. They were crimson roses with huge, sharp thorns.

When she saw him, Haru thrust her hands in his face. "Look at my fingers," she complained in lieu of her usual "Don't you know how to knock?" He seized her hand and looked. There were tiny red pricks where the thorns had gotten her and a bandage around one knuckle. He raised the hand he held to his lips, but instead of a kiss, he gave her finger a rough nip. She gasped out a soft "Hahi!" and snatched her hand away.

"Y-you're supposed to remove the thorns before you give roses to a lady." She held her fingers to her chest, and spoke quietly. Xanxus wondered what she had been thinking about before he entered; her normal response would have involved raising her voice and getting in his face, like she always did with Gokudera. This generally devolved into a fabulous row, because he didn't put up with that, and ended in a tussel on the floor, complete with clothes tearing and kisses that drew blood. All his most recent scars were from her sharp little teeth.

He knew she was embarassed by that side of herself; sweet, pure, romantic Haru had grown up into the kind of woman who couldn't even wait until her lover was fully unclothed before she started screaming his name. He loved that he could do that to her.

What he hated was how she was changing him. This slip of a girl, ten years his junior, made him want to buy flowers (even if he did send Bel with instructions to get the most dangerous-looking roses he could find). She made him feel ugly, that his scarred body was something to be ashamed of, and that was why he never, ever got undressed in front of her. He hated that he wanted to be handsome for her, hated that he wanted to be civil to her, hated that right now, he wanted to make love to her instead of fucking like usual.

He hated that he couldn't hate her.

He stood perfectly still as she reached up to touch his face. She moved slowly, as if she was afraid he would bite her fingers again. "Thank you, though," she said softly as her fingers brushed his cheek. "They're beautiful, even if I can't touch them."

Xanxus was afraid of his own response to this. Her tone was strangely subdued, her fingers gentle. Where was his loud, clingy Haru? Had the thorns pricked her personality out?

She leaned up and touched her lips to his, a brief feather-light touch. It broke his resolve to stay calm.

"What the hell is wrong?" he growled at her, grabbing her wrist again.

Haru's brow furrowed. "Nothing's wrong. Why do you always have to manhandle me?" she snapped. His Haru was coming back, but it wasn't right yet.

"Don't lie to me, woman. Something's wrong. Whenever you or Squalo are quiet, something is wrong." She pulled backwards, squawking that she was nothing like that loudmouth Squalo and if she said nothing was wrong, then nothing was. Xanxus knew women in general and her in particular, enough that he could tell she was lying. He held her to him until she stopped struggling with a final punch to his chest.

"I hate those flowers," she said finally, resting her head against him. "I can look at them but I can't touch them. The thorns are too big, and there's too many. And..." she paused, her free hand spread against his ribs. "It's just like you, except you, I can touch but not look at." Her hand moved down his body, under his jacket but over his shirt. "When will you let me see you?" she whispered, and looked up at him.

Her brown eyes were wide, her expression soft with slightly parted lips, like she was about to beg. It was a look that made him want her. He wanted to tease her, make her beg for him... He leaned down and kissed her hard.

When he released her, she scolded him. "You're trying to distract me!" He smirked at her but didn't respond. Of course he was trying to distract her; she wanted to see him, and that was unallowable. But she looked up at him with that soft expression and said "Please."

His smirk fell as his heart seemed to jump into his throat. "No," he choked out.

Haru scowled at him and poked him in the chest. "Oh, so you think you can just whisk me away to your castle-" Poke. "And seduce me and make me love you-" Poke. "And make me want you so bad that I broke my personal vow to stay pure until marriage-" Poke poke. "And waltz into my room anytime you want, whether I'm sleeping-" Poke. "Or reading-" Poke. "Or in the bath-" Poke. The repeated violence made him edge backwards without thinking, until the back of his legs hit her bed.

"Stop it, trash," he growled. Anyone else would be dead by now, but he always warned her. No wonder Squalo said he was whipped. She poked him again, a savage jab to the breastbone, and he fell onto her bed.

"And you do not call a lady 'trash' ever!"

Xanxus snarled and pulled her down on top of him. "You are mine, and I'll call you whatever I want," he hissed in her ear, and kissed her again. It was hard and possessive but she seemed to fall into it, curving against him willingly. Somehow, they both got fully onto the bed during their kisses, Haru straddling his hips and his hands on her bared thighs. Her robe was falling off already, revealing lace-trimmed lingerie- the set that Lussuria had gotten Xanxus for his birthday with a card that read "Haru-chan will wear it, I think, but either way, Boss will enjoy it." Lussuria had laughed when he opened it, laughed harder when his face turned red (with rage, he swore), and then fell out of his chair chortling when Xanxus had thrown his whiskey and hit Squalo instead, like Squalo was a magnet for flying glasses of alcohol. The whole thing made Xanxus' lip curl in disgust.

"Why are you wearing that?" he demanded, reaching up to touch the lace on her breast.

"This?" She giggled a little. "I thought it would make this seem like a romantic evening planned by the others. You know, since Prince picked out the flowers and Levi made up the fire for me and Squalo brought some wine." He suspected she'd browbeaten the later two into doing what she wanted.

"Stupid shark," he grumbled anyway. "I don't drink wine."

"I think it's for me. There's whiskey for you, of course."

"Stupid shark, thinks he understands me."

Haru just laughed again like he'd said something funny and kissed him softly. The movement made her hips rock into his, and the warmth between her legs made his blood quicken. She smiled. Part of him wanted to roll her over, show her who was boss, and pound her into the mattress. But if he wanted a truly submissive woman, he would have gotten himself one. He wouldn't tell her, but he liked it when she fought. It was what made her such a perfect fit for the Varia.

She kissed him again and whispered, "I'm going to strip you naked and make you make love to me, and you're going to like it." There was a promise in her voice, almost a command, that brought his fighting instinct to the fore. He didn't want her to see him. He liked what they had, with the arguements and the home-cooked meals and the free tailoring, the wild fucking and her sharp teeth against his skin and her nails on his back. His scars would change that.

Then she touched his face. The backs of her fingers brushed the scar on his cheek, the one that always seem to show so much darker than the others. She didn't flinch, didn't close her eyes or look away. She just touched him, tenderly and without pity, and any urge to fight her drained out of him.

"You make me weak," he growled, but he didn't move.

She placed her lips against the scar on his cheek and said, "I'll take that as a compliment." Her fingers went to his top button.

The bandage around her knuckle made her fingers fumble, but she got the button undone. She pressed a kiss to his throat and went after the next one.

He merely laid back and stared at the ceiling, focusing on the feel of her fingers and thighs. Every time she undid a button, she kissed him. It was agonizingly slow, and the brief contact taunted him as she moved down his torso, but he didn't stop her. She tugged his shirts from his waistband and paused like she was thinking about what to do next. Her hands were splayed on his stomach and he was about to demand she move them down when she shifted.

Haru slid towards the end of the bed, running her hands down his legs until she reached his feet. She took off his boots, giving him that same look of disapproval she always gave him when he wore shoes in the house.

She tugged viciously on his right boot when it didn't come off smoothly, and the force of it made her slide off the end of the bed. "Hahi!" Xanxus propped himself up on his elbows and didn't bother holding back his laugh. "You jerk!" she said, yanking off his sock and throwing it at him. The other one followed.

She climbed back up and sat next to him. "I was trying to be romantic," she complained.

"Then you should have unbuckled those boots instead of pulling, stupid woman." The derision that had once marked his laughter was missing. He only called her 'stupid' from habit, because Xanxus simply didn't call people nice names. Really, he'd thought she was kind of cute as she battled with his footwear.

She swatted at his chest. "Knock it off. Haru's not done with you."

That stopped his laughter. Haru rarely referred to herself in the third person anymore, and one of the times she did was when she wanted him. He didn't understand it, but he also didn't argue about it; he liked the clear signal. Her face was determined as she leaned up to kiss him. "You're going to cooperate, right?" she murmured. He didn't respond; he merely complied with her actions. When she pushed his jacket and button-down off his shoulders, he slid his arms out and threw them on the floor.

He held still when she straddled his thighs and waited until she was balanced to pull her robe off. The lingerie was distracting even beyond it's ridiculous source. It was made entirely of transparent black lace and scraps of red silk, and Xanxus could see hints of everything he wanted- her smooth legs, the swell of her breasts and the darker edges of her nipples. But her hands were on his stomach again, sliding his undershirt up.

He watched her as she saw the extent of him for the first time. She moved slowly, like she was taking it all in- the dark trail of hair running from his navel to below the waist of his pants, the patches of scar tissue scattered over his body, the muscles tight with tension, the way his skin quivered when she just barely touched him. She was curious and attentive, but there was no disgust in her eyes.

The scars didn't bother her.

It had never occurred to him that she wouldn't care, that she would see his scars as merely a part of him. Even though she ignored the ones on his face, he had always thought the sight of his body would repulse her. But she treated his scars the same way she had treated the feathers in his hair- something unusual to play with, to touch, something that was uniquely Xanxus. She was more delicate with the feathers, but he didn't mind. Her fingers dug into his chest in an almost-massage, caressing the marks with her thumbs.

She pulled his undershirt over his head, tossing it aside, before she ran her hands over his torso again. She leaned over him and kissed his chest, mouthing her way along the edge of a scar until she brushed his nipple with her lips. It was an odd sensation, feeling her on his scar and unmarked skin at the same time, but it wasn't unpleasant. In fact, he enjoyed it, his nipple stiffening in a way that made him accutely aware of just how tight his pants were- and how warm she was above him.

He bucked his hips and she gasped, surprised by the movement. He ran his hands down her back, feeling the lingerie to tell how it fastened. He wanted it off. He wanted to just rip it from her body, to hear her noises when the lace tore away and her breasts were freed, but he restrained himself. Today was her reward for staying with him, for looking on his scars without fleeing, for getting even hotter and wetter at the sight of him because he could tell, he could tell through the fabric of his pants when his hips rubbed hers that she was ready for him but he wanted to please her at her pace.

He was so whipped. But when her hands, still fumbling because of her bandaged knuckle, touched his pants button, caressed him through the fabric, he thought it was worth a few remarks. He pulled her close, trapping her hands between them so she could feel with her fingers what he did with his cock.

"If you tell anyone ever, I'll fucking kill you," he whispered harshly, "but I love you." He kissed her hard before she could reply and embarass him. Her hands clenched and he moaned against her mouth.

"Haru's not done with you yet," she repeated, her voice thick. Her fingers went to his zipper. He didn't release her, kept her pinned to his body, so when her chest heaved with her breathing, her breasts rubbed against his ribs. Her fingers worked his zipper down, brushing against herself with each movement. His own hands became frantic in their search for the fasteners of her lingerie.

She laughed, a sweet but throaty sound he was certain no one but himself had ever heard, and wriggled free from his arms. She rocked her hips into his, making him moan again, before she moved down his body and started sliding his pants off. He struggled against himself, torn between humoring her, just this once, and tearing the offending garment from his legs. But her hands were soft and teasing as she pulled off his trousers and moved up to work on his underwear. He felt helpless with desire, as she finally- finally!- eased the waistband of his boxers down to free his erection.

His boxers followed his pants to the floor, and he was naked before her. She looked at him hungrily, her hands gliding over every inch of skin she could reach, scarred and smooth. She traced the edges of his scars with a delicate finger as his own hands shifted back to her thighs. Together they shifted her back to her position straddling his hips. She ran one finger from his navel, down his dark trail of hair to the base of his cock, up his length to her own leg and between her legs. He watched, enraptured, as that one finger pushed aside the lace there, showing him his goal.

"Do you think," she said, "that Xanxus-sama will make love to Haru?" Her finger slid between her labia and she made a small noise. "Do you think that you will be gentle and kind?"

He looked at her, with her fingers against her clitoris and her flushed face, and swore. "No, Xanxus-sama will not be gentle," he growled. "Fucking get a move on." She gave him an indecipherable look and moved her fingers.

"If you don't at least pretend," she scolded as she traced her clitoris, "Haru will take care of herself. See?" She arched against her hand, and he could feel her just out of his reach. He groaned and clutched her legs.

"Haru. Haru, please." He was ashamed of himself for begging already, but he was achingly hard, and she controlled him with those fingers just above his cock. She pulled her hand away, lace obscuring his view again. "Do anything you want- Just, touch me. Fucking touch me."

She didn't reply; she just reached behind herself, undoing the lingerie that had thwarted him. She slid it off her shoulders, baring her chest and making him groan. When he moved his hands on her thighs, she slapped them away.

"Dammit, Haru!"

She ignored his clenched teeth and straining body to lean forward. Her breasts brushed his chest as she shifted, working her way out of her lingerie. He kissed her briefly after every time she ground against him, leg against leg, hand against his hip, testing his patience and willpower. It held, just barely, because he knew that if he rushed her, she would withhold herself, and that was too awful to contemplate. He brought his hands up to massage her breasts under the pretense of helping her steady herself as she kicked the last bit of fabric to the floor.

Finally, it was just their skin against each other. No cotton, no lace, no leather, no fears. She straddled his hips, leaning forward to kiss him soundly. His hands were on the pale swell of her breasts while hers ran down his body, feeling the rough scars that marred his skin. Those scars didn't make her pause; she explored him, slid her fingers between their stomachs to rest on his erection. He pleaded with her, his words a harsh jumble of Italian and Japanese against her lips. "Please Haru. Anything you want, name it, do it, just let me in. I want you, I need you, I can tell you want it too, move dammit! Please!"

"As you wish, Xanxus-sama," she whispered, and gave him one more kiss.

She sat up, bracing herself with one hand and holding him with the other. She moved his cock so the tip stroked her, just like she had been taunting him moments before with her finger. He groaned and swore at her, making her scold him for his vugarity, as if she wasn't naked and nearly dripping wet with him poised at her entrance. And then she moved, and he slid into her effortlessly.

"Xanxus!"

Her voice was choked and breathy and his mind whirled on the verge of incoherence. 'Yes finally! She dropped the honorifics. What does no honorifics mean? Who cares she's riding me finally! Fucking Yes!' She moved slower than he would have wanted, but she did warn him that she was going to make love to him. That was an important distinction, apparently.

Xanxus had never made love before. He'd fucked, and had sex, but making love was new. He didn't hate it. It was hard though, to let Haru set the pace, to let her control their movements. But he liked the feel of her skin against his, and how the sight and touch of his body and a few kisses had made her so hot for him. He liked to look up and see her perfect breasts and the bliss on her face and his cock sliding in and out of her. It made him almost not mind that she'd forced him to beg, because she moved so easily on him now, and the teasing had been her own way of begging. She had been begging him to surrender, and given herself as his concession.

Love was a little bit like a war, he decided, and thrust his hips up into her, refusing to surrender. Her noise was beautiful as she fell forward. She caught herself, hands splayed on his chest, her breath coming in pants. It changed the angle they were connected at and Xanxus found he liked it even if he couldn't press as deeply into her. He arched his hips up and she slid her body down; with her hands as leverage on his chest she moved faster, pushed harder.

The face and noises she made were obscene, and he loved it. Here was the reason he kept her, he told himself, mostly to hide the real reason- he kept her because she made his heart warm. It was completely different, and much harder, than making his body hot.

She was looking at him as she rode him, something expectant in her eyes. "What the fuck is it?" he growled without letting her pause, annoyed that he had to -talk- of all things, now of all times.

"I love you too," she said simply.

The tension in him coiled even tighter and he thrust into her with a gasping moan, his eyes squeezing shut. She felt him coming and pressed back against him, taking him as deep as she could because she knew he liked that. Her own body tensed, and he thrust again, even though it took all his focus to move. He could tell she was close, and damned if he was going to let her dismount without an orgasm, too. He'd never hear the end of it. She soon pulsed around him, arching her back and calling his name with no honorifics- "Oh, Xanxus!" like a porn star- before she collapsed against him.

He held her, the both of them too sated and sleepy to move, even with the wine and whiskey quickly warming across the room. Her skin was soft against his scars, much better than the scraping of fabric. He took her hands in his, making her shift groggily and warn him that he'd "better be nice to Haru."

He raised her fingers to his lips and kissed her bandaged knuckle, as soft and delicate as the feathers in his hair- or rose petals. He didn't speak aloud, but he thought it, and his thought echoed in his mind like a promise.

Next time, he would remove the thorns himself.

Ruining the Family- Chrome-centric, gen

Fri, 03 Oct 2008 02:22:59 GMT

Ruining the Family

fandom: Katekyou Hitman Reborn
characters: Kokuyo gang, Tsuna, Hibari, mentions of others
pairings: implied Tsuna/Kyoko, otherwise none intended
rating: G
genre: gen
summary: The Tenth head of the Vongola family is ruining the mafia tradition. Chrome thinks this is almost what Mukuro-sama wanted, and uses it to get something she wants.

Author's Note: Writing for Reborn has totally taken me over ^^;;; I'm hoping to actually finish most of my ideas before I get distracted by something else, not like Digimon where making notes and outlines took so long I didn't do any writing... I'm so anal... Anyways, this one started with that first line and tried to be depressing, but I had just finished the clock porn and didn't want to kill Mukuro again because I nearly made myself cry. Yes, I am a dork. So have some gen with -no- Nappo-satsu instead!

"He's ruining the family," people said of the Tenth Vongola boss. They whispered behind his back; he brought in foreigners, he was a foreigner, he was too soft, he didn't want his men to kill their enemies, he wanted to keep everything as legal as possible.

The regular people loved him for it. Towns that had once feared mafia corruption welcomed the Vongola with open arms, and grandfathers said proudly that this was what "mafia" meant- men of honor, protectors of the people.

Chrome could only think that in a way, this was what Mukuro-sama wanted.

It would take a lot longer than a world war, and kill less people, but what Sawada Tsunayoshi was doing was surely destroying the mafia that Mukuro hated. The Vongola family never killed if they could help it, now; even their traitor/ex-heir Xanxus still lived and worked for the family. They had cut off their drug traffickers, punished those who preyed on the weak, and was working hard on cutting down extortion and bribery.

There were no new possession bullets and no new Arcobaleno, and part of Xanxus's new job was to keep it that way. The Tenth Boss of the Vongola always looked sad when the Varia squad went out on a mission, but many of the families they were sent against remained intact, the fear of God and Xanxus instilled in them.

Ken sneered at Chrome's Boss for being sentimental, and Chikusa would adjust his glasses so he wouldn't have to think of anything to say about it. Chrome clutched her trident, Rokudou Mukuro's trident, and prayed there where no children.

He tried so hard to be fair and just, Boss did. His other Guardians were often heard telling him that no, he couldn't change the entire world. He told them he would try, and if he happened to look at Chrome when he said it, she could tell he was thinking of three boys who had once needed a kinder world, and all they got were six paths out of Hell.

Ken sneered at him for this, too, and Chikusa adjusted his glasses and pretended to look out the window. Chrome clutched that trident harder and tried not to cry.

Mukuro-sama wouldn't want her to cry. He would want her to stay calm and get even.

"You can still change his world," she told him one day when he said it and looked at Kyoko's pregnant silhouette instead of her and Ken and Chikusa.

He looked at her, startled. Her cheeks reddened, but this was no statement made out of jealousy for something she probably couldn't even have, and it was only a little selfish.

"You can't change the world all at once, but you can bring a little more out of the darkness by showing one man some light." She'd worked on that line for a long time before she'd found the courage to say it. It didn't sound as good on her lips as it had in her head, but the Vongola Boss nodded.

Everyone inside the family and out said it was impossible, except for Dino Cavallone. He just smiled and told them nothing was impossible for the Vongola Tenth and his Guardians. His faith was warranted. Winthin the week, Hibari Kyouya had broken into the highest security prison in the world and nearly destroyed the Vindice.

It took all of Chrome and Ken and Chikusa's power to stop him, and in the end she had to shield him with her own body, but Hibari did not destroy Rokudou Mukuro.

He was weakened physically by his stay in the darkness, and Hibari left them with a disgusted noise and a promise to bite them all to death once Mukuro was well. Ken hovered over Mukuro, sneer finally gone, and Chikusa adjusted his glasses to keep himself from embracing him in public. Chrome clutched him to her, trident forgotten at her side. Mukuro silently reached up and touched her cheek, amazed at seeing her with his own real eyes, at seeing anything with his own real eyes.

"Boss is ruining the family," she whispered as she held his too-thin body, his head resting on her shoulder and his still-damp hair soaking her shirt. "It's not quite your plan, but it seems to be working anyway."

Happy Birthday, Chrome Dokuro (6996 fluff prompted by Haru)

Tue, 30 Sep 2008 23:05:36 GMT

Happy Birthday, Chrome Dokuro

Rating: PG because G seemed too low for Mukuro POV
Characters: Haru, Mukuro, Chrome
Pairing: Mukuro/Chrome
Genre: Fluff/Comedy
Warnings: Mukuro point-of-view of Haru? None really.
Summary: Haru gives Mukuro some advice regarding Chrome.

Author's Notes: This story probably takes place at the beginning of October, although I don't know the exact day since the day Mukuro found Nagi was never really pinpointed. October just before Squalo makes his first appearance is implied, though (hmm, I wonder if one of the novels say...).
Also, this takes place in an alternate, happier future than the Future Arc, one where Mukuro is free and able to interact with the Kokuyo gang and Tsuna's family in his real body.

*********

"You know," Haru said with a disapproving tone, "for someone who goes on about having been to hell and reincarnation and all that, you really don't know anything."

"Excuse me?" Mukuro couldn't stop himself. He had been innocently poking through the library at the Vongola base, bored out of his skull and hoping for some light reading- the Bhagavad Gita, perhaps? Or maybe some Machiavelli?- to put him to sleep. Haru had been curled up in a chair, apparently engrossed in her own book, until she spoke. He knew he shouldn't respond to the girl, since that it would encourage her to stick her nose into his business and thus complicate his plans to take Sawada Tsunayoshi's body, but he did it anyway.

"You heard me." Haru put her book down. "You don't know anything about women."

He looked at her, his smile drooping in surprise. What did that have to do with anything?

"I can't believe you just sent Chrome off to Italy without you! Her birthday is in two days and she wanted to spend it with you!" Haru stood from her chair, put one hand on her hip and poked him in the chest with the other. "It should have been obvious! Even Yamamoto could tell!"

Ooh, that was a low blow. "I resent that," Mukuro grumbled. "And Chrome’s birthday isn’t for-"

"Two days, you idiot!" She poked his chest again. "Her special day is in two days. She told me herself." She folded her arms under her breasts. "Mukuro-san, you really need to learn about women."

The girl was infuriating. She was baiting him, and worse, he was falling for it. But it was a compulsion, like sticking your finger in the frosting of a cake or plotting world domination in your spare time. "And you’re bothering me about this why?"

She huffed at him. "You seriously don’t know? Are you blind?"

"Enlighten me." He was just barely holding on to a smile. The urge to stab her was rising, but he’d promised Sawada that he would behave as a condition of his release. Behaving meant not gutting the annoying girl.

"Women like to be with the people they care about," Haru told him as if it were a new revelation. "Especially on important days like holidays and birthdays. And festivals. But not necessarily on self-appreciation days, because those are for yourself." She nodded sagely. Mukuro decided to let that pass without question, not having participated in a self-appreciation day.

"And women really really want to be with the one person they love more than anything on their special day." She sighed a little and Mukuro knew she was thinking about Sawada again.

"It’s not her spe-" he tried to say.

Haru cut him off, completely ignoring the fact that he’d been speaking. "And Chrome loves you more than anything, so you should be with her."

Somehow that changed things. Words are powerful, as powerful as real magic. Mukuro had known that he was the most important thing in Chrome’s life, he’d molded her that way, but to hear someone else say it so plainly was a shock.

She loved him.

Chrome Dokuro, once his spare body and now all grown up into a beautiful and loyal woman, loved him, Rokudo Mukuro, ex-con and constant plotter of back-stabbings. A person valued so highly by her friends cared more about him than any other.

It was humbling, and Mukuro wasn’t quite sure he liked it. But Haru smiled like she knew what he was thinking. She was probably wrong, but she didn't let that stop her.

"Do you know what women like?" she asked, her hands clasped behind her back as she rocked on the balls of her feet, ready to dole out some more of her special brand of wisdom. "Women like romance. We like surprises. We like it when our loved ones come to see us, say, on our birthdays when we’re away from home."

She took one of his hands. "I’ll give you some good advice," she said. "Catch a plane to Italy and go to Chrome. Buy her flowers and candy and a special present. And then do something super romantic together!" She smiled so sweetly, Mukuro was tempted to forgive her for intruding on his relationship with Chrome.

When he didn't immediately respond, Haru launched into another diatribe on the virtues of spontaneity and romance. He shut her out, murmuring agreement and nodding at all the appropriate moments.

It was, after all, really good advice.

******

Ten hours later, he was boarding a plane that Haru had booked him a timely but overpriced ticket for. He planned on writing it off as a business expense later.

Sixteen hours after that, he was grumpy and jet-lagged and a cheerful Dino Cavallone picked him up personally, just to show off his new sports car. It was flashy and red and fast, just like all the others. Mukuro was only impressed by how quickly it got him to the hotel, because any more chattering by the over-friendly Cavallone would make him puncture his own eardrums.

By five pm Italian time, the flowers were delivered, the wine chilled, and the chocolates broken into because he just couldn't resist. Mukuro was showered and napping in the bed Chrome had slept in the night before. It only smelled like her because he'd used her shampoo, which disappointed him a bit before he fell into an exhausted slumber.

Her perfume and the somehow cool scent of her skin permeated his dreams, and he could hear Chrome's sweet soprano calling his name. He opened his eyes, languid but refreshed, and saw her leaning over him.

"Mukuro-sama," she said softly. "You're here."

"I am." He smiled and reached up to touch her hair. "Happy birthday."

She blinked, her eyebrow over her good eye arched, as he sat up. "It's not my birthday."

"I know," he laughed. "Nagi's birthday isn't until December. But I got some good advice about your 'special day' today." She still looked puzzled, but he laughed again, a soft "Kufufu" full of real emotion that wasn't his usual mockery.

"It's been ten years," Mukuro said fondly as he pulled her into his arms.

"Oh. Oh!" She relaxed against him. "That's right. Today is our anniversary. I thought of it a while ago, with Haru and Kyoko, but we're so busy here..." He stroked her hair, ruffling the part in the back where it had gotten too long to emulate his spiky pineapple crest, and she toyed with the buttons on his shirt. "I can't believe it's been that long since we met. Since you saved me," she whispered.

"My cute Chrome." He slid his fingers down her jaw and tilted her head up. She held her breath as if he might disappear and he almost laughed. She was too cute! He kissed her instead, more gentle than he'd ever done anything else in this lifetime.

"Mukuro-sama..."

"I mean it, for real this time. Happy birthday, Chrome Dokuro."

Help with a Shower- Hibari/Kusakabe shower sex for the kink meme - NSFW!

Mon, 29 Sep 2008 02:50:44 GMT

Help with a Shower
Fandom: Katekyou Hitman Reborn
Pairing: Hibari/Kusakabe
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Hibari joins Kusakabe in the shower. For the old kink meme.

Prompt: Hibari/Kusakabe - shower sex. Extra points for hair-washing.

http://khrmeme.livejournal.com/520.html?thread=183816#t183816

----

In case you can't tell, I'm trying to fill some old requests in the Reborn kink memes. Anything with Chrome, Haru, and Kusakabe are fair game ^_^

I love Kusakabe for some reason. Maybe it's the rugged good looks, maybe it's the super-phallic hairdo or the being good with children and Hibaris. Maybe all the Kishidan videos I've been watching lately have given me a bosozoku fetish. I don't really know. Suffice to say, this is probably not the last of HibaKusa you'll see from me.

And because I can't write porn without doing research, apparently:
http://www.metacafe.com/watch/539646/japan_how_to_use_a_japanese_bathroom_how_to_shower_or_bath_jap/

Pompadour reference links to follow in another smut fic, provided I ever finish it....

----

Kusakabe Tetsuya, known as Tetsu to his parents and few others, is a grown man. He doesn't need help to take a shower, and if it had been anyone else, he probably would have punched them for saying it. He may look like a greaser but he certainly isn't greasy.

But this is Kyou-san, and if Kyou-san feels the need to get in the shower with him, than he won't argue.

Tetsu sits on the stool in the shower section of his washroom. His eyes are closed as Kyouya stands in front of him and scrubs his hair, fists full of lather from the horse shampoo Tetsu uses. Kyouya doesn't speak; he just massages Tetsu's scalp, rinse, repeat. His fingers are nimble, and he works the pomade from his hair as if he had done it a million times before, instead of randomly entering the room when Tetsu was already naked and announcing, "I'll help."

Cleansed of product, Tetsu's hair hangs past his shoulders in the front, with the sides and back trimmed short. When he feels it loose and wet around his face, and Kyouya has paused for a moment, he opens his eyes. He quickly glances up to see what Kyouya is looking at, ever attentive. It would be out of line for him to look down, to confirm what he can sense more than see- that Kyouya is already half-hard.

Kyouya seems to be weighing him. Finally he says, "It doesn't suit you. You will redo your old style after we're done." His voice is a command, and Tetsu knows he will obey, just like he obeys when Kyouya tells him to close his eyes again. His hands are in his hair again, slick with conditioner. It feels good, and Tetsu doesn't bother to tell him that he's not supposed to use that much, especially near the roots. He hums a little when Kyouya rinses his hair gently, a moan of pleasure that he bites back.

"Touch me," Kyouya commands, and his eyes snap open. He thinks he misheard him, at first, but Kyouya is naked in front of him, as naked as he himself is, and there is no hiding from each other.

Kyouya's skin is warm and supple under his hands. He holds his hip with one hand, and Kyouya looks down at him with a dark, approving smirk. Tetsu strokes his cock with his other hand for a moment, then leans forward and takes him into his mouth. He covers his teeth with his lips carefully- Kyouya likes to bite, but doesn't like to be bitten. It's too much like someone stealing his trademark, Tetsu suspects. So he is careful, tongue and lips working Kyouya's erection, right hand fisted around what he can't take comfortably.

The sudden noise and feel of the shower startles him. Kyouya mutters, "Too loud." It's the only explanation, and the closest thing to an apology he'll get, so he goes back to work as the water beats on Kyouya's back. He wonders whether Kyouya meant himself when he makes a soft noise in his throat in response to Tetsu's ministrations. He is soaking wet from the shower spray and Tetsu's saliva when he pulls Tetsu away.

Tetsu finds himself on the floor on his back and Kyouya's hands all over him. This is vaguely familiar; Kyouya fucks like he fights, all surprise moves and quick hands and force and power. His hands are never gentle. The way they move over his body is propriety even when they barely touch his skin. He caresses his chest roughly, thumbnails scraping Tetsu's nipples just because he can, because he knows he doesn't particularly like it. Tetsu's most sensitive place is his neck, and Kyouya takes his time getting there.

Their hips are pressed together, and every time one of them shifts, the other moans. Tetsu loves the way Kyouya feels on top of him, the way he fits into his arms, the way he finally kisses his neck, hard, with teeth. He doesn't even care if Kyouya escalates things; the friction of their cocks against each other is almost enough.

But Kyouya pauses when Tetsu's hands brush his hipbones. He makes a small noise, the beginning of a growl. "I'm going to fuck you," he says, and grabs Tetsu's hair conditioner. His movements allow the spray of water to hit Tetsu in the face, and he sputters and smooths his hair from his eyes as a huge dollop of his conditioner is sacrificed to Kyouya's lust.

His fingers are cool and slick and Tetsu arches his hips up to let him in. Kyouya warns him more than prepares him; one, two fingers to spread the conditioner and he is between his legs. He kisses him hard and long, one hand holding a leg in the air, the other positioning himself. Tetsu exhales when Kyouya pushes in, a trick he learned to relax as a child when getting a booster shot. Kyouya was not amused when he asked why Tetsu did it, but it seems to work so he doesn't stop.

They lie there, on the floor of the washroom, for a moment. They always do. The moment when they first join is too awkward, too good, too intimate, too... something. It almost seems like Kyouya savors it this time, the way he looks down at Tetsu's face with an expression that is almost kind. Then Kyouya hikes Tetsu's legs up and thrusts, any pretense of kindness gone, and Tetsu has to scramble for purchase against the wet floor.

Kyouya pushes against his raised hips as Tetsu braces on his elbows. He moves quickly, striking his prostate when he can but not considerate enough to try on every stroke. Tetsu doesn't care. Kyouya has his cock in his fist and pumps, erratically at first but with growing rhythm. The shower noise drowns out their harsh breathing and the sound of their skin against each other. Kyouya tenses, thrusts hard, and struggles to keep stroking Tetsu through his orgasm; he may be a bit of a jerk but he's not a complete brute, to leave Tetsu on the edge. It doesn't take long before Tetsu bites back a low moan and his release splatters his stomach.

They stay like that for a moment, locked in the same awkwardly intimate feeling they share when they start. Kyouya pulls out, kisses Tetsu without teeth, and helps him to his feet. His hands are finally gentle as he washes him, as gentle as Tetsu's are on him; although Tetsu is reverent and Kyouya is claiming, the movements are similar.

After another brief kiss, Tetsu turns Kyouya away from him, facing the shower spray so it splashes his chest, and lathers his hair. He is careful not to use too much conditioner.

Omake:

The second Tetsu turns off the water, even before he can fetch a towel, Kyouya starts looking for something. He roots around in their shared hair-care products (most of them Tetsu's). He smirks triumphantly and shoves a tube into Tetsu's hands. He follows it with a jar and a comb.

Super-strength hair glue and extra-shine pomade. "Get to work," Kyouya commands, and leaves to get dressed.

Tetsu doesn't dare come out until his pompadour is in perfect, Disciplinary Committee standards.

6996 angst for the kink meme (NOT WORK SAFE!!!)

Wed, 17 Sep 2008 02:49:35 GMT

The Sound of the Clock
Series: Katekyou Hitman Reborn
Rating: NC-17
Words: 3992
Pairing: Mukuro/Chrome (6996)
Warnings: sex, attempt at angst.
Disclaimer: KHR is property of Amano Akira. This is a not-for-profit fanwork.
Summary: Chrome meets with Mukuro one last time before the date written in red on her calendar arrives, and no matter how they both wish it would stop, the clock keeps ticking onward.

Author's note: I'm not 100% satisfied with this (no pun intended) but I've edited it half to death. It's not going to get any better. I've never written angst on purpose before! I'm sorry Chrome is so passive, but she is a rather passive person sometimes and I doubt she has much experience with sex. I feel bad for giving her this overwrought scene as her first time with Mukuro-sama, but-

Prompt = "Mukuro/Chrome, angst."
http://khrmeme.livejournal.com/520.html?thread=32520#t32520

*******

Chrome knew she was dreaming, or at least walking in that imaginary world that Mukuro-sama had first found her in. Mukuro-sama cannot exist beside her, not really; only in the same space as her, in her mind or in her body. Even real illusions were still illusions.

They sat on a bench, out in the sun (how many years has it been since Mukuro-sama has seen real sunlight with his own eyes? she wonders, and feels a hitch in her chest).They're both wearing white, Mukuro in his customary white button-down and blackslacks, no shoes, and Chrome in her white sundress, no eyepatch.

They hadn't spoken since they met, Mukuro calling her name. She was a little embarassed by how needy she sounded when she answered, with her high and nearlybreathless "Mukuro-sama!" He smiled and sat on a bench, patting next to him. She took the spot he offered and they hadn't spoken since. Chrome tried to convince herself that it was because they didn't need words, but the truth was that she was nervous.

The air felt heavy, less like humidity and more like death. She shook her head, trying to get rid of that ugly thought.

"Chrome."

Mukuro's voice cut through her awareness. The weight of the air didn't matter when he called for her. She turned to him.

"Chrome," he repeated, "our time here grows short. Your own illusions are strong enough to sustain you, with the Vongola ring." He touched her face, gently. "Take care of Ken and Chikusa in my place."

"Mukuro-sama, I don't understand," she said. Oh, she did, she'd heard rumors, but she didn't want to admit any of it. Somewhere nearby, a clock ticked loudly.

"You know the Vindice have a reason to keep me alive." He didn't look in her eyes but rather behind her, over her head, even though his hand was on her cheek. "Someday they will no longer have a reason."

"But not yet," Chrome insisted. "Ken and Chikusa and I will come for you and-"

He looked at her then. "You're so precious," he said fondly, but his eyes were still sad. His lips were drawn tight even though the corners were turned up.

"Mukuro-sama," she murmured softly. She hated to see him do anything but smile. Her lips quivered and she sobbed his name as she grabbed his shirt. "It's not fair, it's not fair," she cried, leaning into his chest. He froze, but as her chant continued, he slowly put his arms around her shoulders.

"My sweet Chrome... There is a reason the Vindice have locked me up, why perhaps I deserve to die. You see, Chrome, I am not a nice person." He said it like he was explaining it to a child, or like it was his occupation. She didn't lift her head but shook her head in denial against him. Her hands tightened in his shirt. He pulled her closer. "I wanted to make sure I said 'Thank you'." And then he did something that surprised her; he kissed her on the top of the head.

In all the times they'd met in dreams or in that world only they shared, they rarely touched. Sometimes Mukuro would take her hand, mostly to reassure her about something. She had never dared to take Mukuro's hand or sit so their hips touched or hug him or even kiss his cheek in greeting. She was closer to Boss that way. Feeling Mukuro's lips touch her hair made her heart jump and she looked up at his face. He smiled then, closed-lipped but gentle and wistful, the smile that made her take his hand in the first place.

"Thank you for being my body so I could fight," he said, kissing her forehead. "Thank you for being my eyes so I could see the sun," he said with a soft touch of his lips to the eyelid of her good eye. "My legs so I could walk," and he brushed her knee gently. "My hands so I could touch," and he took her hand and held it to his chest.

"My lips so I could taste," he said, his voice rough and deep as his mouth touched hers, almost like he was nervous. She closed her eyes and clutched his shirt again.

When his tongue brushed her lips, hesitantly, she loosened her grip so she could slide her arms around him. He kissed her harder then, his confidence back immediately. She wondered vaguely if his soft kiss had been asking her permission.

He didn't need it. She knew she was his, from the moment he'd told her he needed her.

When he broke that first kiss, she breathed his name against his lips. He laughed a soft, fond "Kufufu" and kissed her again. His hands slid down her back, far more gently than his mouth; his lips were firm against hers and his tongue searching, tasting. She was a little afraid to move herself. Afraid that Mukuro-sama would think her too forward, since he liked how she submitted herself so willingly when he needed her body to inhabit.

"My cute, shy Chrome," he murmured. "Do you not want me to kiss you?" He turned his head so his cheek was against hers but she couldn't see his face. His body seemed tense in her arms. She hated the uncertainty in his voice, hated herself and the tick of the unseen clock that caused it.

"I do!" she said quickly. "I do." She pulled him closer and touched her lips to his cheek. The look of relief she glimpsed on his face startled her. She closed her eyes and kissed him again so she wouldn't have to see it.

When their lips were touching, that confidence, the essence of what made him Mukuro-sama, returned. The fear that she would reject him in any way disappeared.

Chrome made sure he knew that she was completely his. She knew from movies and trashy novels that Ken made fun of her for reading that both people were involved in a good kiss, so this time she tried moving her tongue against his. It encouraged Mukuro, at least; he pulled her close and kissed her fiercely. She could feel his teeth on her lips as he pulled away, just a little, to look at her and murmur her name again. He trailed tiny kisses down her jaw and neck.

She felt his teeth on her neck and she cried out, "Mukuro-sama!" One of her hands went to his hair but she didn't pull him away. His lips and tongue were warm on her skin and even though it hurt when he sucked, it wasn't bad. She thought, 'Is he... Is this what it feels like to be marked?' and she leaned into it. She hoped his mouth bruised her. She wanted to be marked, wanted the other Guardians and even Boss to look at her and know what Ken and Chikusa had finally acknowledged years ago- that she was Mukuro-sama's.

He broke away from her, sucking on her skin until he couldn't any longer, and laughed. "I've been foolish, haven't I?" he said to her as he lowered her onto the grass- the bench no longer sufficient to his needs and vanished with half a thought. This was his world, after all. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let herself be lowered. She didn't even care if he saw her damaged eye without a patch or hair hiding it.

"I was a fool to doubt you, my cute Chrome." He lay beside her and kissed her, softly this time, before she could reply. She was glad he was himself again, that confidence of his, and the loyalty of hers that he took for granted- because he could, because she would never think of taking it elsewhere. Boss was Boss, but Mukuro-sama was God.

'Even gods die,' a niggling voice said in her mind. It even supplied the rumored date, but she squashed it, pulling Mukuro down to kiss her again. If she smothered under the heavy feel of the air and the smell of grass and death, she wouldn't care as long as he was touching her. His body was hot beside her, his hands strong and commanding and if they weren't perfectly gentle, she didn't notice or care. For now, one of his hands ran down her side and back up as the other supported him, letting him lean over her. The soft sunlight blinded her good eye when she looked up, and she twisted so his head blocked most of it. The rest of the light shone through his hair like a halo.

The hand on her side traveled up her stomach over her dress, between her breasts without pausing, and stroked her cheek again. "My Chrome," he called her again with another kiss. His fingers were gentler now, trailing over her arm and back up. "I'm afraid I must be serious," he said, his hand still moving on her arm. "Ken and Chikusa will not like it, but promise me you'll take care of them."

"Mukuro-sama-" she started to protest.

He squeezed her arm tight. "Promise me, Chrome. You will care for Ken and Chikusa. They need a place to return to."

"I promise," she said meekly. The clock ticking was closer, louder.

"They will find a way to avenge me, I hope, but I also hope you will guide them. Don't let them throw away their lives. Be patient, as we have been all these years."

"Yes, Mukuro-sama." She felt small and afraid. The heat in her blood that rose from his touch was fading away at his words.

"Live for me," he said. His voice was soft, serious. "Of all the people in the world who deserve to die, you are not one of them."

She choked out his name, sob welling up inside her. He seemed determined to make her cry, she thought. That date flashed red in her mind- the date rumors said was his execution- and the sob escaped. She pressed herself against his body and held him tight so he couldn't escape from her. She needed him, needed to feel him.

Chrome couldn't tell, in this world of his, if he was real or unreal, true or just an illusion. He felt solid but then, so did the very air she breathed today. He was solid and warm and little heavy. His hands were gentle, his voice soft as he whispered to her, "Chrome, my Chrome, cry if you must now, I will take care of you now, but be strong later, they will see later and you must be strong, Chrome..." She cried into his shirt, sobbing words that meant nothing.

Her half-babbled phrases meant everything to Mukuro, though. Every time she repeated "We need you," he knew she and Ken and Chikusa stilled worshipped him. Every choked "You can't" meant that she never wanted him to go, to leave her alone, to die. "It's not true," and he knew she would fight for him.

He couldn't let her, not now. It was too dangerous for her to come to him, the clock ticking too swiftly. She would have to live on without him. Oh, he still had a shred of hope- hope that she would fight, that Ken and Chikusa would come to him, that the Tenth Vongola was still blessedly foolish enough to think Mukuro was part of his family and want him alive. But the truth was that he was still a prisoner and that date that flashed red for Chrome was sometimes the only thing he could see, looming over him, a constant reminder that even he was mortal.

The ticking of the clock was surely driving him mad.

Mukuro held Chrome until her sobs weakened, whispering to her. He changed the setting of their illusion to Kokuyoland, the wide room that once was her living room with Ken and Chikusa, the same room that always felt like his throne room. He admitted, he liked it mostly for that reason.

They sat side by side on the beat-up old couch, arms around each other. "I am still here," he told her. "I'm here now. My Chrome-" He stopped as she squeezed him even tighter, her nails digging into his back a little. "Chrome." When she didn't respond, he called her again. "Nagi."

She finally looked at him, her face wet with tears and rosy. "'Chrome' is fine," she said softly. "'Chrome' is... yours."

Oh, how he loved it when she was so completely his! To know that this girl cared for him so much (dare he think it, that she loved him?) gave him chills. She gave him her body when he needed it, her senses, her movements, her heart- her whole self. And she would give him more, if he wanted it.

He smiled at her and he could feel her tension lessen. She wasn't relaxed, but at least she was no longer crying. He kissed her cheek, felt the heat and tasting her tears on his lips. It comforted him. The salt-taste let him know that someone cared enough for him to weep. He kissed her again, and again, soft and gentle and delicate and all those persuasive words, until she kissed him back.

She would give him her everything, and he would accept and give her himself. There would never be another chance. His clock ticked onwards; there was no more time to be shy or coy or patient, maybe even no more time to be kind. That thought made him pause, for Chrome was the only person who thought he was kind. Ken and Chikusa knew better. Could he disabuse her of that idea? If he took what she offered him, would she hate him for it? If he pretended to be kind, would she regret his inaction? Would he regret it as he languished in Hell yet again (since he held no illusions that he had achieved enlightenment this time around, and Hell was surely where he was bound)? Would the regret keep him shackled to the afterlife while Chrome and Ken and Chikusa all grew old and died without him?

Chrome's arms were warm around him, her mouth hot. He had known lovers in his past lives, but this... this was his. No faded memory tainted by Hell, but his own, real or illusion or even just his imagination. And it was Chrome, whom he had given life to, who revered him and- yes, he dared think it- loved him. They would both regret his inaction, both be bound even as they were forced to move on.

She would give and he would take. That was how she repaid him for her life. He kissed her hard, running his hands along her back. Her breasts pushed against his chest and one of her hands moved up to his hair. He didn't mind that he could taste her tears still, not at all. He slid his fingers up over her shoulder and down her arm, pulling one thin strap askew, feeling her warm skin.

"Chrome," he said, his lips against her cheek, "if you don't want to continue, tell me now." He sounded vulnerable to his own ears and he hated it. He had wanted to see her again before his time ticked to that red date, but he hadn't anticipated becoming a needy shadow of himself. She said his name, her nails digging into his shoulder.

He was relieved that she sounded just as desperate as he did.

Chrome clung to Mukuro. He was losing himself, his voice wavering and losing that sense of knowing that was so much a part of him. She could hear the clock, ticking away while she hesitated. Tears welled in her eyes again as she crushed her lips to his.

Neither of them were gentle. Mukuro used his teeth on her lip as she tore at his shirt. When the buttons were free or popped off, she pushed the shirt from his shoulders with her nails, pushed him down onto the couch that had been his throne. He pulled his arms from his sleeves and reached up for her. His hands slid over her shoulders around her back to the buttons of her dress. He gasped when she swung a leg over him and rocked her hips.

"Mukuro-sama?" she called softly. His breath was coming hard through parted lips.

"Don't stop," he said, as much a command as any battle directions. He ripped her dress from her back.

It startled her, the burn of the fabric against her skin as her own buttons popped, and it distracted her from the feel of Mukuro beneath her. The clock they couldn't see ticked and he reached for her.

His hands were hot, scalding her as he caressed her cheek, running a trail of heat down her neck and chest. He pushed aside the fabric of her bra and if his hands were fire, his mouth was Hell itself when he licked her breast. She let out a weak sound and arched her back, leaning closer to him. If Hell burned like this, then she wanted to be condemned with Mukuro-sama.

The air still choked her and the clock rang in her ears. She could still see that red date when she closed her eyes. But Mukuro's mouth on her, now sucking small bites and leaving tiny marks on her breast, distracted her.

"My cute Chrome," he murmured between his bites. "Sweet, beautiful Chrome." His left hand held her steady at the waist as his right kneaded her breast. She slid her own hands down his chest, making his stomach tremble as she reached for his zipper. The heat between their bodies was like his mouth. She thought she would burn from it.

She had to sit up straighter to keep her balance as she undid his button and zipper, but that only made it easier for Mukuro to push her backwards. She flopped ungracefully onto the other end of the couch. She hit her head on the arm but there was no time for pain because the clock ticked and Mukuro leaned over her and pressed his lips to her throat.

He called her name again, my cute little Chrome, chanting it like a mantra as he kissed down her front, sometimes biting so he left those red marks on her. He pulled up her skirt, his fingers slipping under the hem of her panties.

It was Chrome's turn to gasp and claw as he touched her and kissed her. He ran one finger down her, toying with her entrance, and finally inside her. His fingers pumped as if practicing with her, then his thumb traced tiny circles over her clitoris until her whole body tensed and- then he was gone. She whimpered at the sudden, empty feeling. He pulled her panties down and freed one leg, kissing the inside of her thigh. He gave her one delicate kiss between her legs, his tongue darting out to taste her and tease one more time.

"My Chrome," he whispered, voice thick with need. His expression was serious, his smile gone. He shifted, guiding himself until his tip touched her. "It's almost time."

"Mukuro-sama!" She ran her hands down his back, kissing him wherever she could reach- his hair, his cheek, his beautiful mismatched eyes. She cried out when he pushed into her, a small noise somewhere between a gasp and a squeak. He chuckled in her ear and thrust his hips. She called his name again, a prayer for her doomed god as he claimed her as his own.

It wasn't exactly how she'd pictured it, though- on the couch in Kokuyoland, her bra half-off, half-on and her dress pushed around her waist and that damn clock, ticking, ticking. But her body felt hot and tense and he moved inside her. Just like those trashy novels said, there was magic and a sense of being filled or being whole butwhy was she crying again? She wrapped a leg around his hips (her other was trapped by his body and the couch) and she could feel him moving and feel him in her and none of it was enough, not yet.

Her hands hooked into claws involuntarily when her toes tingled. Her whole body felt drawn and overheated. She didn't want it to stop, so she called Mukuro's name and dug her nails into his back. He groaned, undignified, too caught up in her to care about appearances anymore. His movements were harsh, his thrusts pushing deep and making her bite back sobs. It didn't quite hurt- he was rough and it was a whole lot of rubbing that kept her on edge and didn't let her go over which was maddening but so good- but her eyes still trickled tears.

Mukuro kissed her face, his tongue touching her cheek gently, as if sampling, making sure the wetness was really her tears. He called her his "beautiful Chrome" again.

She wouldn't have thought it was possible but her body tensed even more, her hips lifting off the couch involuntarily, letting him push even harder into her. She almost burned with Mukuro's fire, his heat around her and inside her. She wanted to burn. When he thrust hard, deeper than ever with a soft moan that sounded like the name he gave her, she almost did.

'He... Mukuro-sama, he...' Her thoughts whirled as he paused there, completely submerged in her. He was inside, coming inside her, hot and vital, and the sound of his breathing drowned out the clock for the moment.

He had lost the illusion of Kokuyoland sometime, the first time ever he had lost their setting, and they were in Chrome's room on her bed, where she had been when he called to her. The room was lit by a soft indigo glow from the Ring of Mist and the LCD red of her clock. It was eleven-something, and everyone on the base was quiet. The only things she could hear was Mukuro's harsh breaths and her own soft whimpers until the clock ticked again.

The bed may have been softer than the couch, but Chrome's little room in the Vongola base was not his place. He looked uncomfortable as he slid next to her. She squirmed, only partly to make room. She wanted him still, and felt greedy and guilty that she hadn't come with him. Mukuro kissed her lips gently and her breath hitched.

He smiled as if he were about to say something but instead slipped a hand between her legs again. His fingers were slick immediately, and he moved them in those tiny circles, the ones that made her body tremble.

She could hear the wet sound his fingers made and her own sharp noise as she bucked up into his hand. Her body shuddered and she was warm, so warm, and he covered her mouth with his own to keep in any other noises she might make. Words were hard to form in the wake of her climax, but some did, in her mind and on her lips- "Mukuro-sama."

Mukuro smiled again, looking down at her. "My Chrome," he said. She clung onto him again, kissed him roughly. She wasn't quite sure if she was satisfied or if she craved more of him. Se did know that she wasn't going to let go, not ever if she could help it.

But the clock ticked, the date turned red and bright and hideous. His smile seemed to melt away, leaving a small frown and a furrow between his brows. "I have to go," he said, sadly, almost frightened. "Remember me. Remember your promises." Her vision was blurred by her tears and she could only call his name helplessly.

Soon, all that was left of Rokudo Mukuro was mist and the ache between her legs.

Reborn fic: Education (Chrome, Tsuna, Hibari)

Wed, 10 Sep 2008 03:19:16 GMT

Education
Author: eigwayne (writing journal at second_wings)
Series: Katekyou Hitman Reborn
Rating: G
Pairing: None intended.
Characters: Chrome and the Kokuyo boys, Tsuna, Hibari, cameos
Warnings: None, except maybe for present tense and abuse of parentheses?
Disclaimer: KHR is property of Amano Akira. This is a not-for-profit fanwork.
Summary: Chrome goes back to school because Boss asks her to. He says you should learn something new everyday, but he didn't say you had to learn it from the teachers.

Author's Notes:
This is an experiment in writing in present tense. It's not my usual style.
I'm using single quotes for 'thoughts' instead of italics; I assure you, it's an acceptable way to do it (or at least it was when I was in grammar school learning about such things).
And a gakuran is that jacket the Disciplinary Commitee members wear. Hibari wears his hanging off his shoulders.

Chrome goes back to school because Boss asks her to.

Mukuro (and sometimes Ken and Chikusa) teaches her what she really needs to know, at first. She has learned to weave illusions and to fight with Mukuro's trident- on and off its staff. When she begins studying Italian on her own, Mukuro gets huffy.

"You don't need to learn Italian," he tells her in her mind. "One day, I will destroy the mafia and then what use will Italian be for you?"

She stands her ground. She isn't a lonely thirteen-year-old anymore, she's fifteen and almost a woman, even if she is still Mukuro's. She can make some decisions on her own. "I'll need it until then," she says.

Mukuro tends to disappear from her mind when she studies until one day Ken's reluctant, hyper-critical coaching gets her flustered and she shouts, "I just want to understand Mukuro-sama!"

"Enough," he says, taking over her mouth. "Chikusa, you will coach her. She is part of us now." Chikusa mutters, Ken grumbles, and Chrome beams. Mukuro is gone again.

When she has lunch on Sunday with Tsuna (Mukuro says she should keep up appearances and socialize with Boss. She knows he is just using that as an excuse to keep an eye on a body he still covets), he asks her how school is going. She blinks at him.

"School?" she asks dumbly. "We haven't been to school all year."

Tsuna ignores the plural pronoun, since he has learned she speaks for Mukuro (and sometimes Ken and Chikusa) as well as herself. "But- I mean- You can't just not go!"

"But that's exactly what we're doing." She can't resist pointing it out.

Tsuna stutters, unable to think of an immediate response. "Everyone goes to school," he says finally. "It's required. And, and it's important to learn things." Chrome recognizes the look in his eyes then, the one he gets when he thinks of things Reborn taught him- the hint of panic with his hard-earned wisdom gives it away. "You need to keep learning, something new everyday."

"I learned something today," she says. Mukuro was definitely rubbing off (in?) her; she never would have dreamed of being a smartass before she became part of him. The best part was that scared look on Boss's face when he said "What?" like he knew he wouldn't like the answer but had to ask. It makes her want to make up something really raunchy.

Instead she gives him a smile- the Mukuro-like smile she practiced in the mirror for just such an occassion- and asks if he really thought they should go back to school.

"Yes!" he says like the thought of her skipping disturbs him.

Later, she finds out that he was imagining what Hibari would do to him if he ever found out he let his follower-herbivores skip school. She personally thinks Hibari wouldn't care, but the Cloud Guardian frightens Boss more than Reborn does.

****

Sawada Iemitsu somehow finds out she is not attending school and still lives in Kokuyoland, and her world is uprooted. She was planning on going to Kokuyo High school, since they are close and she already has something resembling their uniform. Ken and Chikusa have the uniforms but don't bother to go. They are not welcome anyways; some of the students remember them from when they attended middle school and their grudges are still bitter. Neither boy cares so she puts it off so she can study the important things- Italy and fighting and magic and how to make chocolate candies at home. Then Iemitsu shows up at Kokuyoland with a moving truck and the more social guardians (and Gokudera).

"What the hell is this?" Ken snaps. His hand twitches towards the pocket where he keeps his teeth cartridges.

"This is no place for Tsuna's family to live," Iemitsu announces. He waves a hand at their place to return to, their home. Chrome notices a Condemned sign on the gate that wasn't there yesterday. Chikusa stares at them blankly (in Chikusa-speak, like they'd grown two heads) and Ken starts raging.

"He's made up his mind," Tsuna tells her, ignoring Ken's raving and Yamamoto's laughing and Gokudera's smoking. "He took Reborn to pick out your apartment yesterday."

She knows enough of their family by now to know that if Reborn is involved, whatever follows is inevitable. So she follows mutely as Boss, Boss's father, Yamamoto, and the reluctant Gokudera invade their home. They are in awe of the living space- the bad kind of awe.

"I can't believe you live here," Gokudera says scornfully. Yamamoto laughs again, because he always laughs, and has to hold Ken back from tearing out Gokudera's throat.

"I... Ah... It's hasn't changed at all," Tsuna says with a little more grace, but he's thinking the same thing. Chrome feels like she has let him down somehow. She's never been embarassed of Kokuyoland, not since she made it her home against Ken and Chikusa's wishes. Now she sees it for what it is- deserted, dirty, and now condemned. They were lucky the electricity and water had never been turned off. They were lucky the place hadn't been torn down with them still in it.

But if they left, how would Mukuro find them?

"I will always find you," Mukuro's soothing voice says in her mind, and she packs her things.

****

Before the day is out they are settled in their apartment near Boss. Near enough that she can get to him when he needs her, far enough that they have much needed privacy and space from the chaos that follows Boss around. The neighbors are a bit startled that three teenagers are living together, and that "handsome Sawada-san from a few blocks down" is furnishing the apartment for them. Iemitsu makes an impact quickly; the neighbors seem to have forgotten that he was missing for two years.

Chrome only knows that last part because Boss was complaining about it, loudly.

She clutches her bag as Yamamoto and Boss carry their few possessions up to their new place. Gokudera stays outside to smoke; they have so few possessions that he really wasn't needed. She feels lost in this new place, and scared. Ken and Chikusa (and maybe Mukuro) will blame her for this upheaval, because Tsuna wants her to go to school.

She wonders idly what the Cloud Guardian will do if she goes to Namimori. She finds out that first week, because it is the only school she can go to. When Haru tells her about the entrance exam for her own school, she feels so horribly uneducated she starts crying. "It's been too long, there's no way I can pass, no wonder Boss wants me to go back to school, why didn't Mukuro-sama tell me I'm stupid!" Haru panicks, Kyoko rubs her back to reassure her, and Nana brings them all tea and says how nice it is that Tsuna is friends with so many young ladies (Ken later tries to attack Iemitsu for saying "Now Tsuna has THREE brides!" and Yamamoto has to hold him back again).

Mukuro tells her that Haru's uniform would look awful on her, anyway, and she is relieved (even if he is bending the truth to make her feel better). She finally drinks her tea.

*********

Chrome wakes up early before their first day of school and makes traditional bento lunches. She used to make her own lunches when she was Nagi, and Tsuna's mother has been teaching her some new tricks. She feels domestic and proud and not even Ken's annoyed grumbling can take the smile from her lips. She ties their bento boxes in different colored cloths- Ken's is green like their old uniforms, Chikusa's is medium blue, hers is Mukuro's-special-eye red. Mukuro's will be indigo-purple like Mist flames, someday.

She carries her bag and her bento to school, trailing behind Ken and Chikusa. They will be in high school first year, one year behind Tsuna and Yamamoto and Kyoko and grumpy Gokudera (he only smiles for Boss, Chrome decided long ago). She is two years behind, middle school third year and in a completely different building. She doesn't know anyone in her year. Boss will want her to make friends, she thinks, and is very nervous.

Hibari is leaning against the post of the front gate, frightening the middle school students as they arrive with his mere presense. He decided to be a senior, this year, but the middle schoolers are still terrified by him. Chrome wonders just how old he is.

Ken sneers at him as he passes. Hibari and Chikusa ignore each other, except for a brief flick of Chikusa's eyes, sizing up the threat. There is none, not to him at least. Hibari falls in beside Chrome, making her even more unsettled than the thought of having to make friends.

"Eyepatches are against dress code," he says in his soft, threatening voice.

She is wearing a plain black patch today, cautious in her dressing. "It's not a fashion statement," she says, false bravado making her saucy.

"Keep it that way." He stays beside her for a few more steps. "Meet me on the roof at lunch." He walks away towards the high school, the crowd parting for him.

Ken and Chikusa glance back at her. She is glad for their subtle care but waves them on. This may be Hibari's territory, but she is Mukuro's, and Mukuro defeated Hibari in the past.

Mukuro does not chime in with any caveats to that thought, for which she is grateful. Her own mind provides enough.

****

She finds the roof, even though she has to ask a classmate for help. Noda-kun stutters and points to a staircase and Jun-chan tells her, "Hi-hibari goes up there for lunch sometimes. We think. We don't know! Stay away from him, Dokuro-chan!"

Chrome appreciates the concern behind the warning. Perhaps making friends is not so bad. She wishes they wouldn't call her Dokuro-chan, though. There's something cartoonish and awkward about it, the same level of awkwardness in Mukuro's Japanese. "Kawaii boku no Chrome," indeed (normally the phrase makes her smile but today, everything is annoying). She chastises herself for thinking badly of Mukuro-sama and heads up the stairs.

Hibari is waiting, of course. "Chrome Dokuro," he says instead of Hello. "I would ask what you think you're doing in my school, but your transfer checks out."

She makes a mental note to thank Boss's father for doing their paperwork and waits for Hibari to continue.

He was leaning against the fence but now he straightens, his black gakuran jacket flaring dramatically. Chrome wonders how he can get away with criticizing her eyepatch when the Namimori uniform doesn't include that type of jacket. "You know where Rokudo Mukuro is."

"I do," she says. She doesn't like lying, is no good at it, so she tells the truth.

"I have business with him," Hibari says. He takes one step toward her. "I know you can call him."

She shakes her head. "He isn't here. He can't come." Mukuro has been silent since yesterday; she suspects he exhausted himself spending time with her and feels selfish. She was so relieved that he wasn't angry about the whole school thing that she made him stay, just the two of them in their illusionary world, until he couldn't any longer.

On the Namimori rooftop, Hibari's eyes are narrowed, his mouth drawn into a thin line. "Chrome Dokuro, do not interfere. Call him." His hands twitched like he wanted to draw his tonfa.

"I will not."

Hibari steps closer. He resembles more the man he becomes during the Millefiore attack than the boy who Mukuro remembers. It doesn't comfort her at all. This is not the Hibari who taught her to use her ring, might never become that Hibari. This Hibari looks at her like she is an obstacle to be destroyed. Perhaps she is. She sees the hatred in Hibari's eyes, feels the bloodlust in his aura and knows she wants to protect Mukuro-sama from it.

"Stay away," she says, braver than she feels. She draws the top of Mukuro's trident from her bag and holds it in front of her like a shield.

Hibari glares at her. "I don't want you. Call Rokudo Mukuro, or tell me where he is." He wants his fight, his revenge for what Mukuro did to him, two years ago or more, now. Chrome would feel sorry for him if she wasn't Mukuro's.

'I'm sorry I thought your Japanese way of speaking was weird,' she tells Mukuro in her mind. 'You can make fun of my Italian, if you want.'

"He's not here," she tells Hibari again.

"I know that," Hibari growls, annoyed that she is making him repeat himself. "You can call him. Do it. Make him come here." He looms over her as if daring her to use the trident.

"I can't make him come. He comes when he needs to." False bravery again. Hibari frightens her on a visceral level, like Glo Xinia but different. Glo wanted to destroy her; Hibari wants to destroy Mukuro.

She's not sure which frightens her more.

"He will come for you," Hibari says, low and threatening. He grabs her right wrist, squeezing and wrenching it out to the side before she can react. She cannot stab him now. She feels her heart quicken in fear as he calls out, "I have your toy, Rokudo Mukuro. Come get her! Fight me!" He leaves the threat of death unspoken but Chrome can feel it on his warm breath. She closes her eyes and turns her face away; she can't stand to look and see nothing but his lips taunting Mukuro.

'Don't come, Mukuro-sama!' she calls out in her mind. She feels his thoughts stir against hers.

'He is hurting you,' he says in a flat voice. She can't tell if he is angry or simply stating the fact.

'He'll hurt you worse.'

'Fight him off,' Mukuro says as if he didn't hear her. 'Don't let him bully you. My cute Chrome.' He says it the annoying way, "kawaii boku no Chrome," and it makes her heart leap with joy to hear.

Flames erupt under Hibari's feet and he jumps back before he can stop himself. "I know that's fake," he says in a flat voice and it vanishes. He is unhurt but has let her wrist go, and that's all she wanted.

"I won't let you hurt him," she says. "I'm only here to go to school. But I will fight you if you want to hurt him." She edges toward the door; she is bluffing and he knows it.

But Hibari makes a small noise like he is disgusted with her and turns away. "Go back to class," he calls. "Tell him it's not over. Someday, I will go through you to get to him."

That makes her sad somehow. Mukuro's imprisonment hurts more than just her and Ken and Chikusa, the ones who love him. It hurts those who hate him, too.

"I'll tell him," she says as if Mukuro weren't listening, and leaves the roof.

****

As she leaves school, Tsuna calls her name and jogs to her side. She can see Gokudera and Ken and Chikusa behind him, all of them looking annoyed. They won't want to return, but she promised Iemitsu during their apartment-warming that they would all behave, her and Ken and Chikusa (and sometimes Mukuro).

Boss asks her how her day was. "All right," she says simply. Her mind is on something else. Before he can press her for details (because he's a sweet boy and genuinely concerned and that is why everyone follows him), she turns to him and says, "Boss, do you remember when you told me you should learn something new everyday?" He nods and she continues. "What did you learn today?"

He stutters a little at this. "Well, I learned that... let's see..." He seems to be mentally paging through his day. Chrome could almost hear it- 'I already knew Gokudera can't tutor to save his life. Everyone knows calculus was invented by demons. That's just too embarassing to admit.'

"I learned that Longchamp is actually a good class president!" he says brightly. Chrome smiles indulgently; she's heard the stories about Naito Longchamp, enough to think that Tsuna is being gracious. "What did you learn?" Tsuna prompts her.

She glances up at the roof of the middle school and fancies she can see Hibari's silhouette, gakuran sleeves flapping dramatically in the wind.

"I learned that a person's absense can have a bigger impact than his presense," she says. She gives Tsuna her Mukuro smile, and leads Ken and Chikusa (and Mukuro-sama inside her) back to their new home.

IkuKou Drabbles - NSFW edition

Sun, 17 Aug 2008 14:44:39 GMT

The end of the prompt drabbles! I'd imagine this would have gone faster if a) I'd written them on the computer so I didn't have to type them up and b) remembered to post them when I DID type them instead of letting them sit for months on my harddrive.

These are the remaining drabbles that require some sort of warning, so don't read them at work or in front of older relatives. Although they do get less smutty as you go down the page...

*******************

Switched Places
prompt: deep
rating: NC-17
notes: In Japan, Kouji is everyone’s uke. In my world, Ikumi is his bitch (who tops in bed). Therefore, it’s only natural that they switch it up sometimes. In short- Kouji-seme is a personal fetish.

Ikumi had never done this before. Kouji had, and Ikumi had done it to him, but not this way. Kouji had knelt on the bed; Ikumi was leaning against the wall. At least for now.

Kouji’s fingers pulled out of him. “Ready?” he said softly. Ikumi nodded. He could feel Kouji move into him. Even stretched by his fingers, Kouji rubbered and slicked, he felt it. He bit back a groan as Kouji thrust forward. Bracing himself against the wall, he shifted against Kouji’s movements until he hit something inside that made his knees wobble and his own cock twitch. Kouji smiled against his back and did it again.

**********

Trust
prompt: melt
rating: Who knows...
notes: Don’t try this at home, kids. Practice safe sex. Still, I like this one simply because it is so Ikumi/Kouji to me. The last paragraph is the essense of what I think this pair is (besides the Black Oze stuff. That’s a whole nother kettle of fish). Also, a far less literal interpretation of the prompt than I normally do.

Ikumi had dreams like this, and dirty thoughts, but he never imagined it would become real. He was posed above Kouji, clothes in disarray and breath short from kissing. The kissing wasn’t new, nice as it was. Neither was their dishevelment or their erections rubbing together through their pants. What was new and unbelievably yearned for was Kouji’s request. “You’re sure?”

Kouji nodded. “I want to. With you.” It was the ‘with you’ that Ikumi had never thought would be real.

“I don’t have a condom,” he admitted, bracing himself for when the request was withdrawn. He hoped it didn’t break his heart too badly.

“I trust you,” Kouji said simply, and Ikumi felt all the fear and tension run out of him.

*************

Shaving
prompt: smooth
rating: G
notes: Do you know that on one of my favorite Japanese IkuKou art sites, the artist warns for HAIR? I’m totally serious. The ero warnings are no big thing, but put a beard or leg hair on Ikumi and it’s suddenly a huge deal. Remember everyone- Facial Hair is SERIOUS BUSINESS.

Ikumi stood in front of the sink, his chest bare and his toes peeking out from under the hem of his baggy pants. Kouji thought he looked quite grown up when he shaved.

Well, he was grown up. It was hard to get used to, the fact that they were both over twenty-one now and legal in (almost) every territory in the solar system. Twenty-one, and Kouji still couldn’t grow a proper beard. His was thin and patchy and so very Asian. Ikumi could grow one, but chose not to.

So Kouji got to get close to him every morning after he’d shaved the night’s growth, and put his aftershave on for him. Ikumi always flinched at the sting. Kouji just breathed the heady smell of Ikumi’s cologne and relished the softness of his bare cheeks.

IkuKou drabble dump!

Sat, 16 Aug 2008 01:06:32 GMT

I'm trying to get these last drabbles of the meme prompt set posted so I can move on with my intermittent posting. I actually have some Katekyou Hitman Reborn done that I need to proofread. However, pretty much everything I try to write becomes this monstrous epic (Digimon, Reborn), or I put it down and then forget where I was going with it (Ryvius), or I change my mind on major plot points and have to start all over again (pretty much all my original work). So who knows how my writing will go.

For now, here's some of the more generic Ikumi/Kouji drabbles, to get them posted.

******************

Sleeping Arrangements
prompt: compromise
rating: PG-13. Innuendo is my friend.
notes: Hurray for thinly-veiled loud!sex jokes!

Kouji pursed his lips as he thought. “You take the bed,” he insisted. “You’re the guest. I’ll take the floor.”

“I don’t want to put you out in your own home,” Ikumi protested.

“It’s all right. I’ll be fine.”

Ikumi wrapped his arms around Kouji. “We could always share the bed...,” he whispered.

His breath was warm in Kouji’s ear and he was tempted to give in. “My mother or Yuki could see,” he said hoarsely. “They could hear.”

“Then I’ll gag you, and one of us will move to the floor after.”

"Idiot. You're the one who needs a gag."

*********

Ikumi the Human Blanket
prompt: shiver
rating: PG
notes: Fluff.

“How am I supposed to concentrate with your teeth clacking like that?”

Kouji scowled at his partner. “Shut up,” he snapped. “It’s not my fault the heat’s broken.”

“Hm. Maybe I should do something to help you then,” Ikumi said with a look Kouji didn’t trust. He scooped Kouji up and deposited him on the bed.

“I hate it when you do that,” Kouji moaned.

“Oh? How ‘bout this?” Ikumi lay beside him, his limbs draped over Kouji, and kissed him soundly.

“Try again,” Kouji said after. “I’m still shivering.”

Ikumi laughed and obliged him.

********

Kouji’s Jacket
prompt: button
rating: G-ish?
notes: Hate this one.

There was a button missing from Kouji’s jacket, Ikumi noticed. Aoi did too, and asked Kouji if he knew where he’d lost it. He got flustered and toyed with the strings left behind.

“We’ll go look,” Ikumi volunteered. “I bet it popped off while we were cleaning that storage closet.”

“Let’s hope so,” Aoi said with a sigh. “I’m running out of spares. Really, Kouji, can’t you take care of yourself?”

Ikumi towed Kouji back to the closet in question and closed the door with a lewd grin. “That button may be in here," he said, "but it’s gone. They fly pretty far when they snap off in the heat of the moment.”

Kouji scowled and took off the jacket before Ikumi tore it off him like last time.

*********

Kisses
prompt: tingle
rating: G
notes: This drabble is about the progression of their relationship. It’s generic, but sweet.

The first time they’d kissed, it had been harsh and demanding, a pleading for another’s touch that didn’t waste time on pleasantries. It was just two people, one desperately lonely even among friends and the other newly broken-hearted, who needed each other.

Now, things were different. The demands were gone. They had each other and there was no desperation in their kisses. Ikumi touched Kouji gently, his fingertips ghosting over his skin, and kissed him so lovingly that his whole body tingled.

Kufufu no Fu translation

Fri, 25 Jul 2008 00:20:47 GMT

I've been listening to a lot of Katekyou Hitman Reborn in the car lately, and Kufufu no Fu comes up a lot, because I love driving to it ^_^ I figured out a couple lines by ear and wanted to know what the rest of the song meant. So I checked online. No dice. Granted, I didn't look -that- hard, but after I found a glaring (to me) mistake in AnimeLyrics' kanii version of it, I decided to do it myself.

Yes, I went and did a translation.

Now, I had it almost typed up and nice, with notes on my word choices, but the beloved (note sarcasm) laptop Back keyboard button reared it's ugly head and I lost the entry. FUCK YOU BACK BUTTON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anyways, here is as much as I can stand to retype.

Kufufu no Fu ~Boku to Keiyaku
(the fu sound of my laughter ~Contract with Me)
from Sakura Addiction, Rokudou Mukuro version

~Translation~

I can't believe it, it's like I touched you with these hands
The reason is that naivety of yours; you've been taken over by me

Looking into my mismatched eyes, the face that frightened you changes
I'm glad we met, even if the reason is so cliche

Come now, won't you sign a contract with me?
your memories are fading away but before that-

Kufufu Kufufu The sound of my laughter
As you dance for me in a carnival of mist
if this world is made pure and beautiful,
I'll pull your strings in an eternal samba

I'll comfort you, if you ask it of me
Is one moment enough? My my; for eternity?

I don't understand the reason you cry
It seems that I've been naughty

Kufufu Kufufu The sound of my laughter
Your fate is to be reborn for me
But if you miss a step, you'll start to break
When you make those sorrowful eyes you're my darling plaything

Come now, won't you sign a contract with me?
your memories are fading away but before that-

Kufufu Kufufu The sound of my laughter
As you dance for me in a carnival of mist
if this world is made pure and beautiful,
I'll pull your strings in an eternal samba

-----
Notes:
The line "Kufufu The Sound of my laughter" is "kufufu kufufu no fu" in Japanese, which is basically "The fu of kufufu." I took some liberty here, since Mukuro is referring the that lingering sound of his laugh- kufufu.

Related Links:

Sakura Addiction - Hibari Kyouya versus Rokudou Mukurou, KHR! ending theme full version
download:
http://www.sendspace.com/file/bflcvk

Kufufu no Fu ~Boku to Keiyaku - Rokudou Mukuro character song
download:
http://www.sendspace.com/file/hfn3kz

Bonus!
Hitoribocchi no Sadame - Hibari Kyouya character song
download:
http://www.sendspace.com/file/mxu05j

Samba videos:
http://samba.ucan2.com/
It's really interesting watching these videos of the dance referred to in the song. It's fast-paced and full of movement- a really difficult dance. It's also really, really sensual, which multiplies that hint of Mukuro the Molester in the first line of the song... But maybe that's just me.

I have no plans to translate Sakura Addiction or Hitoribocchi no Sadame at the moment.

More IkuKou prompt drabbles

Thu, 22 May 2008 02:55:51 GMT

In order to get these posted (they've been typed for months but I get distracted or annoyed trying to post), I'm dumping a couple drabbles in here. Various ratings and themes.

No Title
prompt: gaze
rating: PG-13 for language
notes: This didn’t work out quite the way I’d planned. In fact, I kinda hate it.

Sometimes Kouji wondered how Aoi hadn’t noticed yet. He tried to be subtle, not to look at Ikumi too much, but it happened. He was a total heel for doing what he did with him. It didn’t stop him from doing it.

He knew his eyes rested on the gray-haired boy too long when he was imagining the things he wanted to do to him when they were alone. It was a miracle Aoi hadn’t noticed. Kozue must have. She must be wondering why Ikumi wasn’t staring at her, right? Because Kouji caught Ikumi looking back at him.

Until he was brave enough to say it, or until Aoi figured it out, they would only look. Because a man didn’t fuck his best friend in front of his girlfriend. He only looked.

----

I’m Sorry

prompt: scar
rating: R-ish
notes: My fandom secret? I think Ikumi has a scar fetish, apparently.

Ikumi kissed Kouji’s shoulder, gently at first. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Kouji looked at him, distracted. They lay side-by-side on Ikumi’s thin bed, on top of the blankets, and Ikumi had a hand between Kouji’s legs. Later, Kouji felt he was justified in being out of it when Ikumi started a conversation.

“I’m sorry,” Ikumi whispered again. He rested his head on Kouji’s right shoulder, his fingers still working his erection. Kouji held him tightly, and Ikumi imagined that, with his cheek pressed against that shoulder, he could feel the puckered scars from a needlegun. He apologized until his tears soaked Kouji’s skin and Kouji came all over his hand, but the feel of his crime still rubbed against his cheek.

----

Kozue’s Wedding

prompt: hand
rating: R? I hate ratings.
notes: Puns not intended. Besides a scar fetish, my inner Ikumi also has busy hands. This one is possibly my favorite of these drabbles.

The tables had long, fancy cloths on them, and the setting were in silver and pale pink flowers. Everything was perfect for Kozue’s wedding.

Ikumi looked over at Kouji, who was watching the bride dance with her new husband. “Whatcha thinkin’?” he asked, putting a hand on Kouji’s thigh.

“That I used to think it’d be you out there with Ko-oh!” His words ended in a gasp as Ikumi’s hand trailed up and squeezed.

“Shh,” Ikumi whispered. He slid his fingers under Kouji’s jacket, unzipped his trousers, and thanked Kozue for choosing floor-length tablecloths.

Ikukou drabble- first kiss (fluff!)

Sun, 13 Apr 2008 02:04:16 GMT

I had all sorts of cute comments typed and multiple drabbles- until I lost the entry. Damn you, Backspace button! Now I'm annoyed and sick of doing this, so here's the one that I managed to save the editing on.

First Kiss
prompt: tongue
rating: does tongue make a kiss PG instead of a Disney G kiss?
notes: Leibe Delta-era fic! Before the space station crisis, being outcast as terrorists, and Ikumi’s evil dictator mode, they were just high school-age kids, getting into hijinks.

After one particularly embarrassing lunch with Aoi, Ikumi came right out and asked him, “Have you kissed her?"

"What?” Kouji stuttered, “No. No, don’t be stupid."

“Have you kissed anyone?"

Kouji couldn’t keep the flush from his face. Ikumi laughed at him. “Well, do you want to?"

"Yeah, someday,” Kouji admitted. He was shocked when Ikumi strode across the room and knelt in front of where he was sitting. “Open your mouth and close your eyes.” Kouji surprised himself by obeying.

Ikumi’s lips were warm and gentle at first. Then his tongue brushed against Kouji’s teeth, hot and wet. It was awkward, but Kouji didn’t mind at all.

Sexy Time with Ikumi and Kouji

Tue, 25 Dec 2007 02:30:15 GMT

Two Ikumi/Kouji drabbles of the Not Safe For Work variety. Someday, I will finish typing these and get on with my fandom life. Or my other writing. Babylon 5 got me writing again, but that doesn't mean any of it is DONE.

Oh, and about the music? I may not actively celebrate Christmas, but I think Christmas carols are fun. Especially when Digimon (yes, the Digimon- Tailmon and V-mon, Hawkmon, Wormmon, Armadimon, and my boy Pata) are singing "I Saw Mommy Kissin' Santa Claus" in horrendous English. Digimon songs are awesome, in a short-bus special kind of way.

Anyways, on to the drabbles.

---------

Cherry and Mint

prompt: give

rating: PG-16 for innuendo?

notes: It’s a stupid joke, but I can’t help thinking it’s cute, too. For Ikumi’s birthday on December 21st (Happy Belated, oh beloved fictional character!). And I guess for Christmas too, for those who actually celebrate it.

Kouji had waited until they were alone in their room to give Ikumi his real present. He fidgetted as his roommate untied the ribbon and opened the box. His face got very hot when Ikumi saw the contents and a broad, naughty grin stretched his lips.

“Two, Kouji?” he teased, lifting the bottles.

“Mint, because Christmas is in a couple days,” he explained, too embarassed to look at him.

“And for my birthday?” Ikumi prompted.

“Cherry flavored.”

Ikumi laughed, low and sultry. “A cherry-lubed Kouji. Just what I wanted.”

----------
And a second drabble, because this one is typed and can sort of follow up. Totally NSFW.

Experimenting

prompt: sweat

rating: NC-17

notes: This one got a total rewrite during typing because the oiginal version? Teh Suck. Two hundred (and twenty) words instead of one because one hundred just wasn’t enough. Also, the urge to call it “Kouji Sutra” was overwhelming.

Ikumi wanted to wipe the sweat from his brow, but he needed both hands to hold himself and Kouji up. He was kneeling on his bed, one hand against the wall for support and the other clinging to one of Kouji’s legs. Kouji’s hands braced him up off the bed and his other leg was tight against Ikumi’s body, calf over his shoulder. His foot threatened to slide off him every time one of them moved, every time Ikumi thrust his hips, aching for some friction.

He almost asked Kouji why they had thought this would be a good idea. Their muscles trembled and Ikumi was afraid to let go off the wall. He wanted to let go, to touch Kouji like he deserved- like he needed- but they would fall. They would fall and Kouji hurt his arms and he didn’t even want to think about the jarring that could occur to other parts of their anatomy.

Then he looked down. Kouji’s eyes were closed and his lips parted in an imminently kissable way. He wasn’t passing that up. Ikumi carefully adjusted their position until Kouji’s back was pressed to the mattress, their sweat-slick chests together, and he could reach Kouji’s lips.

Experimenting with position was all well and good, but there was something to be said for old favorites.

IkuKou prompt drabble - Wake Up Crying

Sun, 26 Aug 2007 02:32:06 GMT

Ryvius IkuKou drabbles

Wake Up Crying
prompt: blossom
rating: R
notes: Spoilers for Sere 23. Ikumi darkfic. Kinda gross and squicky.

Sometimes, Ikumi dreamed of the horrible things he'd done and woke up crying. Not because of remorse, though he felt that, certainly, but because he'd dreamed that he enjoyed it.

He dreamed of the feel of a needlegun in his hand, of Kouji standing in front of him and himself shooting, except he didn't turn away this time. He dreamt he watched the shoulder of Kouji's jacket darken, like a rose opening, petal by burgundy petal. He peeled off his clothes, heedless of the mess the blood made of the hall- and of the mess the needles made of Kouji's shoulder. The smell of blood was sweet to his senses, and he dreamt he fucked Kouji into the wall until they were both red and slick and sticky all at once.

He woke up crying because he was hard from it, and refused to look at himself until the feel of Kouji's body was gone.

IkuKou prompt drabbles- chocolate

Sun, 06 May 2007 02:28:09 GMT

So at one point I decided to try a prompt list, like I was on a challenge community. But given my track record with finishing challenges, I didn't sign up in case I never finished. It was a challenge to myself only. But I did it and now I'm finally typing them up!

I did a set of fifteen Ikumi/Kouji fics based on a set of prompts from centiporn, which means the average length is around 100 words or so, and the rating level is PG-13 to NC-17- a little higher than I normally end up posting (I never seem to finish my mature fics). Obviously, being Ikumi/Kouji, these are boy/boy. Please use discretion when and where and if you read them, and read the disclaimers and rating advisory.

God, I frickin' hate warnings, but they're so necessary on the web. Also, I feel a little dirty, listening to Digimon music and typing slash. That doesn't help at all ^^;;;

Ahem.

To reiterate, read the tags, follow the warnings, and enjoy the reading.

**********

Ryvius IkuKou drabbles

Melted Candy Bar
prompt: chocolate
rating: PG-13-ish
notes: This one is cutesy and maybe a little generic, but I didn't want to dive into Ikumi scar fetish or Kouji topping fics right off.

It was late, too late to go to the cafeteria for snacks, but the boys needed a break. Ikumi remembered a half-finished chocolate bar in his bag.

"It's all gooey," Kouji protested. "You left it too close to the heater."

"So? It's still good. Just... soft." Ikumi licked melted chocolate from his fingers. "Want some?" He held out a mostly solid piece, feeding it to Kouji himself. He held back a moan when Kouji sucked on his fingers, his mouth hot and wet and now he was teasing him. That was the same thing he did with his tongue on other, more demanding parts of his body.

Still, Ikumi was very glad he'd stashed that candy bar.

Alpha-Drabbles Master List

Mon, 19 Jun 2006 20:18:48 GMT

Alphabet Drabbles Master List

Here is the Master List for the recent Alpha-Drabbles, in order by letter. Please note that anything original is friends-locked. Yami no Matsuei, Infinite Ryvius, and FF8 are all open, being fanfiction drabbles.

A - An Inspiration (Sapphire Waters, Vance)
B - Black (Angel’s Blade, Kaoru)
C - Certain (Yami no Matsuei, Suzaku)
D - Dragon's Joy (Fairy Project dragons, Canli)
E - Edwin's Party Dress (Fairy Project dragons, Rahass & Jilhan)
F - Fresh Start (Dragonsoul, Asmodien & Berzhingyon)
G - Girls (Fairy Project, Luca & Melanie)
H - Her Friend (Infinite Ryvius, Aoi)
I - Immunity (Yami no Matsuei, Hisoka)
J - none
K - Keen to Help (The Koraiye Chronicles, Pridwen & Llioth)
L - Longing (Fairy Project dragons, Caselrian)
M - More Than Enough (Sapphire Waters, Ahdry)
N - Never Changing (Sapphire Waters, Reyn)
O - One Prophecy (Angel’s Blade, Dane & Midori)
P - none
Q - none
R - Really So Selfish (Sapphire Waters, R’Lanin)
S - Spirit (Final Fantasy VIII, Nida)
T - Tamanyu (Sapphire Waters, Nellum)
U - Ulterior Motive (Sapphire Waters, Mim)
V - none
W - What Kind of Puppy (Angel’s Blade, Taski)
X - none
Y - Your Friend (Infinite Ryvius, Kouji & Ikumi)
Z - none

Alpha-Drabbles - Y- Your Friend (Infinite Ryvius, Kouji & Ikumi)

Mon, 19 Jun 2006 16:19:27 GMT

The last in my set of alphabet-themed short pieces, since there is no Z (I was not in a Zazel mood when I wrote these, y'know?).

This is a short friendship piece about Kouji and Ikumi. I was totally writing nothing but mush and fluff for this project, wasn't I?

(Also, please ignore the "ikumi/kouji" tag. This is not meant to be slash, not at all. I just want to be able to find this is my existing character tags)

*********

Y- Your Friend
Start- Yoriko - Daia no Hana
Series- Infinite Ryvius (Sunrise, Bandai)
******

"Why aren't you in the Vital Guarder program any more?"

Ikumi looked up, startled by the fury in Kouji's tone. "What are you talking about?"

Kouji stood in the middle of his room, fists clenched at his sides and eyebrows furrowed. His tie was crooked like he'd been pulling on it. "Aoi said that Yuki said you weren't at VG training the first day. She heard you quit."

"I did," Ikumi said matter-of-factly.

"Why?" the other boy demanded. "You're an excellent pilot, and you're more of a leader than the others. Even Yuki follows you when you're operating the VG. So why did you quit?"

Ikumi gave him a level look. "As if you need to ask that, after what I did with that machine."

"I knew it would be a stupid reason," Kouji spat.

"That's not a stupid reason. I can't be in charge of the VG. I'll ruin everything again." Ikumi stood and put his hands on Kouji's shoulders. "I don't want to hurt anyone ever again. Surely you understand that." Ikumi moved the thumb of his left hand gently over Kouji's shoulder. Underneath his maroon jacket and pale yellow shirt were the pin-prick scars from a needlegun. Kouji's expression softened and he glanced away from him.

"I do understand," he said softly. "But that doesn't mean I agree with what you're doing. You're a great pilot, Ikumi. And you're not the person you were when..." He trailed off, resting his hand on top of Ikumi's. The weight didn't hurt anymore; the wounds were closed and he was almost good as new.

It was Ikumi who was still wounded, and wounds in the heart took longer to heal.

"I believe in you, Ikumi," said Kouji, looking into his friend's eyes. As disappointed as he was when he found out his friend had chosen to remain in a lower classification of piloting, he realized he had to trust Ikumi to know what was best for himself. "Whatever you decide, I believe you can do it. Whether it's getting back on the VG team like I know you can, or staying in Second Class, I believe in you and trust your judgment."

Ikumi smiled. "Thanks. I appreciate it. Have you ever thought of going into motivational speaking?" he joked, throwing an arm around Kouji's neck companionably.

"Have you ever thought of being serious for more than five minutes at a time?"

"Not recently. Why?" They chuckled at each other and started out the door arm-in-arm.

Regardless of what came before, and what might come after, Kouji was relieved than Ikumi was his friend, and that he was Ikumi’s. Because knowing someone was there for you was the best way to heal.

Alpha-Drabbles - S- Spirit (Final Fantasy VIII, Nida)

Sun, 18 Jun 2006 02:36:07 GMT

Well, of course I couldn't write about the main characters. I did one comedy involving the Children of Fate or whatever wacky name I should be using to descrice Squall & Co. That filled my quota. Because, y'know, all I ever write about is side characters (excepting Ahdry, of course).

Someday though, I would like to explore exactly why everyone likes Squall so much. I mean, he's an asshole, but the entire Garden looks up to him. Plot contrivance? Probably so. But logically and for the fics I may write in the future, I may figure it out someday. So. Anyone remember what sort of person they looked up to high school/ military academy?

Anyhoo, for now, here's a short, sweet S story starring Nida.

********

S- Spirit
Start- The Seeker - Shinkyoku -La Divina Commedia
Series- Final Fantasy VIII (Square)
******

The ominous feeling that had hung over Garden since shortly after his graduation shattered into a battle. Nida had no clue what started it, but suddenly he was in the infirmary fighting against one of the Instructors.

He held his scythe high, ready to bring it down in a broad arc that had fended off so many monsters during training. His heart was in his throat, and he wanted to collapse, the fear was so bad. Beldin, an older SeeD and his partner on a few missions since he'd graduated, had told him what little he knew, and stood by his side, ready to cover him. It made Nida feel a little better.

Still, the sight of Squall running to their aid was welcome. Nida felt his bravery come flooding back at the sight of his stoic classmate. They weren't going to get Dr. Kadowaki, and they certainly weren't going to get the Headmaster. Not if he had anything to say about it.

The fight was surreal. Magic flew and weapons flashed, and the monsters summoned by the Instructor fell. When Squall ran off in search of the Headmaster, he left behind that air of confidence he had. Nida took up his post in front of the infirmary door, his blood running high.

He felt like he could take on the entire Garden staff, now that Squall was back.

Alpha-Drabbles - I- Immunity (Yami no Matsuei, Hisoka)

Fri, 16 Jun 2006 05:55:42 GMT

The piece for the letter I is a short Yami no Matsuei that is threatening to take on a life of it's own. I should know better; my Kurikara drabbles tend to want to become much larger works. Even if only to explain the AU background, they could certainly use it.

But for now, I will resist adding to my list of unfinished projects by giving in to this pieces demand for attention. Please enjoy want it here, and let me know your thoughts.

********

I- Immunity
Start- Ishida Akira - Kageri no Fuuin
Series- Yami no Matsuei (Matsushita Yoko)
******

There was something mournful in the way the dragon moved. Hisoka understood it, but that didn't mean he was completely immune.

He understood, logically, that Kurikara had been cast out and exiled for ages. That had to be wearing on the soul. But he was having trouble assimilating this new RyuOu to the fiery personality he'd met. They'd battled their way together, after all, and Kurikara was free to roam Tenkuu as the other shikigami were.

Hisoka had made an agreement with the Golden Emperor in order to end the chaos swirling around them both, and he couldn't help feeling that his arrangement had doomed the dragon. Kurikara had been ready to fight the Emperor, he knew. Instead, he was bound by him.

He seemed dazed, as if he couldn't really see his surroundings. He interacted with the other shiki only reluctantly (except Suzaku and Tenko, because no one could truly ignore the fiery woman and the sweet girl, no matter what they knew about them). He would often stand in the garden, waiting for Hisoka to call him, the sunlight glinting off the gold headdress that now served as his limiter. Otherwise, he would stare into the distance, as if he could see something he wanted more than anything in the world. Except when he tried to move toward it, he jerked up short, as if cut off by a collar around his throat. Hisoka had come to see him once, and had nearly smothered under the regret that filled the garden where Kurikara stood.

Hisoka tried hard not to feel bad about his arrangement. It was necessary. With Kurikara's power harnessed by the Emperor for Hisoka to use, chaos was unable to touch him, and the dragon was safe from that dreadful force's plotting. It was only a side effect now that Hisoka could harness that power himself; by the time he'd gained it, he only wanted to save the one who owned it.

Tatsumi and most of the others agreed that he'd done the right thing. Wakaba always said it softly when he pressed her, with a frown and a sad look to her mismatched eyes, but at least she said the words. And Tsuzuki said it too fast, as if hastening to assure both himself and Hisoka.

But they couldn't hide from an empath. As tightly reined as Hisoka kept his powers now, he could still tell. There was no remedy to the feeling that you'd just chained the last creature who would fight for your freedom. It was worse when he looked into Kurikara's blind eyes.

There was no remedy for the death of the heart, and no immunity for the one who caused it.

Alpha-Drabbles - H- Her Friend (Infinite Ryvius, Aoi)

Fri, 16 Jun 2006 00:53:28 GMT

H letter drabble, the first of two Infinite Ryvius. Not much to say except, spoilers for the whole series up to and including episode 26.

*********

H- Her Friend
Start- High and Mighty Color - Pride
Series- Infinite Ryvius (Sunrise, Bandai)
******

As much as Aoi liked being with Kouji, it was Kozue she wanted to see the most. They hadn't parted on the best of terms; no one on the Ryvius had. When the man- Kotsugi, she thought she recalled his name- said they were wanted back aboard the ship, she thought of how she hadn't been able to speak to Kozue.

Kouji had gotten to talk to Ikumi, even if he had tricked her to do it. She'd been scared silly when he left her behind with that comment. She still bristled at the thought. "Here,
Aoi. Stay in this dark room all by your lonesome while I track down my pals. By the way,
Ikumi was the one who nearly killed me. Isn't that a lark?" It made her very angry.

She missed her friends a lot. Having a boyfriend wasn't the same. Kouji didn't like to talk
about nothing, and he wanted kisses sometimes. Which could be nice, but didn't he understand she was scared? Kisses were dangerous; they led to other things, and nice girls didn't do Other Things until they were properly married. Or at least very well committed and mentally prepared for that step. And she knew she wasn't, not with the specter of the Ryvius hanging over her every time Kouji tried to hold her. So she deflected him by being goofy.

She knew Kozue would understand.

The thought of the Ryvius always brought her back to Kozue and Reiko. She missed them, wanted to talk to them and get everything that she'd held in before out. And after they'd gotten everything hurtful out of the way, they would laugh and assure each other that they were still the best of friends. She wanted to find out all the things they thought since they parted, all the movies watched and books read- and if they dared be so bold, all the boys ogled and relationships had or wanted.

She wanted to be normal girls again. She wanted things the way they were, and if they
couldn't be the way they were, like Kozue had insisted when she hid from her, then she
wanted a new way with Kozue.

So when she made her decision to return to the Ryvius, she went for the same reason Kouji did. To make new friends with her old. Kouji didn't say it that way, but she knew that was what he meant when she saw Oze looking at him so sadly. She didn't make Kouji stay with her then, even if she was lonely without him.

And then she saw Kozue, and Kozue let her hug her. She was with her friend, her old new friend, and everything was all right again.