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Mukuro doesn't actually have sex with Sawada Tsunayoshi. He watches from inside as Chrome shyly, and slyly, seduces the boy. Chrome 'enjoys the touch of men', like her mother did apparently, and despite her age she is already quite experienced. Mukuro has seen the memories of her with her mother's boyfriend, watched and participated in Chrome's encounters with Ken and Chikusa. He knows that Chrome has come back different from the future, more mature, less helpless, but she is still a sweet, sweet strumpet.
She plies Sawada with compliments, soft calls of 'Boss', and one single large doe eye peering through her fringe. Sawada is naïve, helpless, a deer in headlights in the face of such blatant seduction. Kyoko's cheerful smiles and Haru's helpless adoration are nothing compared to the slow creeping way Chrome crawls forward, her pert mouth shaping Sawada's name. Sawada doesn't fantasize, he doesn't touch himself, he cannot, not with his Arcobaleno tutor, his mother, the daily interruptions to his teenage life…
If he ever had fantasized about his first time, it would be nothing compared to the wringer Chrome puts him through. When she finishes Mukuro notes, with amusement, the lingering stickiness between her thighs, the tired and worn out way Sawada drools into his pillow, and the cold pressure of Reborn's gun. "I was just leaving." Mukuro says, with Chrome's voice. "I was just looking."
"Watching, you mean." Reborn's gun disappears, no doubt back into his suit jacket. Mukuro turns around with his own smile plastered across Chrome's sweet face.
"And weren't you?"
--
When Mukuro fucks Gokudera Hayato, it is in the guise of Sawada Tsunayoshi. An older Sawada Tsunayoshi, what Mukuro bets Sawada will look like 10 years from now. It is easy to cup Gokudera's cheek, to say his name with lingering nostalgia. Mukuro enjoys the way Gokudera's eyes light up, and his fists clench at the false Sawada's lapels. 'TENTH!' Gokudera cries, clinging tighter. 'Did that idiot hit you with the bazooka?!'
There's no need for Gokudera to vanish off in search of Lambo, who has not of course hit Mukuro with a bazooka. Mukuro cuts off this inquiry with a kiss, a soft one, a sweet, romantic one. The type of kiss Mukuro knows Sawada will never be able to reproduce. Gokudera is startled, and Mukuro watches him through half lidded eyes, wondering if he will notice. He doesn't, his eyes slip shut, and his mouth opens in acceptance, asking for Mukuro to plunder him.
Mukuro doesn't. He beds Gokudera sweetly, gently, treating Gokudera like the virgin Mukuro is sure he is. Despite the byplay between Gokudera Hayato and Yamamoto Takeshi, Mukuro is sure that Yamamoto has not summoned up the wit to pin Gokudera against a wall and give him the rough ravishing the half-Italian deserves.
"Tenth! Tenth!" Gokudera's legs thud against the wooden floor, his back arching restlessly while Mukuro prepares him. Mukuro has to stifle the insistent urge to chuckle. One 'kufufu' and not even the best of illusions will fool Gokudera. Gokudera is, after all, not an idiot.
Except in matters of love.
He is tight, hot, and so sweet when Mukuro pushes inside, and Mukuro closes his eyes to savor it. Mukuro cannot gain any physical release from this, his own body floats nearly lifeless in a deep, dark, underwater tank, but he can gain a mental substitute. It will make hours of imprisonment so much sweeter. Gokudera sweats, writhes, grunts and gasps, his fingers clawing at Mukuro's back, and his body squeezing around him. It's good, so good, and Mukuro fights not to forget himself, to cruelly pinch a nipple, to bite Gokudera's neck.
Gokudera comes all over his stomach, a spray of youthful enthusiasm, and Mukuro smiles down at him serenely, Sawada Tsunayoshi's special smile. Gokudera starts to reach for him, but then his eyes catch on the clock behind Mukuro. Mukuro couldn't have planned it better, and he lets the illusion dissipate, a surprised Chrome ending up between Gokudera's legs, her mouth dropping in an 'o'.
--
Cornering Yamamoto Takeshi takes a surprising amount of effort. He is sharper than Gokudera Hayato, senses danger faster and better than either Gokudera or Sawada Tsunayoshi. He is also sensible, not engaging in the idiotic and masochistic behavior of running towards dangerous. He smiles at Chrome, doesn't skitter away from her blatant sexuality, in fact seems rather clueless about it. But he doesn't allow himself to be separated from the other's while in Chrome's presence, and he now keeps a watchful eye on both Gokudera and Sawada when Chrome is around.
Perhaps Mukuro should have taken him first.
Mukuro eventually finds himself reduced to walking into Yamamoto's dreams, poking, prodding, and finding out what turns Yamamoto on. The teen's surface mind is disturbingly clean cut and well meaning. The perfect mask for the dark bloody thoughts underneath. Mukuro finds this turn of events thrilling, a part of him wondering what it would be like to have Yamamoto Takeshi on his side. Yamamoto is all the sweetness of Lancia, with ten times more cruelty underneath. Not that Yamamoto would call it cruelty. Necessity when faced with an enemy, perhaps.
The boy is strong.
Mukuro spends a week poking around inside Yamamoto's mind before he's decided on a course of action. The illusion of Hibari is poorly put together, shoddy even, but Mukuro is having an off day. He confronts Yamamoto on the street, speaking some Hibari-ese babble that basically translates into 'you have offended me by breathing, allow me to help you'. Yamamoto isn't fluent in Hibari-ese, but he is fluent enough, Mukuro can see the way his eyebrows furrow and his face turns quizzical.
"Hibari-" Yamamoto stops, looks harder at Mukuro, and Mukuro lets the illusion fall away while vines curl tightly around Yamamoto Takeshi's limbs. "Whoops!" Yamamoto struggles against the vines as the lotus blossoms bloom, his breath catching at the pain. "Ah ha ha, Mukuro if you wanted to talk you could have just asked!" Yamamoto smiles easily, but his eyes speak danger.
Mukuro likes it. "I don't think we've ever been formally introduced, Yamamoto Takeshi." Mukuro smiles.
"It's nice to meet you too."
She plies Sawada with compliments, soft calls of 'Boss', and one single large doe eye peering through her fringe. Sawada is naïve, helpless, a deer in headlights in the face of such blatant seduction. Kyoko's cheerful smiles and Haru's helpless adoration are nothing compared to the slow creeping way Chrome crawls forward, her pert mouth shaping Sawada's name. Sawada doesn't fantasize, he doesn't touch himself, he cannot, not with his Arcobaleno tutor, his mother, the daily interruptions to his teenage life…
If he ever had fantasized about his first time, it would be nothing compared to the wringer Chrome puts him through. When she finishes Mukuro notes, with amusement, the lingering stickiness between her thighs, the tired and worn out way Sawada drools into his pillow, and the cold pressure of Reborn's gun. "I was just leaving." Mukuro says, with Chrome's voice. "I was just looking."
"Watching, you mean." Reborn's gun disappears, no doubt back into his suit jacket. Mukuro turns around with his own smile plastered across Chrome's sweet face.
"And weren't you?"
--
When Mukuro fucks Gokudera Hayato, it is in the guise of Sawada Tsunayoshi. An older Sawada Tsunayoshi, what Mukuro bets Sawada will look like 10 years from now. It is easy to cup Gokudera's cheek, to say his name with lingering nostalgia. Mukuro enjoys the way Gokudera's eyes light up, and his fists clench at the false Sawada's lapels. 'TENTH!' Gokudera cries, clinging tighter. 'Did that idiot hit you with the bazooka?!'
There's no need for Gokudera to vanish off in search of Lambo, who has not of course hit Mukuro with a bazooka. Mukuro cuts off this inquiry with a kiss, a soft one, a sweet, romantic one. The type of kiss Mukuro knows Sawada will never be able to reproduce. Gokudera is startled, and Mukuro watches him through half lidded eyes, wondering if he will notice. He doesn't, his eyes slip shut, and his mouth opens in acceptance, asking for Mukuro to plunder him.
Mukuro doesn't. He beds Gokudera sweetly, gently, treating Gokudera like the virgin Mukuro is sure he is. Despite the byplay between Gokudera Hayato and Yamamoto Takeshi, Mukuro is sure that Yamamoto has not summoned up the wit to pin Gokudera against a wall and give him the rough ravishing the half-Italian deserves.
"Tenth! Tenth!" Gokudera's legs thud against the wooden floor, his back arching restlessly while Mukuro prepares him. Mukuro has to stifle the insistent urge to chuckle. One 'kufufu' and not even the best of illusions will fool Gokudera. Gokudera is, after all, not an idiot.
Except in matters of love.
He is tight, hot, and so sweet when Mukuro pushes inside, and Mukuro closes his eyes to savor it. Mukuro cannot gain any physical release from this, his own body floats nearly lifeless in a deep, dark, underwater tank, but he can gain a mental substitute. It will make hours of imprisonment so much sweeter. Gokudera sweats, writhes, grunts and gasps, his fingers clawing at Mukuro's back, and his body squeezing around him. It's good, so good, and Mukuro fights not to forget himself, to cruelly pinch a nipple, to bite Gokudera's neck.
Gokudera comes all over his stomach, a spray of youthful enthusiasm, and Mukuro smiles down at him serenely, Sawada Tsunayoshi's special smile. Gokudera starts to reach for him, but then his eyes catch on the clock behind Mukuro. Mukuro couldn't have planned it better, and he lets the illusion dissipate, a surprised Chrome ending up between Gokudera's legs, her mouth dropping in an 'o'.
--
Cornering Yamamoto Takeshi takes a surprising amount of effort. He is sharper than Gokudera Hayato, senses danger faster and better than either Gokudera or Sawada Tsunayoshi. He is also sensible, not engaging in the idiotic and masochistic behavior of running towards dangerous. He smiles at Chrome, doesn't skitter away from her blatant sexuality, in fact seems rather clueless about it. But he doesn't allow himself to be separated from the other's while in Chrome's presence, and he now keeps a watchful eye on both Gokudera and Sawada when Chrome is around.
Perhaps Mukuro should have taken him first.
Mukuro eventually finds himself reduced to walking into Yamamoto's dreams, poking, prodding, and finding out what turns Yamamoto on. The teen's surface mind is disturbingly clean cut and well meaning. The perfect mask for the dark bloody thoughts underneath. Mukuro finds this turn of events thrilling, a part of him wondering what it would be like to have Yamamoto Takeshi on his side. Yamamoto is all the sweetness of Lancia, with ten times more cruelty underneath. Not that Yamamoto would call it cruelty. Necessity when faced with an enemy, perhaps.
The boy is strong.
Mukuro spends a week poking around inside Yamamoto's mind before he's decided on a course of action. The illusion of Hibari is poorly put together, shoddy even, but Mukuro is having an off day. He confronts Yamamoto on the street, speaking some Hibari-ese babble that basically translates into 'you have offended me by breathing, allow me to help you'. Yamamoto isn't fluent in Hibari-ese, but he is fluent enough, Mukuro can see the way his eyebrows furrow and his face turns quizzical.
"Hibari-" Yamamoto stops, looks harder at Mukuro, and Mukuro lets the illusion fall away while vines curl tightly around Yamamoto Takeshi's limbs. "Whoops!" Yamamoto struggles against the vines as the lotus blossoms bloom, his breath catching at the pain. "Ah ha ha, Mukuro if you wanted to talk you could have just asked!" Yamamoto smiles easily, but his eyes speak danger.
Mukuro likes it. "I don't think we've ever been formally introduced, Yamamoto Takeshi." Mukuro smiles.
"It's nice to meet you too."