Standalone: All In One

Ebook cover for the arc

Stories that fill in odd corners, answer open questions, or sketch out the characters. Also a good deal of porn.

I Will be the One

Post Future arc. Seven snapshots as Tsuna’s Family swear their loyalty to him. Drama, I-3


They were halfway to school when Gokudera noticed it.

"Hm? You’re going to keep wearing the ring, then?"

Tsuna looked down at the ring on his hand without a great deal of enthusiasm. "For now. I… I think I’d better."

"Huh." There was kind of a funny smile on Gokudera’s face when Tsuna looked up. "Seems about right to me, then. Hang on for a minute." He set his bag against a handy wall and took Tsuna’s shoulder, turning to face him.

Tsuna made a choked noise as Gokudera knelt down in front of him, right there in the street. His frantic look up and down, hoping no one was watching, was interrupted, though, by the intensity of Gokudera’s voice.

"Tenth." Gokudera took Tsuna’s hand, bowed his head over it and kissed the Sky ring. "I’m your man. Always."

Tsuna bit his lip; he never quite knew what to do when Gokudera sounded like this.

And then Gokudera looked up with a crooked smile and winked. "What? I’m your first follower, right? Just making it official."

Tsuna relaxed and managed to smile back. "Okay."

Gokudera swaggered all the rest of the way to school.


"So, did you understand number seven?"

"Not really." Yamamoto rubbed the back of his head, brows quirked. "I think the third example in the book is kind of the same, though."

They were digging through the math text when Reborn jumped down from his hammock onto the table and Tsuna nearly jumped out of his skin. He wished Reborn would make noise when he woke up, like a normal person.

"Yamamoto, good, you’re here. You need to kiss Tsuna’s ring."

"What?!" Tsuna scrambled back from the table a bit. He also wished Reborn would stop saying weird things out of the blue; some lead-up would at least give him more time to duck.

Yamamoto just blinked. "Um. Why?"

"It’s a sign of loyalty among us."

Yamamoto smiled tolerantly. "Ah, your game again."

Tsuna was really starting to wonder whether Yamamoto meant the same thing everyone else did when he used the word game.

"Well, okay then." Yamamoto reached over and caught one of the hands Tsuna was waving.

"Um, but, you don’t—"

"Hey, it’s okay Tsuna," Yamamoto laughed. He leaned down and brushed his lips over the ring and Tsuna stilled. For one moment, with his head bent and eyes focused on Tsuna’s hand, Yamamoto looked completely serious.

And then he was smiling his wry smile, the one that was amused by the whole world, and Tsuna breathed again.

"Also, you got number four completely wrong," Reborn added.

Tsuna groaned.


Tsuna looked up, startled, at the soft scratch at his door. No one he knew announced themselves that quietly.

No one except, maybe, the person standing in the door, who he had just never, ever expected to see in his room.

"Boss." Chrome stood in the doorway, clasping her staff close to her chest. "Mukuro-sama said it would be all right," she murmured.

Tsuna opened and closed his mouth a few times before he managed. "What would?"

She came in with swift, silent steps and sank down to the floor beside him, laying her staff down carefully. And then she picked up his ring hand in both her own.

"If you want me to," she said softly, eyes lowered or maybe just fixed on the Sky ring.

Tsuna had to work on getting his voice going again. "But… I mean, are you sure?" He couldn’t make out anything of her expression. "Is this what you want, Chrome-san?"

She nodded silently.

"Then… well, yes. I mean, if you’re sure." Tsuna felt a little helpless in face of her quiet.

She lifted his hand and kissed the ring, light as a moth’s wing brushing his hand. "I will always be your Mist Guardian."

"I… thank you." Tsuna groped for something to say, something right. "I’ll be glad to… welcome you to… to the Family," he finally got out. And he still wasn’t sure about the whole concept, but nothing else seemed like it would match what she was doing.

Chrome looked up with a small smile. "Thank you. Boss."

She picked up her staff and left as silently as she’d come.


Ryouhei just laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Of course! I already said I was the Sun Guardian, didn’t I?"

Gokudera grumbled a bit about lousy lawn-heads with no respect, but Reborn just nodded.

Tsuna was grateful for the reprieve and tried not to think too hard about the weight and meaning of Ryouhei’s bare word.


Bianchi stalked back down the hall and the seventeen year old Lambo crawled out from under Tsuna’s bed and collapsed on the floor. "Saved. Thanks, young Vongola." And then he lifted his head again for another look at Tsuna, flopped over beside him. "Ah. You’ve started wearing the Sky ring all the time."

Tsuna winced. "Um. Yeah."

The smile Lambo gave him was sympathetic. "You’ve been through a lot with and for that ring."

Tsuna stared down at it. "Yeah," he said softly, and closed his hand into a fist.

It was his fist that Lambo closed a long-fingered hand around and lifted, so that he could kiss the ring. His eyes were serious when he looked up. "Welcome to the Families, Vongola."

And then seven year old Lambo reappeared with a poff, hands holding Tsuna’s fist, and squealed. "Are we gonna play fighting?"

Fending him off took until dinner and it was some time before Tsuna remembered the older Lambo’s words.

He thought about them the first time he looked at a neat, black suit hanging in his closet, though.


For a while, Tsuna had consoled himself with the thought that Hibari would never give a moment’s thought to any Family ritual, especially not this one. And then he forgot about it in the rush of other events. When they needed Hibari he seemed to show up and that was plenty enough for Tsuna.

It was a little more than enough when Hibari started showing up to spar with him, but Reborn insisted, and it did make a distressing kind of sense, so Tsuna did his best and laid in a lot of ice packs.

So he really wasn’t expecting it, the day he succeeded in blasting Hibari into the practice room floor, and Hibari didn’t get up at once. Instead he held up a hand and flicked his fingers, beckoning to Tsuna.

A little warily, because Hibari was still smiling, Tsuna approached. "Um. Yes?"

Hibari caught his wrist and pulled Tsuna down beside him. "For the Family." He lifted Tsuna’s ring hand and kissed the Sky ring.

Tsuna squeaked a little in shock.

"You still act far too much like an herbivore," Hibari observed, "but as long as you show me your fangs properly."

And he rolled fluidly to his feet and punched Tsuna across the room.

Tsuna staggered upright and threw himself back at Hibari. If this was for the Family, their family, if Hibari agreed to guard them… then Tsuna had to do what he could, too.

Hibari’s smile widened a bit as they met again.


A/N: Inspired by the scene between Iemitsu and the !Ninth.

Last Modified: Feb 10, 12
Posted: Nov 10, 08
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Rain on the Mountain

TYL Hibari and Yamamoto in a tranquil moment. Kind-of Romance, I-3

Feet move softly over the mats of his private rooms, and he listens to them come, leaning in the open screens and looking out onto his small, private garden. Moonlight filters down through illusion and glimmers on leaves. The chill of the evening curls around the warmth of the sake cup in his fingers, a pleasing contrast.

Long hands slide over his shoulders and down his arms, and the heat of another body settles against his back. Lips brush his throat, just above the collar of his kimono where a drop of water from his wet hair is making its way down his neck, and a husky voice murmurs, "That was a good fight."

He smiles out into the stark lines of the night and leans back against Yamamoto, relaxed in the aftermath of shared intensity. "It was." It probably wasn’t entirely suitable to interrupt kata, but he hadn’t been able to resist and Yamamoto didn’t seem to mind.

He lets Yamamoto’s arms rest around his waist, the same intimacy as a razor edge screaming against his steel, both pure and clean. It’s only Yamamoto whose ferocity is this clean, and he savors it the way he does the sake.

Perhaps, he thinks as Yamamoto kisses his throat again, coaxing and inviting, perhaps tonight he will see if that ferocity tastes as good elsewhere as it does when they fight.


Last Modified: Feb 10, 12
Posted: Nov 13, 08
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Nine Years, Eleven Months, Twenty-seven Days

On the anniversary of something that doesn’t happen, Tsuna’s Guardians gather around him. Fluffy Drama, I-3

Yamamoto was the first one who came, tapping brisk but quiet on the door and slipping inside, shadows falling across his face. He said nothing, only came to Tsuna and wrapped around him, a shield of muscle and bone and breath. Tsuna rested his forehead against Yamamoto’s chest with a low sigh. He didn’t know whether he wanted them here or not, but he knew he couldn’t send them away. Not tonight.

Gokudera came next, head lowered, every movement pulled tight. He didn’t look at either of them, only sank down to sit at Tsuna’s feet, one arm locked around a raised knee. A slender, red stick turned unceasingly through his fingers.

Hibari ignored them when he stalked through the door and came to stand beside the window, eyes gleaming and sharp on the night beyond.

The city lights gleamed on Lambo’s horns as he settled on the balcony outside.

Ryouhei planted himself at the door, arms crossed, with a fierce expression but sad eyes. He nodded to Chrome as she entered and stood silently in the corner across from Hibari, staff upright between her hands.

They waited and watched.

Pre-dawn was drowning the streetlights when Tsuna stirred. "It’s all right, now," he told them softly.

There was a husky sound from Gokudera and Yamamoto’s arms tightened for one quick moment.

They left as quietly as they’d come, and Tsuna only hoped they’d sleep now. One by one, with a nod or a swift touch, they unwound themselves from around him until only Hibari was left still watching as Tsuna finally made his way to bed. The line of his back, poised and uncompromising, followed Tsuna down into dreams.


Last Modified: Feb 10, 12
Posted: Nov 18, 08
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Seven Pleats

Hibari likes watching Yamamoto. Yamamoto rather likes to be watched. Atmospheric Porn, I-4

Kyouya sat, composed, at the side of a large, airy room, tea cradled between his hands, and watched the Rain.

Yamamoto’s forms shifted one into the next, beautiful and inevitable as flowing water. Afternoon light slid down his sword edge, soft and bright. The still focus in his eyes rested on perfect nothingness as he stepped, turned, cut. Kyouya’s gaze followed every move and line of him, drinking in the pureness of it along with the bitterness of the tea.

Finally, Yamamoto finished and collected himself in the center of the room, breath deep and slow.

And then he crossed the room in four strides and knelt swiftly over Kyouya, knees spread to either side of his thighs, hands closing around his face. Kyouya laughed low in his throat, balancing his tea deftly as their mouths met in a hard, hot kiss.

"It’s very hard to concentrate when you watch me like that," Yamamoto murmured.

"Perhaps I should join you, next time, instead."

Yamamoto laughed out loud. "Now that would really distract me." He stroked his thumbs over Kyouya’s cheekbones.

Kyouya set his tea precisely aside and slid his fingers into Yamamoto’s hair, pulling him back down to another kiss, deep and intent; he’d been patient for long enough. He nipped sharply at Yamamoto’s lower lip and his eyes narrowed with satisfaction at the way Yamamoto’s breath caught.

He slid his hands down to pull Yamamoto’s top open and off his shoulders, purring into Yamamoto’s mouth; the lean, balanced hardness of Yamamoto’s body was always a pleasure to taste.

"Kyouya…" Yamamoto’s hands spread against his back, pressing him closer, and Kyouya ground his hips up against Yamamoto’s. A slow, sharp smile curled his lips; Yamamoto was hard against him. Yamamoto growled softly, and long, strong hands curved around Kyouya’s ass, kneading hard.

He liked it that Takeshi wasn’t any more patient than he was.

He twisted to push Yamamoto down against the tatami and snorted at the bright laugh that answered. Sometimes he thought Yamamoto saw the whole world as a joke. He pulled free the ties of Takeshi’s hakama, unraveling the folds and pushing the loose cloth down long legs.

Takeshi reached for his belt, smiling, eyes hot and sharp as Kyouya’s kimono fell open around him. "I hope you came prepared," he murmured.

Kyouya sniffed. "Since when am I not?" He fished a small foil tube out of his kimono sleeve.

Yamamoto’s smile brightened. "That’s my Kyouya."

Kyouya arched a brow. "Indeed?" He leaned over Takeshi and closed firm teeth on his throat, pressing slick fingers into him.

"Ah!" Takeshi arched under him, hands closing hard on Kyouya’s hips, pulling him in tight. Kyouya savored the sounds he made, breath coming faster as Takeshi rocked against him, moving with the thrust of his fingers, head tossed back.

"Kyouya, now." The husky growl was back in Takeshi’s voice, and Kyouya mouth quirked as he settled between Takeshi’s legs and pushed into him, and yes, this was what he wanted—Takeshi’s fierce response, open and true, the heat in his eyes, the hard strength of his hands on Kyouya’s hips, demanding he move and thrust.

They moved against each other, sharp and swift, low moans twining around each other like heat around pleasure. The sensation of driving into Takeshi’s body coiled up Kyouya’s spine, exquisite as the thrill of fighting, perfect as the beauty of Takeshi’s sword. They fucked each other hard and intent, hands stroking and gripping.

When Takeshi moaned, a shudder raking through him, Kyouya couldn’t take his eyes away; the taut line of Takeshi’s body drew him down and down into heat until he fell after, muffling a groan against Takeshi’s throat.

They lay tangled together, panting, and Kyouya slowly noticed Takeshi’s fingers stroking through his hair and snorted. Takeshi’s chest shook with laughter, under him.

"One of these days I’ll convince you to take it slow."

"Not when I’ve been watching your sword," Kyouya pointed out.

"Well, no, probably not."

He could feel Takeshi’s lips quirked where they pressed against his temple and smiled faintly against Takeshi’s shoulder. He doubted he’d be willing to give up Takeshi’s pure ferocity any time soon.

He doubted Takeshi would, either.


Last Modified: Feb 10, 12
Posted: Nov 20, 08
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Where On Your Palm is My Little Line

Gokudera has a thing for Tsuna’s Dying Will Flame. Pure Smut, I-4

Watching Tsuna fight was thrilling, but it was nothing to the shiver that went down Hayato’s spine standing in the middle of Tsuna’s office on a quiet evening and watching gentle, smiling eyes turn deep and serene under the flare of the Dying Will Flame.

"Boss," he said, low and husky, "please." He could hear the open want in his own voice, and it made him flush, but it was only the truth. And he never gave less than the truth to Tsuna.

Tsuna stepped close and closed his hands around Hayato’s face, drawing him down a little to a slow kiss. "Yes," he murmured into Hayato’s mouth, and Hayato’s cock twitched.

Tsuna’s hands found his hips and urged Hayato to back up, step by step, until the backs of his thighs hit the overstuffed arm of Tsuna’s office couch. Tsuna drew back a little and smiled, soft and knowing with the concentration of his Will. His hands slid up Hayato’s arms to his shoulders and turned him around. Hayato’s breath shortened.

"Easy," Tsuna murmured in his ear, as his hands undid Hayato’s belt and pants, eased them down off his hips, flattened against his stomach and slid up under his shirt, and Hayato made an agreeing sound even as he gasped. Tsuna’s hand kneaded his stomach, gentle, easing tension away, and Hayato moaned softly.

"Please," he whispered.

Tsuna pressed a kiss to his neck. "Bend down, Hayato."

Tsuna only ever called him by his name when they were like this, and it made him even harder than he already was. He was panting as he bent down over the arm of the couch, squirming just a little against the cool leather.

"Nnn…" His spine arched taut as Tsuna’s fingers pressed between his cheeks, slick, rubbing over his entrance slow and hard. "God… Boss…"

"Shh, easy Hayato," Tsuna told him, voice low, one hand kneading his lower back, soothing. Hayato moaned as Tsuna’s fingers slid into him, sure and knowing, and again, louder, as they warmed. Knowing that he was being fucked with Tsuna’s Flame, even just this soft shadow of it, made him hungry and wanton. He loved being opened for Tsuna, and he was sprawled over the arm, legs spread wide, panting, by the time Tsuna stopped.

Hayato turned his head and watched their faint reflection in the wide window across the room, him bent over with his bare ass high in the air and Tsuna behind him, stroking gentle hands over his rear. He made a little sound of anticipation as Tsuna reached to undo his own pants, and thought Tsuna smiled down at him.

He was more than ready for the stretch of Tsuna’s cock pushing into him and groaned low in his throat with the hot slide. "Yes… oh God, yes…" He whimpered as Tsuna pushed in deep and pulled back slowly, stroking across places inside that made his hips jerk until Tsuna pressed them down firmly against the couch’s smooth leather. That made him gasp. "Boss, please!" he begged, "please, fuck me!"

Tsuna laughed a little, husky. "All right. Relax for me."

Hayato obeyed, shuddering. It was so good to surrender himself to his boss like this, and when he did…

He moaned, open and breathless, as Tsuna’s cock drove deep and hard into his ass, and then again, and again. He was saying something, how good it was, asking for more, but he wasn’t paying attention to his own words. He was paying attention to how hard and sure Tsuna fucked him, eyes fixed on their reflection, on Tsuna standing behind him and looking down at him, powerful and serene as his hips flexed, thrusting him into Hayato over and over.

When Tsuna hitched him up higher on the arm of the couch and drove in deeper, fireworks burst behind Hayato’s eyes and he made a harsh, wordless sound as he came, body wringing tight around the hardness of Tsuna’s cock inside him. He loved it that Tsuna didn’t slow down, kept fucking him, holding him over the arm, keeping him open. He loved the sound of it when Tsuna moaned, throaty, burying himself deep in Hayato with short, hard jerks.

And he loved the way Tsuna’s hands stroked over his bare skin, easy and gentle, even as Tsuna leaned against the couch and Hayato, panting.

Watching Tsuna’s focus when he fought was nice. Getting fucked with that same intensity was miles better. Feeling Tsuna’s strength with every throb of his ass and Tsuna’s tenderness with every brush of fingers was best of all.

Hayato smiled. He loved late nights at the office.


Last Modified: Feb 10, 12
Posted: Dec 11, 08
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Moments of Mind and Self

Yamamoto reflects on the meaning of being a born killer. Character Sketch, I-3

Character(s): Yamamoto Takeshi

Yamamoto Takeshi had never killed.

He knew people didn’t believe it, and doubly didn’t believe it after they’d seen him with a sword in his hand. It amused him, in a wry sort of way, that none of them ever seemed to stop and think that he was one of Tsuna’s Family, after all.

The only person he knew believed it without question was Squalo, and that was because Squalo threw monumental temper tantrums over it, yelled at him that Takeshi was being false to the spirit of his own goddamn sword, attacked him in the middle of the mansion gardens purely to draw him out.

It was probably very bad of Takeshi that he was always extra careful not to cut with his edge in those fights, but the way Squalo glared at him was so funny.

And he thought that, really, Squalo did understand. When the fights were over he gave his critiques in a level, precise voice, and the courtesy of being truly serious was all the accolade Takeshi could ever need from him.

He knew, he thought, what it was they all saw in him. It was the odd calm that came to him, that let him stand in the way of strange weapons and deadly intent and still think. He’d never decided for himself whether it was a narrowing or a broadening of his focus; he just knew that it felt like a current of cool water in his mind, and it let him stand and watch, in the hot boil of deadly danger, and choose his moment.

He supposed he could use that moment to kill, easily enough. He just didn’t see any reason why he should.

Sometimes, when he sat after he practiced his form, all still, the thought came to him that one day something might happen to change his mind—that he might, one day, truly feel in his heart, and in his sword, that he had reason to kill. If it did he knew he would, would strike from that cool current without hesitation. But it hadn’t happened yet. He fought to win; that was where he found his edge and sharpness.

That was the edge he liked to feel cutting into his opponents.

He hoped it wouldn’t change. If it ever did, he thought he might lose the smile Reborn had told him he should keep.

Sometimes he wondered what Reborn was steering him towards, with his comments about being a born hitman, and his directions to keep a hold on the joy the sword brought to Takeshi, his moments of openness and his faint, knowing smile. He would think about that later, though, in another deep, quiet moment. This moment was ending.

Takeshi opened his eyes and drew a slow breath and let it out and rose from the floor of the dojo. He was smiling, eyes light, as he opened the doors and stepped out into the evening.


Last Modified: Jan 01, 09
Posted: Jan 01, 09
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Sex Sells

What if the box weapon maker wanted more funds? What sells better than weapons? Box sex toys! Absolute Crack with Bawdy Porn, I-4

Everyone stared into the parcel.

"You didn’t actually ask what they did?"

"Oh, come on, Koenig always names the boxes bizarre things."

"Yes, but… ‘Purple Ecstasy’?"

"Yeah, these aren’t exactly… I mean, can we return them or something?"

"To an underground arms dealer?"

"But these aren’t arms!"

"Maybe he needed more funding; I mean, if anything sells better than weapons…"

"We’ll figure something out," Tsuna said firmly. "Later."

There was a pause while everyone looked at each other. It was Ryouhei who finally said, "So. Should we see what they actually do?"

"You really shouldn’t be looking at this kind of thing," Lambo muttered, trying to unwrap the box… box thing.

"Oh, quit being so stingy." I-Pin elbowed him. "I want to see. Girls like sex too, you know."

Lambo winced. "I didn’t want to hear that!" At least not from a girl he’d grown up with, who was practically his sister.

"Never mind, and just open it!" She bounced on the bed.

Lambo wondered if he was going to wind up psychologically scarred from this, but decided that, if his life so far hadn’t done it, probably not. "All right, all right." He took a breath and called Flame to his ring and, with some trepidation, fed it to the box.

It opened in his hand, revealing… another ring?

Kind of a large ring.

I-Pin poked at it with a slender finger, frowning. "You can’t be supposed to wear that. It’s way to big, even for a thumb ring."

Lambo cleared his throat. "Well, I guess, um. It could be, um. Well."

I-Pin eyed him, and eyed the ring and obviously considered the shipment it had come in, and her eyes widened. "Really? You wear things there?" Then she tipped her head, thoughtful. "Why?"

Lambo tried frantically to think of a way not to answer without getting hit for holding out on her. "Well, um. It’s, um. You see…" And then he trailed off and frowned, too. "But why should that be a Lightning box?"

"Hmm. Yeah, that does seem… odd." I-Pin nibbled a nail. "Unless it’s…" She, too, trailed off, and started to turn pink, mouth twitching. "Um." She finally broke into helpless giggles and dove for his pillow to muffle them.

"What?" he asked, warily.

She looked up at him with dancing eyes and managed to squeak, "Lightning attribute!"

He blinked. "Hardening, what about—" His eyes widened and he nearly bit his tongue. "Oh."

As she dissolved into gales of laughter he couldn’t help wondering, ruefully, if even a box would be able to do anything against the memory of this particular moment.

Ryouhei held the unfolded directions insert in one hand and the glove that had come out of the Sun box in the other. "Hmm. Hm. Uh-huh. Place gloved hand on body part…"

He shrugged. Seemed straightforward enough, and since most box items with the Sun attribute healed, after all, he didn’t think there would be any problems. He pulled the glove on fed his Flame to it and, when nothing unusual happened, decided to go for it. Nothing ventured nothing gained!

When he closed his gloved hand between his legs, his eyes rolled back in his head from the wild rush of heat down every nerve. Only three thoughts managed to make it through the sensation.

One was that he should have remembered that the source of healing was "activation".

The second was that he really should have taken time to undo his pants, because these would need to be dry cleaned about a second and a half from now.

The third was that he was keeping this box.

Chrome poked her abruptly enlarged breasts with a cautious fingertip. "It’s very convincing, I suppose." She twisted, trying to get a good look at the outfit the illusion box had provided her with; it looked like some pervert’s idea of a maid’s uniform.

Ken seemed to be at a loss for words, for once, and was just staring. Chikusa was shaking his head, probably at Ken.

Mukuro-sama was laughing, in the back of her head, too hard to speak.

Chrome smiled, wryly. "I think it gives a whole new meaning to cosplay."

Ken made a slightly strangled sound, and she laughed softly.

Oh please. Mukuro-sama’s delight sparkled in her mind. I have to see the look on Hibari’s face.

Chrome shook her head over their leader’s penchant for teasing the Cloud Guardian. "You have bad hobbies, Mukuro-sama."

I know. He sounded downright gleeful, and she couldn’t help smiling.

"All right. But you get to wear this thing." She had no objection to showing off her legs, but she really wasn’t sure what to do with all this chest.

Of course, he purred, and a wicked smile lingered in the back of her mind.

"Seems like a lot of trouble to go to just for a jar of lube," Gokudera grumbled, pulling Yamamoto down against him.

"Well, let’s see what it does, then." Yamamoto’s smile was cheerfully interested and Gokudera rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, fine. Go ahead."

Slick fingers stroked his entrance, gentle, and for a moment it was just slippery and a bit chill, like any lube on the face of the earth.

And then it wasn’t.

Gokudera’s eyes widened as his muscles eased, relaxed, turned warm and pliant without any intention on his part. It was… kind of amazingly intimate, with Yamamoto touching him. "Oh…"

Yamamoto’s eyes were intent on him. "Hm. Tranquility, huh?" He smiled, slow and hot.

Gokudera’s arms tightened around him and pulled him closer, and he said, husky, in Yamamoto’s ear, "More."

And moaned as long fingers opened him.

"Okay," Dino murmured into the sheets, "not that this isn’t really good, but why bother with a box dildo? I mean," he gasped as Kyouya drew it back and pressed it in again, "the regular ones already move and light up and all that." And this one seemed a little on the small side, actually. Nice, but small.

"Mm. Not quite the way this one is designed to, I believe." Kyouya thrust it in slowly again, not seeming in any hurry to demonstrate.

"And how is that?" Heat walked up Dino’s spine with the easy slide.

"Are you sure you want me to show you?" Kyouya murmured, so perfectly serious Dino knew he was teasing.

"Yeah… ahh… I think I do."

"Well, if you insist." He could hear Kyouya’s tiny smile. "Consider. It’s a Cloud box. And the attribute of cloud is…?"

"Propaga… oh shit." Dino’s breath caught and then left him on a low moan as the dildo grew inside him, getting bigger and thicker, slowly but just quickly enough to make his nerves tighten and tingle. "Kyouya…!"

Kyouya drew the enlarged dildo back and pressed it in again, smooth and hard, and Dino groaned.

"God." His eyes were half lidded, and want and command twined together in his voice when he said, "Do that again."

Kyouya laughed low in his throat and fucked him harder.

Tsuna flopped down into one of the library chairs and pressed a hand over his eyes. "How," he asked, "am I supposed to get any work done around here ever again?"

"People already ordering new boxes?" Gokudera asked from his own chair, looking up from his book, glasses sliding down his nose a bit.

"Yes," Tsuna groaned. "It’s all a plot to bankrupt Vongola, is what it is."

Gokudera chuckled, which Tsuna thought was unusually heartless of him, until he said, "Don’t worry, Boss. That’s where my new box comes in."

Tsuna sat up, frowning. "Um. How?"

Gokudera smiled at him, serene, with only a tiny hint of a gleam in his eyes. "Well, the Storm attribute is degeneration, right?" The gleam got a little stronger. "What’s better suited to stop the action of the new boxes? Or at least," he added, "the action of the people using them."

Tsuna blinked. "You mean it…" He imagined a sudden, er, wilting throughout the base and his mouth twitched. "I, um, see."

Gokudera adjusted his glasses calmly and leaned back in his chair, ankles crossed. "Just say the word."

"I’ll keep it in mind," Tsuna murmured, amused by Gokudera’s ruthless cheer.

Gokudera sat up again. "Oh, hey, I forgot to ask. There was a Sky box in there, wasn’t there?" He scratched his nose. "I was actually kind of curious about that one. I mean, the Sky’s attribute is to encompass, and that doesn’t seem like it would lend itself to anything I could think of off hand."

Tsuna turned red as a beet. "Ah, well, yes but I, um, put it away. It’s not really—"


Tsuna flinched and looked around. Kyouko was standing in the door and her eyes were as chilly as her tone. "Um. Yes?" Oh, he was in so much trouble.

She held out an inflated… well, best to just call it an inflated body part, dangling it between two fingers, and raised a brow.

Tsuna held up his hands. "It wasn’t me!" Though, in retrospect, he should probably have taken the time to put the thing more away, no matter how embarrassed he’d been.

She studied him for a moment. "Hm. Well, then, I think you’d better tell me all about it." She turned and stalked toward the door again.

"Psst, Boss." Gokudera slipped another box to him. "Figured you guys might want this. It’s a Sun box, but you should be able to use it. She’ll forgive you more if you share, right?"

"I really hope so," Tsuna said, fervently, following after her.

Inside a year, all inter-Family feuds subsided for lack of people paying attention to them, all the potential evil masterminds were too exhausted to take over the world, and everyone lived happily ever after.

Very happily.


Last Modified: Feb 10, 12
Posted: Jan 03, 09
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Off-label Use

Dino is reading up on Japanese history and culture, and finds just the thing to provoke Hibari with. Humor with Romance, I-2

Note: This will be funniest if you’ve read any of the Edo period reams of love-advice for samurai, though it should make sense even if you haven’t. If you haven’t I quite recommend them, they’re very entertaining.

Pairing(s): Hibari/Dino

Dino sat cross-legged on Kyouya’s couch, reading down a page in his book and ticking things off with a highlighter.

Five years whole-hearted devotion, check. Kyouya certainly didn’t leave much room for anything else, at least if a person wanted to live on with all his bones intact.

Never have two strings to your bow, check. Dino smiled wryly. Romario had been dropping hints about the daughters of other Families who were around his age but, after Kyouya, really, none of them were all that interesting.

Be assiduous in the practice of the military arts while thus engaged, check. Even if Dino hadn’t been inclined to keep himself in trim in any case, no one survived long around Hibari Kyouya without being able and willing to fight back. Unless they were a small, fluffy animal, of course.

Be willing to throw away your lives for each other, check. Well, all right, Dino was willing provided it was in the cause of their Families, and Kyouya just never seemed to think twice before throwing himself into any hard fight, but Dino was reasonably sure that fighting beside each other in life-and-death situations counted, given the tone of the rest of the book.

Right, then.

He snapped the book shut and tossed his pen onto the low table and announced. "All right, Kyouya, according to this book, having ‘prudently verified the root of my nature’, now is a good time for me to ask you to elevate our relationship."

"What are you babbling about now?" Kyouya asked from the other end of the couch, not looking up from his own book.

"A classic of Japanese philosophy, in fact."

That made Kyouya look up, brows raised, lip curled faintly. "Giving relationship advice?"

"Rather a lot of it, actually." Dino had to confess to some bemusement over that, himself. He certainly hadn’t been expecting it, though he was more than willing to take advantage of it.

Kyouya was looking at him with increasing suspicion and narrowing eyes. "’Elevate our relationship’?" he quoted.

Dino grinned. "Yep."

Kyouya set his book aside with precise motions, and plucked Dino’s out of his hands. He looked at the cover for a long moment. "The Hagakure," he finally noted, voice even. "A classic of Edo period samurai conduct and philosophy, indeed."

Dino waited. He couldn’t believe Kyouya, with his interest in such things, wouldn’t catch the implication.

Sure enough, Kyouya looked back up at him, eyes sharp. "I should verify your nature?"

"That’s what it said." Dino tried to stifle a smile. "And I’m sure I wouldn’t want to violate proper order or anything." When Kyouya didn’t move, he added, "Being as it says the younger companion will want to be careful when choosing a guardia—."

That did it.

Dino laughed as he landed flat on his back on the cushions with Kyouya over him, trailing off into a moan as Kyouya’s teeth closed firmly on his throat and Kyouya’s hands ran up under his shirt.

He loved that Kyouya only ever followed the rules he liked.


Last Modified: Feb 10, 12
Posted: Jan 05, 09
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But For the Love of You

Tsuna accepts what Gokudera offers, so that he can give what he can. Porn with Characterization, I-4

Tsuna had thought, ever since he started to think about it at all, that the reason Gokudera seemed harsh to most people was that the brash manner he wrapped around himself clashed so with the fine elegance of his mind and presence. In the rare moments he let himself quiet, Gokudera seemed quite gentle to Tsuna, voice lowered into smoothness, the lines that usually caged his eyes tight relaxing into something like serenity.

And sometimes even a bit of mischief.

"Done for the day, boss?"

"For today I think," Tsuna agreed, a little wary but smiling.

"Ah, good." A corner of Gokudera’s mouth curled up. "So, you have some time for yourself, now?" He casually closed the door and strolled across the room.

Tsuna laughed, surrendering to the brightness in Gokudera’s eyes. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Good," Gokudera repeated, softer, and knelt between Tsuna’s feet. His hands folded around one of Tsuna’s, lifting it as he bent his head. Lips brushed Tsuna’s palm lightly, followed by the soft, wet stroke of Gokudera’s tongue, and Tsuna’s breath caught as it traced over his skin. The fineness of Gokudera’s hair fell forward and feathered over Tsuna’s wrist, and a tiny sound caught in his throat as Gokudera’s lips wrapped around his middle finger, sliding down the length of it slowly.

Gokudera glanced up at him without lifting his head. "Boss?" he murmured.

Tsuna was already thankful that his pants weren’t very tight, and the openness of Gokudera’s smile made his chest feel a little the same. "Yes," he said, husky.

Gokudera’s fingers were light, undoing Tsuna’s belt and opening his pants, eyes holding his above that smile. It made Tsuna’s face heat, and the smile crept wider. When Gokudera bent his head again, though, his lashes fell over those bright eyes and the soft, wanting sound he made as he closed his mouth over Tsuna’s cock made Tsuna’s whole body flush. Gokudera’s pleasure in this took his breath away.

A moan slipped between his parted lips as Gokudera’s mouth slid slowly down him and back up, wet and soft, tongue sliding firmly over Tsuna’s head. Gokudera’s hands stroking up Tsuna’s thighs made him spread his legs wider, even though there was no pressure in them at all. Only entreaty that he couldn’t help answering.

The way Gokudera touched him when they were alone pulled everything out of him, and Tsuna leaned his head back against the cool leather of his chair, panting as the heat of Gokudera’s mouth moved up and down. He watched Gokudera in quick glimpses, from under heavy lids, and the softness of Gokudera’s face as he closed his eyes and worked his mouth over Tsuna’s cock made another moan shiver through Tsuna’s chest, braided out of the hot pleasure coiling low in his stomach and the floating lightness under his heart. He stroked his hands over Gokudera’s shoulders, fingers lifting to slide through his hair gently, and the corners of Gokudera’s mouth turned up.


The vibration of that pleased sound, around him, made Tsuna gasp, and his hips rocked up, helplessly. A low moan answered him as his cock pushed deeper into Gokudera’s mouth and sensual relaxation swept over Gokudera’s face. Tsuna rocked up again and made a soft, satisfied sound as one of Gokudera’s hands left him to drop down between Gokudera’s own legs. Gokudera’s low breathless sounds around his cock urged Tsuna on as he thrust into Gokudera’s mouth, trying to be careful until Gokudera opened his eyes and looked up at him, hot and bright, and Tsuna fell right down into pleasure and couldn’t tell how hard his hips drove up, only that Gokudera was moaning between his legs as orgasm swept Tsuna fast and fierce.

Tsuna fell back against the chair, panting, shuddering with the soft slide of Gokudera’s mouth. When Gokudera finally drew back Tsuna managed to pry his eyes open, and promptly blushed at the way Gokudera was looking at him, all heavy satisfaction and lurking tenderness.

"Good way to end the day?" Gokudera asked, mischief sneaking back for a moment.

Tsuna smiled, soft. "Yeah." His fingers stroked through the silvery fall of Gokudera’s hair, heart turning over at the way Gokudera turned into his hand, eyes slipping closed again, peaceful and trustful. "It is."


Last Modified: Feb 10, 12
Posted: Feb 20, 09
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May Flowers

Tsuna gives his people whatever they need, and Yamamoto is no exception. Porn with Characterization, I-4

Tsuna pressed Takeshi back against the bed, settling over him, and nodded to himself at Takeshi’s low sigh.

It was easier, he thought, to give Gokudera what he needed. Gokudera was far more straightforward. When Yamamoto came to him Tsuna had to look harder and make guesses.

Sometimes Yamamoto just sat quietly at his feet for an evening. Sometimes he wanted to hold Tsuna, to shelter and shield him, and Tsuna rested against his chest until his arms relaxed and loosened. Sometimes he wanted to touch, slow and gentle, and kissed Tsuna’s fingers softly until Tsuna said yes.

And sometimes he needed to not be the protector, for a while.

Tsuna kissed Takeshi’s palms, one after the other and pressed his hands down gently, firmly against the bed, watching Takeshi’s eyes fall half closed, his lips part on a quick breath.

"It’s all right," Tsuna told him, softly.

Takeshi smiled up at him, sweet and rueful, relaxing under his hands. "Yeah."

Tsuna stroked down Takeshi’s arms, over his bare chest, kneading the hard muscle there, pleased as Takeshi sighed more deeply and let his hands lie against the sheets, fingers uncurling loosely. It was a warm feeling, that Takeshi could relax under his hands. Tsuna dipped his fingers in the jar on his bedside table, slicking them, and reached down to press between Takeshi’s cheeks and rub over and over his entrance in slow, hard circles.

Takeshi moaned at that, letting his legs fall open.

"There," Tsuna murmured as taut muscle unwound under his touch. "It’s all right, Takeshi. Just feel." He could feel the soft shudder that ran through Takeshi’s body as his fingers pressed in deep.

"Oh… yes." Takeshi’s voice was husky now, eyes dark as he looked up at Tsuna under lowered lids. "Boss…"

Tsuna’s mouth quirked and he leaned down to take Takeshi’s mouth and kiss him slow and thorough. "Yes."

It always meant something particular when Takeshi called him that. Tonight, at least, it was easy to figure out what.

He reached for more lube to stroke over his cock, catching a breath at the coolness of it; at least he didn’t blush over it any more. Not when he was concentrating on someone else. He slid his palms down Takeshi’s thighs, easy but not lightly, pressing them wider. Takeshi’s breath was coming fast now, as Tsuna spread him out against the sheets.

"Boss… please."

"Shh." Tsuna leaned in to kiss him again and Takeshi shivered under his hands. "It’s okay. I’ve got you," Tsuna murmured.

Takeshi laughed, low and breathless. "Yeah." And then he moaned, head dropping back to bare the arch of his throat, as Tsuna pushed into him.

Tsuna’s own breath came in short bursts as he slid into the tight heat of Takeshi’s body and pleasure curled through him. He rode the edge of it and watched Takeshi carefully, hips flexing slowly. The husky sounds Takeshi made guided him, drew him on until he was fucking Takeshi hard and steady, heat curling up his spine at the way Takeshi moaned. He leaned in for a sharper angle and when Takeshi shuddered and gasped, he smiled, drew back, thrust harder.


Takeshi’s hands were clenched again and Tsuna reached up to grip his wrists, holding him down firmly. "Let go," he ordered, low and even and sure. "I have you."

That was the last thing it took and Takeshi cried out, wordless, hips jerking up as Tsuna drove into him hard and fast. His body tightened fiercely and Tsuna hissed through his teeth, hanging on until Takeshi was still, under him, and he could let himself go, let heat rush through him like a flood and leave him draped over Takeshi, panting.

Takeshi was lax under his hands, eyes dark and calm.

Tsuna smiled.

"Stay there," he murmured, pressing a kiss to Takeshi’s forehead, and slipped out of bed to fetch a washcloth.

Takeshi was pliant as Tsuna cleaned them up, but his hands were always stroking lightly over any part of Tsuna he could reach; Tsuna settled back down with him as soon as he’d tossed the cloth in the hamper and pressed close. "It’s all right," he repeated, gently.

"I know." Takeshi lifted Tsuna’s hand and kissed his fingers. "Boss."

"Yes," Tsuna promised. "I’m here." He hesitated for a breath and added, "And you’re mine."

The last tension unwound from Takeshi’s body and he smiled.

Tsuna stroked Takeshi’s hair as they lay together. He still wondered, sometimes, if it had been right to entangle people like Yamamoto, like Ryouhei, in the world of the mafia. But he had to admit, that world neatly enfolded Yamamoto’s mix of gentleness and violence.

Most of the time.

If it was his reassurance that his people needed, for those moments when it didn’t, Tsuna would certainly give it.

Takeshi’s breathing evened into sleep and Tsuna held him closer, satisfied.


Last Modified: Feb 10, 12
Posted: Mar 11, 09
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It’s the Motion

Gokudera thinks it’s unfair how good Yamamoto looks on a motorcycle; Yamamoto thinks it’s the perfect opportunity. Written for DW’s inaugural comment porn meme with the prompt: Yamamoto/Gokudera, motorcycles as aphrodisiacs. Porn without Plot, I-4

It was easier, Hayato decided, when Yamamoto was actually driving the motorcycle. And it was easier because Yamamoto was an idiot, and liked to do silly, flashy moves, and it was easy to roll his eyes at someone popping a wheelie and laughing like a kid.

The hard part was when Yamamoto was holding still on the damn thing. And the hardest part was keeping his eyes away from long, long legs spread casually over a sleek machine and not, not, looking at the way worn denim pulled taut over Yamamoto’s thighs.

When he couldn’t keep from doing that was when his mouth went dry and his pulse sped up and, if he was unlucky enough to not look away in time, Yamamoto’s eyes turned dark and considering.

Of course trying not to look also had its drawbacks, like not seeing the arm snaking out to pull him in close.

“What are you doing?” It came out a lot huskier than he’d meant for it to, but hell, he was pulled up tight against Yamamoto, who was still straddling the damn motorcycle and grinning, only not in his usual idiotic way. No, this time there was something hot around the edges of it.

“Testing a theory?” Yamamoto offered. His arm tightened, pulling Hayato closer, and Hayato took in a quick breath as he found one of those long legs between his. “Mm, yeah, looks like it was right.”

“Idiot,” Hayato managed, hands closing on Yamamoto’s shoulders. And it was ridiculous that it should make any difference, but the sleekness and speed promised by the motorcycle’s lines made a person pay attention to the lines of Yamamoto’s body, the sleekness and power they promised. Those lines drew him in, made him forget why he’d ever tried not to look.

At least they were alone in here, today.

He leaned down to kiss Yamamoto, which at least covered the damn grin, and let himself rock against Yamamoto’s thigh. A shudder of heat ran right up his spine.

“Mmm.” He could still hear the grin as Yamamoto’s other hand worked open their pants. “Here.”

Gokudera flushed as Yamamoto pulled him onto the bike too, settling back in behind him, and it only deepened when Yamamoto murmured in his ear, “It’s a good ride, you know?”


The idiot only laughed, and Gokudera’s breath hitched as Yamamoto tugged his pants down and Yamamoto’s cock rubbed against his bare ass. The brush of Yamamoto’s fingers made him look back and he blinked at the slick glisten on them and on Yamamoto’s cock and the foil packet being tucked back into Yamamoto’s jeans. The grin turned just a bit insufferable. “I noticed you watching.”

“Complete and total idiot,” Gokudera grumbled, still rather red, and broke off with a gasp as slick fingers reached around to fondle him too.

“Whatever you say,” Yamamoto murmured.

Gokudera stopped trying to string words together and leaned over the motorcycle, panting, as Yamamoto took his hips and pressed into him, slowly, slowly, stretching him open fierce and hard. When Yamamoto drew back and pushed in again, he moaned out loud. They were supposed to be training, he thought distractedly, but here he was instead, spread out over a fast, powerful machine, getting fucked slow and hard, and God it was hot. He could feel Yamamoto’s jeans rubbing against his ass with every thrust, feel the hardness of Yamamoto’s thighs against the back of his as they tensed, feel the tight slide as Yamamoto’s cock worked in and out of him, and it all set him panting, gasping with the heat, moaning with the surge of pleasure as Yamamoto lifted his hips and drove in deeper.

By the time he finally came undone he’d forgotten the very possibility of other people being around and his voice rang off the walls.

The motorcycle did, he decided distantly, make a nice support. He didn’t have to try to move at all as Yamamoto gasped and his thrusts turned short and hard.

They were quiet for a moment and then Yamamoto murmured against his shoulder. “So? Was it a good ride?”

Gokudera swatted at him, growling when he laughed.

Okay, maybe he did like it better when Yamamoto and his motorcycle were holding still.


Last Modified: Feb 10, 12
Posted: Apr 08, 09
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Hibari looks at the world differently than most people. Written for the drabble exchange prompt: Hibari, Possessive. Drama with Characterization, I-3

“You know,” Dino picked his way through what he could only think of as the litter of fallen bodies surrounding Kyouya, “you probably didn’t need to be quite so, ah, thorough.”

“They insulted the Vongola,” Kyouya pointed out. He still had his tonfa in his hands, steel held straight and poised, and Dino was careful to keep one eye on them. Kyouya wasn’t picky about his opponents when his blood was up.

“I have to say, you’re not the one I’d expected to be the most protective of the Vongola’s reputation.” Dino folded his arms and leaned against the wall, one foot braced, and considered. “Actually, I guess you and Gokudera are probably tied. But I didn’t expect that, either.” He kept coming back because Kyouya kept surprising him.

Kyouya sniffed. “Gokudera acts like a herd animal. Or a pet.”

Dino’s mouth twitched. “So what do you call how you act?”

Kyouya raised a brow at him, finally putting away his weapons. “What do you mean?”

“Well just look at what you did to the poor idiots, just for insulting Tsuna.” Dino waved at the fallen. “And you supposed to be the Cloud, the one who doesn’t belong to anyone.”

“I don’t belong to anyone.”

Dino was starting to have that feeling. The one he often had, talking to Kyouya. The one that suggested maybe Kyouya lived in a different world than the rest of them. “So what do you call your reason for this, then?”

Kyouya looked straight at him, eyes sharp and bright, and smiled like a crazy thing. “I don’t belong to Sawada. He belongs to me.”

Dino eyed Kyouya’s smile, and the scatter of bodies only now starting to groan, and laughed helplessly.

And wondered, in the back of his head, whether Kyouya thought the same thing about him.


Last Modified: Apr 27, 09
Posted: Apr 27, 09
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Happily Ever After

Companion to Lys ap Adin’s "Bloodsport"; a series of linked shorts that follows Gokudera, Yamamoto and Tsuna after the end. Lots of fang-sex, a bit of humor, and a smidge of crack thrown in at the end. Romance and Fang-porn, I-4

Positive Reinforcement

When Hayato had agreed to become part of Tsuna’s clan, he hadn’t expected to be spending much time in Tsuna’s own company. The clan lord would obviously, he’d thought, have better things to do than meet in person with a scruffy little dhampir. It appeared, though, that Tsuna liked his news first hand, and so it was that Hayato found himself sitting in that arm chair across from his new lord at least once a week.

And Tsuna’s rooms might be nice and warm, but it still gave Hayato the shivers.

“So, both Belphegor and Rasiel were out that night, hm?” Tsuna paced slowly beside his chair, eyes distant. “I think perhaps Xanxus isn’t as much under Byakuran’s control as he would prefer.” Tsuna focused on Hayato again and smiled. “I’m impressed you spotted them.”

Hayato stomped hard on a blush. He was not one of Shamal’s fluttery girlfriends and he did not blush for pity’s sake. “They were concentrating on fighting each other; they didn’t take much care to conceal themselves.”

“Nevertheless.” Tsuna rested his fingers on Hayato’s shoulder. “Few would look beyond their own hunger, when feeding, to notice who they were.”

Hayato swallowed. The mention of feeding made him remember the way his… his… his dinner companions leaned against him when he drank, and that reminded him of his faintly guilty curiosity over how it felt and why they did it, and, as always in Tsuna’s presence, that made him wonder what it would be like. And that made him, once again, have to grab hold of his never to be sufficiently damned human hormones and try to stuff them back in their box before Tsuna noticed. Which was probably a lost cause, but Tsuna had been forbearing enough not to press the issue so far.

Cool fingers lifted to touch his throat lightly, making him gasp. “And are you well fed now?” Tsuna murmured.

Only it looked like his dispensation might have run out tonight. He’d been half expecting it for weeks, when Tsuna looked at him with that tiny glint of speculation behind the sympathy. “Boss,” he said, husky, unable to meet the dark gaze above him.

“Are you willing to share with me?” Tsuna asked softly, and Hayato swallowed, remembering the times he’d listened to that question be asked, the few times he’d had the nerve to ask it himself.

“I’m half-blood,” the last gasp of his sanity drove him to protest. Vampires might kill other vampires, but they didn’t drink from them. Unless they were watchers and he wasn’t thinking about that, damn it.

“That means you’re both, not that you’re neither.” Tsuna’s smile showed just a hint of his fangs, as was mannerly when asking for a meal, and that stunned Hayato; Tsuna was really serious about this. “So?”

Hayato closed his eyes; he refused lie to himself about how much he wanted even this kind of belonging, no matter how ridiculous that was, or had seemed right up until now, and it was obviously pointless to lie to Tsuna. “Please.”

Tsuna’s slender fingers ran up his throat to his chin and effortless strength tipped Hayato’s head back. Tsuna’s lips brushed Hayato’s once and moved down the line of his jaw, slow and gentle. Hayato was tense, breathing in quick gasps, and Tsuna’s lips moved against his skin as he murmured, “I won’t leave you. Relax.” The sound Hayato made was uncomfortably close to a whimper, and Tsuna’s fingers combed through his hair, slow and soothing. Tsuna’s knee slid up onto the chair beside him, caging Hayato under the slim arch of his body and Hayato jerked up against him, breathless, at the delicate prick of fangs on his throat.


Hayato was nearly writhing in the chair with the slow, light nip of Tsuna’s teeth up and down his throat, never quite breaking skin. He couldn’t tell whether Tsuna was teasing him or marking him, and oh god he shouldn’t have thought that because the idea of walking around marked by Tsuna’s fangs made him harder than he’d ever been before in his life.

“There, that’s better.”

Hayato took a few seconds to understand the words, and then it didn’t matter because Tsuna finally bit down properly. Heat struck straight through the core of him and he couldn’t even form the thoughts “sharp” or “ow” because all he could feel was the way Tsuna’s teeth in his throat held him, the slow surge of thrill and sweetness when Tsuna sucked.

Now he understood why the people who came to the clubs did it. It was incredible. It was just on the edge of bearable, and it went on and on, sensation like a blood-starved limb waking up, so intense that he couldn’t tell if it was pleasure or pain, only feel it.

When Tsuna finally let him go he felt wrung out, too dazed to speak. He let Tsuna settle him back in the chair, feeling the faint throb where he’d been bitten.

Tsuna smiled down at him. “I like the taste of you.”

Hayato could feel his face getting hot.

“Both,” Tsuna reminded him. “You live in both worlds. That is one of the things I value in you.” His fingertips brushed the bite and Hayato shivered, lips parting.

“Rest,” Tsuna told him and kissed his forehead.

“Yes, boss,” Hayato managed, before lethargy and the overstuffed cushions of the chair sucked him down into drowsing. The thought meandered through his mind that he’d shared blood both ways now. Vampire and human.

He eased down in the chair, liking that thought, and Tsuna’s soft laugh followed him into sleep.

The Return of the Vampire…

There was always the risk, when the doorbell rang after dark these days, that it would be another thrilling moment of flight come calling, so Hayato was already scowling when he opened the door. It was good to get off on the right foot. What stood there tonight wasn’t an invitation to airsickness, but the scowl didn’t go to waste.

It was Yamamoto.

“You have a lot of goddamn nerve,” Hayato growled after a moment. “After all this time with no word unless, oh yeah, I watch for the trail of vampires only an idiot would look for, now lying around in scattered soggy bits! Email is faster, you know! Asshole.” It wasn’t anywhere near his best reaming out ever, he hadn’t had much of a run-up, but it was definitely heartfelt.

Yamamoto just nodded. “Can I come in?”

Hayato told himself he wasn’t going to be that much of an idiot. He told himself Yamamoto obviously didn’t need any of his help any more, and he was probably twice as crazy as before. Watchers usually were. He was going to close this door and go back to the life he’d scraped together for himself after the last time he was stupid enough to get involved with Yamamoto Takeshi.

“Yeah.” He turned his back, leaving the door open. “Go ahead.”

…And What Happened After

“Well?” Hayato asked, voice flat as he stalked down the hall and into the kitchen to finish making his tea. “I don’t imagine you just dropped by to calm my concerns about your continued life, undeath and health.”

Yamamoto sighed faintly. “I’m sorry.”

Hayato turned around at that, and stared at him. “You… what?”

“I shouldn’t have assumed you were like Byakuran’s people,” Yamamoto said, and promptly ruined the apology by adding, “Even if you were going around drinking blood.”

“Excuse me.” Hayato’s eyes narrowed. “Unless I’m very mistaken indeed, you now ‘go around drinking blood’ yourself, so just be careful whose eating habits you start getting all high and mighty about.”

“Mm.” Yamamoto’s eyes were dark and distant for a moment, and Hayato shoved down a shiver. He’d known already that Yamamoto wasn’t very well going to be coming back after Hibari got a hold of him. “Anyway.” Yamamoto focused on him again. “I did want to see you.”

“Why?” Gokudera demanded, arms crossed.

Yamamoto shifted, hands stuffed in his pockets. “To ask if you’d have dinner with me.”

Gokudera blinked, and his first thought was that that was ridiculous, Yamamoto couldn’t drink from humans, and the appearance of a young watcher in one of the clubs would cause absolute chaos. Then his brain caught up. “You what?”

Yamamoto ran a hand through his hair, lingering at the back of his head. For a moment he looked so like the old Yamamoto, smiling and sheepish and thoughtlessly determined, that it took Hayato’s breath away. “Kyouya wants to, um, introduce me to Tsuna, but I kind of wanted to eat with someone I knew first.”

“That hasn’t seemed to trouble you a whole lot until now.” Hayato’s voice sounded a little weak in his own ears. It was just the moment of shock, he told himself.

“Well, that was different.” Yamamoto didn’t say how it was different, and that, too, was Yamamoto all over. Hayato scrubbed his hands over his face.

“Why me, though?” he asked, muffled.

“Well,” Yamamoto said slowly, “I guess because you’re a friend.”

Hayato knew right then he’d lost the argument. “Friend, huh?” he managed to snap. “You always leave your friends totally in the dark for months on end?”

Yamamoto was just watching him. “This is the first time I’ll feed from someone I’m not killing.”

Hayato stared at him, incredulous. Yamamoto clearly had not the tiniest inkling of manners or couth or the right fucking moment; some things apparently never changed. “Is it? That’s nice.” Hayato leaned against the kitchen counter and muttered, “I’ve got to be fucking crazy.” And Yamamoto was suddenly right there, and Hayato hadn’t even heard him move.

“Yes?” he asked, one hand sliding around Hayato’s back and drawing him closer.

“You know this might not actually work, right?” Hayato asked, a little uneven. “I mean… half-blood, right?”

“You’re vampire enough to need human blood,” Yamamoto pointed out, perfectly logical if you ignored the way his eyes were fixed on Hayato’s throat.

A tiny part of Hayato was laughing hysterically; first he was human enough to feed Tsuna and now he was vampire enough to feed a watcher? After all these years of being neither, the irony was killing him. Not that Yamamoto compared to Tsuna in any way, especially considering the stunning lack of subtlety with which a lot of the vampires of Byakuran’s clan had been strewn over the landscape with parts ripped off lately. Which reminded him.

He set a hand on Yamamoto’s chest and pushed him back a bit, and tried to ignore the distinct feeling that it only worked because Yamamoto let him. “That Hibari had better have taught you decent table manners,” he said sternly.

Yamamoto cocked his head, considering. “I think so.”

“How wonderfully reassuring,” Hayato grumbled. “If you spit, I’m going to punch you. Okay, fine, fine, yes I’m willing to share.”

It was neither the old Yamamoto nor the crazy Yamamoto who looked down at him, two fingers running down the line of his neck, and said quietly, “Thank you.”

“Yeah.” Hayato’s voice was husky. “All right.”

He shivered as Yamamoto tipped his head back, hands closing tight in Yamamoto’s shirt as lips moved over his throat, tracing a vein unerringly. A low, wordless sound left him on a breath as Yamamoto bit down, swift and sharp, and Yamamoto made a soft, inquiring noise. Hayato couldn’t actually answer, so he just leaned into Yamamoto and moaned a little as an arm came around him and held him up. He was used to the way Tsuna’s power, carried on the very scent of him, folded around him when Tsuna fed, but this was different. Yamamoto burned in his senses, sharp and wild, and the movement of his mouth on Hayato’s throat was more demanding, more raw. It made heat tighten down on Hayato like a vise, heat that surged up and up until it unstrung Hayato’s very bones, and the sounds he made turned broken with his panting.

When Yamamoto finally took his mouth away Hayato could barely stand, with the fiery echo of sensation still rolling through him.

It did finally penetrate that they were still standing in the middle of his kitchen, and he managed to smack Yamamoto on the shoulder. “Thought you said you’d been taught manners,” he said hoarsely.

“Was that wrong?” Yamamoto’s fingers stirred in Hayato’s hair and he shivered softly.

“Not… not wrong.” A breath. “Just gauche. Should have expected that, I guess.” He managed to lift his head and declare, “Next time, we are using the bedroom.”

Yamamoto smiled, and if there was an edge of satiation and a definite glint in Yamamoto’s eyes Hayato was too drained to excoriate him for it properly. Later. “All right.”

“All right, then.”

After a moment of quiet Yamamoto said, “You taste good.”

Hayato gave up. He leaned his head on Yamamoto’s shoulder and laughed, wobbly and breathless. “All right, fine. Maybe we can have dinner again some time.”


Hayato growled at that, but let Yamamoto steer him toward the couch and bring the tea over. “Glad you’re back,” he muttered into his cup.

Yamamoto smiled that new smile again, the one that made Hayato have to swallow.


Two to Three Servings Daily

Hayato knew he was in trouble when Tsuna stopped in the middle of giving instructions and frowned at him.

“Hayato, how long has it been since you last ate?”

Hayato shook off the tiny bit of fog he’d been in, only a tiny bit really, and protested, “I ate just the other day!”

Tsuna’s frown was joined by a wry tilt to his mouth. “I see. And when, exactly, did Takeshi last visit you?”

Hayato cleared his throat, eyes sliding away from the glint in Tsuna’s. “Um. Well. Last night.”

Tsuna sighed. “Haru,” he murmured, “I don’t wish to impose, but if you could do us both the favor…?”

Haru had her hands on her hips and was looking sternly at Hayato already. “Well of course!” She linked her arm though Hayato’s and towed him off to the far corner of the room, scolding him the whole time. “Honestly, Gokudera-kun, you never take enough care of yourself. You have to eat right!” She positively shoved him down onto a small couch and he told himself he only let her because he was being nice, not because his knees were a bit shaky. “I bet you don’t even have your knife on you!” She plumped herself down on his lap, rummaging through her purse. “Here, now.” She pulled out a small, plastic case of razor blades and plucked one out, briskly nicking her wrist.

“Whoa, whoa, hey!” Hayato caught her wrist as blood dripped down, lapping at it quickly. “Don’t go around wasting that, it’s important stuff.”

Haru laughed and snuggled comfortably against him, sighing as his lips closed properly over the little slice. “I know.”

Hayato wanted to make sure she knew he meant it was important to her, not just to him, but he couldn’t quite draw his mouth away from the taste of her to do it. He knew he was probably still in trouble, that Tsuna would likely scold him for being careless, but right now the whole world was Haru’s pulse and the living heat of her blood shared between them.

Hunter and Hunted

Hayato had never worried about drunks when he wandered the human parts of town after dark. Half-blood or not, and however delicate he looked, he was more than strong enough to deal with any little annoyances. Walking the vampire parts of town, on the other hand, still had its risks when Lambo wasn’t with him.

“Filthy half-blood.” The vampire standing in front of him wasn’t swaying and wasn’t slurring his words, but he was obviously blood-drunk anyway. Hayato hooked his finger through the pin of a flash grenade and judged his distance coolly.

The cool wavered a bit when a second vampire faded out of the shadows, but this one put a hand on the first’s shoulder. “Don’t bother. That one is tied up with the Vongolas.” Too-bright eyes flicked over Hayato, dismissive and wary at the same time. “And he’s that new watcher’s prey. Not worth it.”

“No accounting for taste,” the drunk snarled, but let himself be tugged off, and Hayato relaxed a little.

“Maybe I should eat them tonight.”

Only to nearly jump out of his skin when Yamamoto’s voice came from behind him. “Fuck, are you trying to give me a heart attack?!” And then the fact that Yamamoto was apparently shadowing him some nights came together with what the vampires had said, and he glared at Yamamoto for all he was worth. “And does the entire world now know I’m having dinner with you?”

“Well, you are.” Yamamoto sounded reasonable enough, but he also reached out and pulled Hayato firmly against him. His next words were low and intent. “You’re mine.”

Hayato banged his head against Yamamoto’s shoulder a few times and reminded himself strenuously that for all his apparent control Yamamoto was still a very young vampire with instincts still screaming in his ears at top volume.

Yamamoto’s fingers touching his hair were light, though, and his voice turned just a little hesitant as he asked, “You are, aren’t you?”

Hayato sighed, defeated by that tone. “Yeah,” he muttered. And he would deny until the day he died the warmth that thought lodged in his chest. He had a dark suspicion Yamamoto could smell it, though, because he made a satisfied sound.

“Where were you going?” Yamamoto finally asked.

“Downtown. For dinner.”

“Okay.” Yamamoto let him go and smiled faintly. “I’ll watch.”

Hayato opened his mouth to protest that pathetic excuse for a pun, but Yamamoto was already gone, at least to his senses. “Smartass,” he said anyway, pretty sure Yamamoto would hear it, and turned back down the street.

And tried really hard to ignore the heat at the idea of Yamamoto watching over him.

Double Your Pleasure

Everyone knew that Tsuna had impeccable manners, and Hayato had had plenty of evidence over time that he was no exception to them in Tsuna’s eyes. It could still fluster him a little, though, especially when Tsuna courted him for dinner. He certainly couldn’t deny how much he liked it, how good it felt to know his clan lord very definitely wanted him—to be kissed and charmed and settled gently back on Tsuna’s large, low couch—but he was usually flushed and shy by the time Tsuna bit down.

After that, of course, he was generally too busy with sensation to be flustered any more.

Tonight, though Tsuna had barely started to drink when he tensed and raised his head just a little. His voice was low and sharp as he said, “Hibari. I’m occupied tonight.”

“I see you are.”

Hayato flushed again, uncomfortable and embarrassed at having this moment seen and watched by Hibari of all people. Tsuna’s arms tightened around him, though, and he relaxed again, comforted. He gave himself to Tsuna when they did this, and Tsuna wanted him.

Hibari, predictably, sniffed. “Very well. Come along, then.”

“I’ll, um, catch up with you, okay?”

Hayato started, looking up, and sure enough that was Yamamoto with Hibari. Hibari was eyeing his fledgling with a dubiously raised brow. Yamamoto was only looking at Hayato.

“We need to educate your palate,” Hibari declared, sounding faintly disapproving, and vanished out the window.

“Kyouya,” Tsuna murmured, exasperated and affectionate, and added politely. “What was it you wished, Takeshi?”

Yamamoto took a slow step toward them. “Gokudera,” he murmured.

Hayato made a breathless sound as the weight of Tsuna’s power in his senses abruptly increased.

“Gokudera Hayato is one of my people,” Tsuna said, low and even. “I will not allow him to be harmed.”

“Boss,” Hayato managed, husky. “It’s all right.” His face turned hotter as Tsuna looked down at him, brows raised a little. “It’s… Please.” He was definitely crazy, but there it was; the idea of both of them feeding on him made him almost too hot to think.

“All right. If it’s what you wish.” Tsuna caught his chin and added firmly. “I still will not allow you to be harmed.”

That was just fine with Hayato, actually, and he breathed, “Yes, boss.”

Tsuna looked up and held out a courteous hand to Yamamoto. “If you care to join me, then.”

“Mmm.” Yamamoto settled down beside the couch. Long fingers stroked down Hayato’s throat, and he moaned softly as Tsuna’s tongue lapped at his bite, coaxing the blood to flow again. When Yamamoto leaned in and bit down on the other side, Hayato couldn’t hold back a sharp gasp, arching taut against the couch.

Two sets of arms closed around him, supporting him, and Hayato lay back in them, lax and panting. His senses spun as their mouths moved on his throat, and he shuddered and closed his eyes. The power of them was heavy in the room, pushing against each other, slowly building over him until he could hardly breathe. Their occasional, barely voiced growls plucked at his nerves with little twists of fire and thrill, and he moaned whenever a growl was followed by a sharp nip. He couldn’t even tell whose hands were stroking over him, because they were each just as possessive as the other.

And he belonged to both of them.

The thought pushed him over the edge, and he gasped, shuddering between them as an extra edge of pleasure washed through him. And again. And again. On and on, until he was crying out, half voiceless.

It was Tsuna who drew back and reached over him to press Yamamoto gently and firmly away. “Enough.”

Hayato lay in their arms, dazed and dizzy and wordless. Slowly their power concealed itself again, at least somewhat, and he managed to smile up at them. Yamamoto smiled back, the bared edge of hunting, of having, fading from his gaze. Tsuna kissed his forehead and reached for the side table. Hayato winced a little as small gauze pads were pressed to his throat; he was definitely going to be a bit sore after this.

“Are you all right?” Yamamoto murmured, starting to look just a little concerned and maybe a tinge guilty.

“Fine,” Hayato whispered, husky. “No, I’m good.” Really good. More than good, even.

“I know you want this,” Tsuna told him softly, “but you can’t do it often. Give me your word you’ll take care.”

Hayato was pretty sure he’d be blushing if he had the blood for it right now. “I promise.” Tsuna always saw right through him.

And Tsuna was giving Yamamoto a thoughtful look. “You are welcome here, this evening, if you wish to say with Hayato.”

“Of course. Yes, I mean, I’d like that.” Yamamoto gathered Hayato closer and Hayato caught Tsuna’s smile. There was some kind of maneuver or politics behind that, but if Yamamoto wanted to be possessive of Hayato he’d have to deal with Tsuna’s hand on the reins sooner or later.

The thought of getting to watch that kind of amused him.


Hayato wondered, sometimes, if he should just accept Tsuna’s offer of a place to stay, here in Tsuna’s house. He wound up sleeping here half the time anyway, when he’d been to report in, and tonight—he yawned as he trotted down the hall—was going to be no exception.

“Boss?” he called softly as he opened a door and slipped into Tsuna’s sitting room. “You wanted…”

He trailed off staring, because Yamamoto was kneeling beside Tsuna’s chair, head bent over Tsuna’s wrist as he drank.

It was entirely possible that Hayato shouldn’t be watching this. Shouldn’t be watching the way Yamamoto sat back on his heels, spine straight, the way his hands curved under Tsuna’s arm, the way his throat moved when he swallowed. But he couldn’t pull his eyes away. And when Tsuna looked up, eyes dark and half closed, he merely smiled and Hayato stood rooted to the spot by the sight of Tsuna wrapped in the lazy heat of being fed from.

Finally Yamamoto drew back and straightened. “Thanks,” he murmured, and the satisfied purr in his voice made Hayato shiver.

“You are welcome.” Tsuna laughed softly. “And so are you, Hayato.”

“Oh.” Yamamoto turned his head. “It was you.”

Hayato firmly suppressed the warmth at the thought that Yamamoto noticed his presence through the haze of feeding and stepped further into the room. “Yeah. I was going to report in tonight.”

“Hmm.” The speculative hum sent another shiver down Hayato’s spine, and somehow he wasn’t surprised when Yamamoto came to him and drew him in close. He tipped his head back with a gasp as Yamamoto’s lips brushed down his jaw, hands spreading against Yamamoto’s chest.

“No, Takeshi.” Tsuna’s voice slid between them like a blade, and Yamamoto looked up, frowning. “You have no need of more tonight,” Tsuna told him inflexibly, “and Hayato is still in his recovery time.”

Yamamoto’s hands tightened on Hayato and a faint growl rose in his throat. Tsuna’s mouth quirked, more amused than threatened, and Hayato wondered for the umpteenth time exactly how strong his boss was.

“You don’t need to draw blood just to mark your territory, you know.”

The growl faded and Yamamoto looked down at Hayato with a suddenly speculative light in his eyes.

“Um,” Hayato started, husky, only to break off on a moan as Yamamoto bent his head and the points of his teeth closed on Hayato’s throat, holding him sharp and sure. Up and down his throat those teeth moved, biting without penetrating, only promising. Only leaving Yamamoto’s mark on him. Some other time Hayato would have to try to be indignant about that, but right now he just hung on to Yamamoto’s shoulders and shuddered with the heat curling down every nerve.

By the time Yamamoto stopped it was a very good thing he was holding Hayato up, because Hayato’s knees sure weren’t going to. Hayato made a protesting sound, though, when Yamamoto let him slip down into one of the soft armchairs. “That’s it?” He aimed a swat at Yamamoto and glared when it was dodged. “You fucking tease! You’re just going to leave me to die of blueballs, is that it?” Which was not actually that much of an exaggeration, and he shifted a little uncomfortably.

Yamamoto slid a thoughtful glance at Tsuna, who was still sitting with his arm curled up and a cotton pad pressed to his wrist. Tsuna gave him a stern look back. Yamamoto looked thoughtful for another moment and then pleased.

“Well, if that’s the problem.” He sank down between Hayato’s knees, fingers busy undoing Hayato’s pants.

Hayato stared, stunned. He wasn’t really going to… Disbelief evaporated in the leap of his pulse as Yamamoto’s fingers curled around his cock. “Yamamoto…!” His eyes flicked up to Tsuna, watching them with a tiny smile, and then Yamamoto’s mouth closed on him, hot and wet and so very good Hayato just sank back with a moan.

The slow, wet slide made him shudder and when the edge of Yamamoto’s fangs brushed against him it brought him up half out of the chair. And there was something very familiar about this, about the feeling of Yamamoto’s mouth moving on his cock. It was… Hayato’s eyes widened. It was the same way Yamamoto’s mouth moved on his throat, and the wild rush of heat at that thought nearly made him scream. His hands clenched on Yamamoto’s shoulders as pleasure raked through him over and over and left him absolutely limp.

Too limp to bawl out Yamamoto properly for the smug look on his face when he sat up and tucked Hayato back away, which was a shame. Hayato made a slightly light-headed note for later. He seemed to do that a lot with Yamamoto.

“Better?” Yamamoto asked brightly, in one of those flashes of his old self that always made Hayato’s chest try to squeeze.

“I suppose so,” he said as forbiddingly as he could manage while sprawled back in the chair and still panting.

“Good.” Yamamoto finished fastening him up and stood, nodding quite calmly to Tsuna before he strolled out onto the veranda and vanished.

Tsuna looked awfully pleased about something, and frankly Hayato didn’t think it was because of the view; that would have been too simple.

“What,” Hayato finally managed, “was that all about?”

Tsuna waved a hand. “Watchers tend to be quite territorial.”

Which was pretty rich coming from a vampire. Or possibly just pretty scary. And it didn’t explain everything. “And?” Hayato asked quietly.

Tsuna smiled at him. “And I am making sure that Hibari’s fledgling is raised with better manners than Hibari himself. I’m sure you’ve noticed that he’s a bit rough around the edges.”

His boss had a positive genius for understatement, Hayato reflected. “Was he an orphan?”

Tsuna folded his hands, looking down at them. “In a way, I suppose he was. He wasn’t exactly turned unwillingly, but he never did get along with his progenitor at all. He and Mukuro fight whenever they meet, and always have.” His smile showed his fangs fully. “It appears to be a source of some entertainment to both of them. Mukuro says that’s why he turned Hibari in the first place.”

Hayato considered the degree of respect Tsuna’s show of teeth indicated, applied the principle of understatement to his words, and concluded that it would be terminally unwise for Hayato to dispute this Mukuro’s version of events if they ever met. “I see.”

Tsuna’s smile warmed and gentled. “Yes, I’m sure you do. You see many things clearly.” He stood and was beside Hayato’s chair in that unthinking flicker of speed he let show when he was in private and relaxed. His fingers ran through Hayato’s hair. “Go sleep, now. You can tell me what you’ve found in the morning.”

Hayato flushed. “Yes, boss.”

All right, so, clearly it was going to be a bit of a juggling act, letting himself be fed on by both Tsuna and Yamamoto. He didn’t actually think he’d trade in a second of it, though.


"I really don’t see how you can abide feeding on him. Human blood tastes dreadful."

Hibari was at it again, and Hayato glared at him over his orange juice, hunching down a bit further into his chair.

"Gokudera isn’t human," Yamamoto pointed out. "I like how he tastes."

"As do I, I must say," Tsuna put in, smiling at Hibari with his teeth hidden, which Hayato swore he sometimes did just to provoke Hibari. "He has a very pleasant spicy taste."

Yamamoto looked interested. "Really? I think he has a really light taste."

Gokudera put a hand over his eyes; he couldn’t believe he was actually hearing this.

"Perhaps that’s not surprising." Tsuna looked thoughtful. "Vampire blood rather burns the mouth of another regular vampire, which I suspect contributes to his taste to me. And the human elements of his blood would make the flavor lighter to a watcher."

Actually, Gokudera could perfectly well believe he was hearing this from Yamamoto the Clueless. What he couldn’t believe was that Tsuna was egging him on.

Hibari’s lip curled as he looked at his fledgling. "So you like bland food."

"I am not bland!" Gokudera finally burst out, at the same time Yamamoto said, "Stop being a snob, Hibari-san."

Gokudera swore he was never accepting an invitation to a vampire dinner party ever again.


Last Modified: Feb 10, 12
Posted: Dec 18, 09
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Tools of Persuasion

Unadulterated kinky porn featuring bondage, object penetration and spanking. Hibari decides to fuck Dino a little differently than usual. Written for the Porn Battle prompt: Hibari/Dino, Dino’s whip. Porn, I-4

Pairing(s): Hibari/Dino

Dino moaned a little, low in his throat, as Kyouya pushed his knees wider against the cool, rumpled sheets. Tonight promised to be something special.

He was used to Kyouya tying him up, of course. His tie, Kyouya’s tie, a handy belt, they all brought the same glint to Kyouya’s eye and Dino quite enjoyed the results of that glint. Tonight, though, after Kyouya stripped off their clothes with as much disregard for lost buttons as ever, he had turned Dino face down and tied his hands to the top of his bed with his own whip. With the pillows shoved under his hips and Kyouya’s knees holding his spread wide he could barely move. And Kyouya was taking his time, now, hands kneading Dino’s ass, spreading his cheeks wide, one thumb rubbing hard and slow against his entrance.

Kyouya only took his time about anything when he was savoring some particularly telling move.

“Mm, Kyouya…” Dino gasped and jerked as two long fingers pushed deep into him, slick and swift. And he was very glad Kyouya had taken the time to pad where the leather of the whip crossed his wrists, even if Dino was pretty sure he’d used Dino’s own shirt to do it, because he couldn’t help tugging as Kyouya’s fingers worked him open until they were plunging in and out of his ass quick and hard. Dino tried to push his ass up higher, to get more, but Kyouya had him too strategically pinned, and just laughed

That was Kyouya all over. Dino did love the evil little bastard.

He made a protesting sound, though, when Kyouya’s fingers slowed and slid free; he really hoped Kyouya wasn’t going to tease him tonight.

“What?” Kyouya purred, and the wicked lilt to his voice made Dino shiver. “Don’t you want this?”

The cool hardness of metal slid between Dino’s cheeks, a long shaft of it, and Dino’s eyes widened. “Kyouya…! Are you serious?” That couldn’t really be…

Kyouya made a thoughtful sound as the metal slid back and forth and back until a rounded end teased against Dino’s entrance. “I don’t generally like the round tonfa shape, but I suppose they do have their uses in,” he paused delicately and nudged the end just barely into Dino’s ass, “special circumstances.”

Dino moaned helplessly, pulled taut between the whip and the tonfa, and again, louder, as Kyouya slid that smooth, heavy shaft deeper into him. “Oh… oh fuck, Kyouya…”

“Indeed,” Kyouya murmured. He pulled the tonfa back and pushed it in again until his knuckles around the handle pressed against Dino’s ass. And again. And again. And Dino was gasping, moaning wordlessly with each thrust, because he could see it in his mind’s eye, the faint smile that must be on Kyouya’s face as he knelt behind Dino and drove the tonfa into Dino’s ass just like he drove it into Dino’s stomach when they fought, fucking Dino relentlessly on his weapon. The hardness of the steel and the way Kyouya’s fist pushed Dino’s cheeks apart on every stroke pulled whimpers out of his throat and he spread his knees even wider, begging for more.

“Mmm.” Yes, there was that smile in Kyouya’s voice. “You look good like this. Maybe,” he leaned down to purr in Dino’s ear, “maybe next time we fight I should do this just as soon as I win.”

Heat shuddered down Dino’s spine at the thought, and burst between his legs, and he groaned into the sheets as orgasm ripped through him and wrung him out around the steel shaft Kyouya drove deeper into his ass, fucking Dino short and hard until he sagged against the pillows and his bonds, panting.

“Holy fuck,” Dino managed eventually.

“I’m flattered,” Kyouya murmured and nipped at his ear.

“Almost enough to make a man lose on purpose,” Dino said, laughing a little. He yelped as Kyouya bit down harder.

“Don’t even think it,” he growled.

“I said almost.” Dino wriggled a little. “So, um. Think you can untie me, now?”

Kyouya didn’t growl any more, and reached up to untie the whip, and Dino thought he’d gotten off lightly for the on-purpose crack. Until, that is, Kyouya pulled his hands together at the small of his back and held them there. “Now that you’re warmed up,” and, yes, the growl was still in his voice, hotter and lower, “I’m sure you can take something more… serious.”

Dino grinned into the sheets for a moment before the hard stretch of Kyouya’s cock pushing right into his ass made him moan again.

Sometimes he loved being the only one who really knew how to handle Kyouya.


Bonus AU ending:

“Almost enough to make a man lose on purpose,” Dino said, laughing a little.

He yelped as Kyouya swatted him on the ass.

“Don’t even think it,” Kyouya growled.

“I said almost.” Dino added, in a thoughtful tone, “It is awfully tempting sometimes, though…”

Kyouya’s growl turned lower and hotter, and Dino grinned into the sheets for a moment before Kyouya’s hand came down again and the quick sting across his ass made him moan. This time Kyouya wasn’t stopping either, which, he had to admit, had kind of been the idea. Hot as it was to be tied up and fucked after he lost a round, it was sometimes even hotter to be tied up and spanked. By the head of the disciplinary committee, no less. Once he’d even convinced Kyouya to take him to the Namimori prefect’s room and spank him on the couch there for old time’s sake, bent over Kyouya’s knees behind the locked door.

Dino had come to terms years ago with being kinky when it came to Kyouya.

He arched his back a little as Kyouya’s hand smacked down sharply, again and again, pushing his ass up higher to take it. It made Kyouya purr with satisfaction, and his spanking turned slower, harder, more deliberate, making Dino’s whole ass heat and throb. He knew it was probably turning pink under Kyouya’s hand—Kyouya liked to see that and Dino liked feeling his ass burn for a while after.

The last smack was hard enough to make him grunt, bucking under it, and then he had to moan, shuddering, as Kyouya’s hand slid down his ass and between his legs, palming his cock.

“Now that you’re warmed up,” Kyouya murmured, other hand rubbing slickly between his hot cheeks, “I think it’s time we did this for real.”

Dino sucked in a breath and gasped as Kyouya’s cock pushed into him, so thick and hard it stole his voice.

Sometimes he loved being the only one who really knew how to handle Kyouya.


Last Modified: May 15, 12
Posted: Feb 06, 10
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Yamamoto is only concerned for Gokudera’s health. Gokudera really doesn’t appreciate this at all. Written for the Drabble Game prompt: TYL!Gokudera, quit smoking. Fluff with Swearing, I-3

“I am going,” Hayato said, low and deadly, “to kill you.”

Yamamoto just smiled, the bastard, cheery as if Hayato had offered to take him on a fucking picnic. “Okay.”

Hayato growled as he snapped his wrist, laying one bracketing pattern of explosives around Yamamoto while he thumbed the jets on a second set and sent them diving at angles into the smoke. They didn’t go off and the smoke swirled around the line of Yamamoto’s sword as it stilled.

Hayato positively hissed at him and reached for a grenade. Yamamoto, the bastard, laughed.

Rocket bombs. Sticky bombs. Mini bombs, which he did his damnedest to stuff down Yamamoto’s pants. None of them worked, at least insofar as none of them rendered Yamamoto a smoking, unconscious body on the floor of the training room whose pockets Hayato could rifle.

It was time to get serious.

Yamamoto’s eyes widened satisfyingly when Hayato went for his box and slammed the Flame Arrow cartridge home. Yamamoto dodged once, twice, closing in on him, and Hayato snarled and fed in his Cloud bullets to saturate the field and force him back. Yamamoto’s smile was sharp as he reached for his own box, and Hayato cursed softly under what breath he had left as that damn swallow made for him.

In the end it wasn’t the swallow that got him, though. And it wasn’t the sword. No. It was the goddamn dog that Yamamoto sent behind him to trip him, and that was just the last straw. Hayato howled with absolute fury as Yamamoto came down from above him, and shot him right in the face with Flame Thunder.

After a few breaths, Hayato managed, with a groan, to haul himself up onto his knees and crawl over to Yamamoto’s body and get down to his real business.

There was nothing in Yamamoto’s jacket pockets. There was nothing in his pants pockets. There wasn’t even anything in his shirt pocket, and Hayato finally pounded a fist on his chest in outrage. Yamamoto coughed and levered himself up on an elbow with a small groan of his own, but Hayato didn’t have time to appreciate that right now.

“Where are they, you asshole?!” he yelled.

“What?” Yamamoto smiled at him, sweet and wry. “You didn’t think I’d actually keep them on me? I threw them away.”

Hayato stared at him and flopped over onto his back, feeling the exhaustion of absolute betrayal. “I hate you.”

“Your endurance is already getting better,” Yamamoto offered, sounding hopeful.

“I really hate you.”

“And it looks like we worked off most of the jitters, at least.”

“I hate you so much.”

“Tsuna agreed with me,” Yamamoto positively wheedled.

“You threw away my cigarettes.”

Yamamoto leaned over him and kissed him. Slowly. “You taste better now,” he murmured against Hayato’s mouth.

Hayato glared up at him. “You’re going to have to do a whole lot better than that.”

Yamamoto just smiled. “Okay.”

Hayato made a grumpy sound into the next kiss, but settled a little as warm, sword-calloused hands slid under his shirt. He was still not impressed with the campaign to make him quit smoking, but at least Yamamoto was taking his responsibility for this mess seriously.


Last Modified: Feb 10, 12
Posted: Feb 08, 10
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Blood and Thunder

Flip-side scenes: what might have been going through Chrome’s mind during her time with Spade? Written because the way Amano is shafting Chrome makes me howl with outrage. Drama, I-3

Chrome swore under her breath as she worked her makeshift lockpick. Theoretically it should not be difficult to escape from the guest room Katou Julie had been foolish enough to leave her in and rejoin her Family. The lock on her door, however, was giving her considerably more trouble than that Shimon lecher had, and the soft wire that strung the seat of the armchair had never been meant for this use.

There’s something about him, though, Mukuro murmured in the back of her head, and a memory of Katou flickered in her mind’s eye.

Besides having an ego bigger than he clearly thinks his cazzo is? she asked tartly as the wire slipped yet again.

Laughter. Such language from my innocent little Chrome!

She rolled her eyes.

You played him beautifully, he assured her. As always. But I want to know what that oddness in him is; see how much you can draw him out when he returns.

Chrome wrinkled her nose, but agreed. It was nothing she hadn’t done before, after all.

She had to bite back considerably stronger words when Katou pushed open the door, barely missing her nose, and her wire jammed completely. But, looking up to meet opaque, distant eyes over that annoying smirk, she felt a moment of chill and drew a little tighter into herself, wondering if Mukuro was right.

Chrome grumbled silently as she pulled on the stockings of her new uniform, slowly because her abdomen still ached from Spade’s little “demonstration”. There’s no need for this. He thinks we’re separated, and I’m enspelled. He doesn’t guard himself at all. I could take care of him at once.

Mukuro wrapped tighter around her soul, an iron grip holding her out of the abyss that opened up the moment Spade’s power had touched her, and murmured, Before he could abandon that body he holds? He’s careless, yes, but far from unskilled.

Chrome tightened her lips, stuffing her feet into her new boots. She wanted her own boots. And her proper uniform. And she wanted to cut off the hands of the creature who dared touch her, and she wouldn’t mind too terribly if she got the hands of Shimon’s philanderer instead of Spade’s.

But her Boss would mind. And it was Spade Mukuro wanted. She pulled the annoyingly innumerable buckles tight and said nothing.

Mukuro twined his presence around her silence, purring to her, Lull this arrogant first Mist of the Vongola for me. In time he will be ours.

It wasn’t difficult.

Chrome had never danced a waltz, but she imagined that what she and Mukuro did was what it would feel like. As he stepped back, she stepped forward. As he stepped forward, she stepped back. Always in unison, turning and turning on this floor that was her body. It wasn’t difficult at all to dance the same steps with Spade, drawing back far enough for his will to direct her body. It wasn’t difficult, but it was completely different.

This time, Mukuro was pressed against her back and took just the same steps she did; she could almost feel his arms along her own, directing them both lightly, familiar and close. That was the only thing that kept her from pulling back completely in disgust from the too-thick, clay-like chill of Spade’s presence.

It wasn’t difficult, but she didn’t like it at all.

Even with Mukuro’s constant whisper of support, she kept far enough back that her expression went slack and her eyes went blank, but Spade didn’t seem to think that odd.

Sloppy, Mukuro remarked, watching over her shoulder as Suzuki fought Hibari. He’s let himself lapse into complacency, into thinking the world will go just as he wills it. I doubt he’s at all sane any longer; not surprising if he’s been disembodied all this time. He snorted as Chrome stirred against him, close enough to taste her flash of wry comparison. I’m quite sane, little one, merely enraged.

This close, Chrome could feel the heat of that constant rage, soothing and familiar, binding them closer the longer she endured Spade’s clumsy possession. The promise in it, of cleansing fire to end all this, warmed her heart.

Chrome stiffened inside herself when Spade finally stepped forward and confronted with her fellow Guardians, pulling her along. Mukuro-sama? she asked, tensed. If any time was the moment to strike, surely this was it, when Spade would be distracted. Ideally, before Hibari finished brushing aside Sawada’s protests and attacked her to break the containment she held around them. She didn’t worry that he would kill her; she wasn’t so foolish as to meet him head on. But she would have to push aside Spade’s control to act.

Mukuro was watchful and still in the back of her mind, though. Not yet.

When Spade retreated from Yamamoto and spirited her away with him, Chrome sighed and acknowledged that perhaps she didn’t have the natural temperament of the Mist. She kept expecting Spade to stand and fight. Eventually. Surely he must have to sooner or later, or where was their opening going to come from?

Not yet, Mukuro whispered to her, pressed tangible and insubstantial against her back.

If Chrome had been in control of her jaw, it would have been clenched. Someone, she observed rather acidly, has been reading too much ecchi.

Poor taste, indeed, Mukuro agreed with a hint of amusement that made her want to glare at him. And a bit of nonsense besides. Ropes are no more use against you than against me. Clearly you’ve hoodwinked Spade even better than we’d thought.

That consolation was true enough to settle her temper a little. Enough to listen to Spade again, as he gave her entirely too much information, even for an enemy who was tied up. He likes the sound of his own voice too much.

A common failing in those with grand plans. The wry twist in Mukuro’s silent voice finally made her smile. And then he tensed against her. It’s coming.

Chrome stopped listening to him. She had to. Spade stepped back, and she stepped forward, and the rush of her senses, bright and sharp again after days on end wrapped in distancing fog, pounded down on her like a cataract. She could almost smell the shreds of Spade’s power on her, an oily catch in the back of her throat. She could almost hear the singing of her Ring, beside her, coiled in on itself and waiting to be reborn. Every coarse fiber of the ropes bit into her wrists, and the floor under her knees was so hard it took up the whole world. Her voice, when she could force words out, was thin, and it was just as well she was supposed to be intimidated and timid. The nerve-wringing disorientation as she rode that first brutal spike of the returning world probably looked similar enough to a fool like the one in front of her.

Mukuro hissed, suddenly clear again in her mind, and when had he been muffled, why hadn’t she noticed? She jerked her mind back to the present and just barely caught herself from restoring her organs as they disappeared, gritting her teeth on the sudden rusty tang of blood in her mouth. “Don’t come,” she gasped, turning inside herself, reaching out the thought of her arms to him, stepping back as he stepped forward. The world spun under their feet, unfolding out and out and out, every facet ready at their fingertips, and Mukuro laughed with the breath she breathed.

And the world was Mist and vengeance.


Last Modified: Feb 10, 12
Posted: Apr 06, 11
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Hall of Mirrors

What might have happened between Xanxus and the Ninth, immediately after the Ring Battles. Comment-fic for Lys to the prompt: Xanxus, got to be the best. Drama, Angst, I-3, rather a lot of profanity

The old men were arguing over killing him.

“If your dog runs mad you kill it yourself.” Paulo’s voice was flat.

“This is my son you’re talking about, not a dog.” The old man managed to growl even when he still couldn’t sit up without help, which might have been all heartwarming and shit except Xanxus noticed he wasn’t arguing about the “mad” part.

“Boss, this can’t go on.” Staffieri sounded wrung out, but that was for the Ninth. Not for him.

“If we knew why he did this…”

“What do you mean, ‘if we knew’?!” Rizzo cut Martelli off. “He’s crazy, why the hell else would he have done any of this to the Family that took him in?”

Xanxus laughed at that. He couldn’t help it. The voices on the other side of the screen went silent, wary, as if they still had cause.

He couldn’t sit up without help either. Not without help to cut the straps that tied him to the hospital bed.

After a long moment of silence Martelli drew the screen back and all seven old men stood there looking at him. Well, six and one old woman, counting Purezza, though he’d only call her that if he wanted a good fight.

He actually half respected Purezza. Damn shame she hadn’t been Boss.

He snorted at the way they looked at him, all sober and weighty. “What kind of morons are you, anyway?” he demanded, voice still harsh from screaming while the damn Rings turned his guts inside out. Harsh anyway, with disgust. “If I’m not the best, what am I?”

“You’re my son,” the old man started and Xanxus’ lip curled. After all this.

“No. I’m not.”

“Blood claim or not, you’re the adopted son of the Vongola.” Staffieri sounded impatient, but not as impatient as the look Xanxus shot at him.

“That and some hard cash will get me a coffee. Or maybe just get me run off for cluttering up the pretty shop front.”

“Isn’t it time you stopped living in the past?” Martelli asked quietly.

Xanxus met Martelli’s eyes and spat over the side of his bed. “The past doesn’t go away,” he said over the sounds of outrage from the rest. “You can lie to yourself if you want, but don’t fucking do it to me.” He turned to stare up at the ceiling, which at least didn’t mince out mealy-mouthed platitudes in face of fucking reality. “You think anyone was going to accept a whore’s son if he wasn’t better than everyone else? If he wasn’t worth it? You think that old man can take a kid off the street and ram him into one of the biggest, strongest, wealthiest Families there is and have it all be sweetness and fucking light just because he’s your precious boss and he says so?” The laughter shook him again, high and harsh, because they did still think that. He could tell.

If anyone ever asked for proof the world wasn’t fair, he could point to the fact that their own stone blindness hadn’t killed any of these stupid fuckers off yet.

“Your own damn Rings say otherwise,” he said into the silence when he finally caught his breath. “So untie my hand and give me a knife, since you’re obviously too damn cowardly to kill me yourselves.”

“No,” the old man said after a long moment, and Xanxus rolled his eyes. Of course not; that would actually be decisive action. God forbid. “Perhaps I was a fool. Perhaps I still am. But,” he continued before Xanxus could agree wholeheartedly, “I will not permit you to weaken this Family.”

Xanxus looked down at that, teeth bared. “Couldn’t do it worse than you already have.”

“You will continue to lead the Varia,” the old man said, not answering, never answering, “because the Varia are needed. You say you must be the best or be nothing, but Sawada Tsunayoshi has shown that you are not the best.” A smile, an actual fucking smile, twitched at the old man’s mustache. “You appear to be second best. So it seems fitting, by your own lights, that you be second in the Family’s leadership.”

For one breath, incandescent rage slid through Xanxus’ veins, familiar and warm, and he hovered on the edge of calling his Flame, raw as his hands were, of finally killing the whole stinking lot of them. The old man wasn’t in any shape to stop him now. But that would mean an immediate fight with Sawada, with his father pitching in this time, and Xanxus wasn’t recovered enough yet, himself, to win that. He slumped back against the bed, utterly disgusted. Fine. Sawada was even more pathetic than the old man, but at least he could fight when he was driven. Best to wait, recover, let the old man die and get the hell out of the way so Xanxus and Sawada could have a proper fight with no interfering Cervello this time. “For now,” he said, staring at the ceiling again, and his mouth twisted into a crooked smile at the disgruntled shuffling from the other old men.

He wouldn’t lie. Let everyone else wrap themselves in fluffy dreams. He knew what the world was like. Only the best lived at their own will instead of someone else’s.

He would be the best.


A/N: I’ve used the Guardians from the Generations arc, because until and unless Amano coughs up some redeeming characterization, I refuse to imagine the Ninth with a passel of Guardians named after desserts.

Last Modified: Feb 10, 12
Posted: Apr 08, 11
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