[Katekyou Hitman Reborn!]: "The Jungle" (continuation of 'The Raven', Hibari/Chrome OTP?)
Well, the subsequent continuation of 'The Raven', which I posted yesterday. I actually had this part finished at the time that I posted Raven, but I decided to post them on separate days to save my f-list the spam.
ENJOY YOUR EPICALLY LONG REQUEST FIC, RUNE, YOU HO. @.@
Title: The Jungle
Author: Upton Sinclair Lorelei DiAngelo
Rating: NC-17.
Pairing: Hibari/Chrome (+ Mukuro LOLing a lot), which, uh, FINALLY.
Summary: But she wasn't afraid, not really. If he'd truly wanted to kill her, she'd already be dead. She thought that maybe he just wanted to hurt her, a little, which honestly was perfectly fine.
For: runesque, again, who apparently is very sensitive about her love of 1896 and thinks it's so weird that nobody will understand it. Hopefully, my fervent portrayal of it here will help clear her of that stigma. TO THE EXTREME :D
Notes: Though I promised TYL!cast doing mafia-ish things, in the end I cut this off before the actual jailbreak occurs. In some ways, a jailbreak isn't even really a mafia-ish THING, considering the fact that the mafia are the types to just pull the strings behind the scenes anyway; uh...ORZ? (-___-;;) Just, by now, this thing was growing rapidly out of control much in the way that Enzio grows rapidly out of control when immersed in water, and I just wanted it over and done with. Which...is a terrible excuse as a writer, I know, and kind of makes me feel a bit like JK Rowling (*SUE'D*) but well there you have it.
Word Count (total thus far): 15,004. (O.O!!!!) Haha, '4', what a crock *dunks head in a bucket of ice water*.
( I: The Raven )
For three days, he'd been able to think of little else but the taste of her blood.
---
Chrome dodged, leaping this way and that through the trees, and nearly lost an ear to the lightning-swift swing of Hibari Kyouya's tonfa. Her palm found the rough bark of a nearby pine (sakura, sakura and - ) and she latched herself onto one of the middle branches, seeking purchase with her other hand and pulling herself up. Hibari paused, on the ground, a momentary reprieve, before leaping into the air and slicing the bough right out from underneath her feet.
Chrome faltered, in mid-air, before focusing her power into her palm and summoning the illusion of Mukuro's trident, which she dug into the side of the tree to slow her fall. She still landed hard, however, on her rear, and the force of it sent a shock right up her spine.
She couldn't afford to be slow, however. She swung her trident up just in time to catch the one of the hooks of Hibari's tonfa before it cleaved a hole straight in her face. Another popped out, just beside it, and if it had been on the side of her face where she was missing an eye, she surely would have died. As it was, the metal tore a line down the side of her cheek, which stung, and oozed blood. The man's hand followed, nails curving cresents into the vulnerable skin of her face, and he pinned her down by the head, palm slammed over her jaw. Her head was to the left, empty eye socket to the sky, and she couldn't see a thing other than the ground in front of her; the blood from her wound trickling scarlet onto the carpet of leaves. She struggled, but couldn't get free. (Her heart thumped excitedly in her chest.) She wasn't sure, but it felt as though he were using his knees to keep her arms pinned to the ground. Her trident hung limp and useless in her right hand.
"You weren't much sport, in the end," she heard Hibari say, boredly, before she twisted her legs suddenly and knocked his own feet out from under him. He didn't let go, but his grip let up, and the girl wrenched herself free, rolling behind the shelter of an ancient oak and leaping to her feet.
Don't forget, dear Chrome, that you are not alone, Mukuro reminded her, encouragingly.
But Chrome shook her head, and ducked, just as Hibari shattered the oak behind her with little more than a flick of his wrist. I can't! she exclaimed, somersaulting to one side and sending a stream of needles in the man's direction, once like the ones Chikusa used with his yo-yos. Hibari dashed through the illusion with ease - she hadn't trapped him, then, not yet. The entire illusion; I can only cast it once, Mukuro-sama! You can't...for someone like me...!
She summoned a nest of illusory snakes from the ground, flanking the Guardian of the Cloud on all sides, and for the first time since he'd attacked her, he hesitated, looking down at the ground with a strange expression on his face. Chrome pressed the advantage, whirling her trident and ordering the snakes to go higher, higher.
Hibari smiled.
"These are fake," he said assuredly, almost gleefully, and scattered them easily with his tonfa. "So it really is as you say."
Chrome, recovering from the illusion, barely had time to blink before the man was at her side, grabbing her by the wrists and yanking her up by the arms until she was standing on the very tips of her toes. Her trident fell to the forest floor, useless. Despite the rest, she was expending too much energy - she coughed, and when she did, it was filled with blood.
"He really has had all of his skills stolen from him," Hibari continued, almost absently, but he couldn't camoflauge the bloodlust in his smile; "that Rokudo Mukuro."
Chrome, Mukuro said to her warningly, urgently.
"That's correct," Chrome answered, a bit breathlessly, for standing strung up on her toes was a considerable effort.
"Including the sixth skill, the one of possession. The one that allows him to borrow your body, and cast the illusion of himself over you."
"Yes," said Chrome, "even that."
Hibari's hands dropped from her wrists to her throat. "I don't like liars." Violently, he squeezed.
Chrome, hands now free, grappled weakly with him for control over her neck. He held her up, effortlessly, and her legs kicked uselessly through the air, toes skimming the ground. "I...didn't lie!"
(Because she hadn't, had she? She'd told him, plain as day, 'I can't tell you', and he'd been willing to drop it, then.)
Hibari shrugged. "And that might also be true." Chrome; choking, dying, could only sputter at him, weakly. If he felt that way, then why - ?! She felt herself growing faint.
Spots flashed in front of her eyes, and her stomach began to cave. She could feel it, pressing back into her ribs, and she could feel the blood running over her teeth, as she stretched her mouth open futilely in an attempt to breathe. "And if I kill you," the man clarified, drawing her closer, closer, until his breath ghosted warm over her face, "the outcome will remain the same either way."
Chrome!
But she wouldn't do it. She wouldn't call upon the illusion. If she died right here, right now, then she would have been no use to him, anyway. In the end, it was laughably ironic. That the first person other than Rokudo Mukuro who would give her a reason to live would ultimately...
"Night...in...gale," she said aloud faintly, inaudibly, "my name is...Nightingale."
Careless, weightless; through the world she fell.
---
Her memory is this:
"Your name." Eyes; slanted and feverish and as dark as the night.
"Ch...Chrome. Chrome...Dokuro."
"That's not a name." Lips; taut and austere and curved down in a frown, yet generous, and remniscent of the color of peaches when ripe. "That's not a name; that's an anagram. I'm asking for your name, girl."
"It...doesn't matter." Hair as glossy and as fine as the feathers on a blackbird's wing. "No one has ever given me anything, before, so...when...he gave me this name...I was happy. When it...comes to names...I have no other."
The rapid pings and bleeps of a bunch of useless medical machines. She was once a girl named Nagi. If you blinked for long enough, she'd disappear. But that was back then, and she swore to herself that she'd never be that girl again.
"Then, live." And a touch that scalded her, thrilled her, pressing over her hands to spiral, instantly, into the core of her now-failing heart. On her hand, the Ring of the Mist beginning to twinkle, and glow.
"Live, so that you might someday make a name for yourself, on your own."
That had been what she had showed him, on the hour they had started out. That had been what she had gambled so much upon; Chrome, his most necessary, most trusting other half - had gambled so much on that man, and his strength, that perhaps that was the reason why she had so grievously lost.
It isn't ideal, he thinks, but at least Mukuro will have some company, this time, on his newest journey into hell.
---
Chrome awoke to a world of grey.
It wasn't, however, the world of flowers and fields to which she was accustomed, but instead an entirely new world - for in this world, the world in which she awoke, there was the unmistakeable sound of a dozen twittering birds. A breeze was blowing, but she wasn't cold - rather, she was warm, warmer than she'd ever been in her life, and as the breeze blew, it whisked the low-lying mist away - the mist that had colored her world grey.
(Despite her resolve, it seemed, in her last dying moments she had unconsciously attempted to call upon the illusion anyway.)
Something wet was tickling her cheek. The sky ahead was dark and overcast, but it wasn't raining, not yet. Around her, from the trees, came the almost cloying scent of sakura and pine.
(Sakura...and - ?)
She wrinkled her nose, a bit, but the persistent wetness wouldn't go away. She tried to roll away, but her body wouldn't seem to move. Her eyes were heavy and unfocused. As she breathed, deeply, of the clean forest air, she noticed that her throat felt raw, and chafed. She blinked, and forced her gaze to slide to the right.
And then she went suddenly, immediately, still.
Pressed against her, palms on her shoulders, Hibari was licking the blood from the wound on her cheek, slowly, with his tongue.
Chrome's heart fluttered like a butterfly in a gale. Hazily, as though awakening from a long doze, Mukuro began to stir.
Oh...? Not only are we still alive, I see, but now your Hibari...
Chrome fought valiantly to control her breathing. He was bent over her, heart to her frantically-beating heart, jaw to her slender, vulnerable neck, but his legs were bent at the knees, back arched, as though he were ready at any second to run.
(The idea of which was laughable. This man, afraid of anything?)
His hair was in his face. Chrome glanced at it, briefly, and was startled once more by the overwhelming amount of placidity in his eyes. His body was a warm line against hers, cast against the turbulent sky, and his tongue was a soothing, if not slightly ticklish, comfort. He brushed along her skin with docility and ease. The wind caught his hair, tousling it, bringing out its sheen, and against her better judgement, against every logical neural impulse in her body, Chrome stretched out her hand, tentatively, and touched.
"Did you enjoy it?" she asked quietly, mildly, fingers stroking carefully through his soft, ebony locks; "biting me to death?"
If he was surprised that she was awake, Hibari didn't show it. Instead, he moved with blinding speed, capturing the hand that was twining in his hair with one of his own, and tugging it towards his face. "Not at all," he answered, assertively, and aimed his aggression at her wrist with a careful, pinprick bite; "I didn't do it properly, not even once."
His tonfas were stuck in the ground next to him, and he seemed to have no inclination of reaching towards them whatsoever. His lips moved to her throat, and though his mouth opened, he didn't bite. Properly? Mukuro seemed fit to expire from his glee.
Kufufufu, now isn't this unexpected, dear Chrome? That that Hibari, rather than biting you death completely, seems to be having some trouble getting your taste out of his head?
The dark-haired girl flushed, spectacularly. Hibari, now scraping his teeth down the line of her inner arm, paused when he reached the sleeve of her blazer; looked at her, sidelong. "Not going to fight for your life?" he asked lowly, almost amusedly, except for the fact that he wasn't smiling, not a single bit, and Chrome, a million things unfurling in her stomach that she never thought she'd feel, could only stutter, and gawk at him, speechless. "Well, it doesn't matter much to me."
Mouth still pressed to the vein below her wrist, hand still holding her left arm upright, in the air, he lifted his other hand from her shoulder, and began to effortlessly undo the buttons of her blazer. It was cold without the almost unnatural heat he seemed to output from his body, and Chrome blamed that, rather than anything else, for her irrepressible little shivers. She was trembling, hard enough that the leaves were shaking below her skin, and the wind whirled terribly overhead. It was going to rain.
Well, this certainly looks like it'll be fun, Mukuro said, cheerfully. Chrome's blazer was pushed back over her narrow, shaking shoulders, and she flinched as her pale chest, her equally as pale bra, were brought into view. "Don't... Don't...!" she breathed, struggling to cover herself with her hands, and even as the words left her mouth, she was wondering just why it was she was saying them. (In hindsight; 'yes', 'please', or maybe 'do'.) Mukuro said something slow and sympathetic to her in Italian, whereas Hibari simply pinned her, mercilessly, only the most rudimentary of fighting intent showing in his dark, fringed eyes.
"Then fight," he told her, scratching cuts in her bare shoulder with his fingernails, harsh red lines; "fight me, for your life."
(But in some ways, she was already too frightened to move. In others, her body just begged to be allowed to move, to press herself against the warm line of his body and writhe, which was something she also couldn't seem to understand. Her breath came in short, rapid little pants.)
A hand, tapered and thin, slid itself around her ribs to her back. Hibari buried his face in her shoulder, teeth latching on to any bits of skin they could find. "Still won't do it, hunh," he murmured between bites, and the warmth of his breath on her collarbone was enough to give her goosebumps. His nails dragged down her back, hard, and she had to bite her lip to keep from making a sound. His other hand plucked at her arms, smoothly, pulling the sleeves of her blazer off with ease. Frantic, Chrome latched her bare arms around the back of the man's neck, trying to hide her vulnerable torso from view.
"Stop it," she whispered, faintly, but she breathed too deeply of his scent, again, and couldn't quite school her face from betraying her desire. Hibari's shoulders were slender, almost as fragile as her own, and for a moment, she marveled in it, butting her forehead against his neck and burying her nose in his soft, sweet-smelling hair. She tried to think of Mukuro, sequestered without company or enjoyment at the bottom of the Vindice, but it was hard, so hard, when Mukuro himself was practically radiating pleasure at her current circumstances, presence teetering back and forth between vengeance and glee.
"No," Hibari told her lowly, intensely, using one of his hands to wrench her right arm down to her side. "We're playing a game, girl; you and I." With the fingers of the other, he began to loose his necktie. "You have until the time the match is over to earn that name which you claim you're going to keep. If you can't do that, then, I'm going to kill you."
His tie slipped from free from his collar with a whisper of silk. Using it, he wound it around their arms; clasped her fingers in his left hand and bound the two of them, palm to palm, wrist to wrist. He tied the knot tightly with his teeth. She was shaking so hard she thought she'd break.
"How... How am I supposed to do that?" she asked breathlessly, dazedly; for everything he did, it seemed, held her endlessly in thrall.
But Hibari only scratched a rough line down the back of her hand with his fingernail, gaze kept low and drawn. When she drew back, backpedaling with her legs, he moved effortlessly with her, a wild animal, and there was no answer in neither his voice nor his eyes.
But Mukuro laughed, delightedly. It's easy, dear Chrome. You do it by fighting for your life.
Then, if that were the case; 'Nightingale'? She'd picked it because her colors matched the name. What was she expected to do to earn it? Fly?
Hibari scraped her knuckles hard enough to draw blood; brought her hand to his lips like a gentleman about to deliver a kiss, and licked. His tongue flicked through her tiny digits with ease, and the feel of it sent a shudder rippling from her head down to the very tips of her toes. When he drew his hand back, tugging hers along with it, she went not because she was pulled, but instead because she was willing.
He moved his free hand, in turn.
His fingers skimmed along her stomach, toying with the belt of her skirt, her navel. (She squirmed, and tried to draw her knees together, but his arm was in the way and she couldn't quite manage.) He raked a light, ticklish line down her side with the ends of his nails; his breath was warm on her skin and in spite of that, her body rippled in a chill. Some gut instinct of hers was filling her with an almost primordial, animal fear. (Something like, no! I'll be eaten alive!, if she were to name it accurately, and despite the fear, her body ached in a steady yearn.)
His hand slid higher in proportion to her escalating breath, her escalating heart rate, before finally settling; curving, rough, against the mound of her left breast. He twined her fingers with his bound hand lightly, almost mockingly, toying with the digits with his thumb, stroking them and pushing them this way and that. His lips brushed below the tie on the back of her wrist; warm breath on cool silk, and she flinched, because her goosebumps were showing.
She flinched, harder, as he suddenly jerked his left hand away, pistoning his arm back and pushing back with his legs so that she went tumbling, with him, tripping over herself to land in a half-hug, half-sprawl in his lap. Head against his chest, she could hear his heart beat (steady, perfectly in tune), and could feel the way his body rumbled, as he said:
"At this rate, you're going to die."
(This was 'properly', then?)
Hibari bent, nearly double, and as he bent, his teeth found the shell of her right ear, and his hand stroked the lace of her bra over her left breast. He murmured something to her in Italian that caused Mukuro to laugh, wildly, but she couldn't understand what it was. The resulting bite to the lobe of her ear, however, as well as the way the hand on her breast started, almost urgently, to knead, gave her a pretty fair idea. She shifted her legs, uncomfortable with the way they were bent, rigidly, underneath her, and the man filled the space between them, seamlessly, slacks warm against her bare legs and her skirt riding up to her thighs.
Nervously, Chrome hitched in a breath.
"Your jacket," she asked meekly, politely, "may I...unbutton your jacket?"
There was a slight pause. Hibari lipped the rim of her ear; reached around the back of her shoulders to toy with the clasp of her bra, but didn't give an answer. His pulse beat against hers, from where their wrists were conjoined. Chrome, tentative, fumbled with the uppermost button of his jacket, before finally managing to work it free. The lips on her ear turned into an almost encouraging sort of nuzzling, sending a rush of chills down her spine; emboldened, she set to work on the next, and the next, even as she felt the back of her bra being unhooked, felt her breasts come tumbling out into the fading light.
For a moment she twinged, ashamed of their meager size, but then he pushed the garment up under her chin, and palmed the uncovered skin. She cried out, forgetting everything for a moment, forgetting everything but the feel of his fingers, groping her tender flesh, the way that it almost seemed to hurt, briefly, when he rubbed the rosy bud of her nipple with his thumb.
His hands were hot, electric; his lips moved from her ear to the curve of her neck to her jaw, and there were so many sensations and turmoils curling in her belly that Chrome felt almost ill. Her fingers struggled with the last button of Hibari's suit jacket - popped, landing somewhere in the leaves, rather than being worked free, and though she opened her mouth to apologize, all that came out was a breathy, almost timid-sounding moan. His eyes were still calm. The thunder rumbled overhead.
(It wasn't that he was urgent. Rather, because he was so full of intent.)
"Your... Your arm, please," Chrome requested, stuttering, and the man acquiesced, letting go of her breast to throw his arm out to the side, carelessly, shifting on his knees to slide down lower, lower, on her body. Every gesture, every action he made, spoke volumes of his power, and though it should have frightened her, it didn't - rather, it excited her, beguiled her, made it hard to think even as she pulled his arm from his sleeve and was forced to let the jacket hang from the other. (Their hands, still tied, prevented the entire removal of any sort of clothing, but she wasn't about to undo the knot he had made. She stroked his fingers, gently, with her own, and he struck, gripping her hand so hard against his that she thought it would break.)
"Down," he ordered, pulling at her nearest leg, nose pressed against her stomach, hair tickling her breastbone; "I'm going to bite you to death." The timbre of his voice, the way his lips moved against her belly and his teeth caught her skin on the word bite, all made her flush so hard she thought she might swoon. She fell on her back upon the forest floor, leaves cold beneath her and dry against her bare skin.
Chrome, Mukuro said, warningly, but if it was a warning then his voice was tinged with laughter.
Hibari's fingernails raked sharply down her thigh. "Two's company," he said, lowly, looking up at her through lowered lashes, and Chrome knew that it wasn't to her that he spoke. (She still swallowed, nervously, regardless.)
He really is quite dull, Mukuro sighed, that Hibari. But he fell silent once more.
Chrome stretched out her hand, shakily. "Y-Your shirt; if you'd like - " for she couldn't quite reach. But Hibari shook his head, dismissively, and tilted his chin up, mouthing the underside of her breast. When he moved his lips upward, grazing the top of her nipple with his teeth, she let out a noise that was a cross between a gasp and a shriek.
(Because it really did, predominantly, feel so very good. For her, sustained by breath and illusion, the only way she really knew how to communicate was through touch; words rolling off of her like fog rolling from the shore, and she wished that Ken and Chikusa would just touch her, just once, more than what their loyalty to Mukuro decreed that they must.)
She brought her hand lightly to the back of Hibari's head; lightly, just enough to let him know that she was there. He was bent at such an angle that she was able to see, slightly, the way his jaw moved, the way his throat worked, as he spread his mouth wide and swallowed her nipple whole. She shuddered, currents of pleasure surging from her spine to between her thighs, which he was palming, roughly, finally starting to display some degree of urgency. He lipped, suckled, bit at her ferociously, moving from one of her breasts to the next with no particular favoritism. (Only the beginnings of abandon.)
With some effort, she managed to wrest the first two buttons of his shirt free. "Ex...Excuse me, please," she breathed, wincing as her arm jostled his cheek, a bit forcefully, having difficulty being able to focus with the sound of her heart in her ears. He turned his head to the side, blindingly fast, and chastized the limb with a sharp nip to the inner bend of her elbow. He moved his face up her arm in that manner, knees pressing against her thighs as he did so, collarbone jutting out of his tousled, half-open shirt. Red marks appeared from her elbow up to her bicep, each one accompanied with a chill, and a sort of brief, sweet pain.
He was close enough to touch, now, skin almost pale enough to see through in the wan, pre-storm light, and Chrome reached for him, tentatively, fingers brushing over the side of his neck to trickle, cautiously, past his collarbone and down to his chest.
But Hibari reared back, suddenly, eyes no longer placid, and angled his hand sharply against her neck, choking her in a vise-like grip and tilting her head back so far that she thought she would snap. "Dead," he barked at her, ferociously, teeth bared in a snarl, "be a good girl, and play dead."
Timidly, she nodded, and dropped her hand.
(But she wasn't afraid, not really. If he'd truly wanted to kill her, she'd already be dead. She thought that maybe he just wanted to hurt her, a little, which honestly was perfectly fine. Perhaps due to his nature, or even her own, even the very hurting part of all of this still felt irrepressibly good.)
You're an airplane, Chrome, Mukuro chortled, good-naturedly, and she frowned, throat sore once more from where Hibari had slammed down upon it with his hand. An airplane? - how strange; she'd thought that she was Nightingale.
But Hibari's eyes stayed as bright, as delerious as they'd been before. He spread her legs, pushing them roughly at the knees, and dragged her closer to him by the ankles, her back scratching against the leaves. He hiked up her skirt, fingernails leaving a series of ugly, red welts on the top of her thigh as he did so, and he balanced his weight on his other hand, palm pressing her own quite painfully into the ground. Every cell in her body was quivering in anticipation; in the effort of keeping herself still, and not attempting to bolt. His fingers hooked into her girly, flower-printed panties, and without any hesitation or remorse, yanked them down.
Wait! Chrome tried to say, desperately, squirming under the weight of his intense body heat and clawing at the earth with her single, free hand, but then his teeth flashed white into the side of her neck, and her mouth filled with the locks of his fine, dark hair, and she was lost.
"Hahhh - !" she breathed, stutteringly, and clutched the hand that was tied to her own as his fingers sought purchase on the crevice between her thighs; pushed, unhesitantly, inside.
Chrome shrieked.
(Why; why did it hurt so badly?! She was stretched so far and so uncomfortably that she thought for sure that he was tearing her apart. She arched, legs buckling, and tried to slam her knees together, but the movement only made the sensation hurt worse.)
Hibari drew back, instantly, sitting up on his knees; looked at his wet, bleeding fingers with an expression on his face almost like that of consternation.
(Which, why was he the one that was bleeding? She was the one who had been hurt, after all!)
No, Chrome, Mukuro told her, somberly, almost mournfully, his tone the mental equivalent of a sympathetic tsk; your Hibari wasn't aware - and said a strange word - hymen - before suddenly falling uncharacteristically quiet. Chrome closed her eyes, painfully, and tried to force her breathing to slow. Dimly, she heard Hibari ask:
"Ten years makes...thirteen, is that right?" - and she didn't dare open her eyes to chance a look at his face.
"I'm...sorry," she said mildly, and felt the cold of the forest air as he gathered his legs around him; got ready to break free. "I'm sorry," she repeated, more strongly, this time, and caught his bloody hand - stroked the palm, put it back where it was; unhesitatingly, between her thighs. She opened her eyes. "I'm sorry - " As slowly as she could, and seriously, besides; " - sorry, because I didn't do what you asked. Because I was so startled, for a second, you see, that I forgot to play dead."
He stared at her, for a very long time.
(There was an expression in his eyes so strange that she thought surely that the light must be playing tricks with her head.) But finally, he settled, pressing his face into her shoulder once again, forehead damp with sweat. "Since you're still a fledgling," he said lowly, almost apologetically, fingers curving inward again with a considerably increased amount of temperance, and grace; "I'll go easy on you, this time, and make it quick, and painless, for you, when I finally start to bite you dead."
Chrome, biting her tongue to keep from whimpering, could only nod.
It hurt, but as she grew used to the sensation, grew used to the methodic ins, and outs, and the occassional curl, it began to burn less, and feel a little bit more like pleasure. She tangled her hand in his hair, stroking encouragement, focusing on the clean, sweet way that he smelt and a dozen other small, simple things, in an attempt to bolster the weak, half-hearted rhythm of her faltering heart.
He licked her neck, the skin under her ear; muttered something that was perhaps supposed to be a threat, but instead merely came out as a rough, low sigh. His hand grew a bit faster, a bit more confident. She watched with an almost morbid fascination as he balanced himself, assuredly, on his knees, and lifted their joined hands from the ground, stretching them over her stomach towards the line of his zipper. But they paused there, like that, and before she had time to make a move on her own, his fingers inside of her dipped, and he did something above them with his thumb that - oh; oh.
She trembled, quivered, strung herself out with pleasure, and flung her arm reflexively around the back of Hibari's neck, struggling to breathe as though she were drowning. The man was positively lukewarm in comparison to the scalding heat that was now tearing through her insides. She trembled, like the leaves around her in the face of the coming storm, and pressed as tight to him as she could manage, hips jerking up into his hand. She moved, frantically, desperately, on instinct, and her insides ate at his fingers, greedily, drawing them deeper and deeper into herself, and just as her head swam, just as her muscles contracted and she felt that she would burst -
Chrome sucked in a shaky breath of air, vision white.
"If I'd have been serious," Hibari told her certainly, somewhat huskily, teeth aimed at her throat, hand pulled free of her body and currently trailing a warm, sticky line down her thigh; "then you would have died." He bit at her jugular, hard, hard enough that he drew blood. The spot between her legs still buzzed in a constant throb that was almost like an ache.
('Died'? Then, that was - ?)
"I...understand," Chrome said softly, obediently, and looked past her own pleasure for a moment to fumble, past his fingers, for his zipper. Lapping at her blood, face calm, he glanced at her cursorily, but ultimately let her. Lightning flashed against the sky, but not in his eyes.
(She'd seen this, once, in a video that Chikusa had stolen and Ken had made her watch. She dragged the zipper down between the man's legs, and squeezed her palm over the bulge she found there.)
His nails dug into the back of her hand, into the joint of her thigh. She nestled her fingers past the folds of his pants, taken aback for a moment by his almost alarming heat, and touched her hand to the pillar of skin that she found there. Hibari jerked, hissing as though scalded, and tried to pull himself free; when she stroked again, though, his knees squared themselves on either sides of her hips and stayed there. His right hand, the hand on her thigh, he moved to his own, and using it, he guided her wrist, moving it up, and down, with his head bowed and his shoulders hunched and his jawline clenched tightly as though in determination.
It was strangely...endearing. He must have had so much difficulty, she thought, finding someone else to see this sort of thing as as much of a battle as he did. She moved her hand faster, harder, until his shoulders shook, until his legs trembled, and he wore an expression of such ferocity on his face that Chrome was suddenly as equally, as inalterably, determined to do this for him as best as she could.
(If you'd like, Chrome, I'll tell you how, Mukuro laughed, uproariously, but she thinned her lips; shook her head.)
Please, let me figure it out on my own, she thought, purposefully, too embarrassed to not blush at the way she was staring, wide-eyed, at her hands between his legs, but also too enraptured to even bother looking away. She stroked, the skin almost silken under her hands; hot, and swollen, almost to the point where it felt painful, and her other hand was still tied with his, the fingers of which she brought to her lips, tenatively, and began to lick.
She glided her fist up and down the shaft, rubbed her thumb and her palm around the crown and head, but she must have done something wrong, because the next thing she knew, she was tumbling backwards, and her wrists were being pinned over her head with his hands, and he was regarding her feverishly, with too much of the whites of his eyes.
"I'm - " she started to say, but he bit savagely into her lower lip, into the old wound, and she cried out in pain. He let go of her wrists, the hand that was bound with her own swiping fiercely over the cut on her cheek, and it too opened, and began to bleed. Her legs were knocked open, roughly, with his knees, and as soon as his hips pressed against hers, ruthlessly, she made herself as still and as unintimidating as possible.
"I'll give you one last chance," he said to her hoarsely, almost angrily; "one last chance, to fight me, for your life."
But Chrome looked at him, the color high in his needy face, the tip of him against her wet with something that might have been sweat and something else that might have been more, and she pressed her bleeding lips tightly closed.
Hibari shook. "Then," he conceded, bent half-dressed and disheveled over her, "I'm going to bite you to death."
Chrome, single indigo eye calm, if not a little wide, tilted her head back to give him better access to her neck. "Please don't forget to do it as you said," she whispered, resting her cheek against their conjoined hands.
"Please, make it quick."
---
It was quick, but it wasn't as painless as he'd promised. He knew that it wouldn't be, but he admired the way she attempted to camoflauge her wince as a buck, regardless.
He bore down on her, slowly, as slowly as he could manage, but it was difficult, considering how badly he wanted nothing more than to tear her apart.
(More difficult still was continuing to possess the desire to do even that, when she squinched her eye shut and held fast to his hand, breath coming in weak, mewling little herbivore pants, face flush against the tips of his fingers and body a tight slick heat around him.)
He killed her with a lithe roll of hips, a sudden, sharp-toothed smile, and a half a dozen or so of petty, insignificant little words.
Nightingale - tu hai cantato per me; Nightingale.
---
And because Mukuro blinks for too long, his Chrome disappears. In her place is Nightingale.
---
She fell into a sleep so deep after that that it was almost like death. Chrome awoke when it started to rain. She heard it, pattering above her, but her limbs and the ground below her were dry. Something warm was stroking her cheek. Slowly, she opened her eyes.
"Did you enjoy it?" she asked hazily, somewhat earnestly, of the man hunkered next to her, slowly licking the blood clean from her pale, cut cheek; " - biting me to death?"
Hibari rolled away from her with a hmph, curling into the crook of her neck with the low exhalation that was his equivalent to a sigh. His eyes were glassy, and half-mast. He didn't answer. "If you wake me up while I'm sleeping," he yawned, instead, and opened his jacket to point nonchalantly at his tonfas, "I'm going to kill you." His eyes slipped closed; his breathing deepened, to a regular rhythm, and he fell into the darker throes of sleep almost immediately.
They were dressed, again, and in a collapsible tent. One of Hibari's boxes, then, must have been a variety of outdoor equipment, born perhaps from his almost perpetual need to travel. They were warm, and dry, at least, but Chrome was tired, and ached all over. Her skin was a bit red from where his tie had chafed her wrist; the same tie which, she noted now with a strange shadow of her former thrill, was currently cinched in a loose knot around her throat - and the end, she saw, following it with her eyes, which was clenched tightly, in Hibari's fist.
Chrome lay awake, for a while, and listened to the sound of the rain. She used it to keep track of time. After a while, she drew in her breath.
Are you ready, Mukuro-sama?
Her left eyebrow twitched, which was his physical approximation of surprise. Now? Are you certain, dear Chrome?
She closed her eyes. It's as you said, Mukuro-sama, when I first awoke from the dream. No one will expect a heist at high noon. In order to infiltrate, unseen... Her face was smooth; her aura, calm.
...You won't tell him?
For a moment her serenity crumbled; seemed to crack. But - He went with me as far as the walls, she said, contentedly. He'll have to wait until another day to see how it is that I will die.
Undoing the knot of his tie from her throat, she left the skylark asleep in his cage.
AN: Despite my urge to be really lazy and just end this fic here, I perservered against lethargy and decided to wrap the actual "plot" (PFFFFFT) up with one more installment. Uh...YAY SELF-COMMITTMENT? (More like, yay realizing I'd have to revise pretty much the entire first part of 'The Raven' if I didn't answer some of these quintessential questions with another story part. -____-;;)
In other news, there was this:
Wikipedia:
Name - Chrome Dokuro.
Age - 13.
Lori: ......................BALLS. ...well, since there's nothing to be done for it, anyway, let's just make that fact as uncomfortably clear to everyone as I possibly can.
(No, seriously, that was exactly what I said. Hence that almost disturbing scene somewhere around the last third of this. Oh well, I feel like I need to end my Interwebz career with at least ONE Livejournal ban anyway.)
So, anyway, there is...SOMETHING that is bothering me about this part of the story, and I can't figure out what it was. Maybe it was the ending, eh. Abrupt ending was abrupt. Of course, by that point I'd been staring at this Word document for like 6 hours and my eyes were hurting like a motherfucker. BLAH, EXCUSES, LIT., BUT I HAVEN'T WRITTEN PORN IN A REALLY LONG TIME, SO SORRY IF IT ALL SEEMS AWKWARD.
Well, if everyone hasn't been scared away yet (bah ha ha!), the subsequent conclusion to this will be posted tomorrow/later; omoshire na etc. etc.
[EDIT]: In which there is MOAR, an ENDING, The Grey King. Blah blah blah-bity-blah.
ENJOY YOUR EPICALLY LONG REQUEST FIC, RUNE, YOU HO. @.@
Title: The Jungle
Author: Upton Sinclair Lorelei DiAngelo
Rating: NC-17.
Pairing: Hibari/Chrome (+ Mukuro LOLing a lot), which, uh, FINALLY.
Summary: But she wasn't afraid, not really. If he'd truly wanted to kill her, she'd already be dead. She thought that maybe he just wanted to hurt her, a little, which honestly was perfectly fine.
For: runesque, again, who apparently is very sensitive about her love of 1896 and thinks it's so weird that nobody will understand it. Hopefully, my fervent portrayal of it here will help clear her of that stigma. TO THE EXTREME :D
Notes: Though I promised TYL!cast doing mafia-ish things, in the end I cut this off before the actual jailbreak occurs. In some ways, a jailbreak isn't even really a mafia-ish THING, considering the fact that the mafia are the types to just pull the strings behind the scenes anyway; uh...ORZ? (-___-;;) Just, by now, this thing was growing rapidly out of control much in the way that Enzio grows rapidly out of control when immersed in water, and I just wanted it over and done with. Which...is a terrible excuse as a writer, I know, and kind of makes me feel a bit like JK Rowling (*SUE'D*) but well there you have it.
Word Count (total thus far): 15,004. (O.O!!!!) Haha, '4', what a crock *dunks head in a bucket of ice water*.
( I: The Raven )
For three days, he'd been able to think of little else but the taste of her blood.
---
Chrome dodged, leaping this way and that through the trees, and nearly lost an ear to the lightning-swift swing of Hibari Kyouya's tonfa. Her palm found the rough bark of a nearby pine (sakura, sakura and - ) and she latched herself onto one of the middle branches, seeking purchase with her other hand and pulling herself up. Hibari paused, on the ground, a momentary reprieve, before leaping into the air and slicing the bough right out from underneath her feet.
Chrome faltered, in mid-air, before focusing her power into her palm and summoning the illusion of Mukuro's trident, which she dug into the side of the tree to slow her fall. She still landed hard, however, on her rear, and the force of it sent a shock right up her spine.
She couldn't afford to be slow, however. She swung her trident up just in time to catch the one of the hooks of Hibari's tonfa before it cleaved a hole straight in her face. Another popped out, just beside it, and if it had been on the side of her face where she was missing an eye, she surely would have died. As it was, the metal tore a line down the side of her cheek, which stung, and oozed blood. The man's hand followed, nails curving cresents into the vulnerable skin of her face, and he pinned her down by the head, palm slammed over her jaw. Her head was to the left, empty eye socket to the sky, and she couldn't see a thing other than the ground in front of her; the blood from her wound trickling scarlet onto the carpet of leaves. She struggled, but couldn't get free. (Her heart thumped excitedly in her chest.) She wasn't sure, but it felt as though he were using his knees to keep her arms pinned to the ground. Her trident hung limp and useless in her right hand.
"You weren't much sport, in the end," she heard Hibari say, boredly, before she twisted her legs suddenly and knocked his own feet out from under him. He didn't let go, but his grip let up, and the girl wrenched herself free, rolling behind the shelter of an ancient oak and leaping to her feet.
Don't forget, dear Chrome, that you are not alone, Mukuro reminded her, encouragingly.
But Chrome shook her head, and ducked, just as Hibari shattered the oak behind her with little more than a flick of his wrist. I can't! she exclaimed, somersaulting to one side and sending a stream of needles in the man's direction, once like the ones Chikusa used with his yo-yos. Hibari dashed through the illusion with ease - she hadn't trapped him, then, not yet. The entire illusion; I can only cast it once, Mukuro-sama! You can't...for someone like me...!
She summoned a nest of illusory snakes from the ground, flanking the Guardian of the Cloud on all sides, and for the first time since he'd attacked her, he hesitated, looking down at the ground with a strange expression on his face. Chrome pressed the advantage, whirling her trident and ordering the snakes to go higher, higher.
Hibari smiled.
"These are fake," he said assuredly, almost gleefully, and scattered them easily with his tonfa. "So it really is as you say."
Chrome, recovering from the illusion, barely had time to blink before the man was at her side, grabbing her by the wrists and yanking her up by the arms until she was standing on the very tips of her toes. Her trident fell to the forest floor, useless. Despite the rest, she was expending too much energy - she coughed, and when she did, it was filled with blood.
"He really has had all of his skills stolen from him," Hibari continued, almost absently, but he couldn't camoflauge the bloodlust in his smile; "that Rokudo Mukuro."
Chrome, Mukuro said to her warningly, urgently.
"That's correct," Chrome answered, a bit breathlessly, for standing strung up on her toes was a considerable effort.
"Including the sixth skill, the one of possession. The one that allows him to borrow your body, and cast the illusion of himself over you."
"Yes," said Chrome, "even that."
Hibari's hands dropped from her wrists to her throat. "I don't like liars." Violently, he squeezed.
Chrome, hands now free, grappled weakly with him for control over her neck. He held her up, effortlessly, and her legs kicked uselessly through the air, toes skimming the ground. "I...didn't lie!"
(Because she hadn't, had she? She'd told him, plain as day, 'I can't tell you', and he'd been willing to drop it, then.)
Hibari shrugged. "And that might also be true." Chrome; choking, dying, could only sputter at him, weakly. If he felt that way, then why - ?! She felt herself growing faint.
Spots flashed in front of her eyes, and her stomach began to cave. She could feel it, pressing back into her ribs, and she could feel the blood running over her teeth, as she stretched her mouth open futilely in an attempt to breathe. "And if I kill you," the man clarified, drawing her closer, closer, until his breath ghosted warm over her face, "the outcome will remain the same either way."
Chrome!
But she wouldn't do it. She wouldn't call upon the illusion. If she died right here, right now, then she would have been no use to him, anyway. In the end, it was laughably ironic. That the first person other than Rokudo Mukuro who would give her a reason to live would ultimately...
"Night...in...gale," she said aloud faintly, inaudibly, "my name is...Nightingale."
Careless, weightless; through the world she fell.
---
Her memory is this:
"Your name." Eyes; slanted and feverish and as dark as the night.
"Ch...Chrome. Chrome...Dokuro."
"That's not a name." Lips; taut and austere and curved down in a frown, yet generous, and remniscent of the color of peaches when ripe. "That's not a name; that's an anagram. I'm asking for your name, girl."
"It...doesn't matter." Hair as glossy and as fine as the feathers on a blackbird's wing. "No one has ever given me anything, before, so...when...he gave me this name...I was happy. When it...comes to names...I have no other."
The rapid pings and bleeps of a bunch of useless medical machines. She was once a girl named Nagi. If you blinked for long enough, she'd disappear. But that was back then, and she swore to herself that she'd never be that girl again.
"Then, live." And a touch that scalded her, thrilled her, pressing over her hands to spiral, instantly, into the core of her now-failing heart. On her hand, the Ring of the Mist beginning to twinkle, and glow.
"Live, so that you might someday make a name for yourself, on your own."
That had been what she had showed him, on the hour they had started out. That had been what she had gambled so much upon; Chrome, his most necessary, most trusting other half - had gambled so much on that man, and his strength, that perhaps that was the reason why she had so grievously lost.
It isn't ideal, he thinks, but at least Mukuro will have some company, this time, on his newest journey into hell.
---
Chrome awoke to a world of grey.
It wasn't, however, the world of flowers and fields to which she was accustomed, but instead an entirely new world - for in this world, the world in which she awoke, there was the unmistakeable sound of a dozen twittering birds. A breeze was blowing, but she wasn't cold - rather, she was warm, warmer than she'd ever been in her life, and as the breeze blew, it whisked the low-lying mist away - the mist that had colored her world grey.
(Despite her resolve, it seemed, in her last dying moments she had unconsciously attempted to call upon the illusion anyway.)
Something wet was tickling her cheek. The sky ahead was dark and overcast, but it wasn't raining, not yet. Around her, from the trees, came the almost cloying scent of sakura and pine.
(Sakura...and - ?)
She wrinkled her nose, a bit, but the persistent wetness wouldn't go away. She tried to roll away, but her body wouldn't seem to move. Her eyes were heavy and unfocused. As she breathed, deeply, of the clean forest air, she noticed that her throat felt raw, and chafed. She blinked, and forced her gaze to slide to the right.
And then she went suddenly, immediately, still.
Pressed against her, palms on her shoulders, Hibari was licking the blood from the wound on her cheek, slowly, with his tongue.
Chrome's heart fluttered like a butterfly in a gale. Hazily, as though awakening from a long doze, Mukuro began to stir.
Oh...? Not only are we still alive, I see, but now your Hibari...
Chrome fought valiantly to control her breathing. He was bent over her, heart to her frantically-beating heart, jaw to her slender, vulnerable neck, but his legs were bent at the knees, back arched, as though he were ready at any second to run.
(The idea of which was laughable. This man, afraid of anything?)
His hair was in his face. Chrome glanced at it, briefly, and was startled once more by the overwhelming amount of placidity in his eyes. His body was a warm line against hers, cast against the turbulent sky, and his tongue was a soothing, if not slightly ticklish, comfort. He brushed along her skin with docility and ease. The wind caught his hair, tousling it, bringing out its sheen, and against her better judgement, against every logical neural impulse in her body, Chrome stretched out her hand, tentatively, and touched.
"Did you enjoy it?" she asked quietly, mildly, fingers stroking carefully through his soft, ebony locks; "biting me to death?"
If he was surprised that she was awake, Hibari didn't show it. Instead, he moved with blinding speed, capturing the hand that was twining in his hair with one of his own, and tugging it towards his face. "Not at all," he answered, assertively, and aimed his aggression at her wrist with a careful, pinprick bite; "I didn't do it properly, not even once."
His tonfas were stuck in the ground next to him, and he seemed to have no inclination of reaching towards them whatsoever. His lips moved to her throat, and though his mouth opened, he didn't bite. Properly? Mukuro seemed fit to expire from his glee.
Kufufufu, now isn't this unexpected, dear Chrome? That that Hibari, rather than biting you death completely, seems to be having some trouble getting your taste out of his head?
The dark-haired girl flushed, spectacularly. Hibari, now scraping his teeth down the line of her inner arm, paused when he reached the sleeve of her blazer; looked at her, sidelong. "Not going to fight for your life?" he asked lowly, almost amusedly, except for the fact that he wasn't smiling, not a single bit, and Chrome, a million things unfurling in her stomach that she never thought she'd feel, could only stutter, and gawk at him, speechless. "Well, it doesn't matter much to me."
Mouth still pressed to the vein below her wrist, hand still holding her left arm upright, in the air, he lifted his other hand from her shoulder, and began to effortlessly undo the buttons of her blazer. It was cold without the almost unnatural heat he seemed to output from his body, and Chrome blamed that, rather than anything else, for her irrepressible little shivers. She was trembling, hard enough that the leaves were shaking below her skin, and the wind whirled terribly overhead. It was going to rain.
Well, this certainly looks like it'll be fun, Mukuro said, cheerfully. Chrome's blazer was pushed back over her narrow, shaking shoulders, and she flinched as her pale chest, her equally as pale bra, were brought into view. "Don't... Don't...!" she breathed, struggling to cover herself with her hands, and even as the words left her mouth, she was wondering just why it was she was saying them. (In hindsight; 'yes', 'please', or maybe 'do'.) Mukuro said something slow and sympathetic to her in Italian, whereas Hibari simply pinned her, mercilessly, only the most rudimentary of fighting intent showing in his dark, fringed eyes.
"Then fight," he told her, scratching cuts in her bare shoulder with his fingernails, harsh red lines; "fight me, for your life."
(But in some ways, she was already too frightened to move. In others, her body just begged to be allowed to move, to press herself against the warm line of his body and writhe, which was something she also couldn't seem to understand. Her breath came in short, rapid little pants.)
A hand, tapered and thin, slid itself around her ribs to her back. Hibari buried his face in her shoulder, teeth latching on to any bits of skin they could find. "Still won't do it, hunh," he murmured between bites, and the warmth of his breath on her collarbone was enough to give her goosebumps. His nails dragged down her back, hard, and she had to bite her lip to keep from making a sound. His other hand plucked at her arms, smoothly, pulling the sleeves of her blazer off with ease. Frantic, Chrome latched her bare arms around the back of the man's neck, trying to hide her vulnerable torso from view.
"Stop it," she whispered, faintly, but she breathed too deeply of his scent, again, and couldn't quite school her face from betraying her desire. Hibari's shoulders were slender, almost as fragile as her own, and for a moment, she marveled in it, butting her forehead against his neck and burying her nose in his soft, sweet-smelling hair. She tried to think of Mukuro, sequestered without company or enjoyment at the bottom of the Vindice, but it was hard, so hard, when Mukuro himself was practically radiating pleasure at her current circumstances, presence teetering back and forth between vengeance and glee.
"No," Hibari told her lowly, intensely, using one of his hands to wrench her right arm down to her side. "We're playing a game, girl; you and I." With the fingers of the other, he began to loose his necktie. "You have until the time the match is over to earn that name which you claim you're going to keep. If you can't do that, then, I'm going to kill you."
His tie slipped from free from his collar with a whisper of silk. Using it, he wound it around their arms; clasped her fingers in his left hand and bound the two of them, palm to palm, wrist to wrist. He tied the knot tightly with his teeth. She was shaking so hard she thought she'd break.
"How... How am I supposed to do that?" she asked breathlessly, dazedly; for everything he did, it seemed, held her endlessly in thrall.
But Hibari only scratched a rough line down the back of her hand with his fingernail, gaze kept low and drawn. When she drew back, backpedaling with her legs, he moved effortlessly with her, a wild animal, and there was no answer in neither his voice nor his eyes.
But Mukuro laughed, delightedly. It's easy, dear Chrome. You do it by fighting for your life.
Then, if that were the case; 'Nightingale'? She'd picked it because her colors matched the name. What was she expected to do to earn it? Fly?
Hibari scraped her knuckles hard enough to draw blood; brought her hand to his lips like a gentleman about to deliver a kiss, and licked. His tongue flicked through her tiny digits with ease, and the feel of it sent a shudder rippling from her head down to the very tips of her toes. When he drew his hand back, tugging hers along with it, she went not because she was pulled, but instead because she was willing.
He moved his free hand, in turn.
His fingers skimmed along her stomach, toying with the belt of her skirt, her navel. (She squirmed, and tried to draw her knees together, but his arm was in the way and she couldn't quite manage.) He raked a light, ticklish line down her side with the ends of his nails; his breath was warm on her skin and in spite of that, her body rippled in a chill. Some gut instinct of hers was filling her with an almost primordial, animal fear. (Something like, no! I'll be eaten alive!, if she were to name it accurately, and despite the fear, her body ached in a steady yearn.)
His hand slid higher in proportion to her escalating breath, her escalating heart rate, before finally settling; curving, rough, against the mound of her left breast. He twined her fingers with his bound hand lightly, almost mockingly, toying with the digits with his thumb, stroking them and pushing them this way and that. His lips brushed below the tie on the back of her wrist; warm breath on cool silk, and she flinched, because her goosebumps were showing.
She flinched, harder, as he suddenly jerked his left hand away, pistoning his arm back and pushing back with his legs so that she went tumbling, with him, tripping over herself to land in a half-hug, half-sprawl in his lap. Head against his chest, she could hear his heart beat (steady, perfectly in tune), and could feel the way his body rumbled, as he said:
"At this rate, you're going to die."
(This was 'properly', then?)
Hibari bent, nearly double, and as he bent, his teeth found the shell of her right ear, and his hand stroked the lace of her bra over her left breast. He murmured something to her in Italian that caused Mukuro to laugh, wildly, but she couldn't understand what it was. The resulting bite to the lobe of her ear, however, as well as the way the hand on her breast started, almost urgently, to knead, gave her a pretty fair idea. She shifted her legs, uncomfortable with the way they were bent, rigidly, underneath her, and the man filled the space between them, seamlessly, slacks warm against her bare legs and her skirt riding up to her thighs.
Nervously, Chrome hitched in a breath.
"Your jacket," she asked meekly, politely, "may I...unbutton your jacket?"
There was a slight pause. Hibari lipped the rim of her ear; reached around the back of her shoulders to toy with the clasp of her bra, but didn't give an answer. His pulse beat against hers, from where their wrists were conjoined. Chrome, tentative, fumbled with the uppermost button of his jacket, before finally managing to work it free. The lips on her ear turned into an almost encouraging sort of nuzzling, sending a rush of chills down her spine; emboldened, she set to work on the next, and the next, even as she felt the back of her bra being unhooked, felt her breasts come tumbling out into the fading light.
For a moment she twinged, ashamed of their meager size, but then he pushed the garment up under her chin, and palmed the uncovered skin. She cried out, forgetting everything for a moment, forgetting everything but the feel of his fingers, groping her tender flesh, the way that it almost seemed to hurt, briefly, when he rubbed the rosy bud of her nipple with his thumb.
His hands were hot, electric; his lips moved from her ear to the curve of her neck to her jaw, and there were so many sensations and turmoils curling in her belly that Chrome felt almost ill. Her fingers struggled with the last button of Hibari's suit jacket - popped, landing somewhere in the leaves, rather than being worked free, and though she opened her mouth to apologize, all that came out was a breathy, almost timid-sounding moan. His eyes were still calm. The thunder rumbled overhead.
(It wasn't that he was urgent. Rather, because he was so full of intent.)
"Your... Your arm, please," Chrome requested, stuttering, and the man acquiesced, letting go of her breast to throw his arm out to the side, carelessly, shifting on his knees to slide down lower, lower, on her body. Every gesture, every action he made, spoke volumes of his power, and though it should have frightened her, it didn't - rather, it excited her, beguiled her, made it hard to think even as she pulled his arm from his sleeve and was forced to let the jacket hang from the other. (Their hands, still tied, prevented the entire removal of any sort of clothing, but she wasn't about to undo the knot he had made. She stroked his fingers, gently, with her own, and he struck, gripping her hand so hard against his that she thought it would break.)
"Down," he ordered, pulling at her nearest leg, nose pressed against her stomach, hair tickling her breastbone; "I'm going to bite you to death." The timbre of his voice, the way his lips moved against her belly and his teeth caught her skin on the word bite, all made her flush so hard she thought she might swoon. She fell on her back upon the forest floor, leaves cold beneath her and dry against her bare skin.
Chrome, Mukuro said, warningly, but if it was a warning then his voice was tinged with laughter.
Hibari's fingernails raked sharply down her thigh. "Two's company," he said, lowly, looking up at her through lowered lashes, and Chrome knew that it wasn't to her that he spoke. (She still swallowed, nervously, regardless.)
He really is quite dull, Mukuro sighed, that Hibari. But he fell silent once more.
Chrome stretched out her hand, shakily. "Y-Your shirt; if you'd like - " for she couldn't quite reach. But Hibari shook his head, dismissively, and tilted his chin up, mouthing the underside of her breast. When he moved his lips upward, grazing the top of her nipple with his teeth, she let out a noise that was a cross between a gasp and a shriek.
(Because it really did, predominantly, feel so very good. For her, sustained by breath and illusion, the only way she really knew how to communicate was through touch; words rolling off of her like fog rolling from the shore, and she wished that Ken and Chikusa would just touch her, just once, more than what their loyalty to Mukuro decreed that they must.)
She brought her hand lightly to the back of Hibari's head; lightly, just enough to let him know that she was there. He was bent at such an angle that she was able to see, slightly, the way his jaw moved, the way his throat worked, as he spread his mouth wide and swallowed her nipple whole. She shuddered, currents of pleasure surging from her spine to between her thighs, which he was palming, roughly, finally starting to display some degree of urgency. He lipped, suckled, bit at her ferociously, moving from one of her breasts to the next with no particular favoritism. (Only the beginnings of abandon.)
With some effort, she managed to wrest the first two buttons of his shirt free. "Ex...Excuse me, please," she breathed, wincing as her arm jostled his cheek, a bit forcefully, having difficulty being able to focus with the sound of her heart in her ears. He turned his head to the side, blindingly fast, and chastized the limb with a sharp nip to the inner bend of her elbow. He moved his face up her arm in that manner, knees pressing against her thighs as he did so, collarbone jutting out of his tousled, half-open shirt. Red marks appeared from her elbow up to her bicep, each one accompanied with a chill, and a sort of brief, sweet pain.
He was close enough to touch, now, skin almost pale enough to see through in the wan, pre-storm light, and Chrome reached for him, tentatively, fingers brushing over the side of his neck to trickle, cautiously, past his collarbone and down to his chest.
But Hibari reared back, suddenly, eyes no longer placid, and angled his hand sharply against her neck, choking her in a vise-like grip and tilting her head back so far that she thought she would snap. "Dead," he barked at her, ferociously, teeth bared in a snarl, "be a good girl, and play dead."
Timidly, she nodded, and dropped her hand.
(But she wasn't afraid, not really. If he'd truly wanted to kill her, she'd already be dead. She thought that maybe he just wanted to hurt her, a little, which honestly was perfectly fine. Perhaps due to his nature, or even her own, even the very hurting part of all of this still felt irrepressibly good.)
You're an airplane, Chrome, Mukuro chortled, good-naturedly, and she frowned, throat sore once more from where Hibari had slammed down upon it with his hand. An airplane? - how strange; she'd thought that she was Nightingale.
But Hibari's eyes stayed as bright, as delerious as they'd been before. He spread her legs, pushing them roughly at the knees, and dragged her closer to him by the ankles, her back scratching against the leaves. He hiked up her skirt, fingernails leaving a series of ugly, red welts on the top of her thigh as he did so, and he balanced his weight on his other hand, palm pressing her own quite painfully into the ground. Every cell in her body was quivering in anticipation; in the effort of keeping herself still, and not attempting to bolt. His fingers hooked into her girly, flower-printed panties, and without any hesitation or remorse, yanked them down.
Wait! Chrome tried to say, desperately, squirming under the weight of his intense body heat and clawing at the earth with her single, free hand, but then his teeth flashed white into the side of her neck, and her mouth filled with the locks of his fine, dark hair, and she was lost.
"Hahhh - !" she breathed, stutteringly, and clutched the hand that was tied to her own as his fingers sought purchase on the crevice between her thighs; pushed, unhesitantly, inside.
Chrome shrieked.
(Why; why did it hurt so badly?! She was stretched so far and so uncomfortably that she thought for sure that he was tearing her apart. She arched, legs buckling, and tried to slam her knees together, but the movement only made the sensation hurt worse.)
Hibari drew back, instantly, sitting up on his knees; looked at his wet, bleeding fingers with an expression on his face almost like that of consternation.
(Which, why was he the one that was bleeding? She was the one who had been hurt, after all!)
No, Chrome, Mukuro told her, somberly, almost mournfully, his tone the mental equivalent of a sympathetic tsk; your Hibari wasn't aware - and said a strange word - hymen - before suddenly falling uncharacteristically quiet. Chrome closed her eyes, painfully, and tried to force her breathing to slow. Dimly, she heard Hibari ask:
"Ten years makes...thirteen, is that right?" - and she didn't dare open her eyes to chance a look at his face.
"I'm...sorry," she said mildly, and felt the cold of the forest air as he gathered his legs around him; got ready to break free. "I'm sorry," she repeated, more strongly, this time, and caught his bloody hand - stroked the palm, put it back where it was; unhesitatingly, between her thighs. She opened her eyes. "I'm sorry - " As slowly as she could, and seriously, besides; " - sorry, because I didn't do what you asked. Because I was so startled, for a second, you see, that I forgot to play dead."
He stared at her, for a very long time.
(There was an expression in his eyes so strange that she thought surely that the light must be playing tricks with her head.) But finally, he settled, pressing his face into her shoulder once again, forehead damp with sweat. "Since you're still a fledgling," he said lowly, almost apologetically, fingers curving inward again with a considerably increased amount of temperance, and grace; "I'll go easy on you, this time, and make it quick, and painless, for you, when I finally start to bite you dead."
Chrome, biting her tongue to keep from whimpering, could only nod.
It hurt, but as she grew used to the sensation, grew used to the methodic ins, and outs, and the occassional curl, it began to burn less, and feel a little bit more like pleasure. She tangled her hand in his hair, stroking encouragement, focusing on the clean, sweet way that he smelt and a dozen other small, simple things, in an attempt to bolster the weak, half-hearted rhythm of her faltering heart.
He licked her neck, the skin under her ear; muttered something that was perhaps supposed to be a threat, but instead merely came out as a rough, low sigh. His hand grew a bit faster, a bit more confident. She watched with an almost morbid fascination as he balanced himself, assuredly, on his knees, and lifted their joined hands from the ground, stretching them over her stomach towards the line of his zipper. But they paused there, like that, and before she had time to make a move on her own, his fingers inside of her dipped, and he did something above them with his thumb that - oh; oh.
She trembled, quivered, strung herself out with pleasure, and flung her arm reflexively around the back of Hibari's neck, struggling to breathe as though she were drowning. The man was positively lukewarm in comparison to the scalding heat that was now tearing through her insides. She trembled, like the leaves around her in the face of the coming storm, and pressed as tight to him as she could manage, hips jerking up into his hand. She moved, frantically, desperately, on instinct, and her insides ate at his fingers, greedily, drawing them deeper and deeper into herself, and just as her head swam, just as her muscles contracted and she felt that she would burst -
Chrome sucked in a shaky breath of air, vision white.
"If I'd have been serious," Hibari told her certainly, somewhat huskily, teeth aimed at her throat, hand pulled free of her body and currently trailing a warm, sticky line down her thigh; "then you would have died." He bit at her jugular, hard, hard enough that he drew blood. The spot between her legs still buzzed in a constant throb that was almost like an ache.
('Died'? Then, that was - ?)
"I...understand," Chrome said softly, obediently, and looked past her own pleasure for a moment to fumble, past his fingers, for his zipper. Lapping at her blood, face calm, he glanced at her cursorily, but ultimately let her. Lightning flashed against the sky, but not in his eyes.
(She'd seen this, once, in a video that Chikusa had stolen and Ken had made her watch. She dragged the zipper down between the man's legs, and squeezed her palm over the bulge she found there.)
His nails dug into the back of her hand, into the joint of her thigh. She nestled her fingers past the folds of his pants, taken aback for a moment by his almost alarming heat, and touched her hand to the pillar of skin that she found there. Hibari jerked, hissing as though scalded, and tried to pull himself free; when she stroked again, though, his knees squared themselves on either sides of her hips and stayed there. His right hand, the hand on her thigh, he moved to his own, and using it, he guided her wrist, moving it up, and down, with his head bowed and his shoulders hunched and his jawline clenched tightly as though in determination.
It was strangely...endearing. He must have had so much difficulty, she thought, finding someone else to see this sort of thing as as much of a battle as he did. She moved her hand faster, harder, until his shoulders shook, until his legs trembled, and he wore an expression of such ferocity on his face that Chrome was suddenly as equally, as inalterably, determined to do this for him as best as she could.
(If you'd like, Chrome, I'll tell you how, Mukuro laughed, uproariously, but she thinned her lips; shook her head.)
Please, let me figure it out on my own, she thought, purposefully, too embarrassed to not blush at the way she was staring, wide-eyed, at her hands between his legs, but also too enraptured to even bother looking away. She stroked, the skin almost silken under her hands; hot, and swollen, almost to the point where it felt painful, and her other hand was still tied with his, the fingers of which she brought to her lips, tenatively, and began to lick.
She glided her fist up and down the shaft, rubbed her thumb and her palm around the crown and head, but she must have done something wrong, because the next thing she knew, she was tumbling backwards, and her wrists were being pinned over her head with his hands, and he was regarding her feverishly, with too much of the whites of his eyes.
"I'm - " she started to say, but he bit savagely into her lower lip, into the old wound, and she cried out in pain. He let go of her wrists, the hand that was bound with her own swiping fiercely over the cut on her cheek, and it too opened, and began to bleed. Her legs were knocked open, roughly, with his knees, and as soon as his hips pressed against hers, ruthlessly, she made herself as still and as unintimidating as possible.
"I'll give you one last chance," he said to her hoarsely, almost angrily; "one last chance, to fight me, for your life."
But Chrome looked at him, the color high in his needy face, the tip of him against her wet with something that might have been sweat and something else that might have been more, and she pressed her bleeding lips tightly closed.
Hibari shook. "Then," he conceded, bent half-dressed and disheveled over her, "I'm going to bite you to death."
Chrome, single indigo eye calm, if not a little wide, tilted her head back to give him better access to her neck. "Please don't forget to do it as you said," she whispered, resting her cheek against their conjoined hands.
"Please, make it quick."
---
It was quick, but it wasn't as painless as he'd promised. He knew that it wouldn't be, but he admired the way she attempted to camoflauge her wince as a buck, regardless.
He bore down on her, slowly, as slowly as he could manage, but it was difficult, considering how badly he wanted nothing more than to tear her apart.
(More difficult still was continuing to possess the desire to do even that, when she squinched her eye shut and held fast to his hand, breath coming in weak, mewling little herbivore pants, face flush against the tips of his fingers and body a tight slick heat around him.)
He killed her with a lithe roll of hips, a sudden, sharp-toothed smile, and a half a dozen or so of petty, insignificant little words.
Nightingale - tu hai cantato per me; Nightingale.
---
And because Mukuro blinks for too long, his Chrome disappears. In her place is Nightingale.
---
She fell into a sleep so deep after that that it was almost like death. Chrome awoke when it started to rain. She heard it, pattering above her, but her limbs and the ground below her were dry. Something warm was stroking her cheek. Slowly, she opened her eyes.
"Did you enjoy it?" she asked hazily, somewhat earnestly, of the man hunkered next to her, slowly licking the blood clean from her pale, cut cheek; " - biting me to death?"
Hibari rolled away from her with a hmph, curling into the crook of her neck with the low exhalation that was his equivalent to a sigh. His eyes were glassy, and half-mast. He didn't answer. "If you wake me up while I'm sleeping," he yawned, instead, and opened his jacket to point nonchalantly at his tonfas, "I'm going to kill you." His eyes slipped closed; his breathing deepened, to a regular rhythm, and he fell into the darker throes of sleep almost immediately.
They were dressed, again, and in a collapsible tent. One of Hibari's boxes, then, must have been a variety of outdoor equipment, born perhaps from his almost perpetual need to travel. They were warm, and dry, at least, but Chrome was tired, and ached all over. Her skin was a bit red from where his tie had chafed her wrist; the same tie which, she noted now with a strange shadow of her former thrill, was currently cinched in a loose knot around her throat - and the end, she saw, following it with her eyes, which was clenched tightly, in Hibari's fist.
Chrome lay awake, for a while, and listened to the sound of the rain. She used it to keep track of time. After a while, she drew in her breath.
Are you ready, Mukuro-sama?
Her left eyebrow twitched, which was his physical approximation of surprise. Now? Are you certain, dear Chrome?
She closed her eyes. It's as you said, Mukuro-sama, when I first awoke from the dream. No one will expect a heist at high noon. In order to infiltrate, unseen... Her face was smooth; her aura, calm.
...You won't tell him?
For a moment her serenity crumbled; seemed to crack. But - He went with me as far as the walls, she said, contentedly. He'll have to wait until another day to see how it is that I will die.
Undoing the knot of his tie from her throat, she left the skylark asleep in his cage.
AN: Despite my urge to be really lazy and just end this fic here, I perservered against lethargy and decided to wrap the actual "plot" (PFFFFFT) up with one more installment. Uh...YAY SELF-COMMITTMENT? (More like, yay realizing I'd have to revise pretty much the entire first part of 'The Raven' if I didn't answer some of these quintessential questions with another story part. -____-;;)
In other news, there was this:
Wikipedia:
Name - Chrome Dokuro.
Age - 13.
Lori: ......................BALLS. ...well, since there's nothing to be done for it, anyway, let's just make that fact as uncomfortably clear to everyone as I possibly can.
(No, seriously, that was exactly what I said. Hence that almost disturbing scene somewhere around the last third of this. Oh well, I feel like I need to end my Interwebz career with at least ONE Livejournal ban anyway.)
So, anyway, there is...SOMETHING that is bothering me about this part of the story, and I can't figure out what it was. Maybe it was the ending, eh. Abrupt ending was abrupt. Of course, by that point I'd been staring at this Word document for like 6 hours and my eyes were hurting like a motherfucker. BLAH, EXCUSES, LIT., BUT I HAVEN'T WRITTEN PORN IN A REALLY LONG TIME, SO SORRY IF IT ALL SEEMS AWKWARD.
Well, if everyone hasn't been scared away yet (bah ha ha!), the subsequent conclusion to this will be posted tomorrow/later; omoshire na etc. etc.
[EDIT]: In which there is MOAR, an ENDING, The Grey King. Blah blah blah-bity-blah.