[FIC] Reborn!: Lamb on a Platter
After this, I have officially written almost every Hibari pairing that is.
Except for Mukuro/Hibari. But I have RPed that. BUT I WILL WRITE IT SOMEDAY when I stop failing at Mukuro outside Windshear, ffff.
Lamb on a Platter
Characters/Pairings: Byakuran/Hibari
Rating: R
Words: 500
Summary: The consequences of loss. Porn with hidden plot. Non-con. For botling.
The wood is hard and rough against Hibari’s back, the polish cold and flaking off. Splinters dig into his skin.
Hibari breathes out. His legs are splayed outwards, spreading him open like a dish about to be served. His arms are held upwards by one smooth white hand, the skin silky as if the owner has never done a day’s work in his life. Large with long fingers, baby soft and plump, yet with enough strength to hold both of Hibari’s thin, thin wrists with just one hand.
Inhale.
“Kyou-chan is so pretty,” a voice whispers in his ears, low and singsong. A hot tongue licks up the shell of Hibari’s ears and makes him yearn for his tonfas; for metal that he can wrap his fingers around and hit and breaks skin until his opponent breaks and bleeds and screams. A soft growl escapes his lips.
“You’re protesting again,” a spike pokes against a cheekbone. Skin nuzzles against skin, teeth scraping against his neck and Hibari strains to get away from the touch. “It’s bad for you to keep doing that.”
Fingers replace the teeth, wrapping gently around his throat, squeezing slightly. Then it slips downwards, massaging the pulse point and Hibari’s breathing hitches. He squeezes his eyes shut even more even as he stutters out his next breath.
“So stubborn,” the voice tuts, and the fingers move downwards, gliding down one side until it reaches Hibari’s hip. It brushes against the edges of his crotch and Hibari jerks his head to the side (inhale exhale inhale exhale inhale too fast too shallow too much) in an attempt to not buck his hips up. A chuckle resounds in the room.
The hand traces down a thigh, spread wide outwards as if on a reversed cross. As if he is the sacrifice; the offering; a prayer to a god to spare their lives, please, please, please. Lips smile against his throat, and Hibari wants to bite, wants to tear the throat out but the cloth between his teeth prevents him from doing so. He growls from the back of his throat as the hand creeps closer, then it leaves.
“I heard that Kyou-kun is a virgin,” the voice muses. Fingers slip against his skin, circling down there and Hibari bites down hard on the cloth, on his tongue to strangle the gasp. “I wonder if that is true?”
A sudden shift; the cloth pulled away from his mouth and tongue and lips and teeth placing it. A hand wraps around him, tugging on the half-hard cock. Hibari struggles to close his legs. The sound of metal slamming against wood; metal chains ringing against each other as he fights and struggles and thrashes-
Byakuran’s face looms directly in front of his - violet eyes and smiling lips so smug so victorious - as he arches, mouth open and his scream is soundless as he is slammed into. Pain explodes, raw and bright and red behind his eyelids.
The winner smiles, and thrusts again.
End
Except for Mukuro/Hibari. But I have RPed that. BUT I WILL WRITE IT SOMEDAY when I stop failing at Mukuro outside Windshear, ffff.
Lamb on a Platter
Characters/Pairings: Byakuran/Hibari
Rating: R
Words: 500
Summary: The consequences of loss. Porn with hidden plot. Non-con. For botling.
The wood is hard and rough against Hibari’s back, the polish cold and flaking off. Splinters dig into his skin.
Hibari breathes out. His legs are splayed outwards, spreading him open like a dish about to be served. His arms are held upwards by one smooth white hand, the skin silky as if the owner has never done a day’s work in his life. Large with long fingers, baby soft and plump, yet with enough strength to hold both of Hibari’s thin, thin wrists with just one hand.
Inhale.
“Kyou-chan is so pretty,” a voice whispers in his ears, low and singsong. A hot tongue licks up the shell of Hibari’s ears and makes him yearn for his tonfas; for metal that he can wrap his fingers around and hit and breaks skin until his opponent breaks and bleeds and screams. A soft growl escapes his lips.
“You’re protesting again,” a spike pokes against a cheekbone. Skin nuzzles against skin, teeth scraping against his neck and Hibari strains to get away from the touch. “It’s bad for you to keep doing that.”
Fingers replace the teeth, wrapping gently around his throat, squeezing slightly. Then it slips downwards, massaging the pulse point and Hibari’s breathing hitches. He squeezes his eyes shut even more even as he stutters out his next breath.
“So stubborn,” the voice tuts, and the fingers move downwards, gliding down one side until it reaches Hibari’s hip. It brushes against the edges of his crotch and Hibari jerks his head to the side (inhale exhale inhale exhale inhale too fast too shallow too much) in an attempt to not buck his hips up. A chuckle resounds in the room.
The hand traces down a thigh, spread wide outwards as if on a reversed cross. As if he is the sacrifice; the offering; a prayer to a god to spare their lives, please, please, please. Lips smile against his throat, and Hibari wants to bite, wants to tear the throat out but the cloth between his teeth prevents him from doing so. He growls from the back of his throat as the hand creeps closer, then it leaves.
“I heard that Kyou-kun is a virgin,” the voice muses. Fingers slip against his skin, circling down there and Hibari bites down hard on the cloth, on his tongue to strangle the gasp. “I wonder if that is true?”
A sudden shift; the cloth pulled away from his mouth and tongue and lips and teeth placing it. A hand wraps around him, tugging on the half-hard cock. Hibari struggles to close his legs. The sound of metal slamming against wood; metal chains ringing against each other as he fights and struggles and thrashes-
Byakuran’s face looms directly in front of his - violet eyes and smiling lips so smug so victorious - as he arches, mouth open and his scream is soundless as he is slammed into. Pain explodes, raw and bright and red behind his eyelids.
The winner smiles, and thrusts again.
End