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Sparks Will Fly	By : EllieRamsey Category: +G to L > Katekyo Hitman Reborn Views: 4517 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn and I make no money from this story

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
It was the early hours of the morning and the bar was almost empty. Mukuro sat in a darkened booth, aware that he was still being watched, but unworried by it. He had drawn a lot of looks and even the occasional gasp of shock when he had first entered, but the novelty of his presence had worn off and most of the patrons that hadn’t already left had stopped staring. Either that or his senses were dulled by the drink - the waiter had just brought him the bottle and left him to it.
He poured himself another shot and swirled the liquid around the glass for a moment before downing it, grimacing as the alcohol hit the back of his throat. He coughed, his eyes stinging.
What the fuck was he doing? he wondered. This was suicide. Walking in unannounced and unprepared into a bar deep within Millefiore territory. They knew he was here, they would have known almost immediately. It wouldn’t be long now before something happened. Perhaps he wanted something to happen. He wasn’t sure any more.
“You make a rubbish spy, Mukuro Rokudo.”
A smile flickered at the corners of his mouth as a familiar voice chimed into the silence.
Mukuro looked up into violet eyes. “Byakuran,” he replied. “It’s been a while.”
A grin spread across the pale face of the man sliding into the booth opposite him. “Too long, Mukuro-chan. Or perhaps, not long enough. You made a right mess of my base.”
“Oh?” Mukuro raised an eyebrow, refusing to rise to the bait.
Byakuran waved a slender hand. “We know it was you. It had to be you. The device was hidden by the most powerful of illusions, you were the only person who could have destroyed it.”
And Hibari was the only person who could have single-handedly taken down your army and escaped afterwards, thought Mukuro, but he said nothing.
“Such a shame.” Byakuran sighed dramatically and leant forward, his elbow on the table, resting his face in his hand. “Who would have thought you’d become nothing more than a Vongola tool. You had so much more… potential.”
Mukuro scowled. “I would have done it even if Tsunayoshi hadn’t wanted it destroyed. You’re a menace, you always have been.”
Byakuran threw his head back and laughed. “So it WAS you,” he giggled. “Years of research, ruined. Years! I don’t suppose you’ve come to apologise.”
“No.”
“Or come to join us?”
“No.”
Byakuran narrowed his eyes, creasing them to crescents. “Did Tsuna send you?” he asked. “You can tell him I have been behaving myself, just like he made me promise.”
“No. He doesn’t know I’m here.”
Byakuran raised an eyebrow. “He won’t like that. Everyone is under orders to leave us alone. Terms of the truce.”
“I am not Mafia,” whispered Mukuro. “I don’t follow orders.”
“So you’re here to cause trouble,” grinned Byakuran. “But not necessarily for us. How interesting.”
Mukuro frowned. As always his former captor was as perceptive as he was sadistic.
“What is wrong, Mukuro-chan?” Byakuran said softly, dangerous tones that brought back memories winding their way through his sing-song voice. “What could you possibly be doing in my world?”
Mukuro poured himself another drink. “I needed a change of scenery,” he said.
“A social visit!” Byakuran giggled again. He licked his lips. “And is the scenery to your liking?”
Mukuro glanced at him. “Not really.”
“Shame,” smiled the other. “It might be the last thing you ever see.”
Excitement surged inside Mukuro, mixing uncomfortably with the alcohol. Was this what he wanted? He surreptitiously looked around. The bar seemed no fuller than it had been, but he knew instinctively that he was surrounded. It was nothing he couldn’t handle, but it would not be easy, leaving, if Byakuran didn’t want him to.
Byakuran paused, seeming to consider something, then relented. “Relax, Mukuro-chan. I’m glad you’re here. There’s no reason why we can’t be friends.”
“Friends?” Mukuro retorted with a laugh. “I don’t think we could ever be that.”
“I’m hurt. After all we went through together.”
Mukuro smiled, then shook his head. "This was a mistake," he said. "I shouldn't have come."
"Oh?" replied Byakuran, leaning back in his chair. "I wouldn't be so sure of that, Mukuro-chan. Stay. We can talk. Drink some more."
"No."
Mukuro went to rise but found himself frozen where he sat. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Byakuran's smile widen, his tinkling laugh sending shivers down Mukuro's spine.
"How rude," he said. "I make you welcome, I play nicely, and yet you run away. Or at least, you try to." His smile took on a sinister twist.
"What have you done?" hissed Mukuro. He was paralysed, he realised, completely immobile. He could barely move his head to look up at the other, and his arms and his legs wouldn't move at all. It was like being inside a plastic doll, he thought, his mind was disconnected from his body. Curiosity warred with alarm inside him, but neither did anything to free him.
"It's absolute, yes? The control I have over you. I've tried it on a few others, but they would have willingly done what I asked them anyway. With you, as always, such delicious resistance. Such strength in refusing to obey. And yet now, you are compelled to."
"How?" spluttered Mukuro. His breath was becoming rapid, heat built up at the back of his neck. He looked down at his hands, in front of him on the table and willed them to move, but they wouldn't. His fingers wouldn’t even twitch.
"I found another realm," Byakuran answered him, his voice soft. "Another hell to live through."
"You can't have. There are six. There are only six."
"No," said the other, his delight at Mukuro’s shock evident. "Turns out there are seven. And the power received from living through the final realm surpasses all the others."
Genuine fear began to seep its way into Mukuro's flesh, and he stared at the other in disbelief. If Byakuran was telling the truth, then Mukuro was seriously in trouble.
"Surpasses?" he said, determined not to let his trepidation show. "Are you sure?"
Byakuran merely smiled again. "Oh yes, Mukuro-chan. I am completely sure. Your powers of possession are indeed remarkable, but controlling a person's body from within them renders your own vulnerable. The power of the seventh realm allows a user to control a body from the outside. I'm sure you can see how this would be... superior."
"Perhaps," Mukuro replied, as calmly as he could, watching helplessly as his fist unfurled and his palm pressed itself down flat onto the wooden table.
"Your body is mine to command, Mukuro-chan," said the other, his sing-song voice barely audible over the blood rushing through Mukuro's head. He held his breath as the other pulled out a knife and twirled it around before plunging the blade through Mukuro's hand, pinning it to the table. "The sensation, however, is all your own."
Mukuro bit back a yell as pain seared through him. Byakuran was right, he could feel the metal slice through his flesh, the blood pool beneath his palm, each pulse nauseating and inescapable. The other grabbed the handle and without pity pulled the blade out, tiny droplets of crimson liquid spraying his pristine white jacket. Mukuro swallowed as more blood seeped out of the open wound, trickling between his splayed, paralysed fingers. His mind raced as he considered his options.
“You lived through this seventh Hell?” he said, playing for time. “I’m impressed.”
Annoyance flickered briefly across Byakuran’s face. “No,” he replied, then paused before pulling an amulet from beneath his shirt, dangling it in front of Mukuro’s face. “But this is from that realm. It gives the wearer similar powers to those that the realm itself bestows.”
Despite his pain, Mukuro’s eyes widened and he strained to look closer at the talisman hanging around the other’s neck. It was small and star-shaped with seven points, made of an unusual metal, dull and grey, with swirling patterns of copper and green that seemed to move in the light.
“It could be yours,” whispered Byakuran, leaning towards him, allowing Mukuro a better view. “I could give this to you, if you like.”
Mukuro swallowed, his mouth dry. “Why would you do that?” he asked.
Byakuran paused. “Do I need an excuse to give you a gift?”
Suspicion make his skin itch. "What do you really want?"
"Nothing much," said the other with a dismissive wave. "Nothing that you haven't willingly given before now."
Mukuro glared at him, his eyes narrowed.
"Oh, don't be like that," Byakuran said with a pout. "I won't do any serious damage. After what the Vongola Cloud Guardian did in Rome, I don’t think I would dare. No one in their right mind would piss him off, not now."
At the reference to Hibari the talisman shimmered, captivating Mukuro, the call of its power overwhelming reason.
"One game," Byakuran continued. "For old times’ sake."
Mukuro blinked in surprise, then a smile slowly spread across his face. "One game," he echoed. Byakuran released him and immediately his body connected with his brain again. He flexed his fingers, then wrapped a serviette around his injured palm. The wound stung, the pain helping to clear his alcohol dulled senses. "Same rules?"
Unadulterated glee painted itself across Byakuran’s pale face. "Yes," he said, avidly licking his lips again. "Whoever loses... loses."
With a nod of his head, a waiter appeared beside the table, a chess board in his hands. Without speaking he placed it down between them, careful to ignore Mukuro's blood staining the surface like so much spilt wine.
Doubt niggled at him, his survival instinct going into overdrive at the risk he was taking. He was drunk, upset, and despite his seeming delicacy, Byakuran was a tough adversary, one to be taken seriously. Mukuro ignored it though, focusing only on the beautifully carved pieces laid out in ranks before him. Mismatched eyes locked with violet ones, anticipation coursing through him, making his nerves tingle. "Let’s do this, then," he replied, taking a deep breath. He wouldn’t lose.
~oOo~
Hibari felt sick, his stomach had long since twisted itself into a tight knot that refused to unwind. For the first time he wished The Foundation wasn't quite as brilliant as it was, he wished that they hadn't returned so swiftly with the information he'd requested.
To his credit, Kusakabe didn't so much as flinch as he informed Hibari of what they'd found out, but Hibari was grateful he'd made sure no one else was around to hear it. His second in command was probably the only person in the world Hibari could have tolerated hearing the news from, the only one who could speak honestly to Hibari without repercussions.
Hibari was furious that Mukuro had run straight to the Millefiore. It was obvious when he thought about it, it wasn’t betrayal, Mukuro had just done the most annoying thing he could think of, the thing that he knew would have Hibari seething in frustration. It was almost disappointing, the Illusionist’s predictability. Reborn was wrong when he said Hibari underestimated him. Hibari was perfectly aware of the Mist Guardian’s strength. But there was no need for him to act like this, a futile attempt to re-assert his autonomy, to get Hibari’s attention and teach him a lesson for nothing more than a misunderstanding.
A frown creased Hibari’s brow. Well, it had worked, he thought grimly. Mukuro had his full attention now. Although if there were any lessons to be learned, Mukuro would be on the receiving end of them.
His world had been turned upside down by the pineapple headed idiot enough anyway, and he didn't like that one bit. He liked order, calm, quiet and not only had Mukuro disturbed his pristine and perfect existence, he now had the audacity to create chaos within it. The Mist Guardian required... discipline, and Hibari Kyouya was going to give it to him.
There was also the problem of Tsuna finding out. The Tenth's capacity for personal forgiveness was infinite, but he wasn’t a kid any more, and Hibari had witnessed him making difficult decisions that lesser men would baulk at. Tsuna had given the orders to leave the Millefiore alone, and he expected them to be obeyed. But worse than that, Tsuna's capacity for forgiveness was equalled by his honesty, and honesty meant Reborn finding out.
Hibari swallowed and began to walk faster. Reborn did not... forgive. He would not hesitate to take Mukuro out if he thought he was a threat. And THAT, Hibari could not allow to happen.
Mine, he whispered to himself. You’re mine, Mukuro.
Although on the other hand, if Mukuro was in trouble again, perhaps Hibari should just leave him to it. A harsh lesson, perhaps, but if the Illusionist was going to complain about Hibari not respecting him, then perhaps he should leave him to sort out his own mess. The thought was quite pleasant. Certainly more pleasant than the thoughts he’d been having recently
With a plan in his mind, Hibari felt better. If Mukuro wanted respect, Hibari would give it to him. He would assess whatever mess the Illusionist had gotten himself into, then watch from the sidelines as he attempted to get himself out of it. Hibari was as competent at damage limitation as he was with direct action, and so long as Reborn never found out that Mukuro had contact with the Millefiore again, there would be no lasting damage.
He smiled to himself as he strode through the long, brightly lit hotel corridor, tantalizing fantasies playing in his mind. He would wait, calmly and patiently, until the Illusionist asked for help. And then maybe Hibari would make him beg, make him suffer for the hassle he had caused, before rescuing him. The Illusionist would know his place, then. Would know that Hibari respected him, but expected respect in return.
Oh Mukuro, he thought. I hope you're not in too much trouble.
He stopped outside the door. Room number 106. There were no sounds from within, but it was an expensive place, and the high paying guests would expect nothing less than absolute soundproofing from their neighbours. He licked his lips, his hand pausing on the door, rummaging in his pocket for the spare key card he had 'borrowed' from reception.
Slowly he inserted it, and as it flashed green, turned the handle. Quietly he pushed the door open, not wanting to announce his arrival, not wanting to spoil the surprise as he entered.
Then he stopped. Dead. The scene in front of him shocking him to the core.
The room was gloomy and humid, the four poster bed in its centre covered in masses of bedding that was crumpled and soiled. At the foot of the bed, a familiar pale form was bent over at the waist, with his ass out towards the room, his head bowed. His arms jutted straight out behind him at an awkward angle, tightly bound at wrists and elbows with coils of rope, suspended from the top of the bed, contorting his shoulders, forcing his chest down. His legs were wide apart, ankles, knees and thighs thickly bound with more rope, forcing them to stay spread. The skin around them looked chafed and sore from obvious struggles, but not as sore as his ass and back, which was red and enflamed, striped with livid, purple bruises and slashes where the skin was broken.
His eyes were tightly shut, his mouth wrenched open with a vicious spider gag, saliva dripping from his stretched lips, a hand print visible on his pale cheek. And his silver white hair was matted and messy and drenched with sweat.
"Byakuran," Hibari croaked, hardly believing his eyes at the state of the Millefiore boss. At the sound of his name, Byakuran moaned miserably, his whole body flinching away from the voice. Laughter pealed out from the side of the room.
"Oya, Hibari," the Illusionist said with a grin. "Have you come to join us?"
Hibari spun round, his slate grey eyes widening even further. Mukuro leant against the wall on the far side of the room. He was barefoot and shirtless, his jeans unbuttoned and slung low on his narrow hips. His skin glowed with a faint sheen, as though he'd been exerting himself, and in his hand were the ends of his belt, the looped leather lightly tapping against his thigh. Hibari swallowed hard, trying to keep his balance while the strength in his legs threatened to leave him. Mukuro stared at him, his gaze never wavering as he casually appraised Hibari up and down, frowning slightly as Byakuran began to struggle. Hibari watched in silence as Mukuro lazily strolled across the room and placed his hand on Byakuran’s back, smoothing his palm over his skin in circles, encouraging the other to calm down. It might almost have been a gesture of kindness, but the next thing Hibari knew, Mukuro’s arm drew back and the belt cracked hard across Byakuran's tortured ass, the sound exploding into the room like gunshot. Hibari jumped as the Millefiore boss jerked forward, flinching in sympathy. The blow had no mercy, none whatsoever. There was no holding back the strength of it, the full force was inflicted on Byakuran's already agonised flesh.
Byakuran wailed incoherently as Mukuro raked his fingernails over Byakuran's smarting skin, hard enough for thin red lines to appear, crossing the raised welts the belt had left.
Mukuro turned to Hibari, his eyes narrowed, sparkling with mirth and steel, then raised his arm and swung again. Another crack, another jump, and Hibari found himself rendered speechless.
"Well?" asked Mukuro, smoothing his palm over Byakuran's buttocks, digging his thumb into his crack and pulling them apart. He slowly trailed the belt up between Byakuran's cheeks, laughing when the other began to whimper at the unspoken threat.
Hibari was horrified to find his legs turning to jello as Mukuro turned to him and tilted his head. He could see blood and semen oozing out of the bound man, trickling down his inner thighs, displaying the wanton ruin Mukuro had inflicted on him. The Illusionists gaze seared into him, and Hibari struggled not to blush, certain that Mukuro could tell what he was thinking. Words choked in his throat, his heart thumped so loudly in his chest he was sure Mukuro could hear it.
The Mukuro in front of him was not the Mukuro he knew. His fantasies of the Illusionist on his knees, begging for Hibari's help, drained out of him like a tidal wave, infantile and unbelievable.
"What's the answer, Hibari?" the other laughed. "You staying? Leaving? Or just going to stand there and make like a fish for a while?"
Hibari's face flamed crimson, anger flaring up inside him.
"Finish this quickly," he snarled, his fists clenched at his side. "The car is outside. Don't make me wait."
He turned on his heel with a flourish and slammed the door on his way out.
Once safely on the other side, however, the strength in his legs gave way and he collapsed against the wall, breathing hard, his pulse racing.
Mukuro. Relentless, dominant, merciless. Maybe Reborn was right. Maybe he had underestimated him.
~oOo~
Mukuro smiled to himself as the door slammed shut.
Curious, he thought. Very curious. He had felt Hibari's arrival as he'd stormed down the corridor, a tsunami of anger and frustration beneath an unassailable veneer of ice cold self-control. But uncharacteristically the control had slipped almost immediately as Hibari had entered.
There was no mistake about it, Hibari was flustered. Outwardly he'd shown no emotion, although that didn't surprise Mukuro, Hibari never did. But beneath the cool, collected exterior the Cloud Guardian had been shocked to the core. And it wasn't just shock that had unsettled him. On viewing the scene before him, Hibari was aroused.
Oh Hibari, whispered Mukuro into the quiet. What am I going to do with you?
Delicious thoughts brought a larger grin to his wide mouth, and he climbed up onto the bed, kneeling upright in front of a shaking Byakuran.
"You are nothing," he whispered to the prone figure. Weakly Byakuran nodded, groaning as Mukuro grabbed a handful of hair, forcing Byakuran to look up at him. The spider gag stretched his features obscenely, drool and blood mingled and dripped onto the sheets beneath him.
"I'll be thinking of him," continued Mukuro cruelly. "It might be your mouth, or your ass, Byakuran, but it'll be him I think of."
Byakuran let out a broken sob, his violet eyes unfocused. Speech was impossible, so he nodded again, his head lolling side to side. Mukuro steadied him with a hand beneath his chin and released himself from his pants with the other. He closed his eyes and fed his cock into Byakuran's mouth, forcing himself deep down his throat, hissing with pleasure as Byakuran gagged around him. It was only when Byakuran began to struggle in earnest that he relented, allowing the other a few gasping breaths before driving back into him. As he had promised, it was Hibari he imagined. Hibari, restrained, helpless, pleading, the Cloud Guardian's pale lips parting to receive him, his white skin marked and bruised, his ass slick, and open, pleading with Mukuro to fuck him...
It only took a few thrusts before Mukuro came, then he sank back on his heels, letting go of Byakuran's head which flopped forwards limply.
Mukuro caught his breath, then slowly began to release Byakuran's bonds. He wiped away the blood and saliva as he undid the gag, then supported the other's limp body as he cut him free of the rope, half-pulling him, half-carrying him onto the bed.
Carefully he rolled Byakuran over, reaching across him to the table for the painkillers.
"Here," he said, dropping a couple into Byakuran's hand. "You're gonna need these."
Once he was sure Byakuran had swallowed some and had drunk some water, he went to bathe. There was no need to rush, he thought with a grin, knowing that the longer he took, the more angry the Cloud Guardian was going to be. He absently wondered exactly HOW angry he could make Hibari, then smiled at himself. He certainly felt a lot better about things. He supposed he should thank Byakuran for that.
Mukuro dressed, then with a final glance at the Millefiore boss, he grabbed the amulet off the dresser. He held it up in front of him, twirling it around, watching its muted surfaces reflect the dull light.
"Enjoy it while it lasts."
The voice made him jump. He had thought Byakuran was asleep, but when he turned around he could see the other watching him with heavy lidded, bloodshot eyes.
"What do you mean?" he asked, looking at the amulet again.
Byakuran managed a weak smile. "The power. It’s only temporary, it will fade over time."
"Oh," said Mukuro. "I guess I'll just have to find the realm itself, then."
To Mukuro's surprise, Byakuran laughed, faint flickers of victory in his face.
"You can't," he replied.
"We'll see," mused Mukuro, fastening the chain around his neck, slipping the amulet beneath his t-shirt.
"No," insisted Byakuran. He tried to sit upright, but gave up. "Even if you find the realm, it will do you no good."
Mukuro scowled. "And why is that?"
Byakuran's smile broadened, even as his eyes closed again. "Because the power to control a person can only be gifted by another,” he said, his voice slurred. “You can't take it for yourself. Someone has to live through hell for you.
"We could do it together, Mukuro-chan," he said, just as sleep over took him. "The gift could be reciprocal. It's the only way."
Mukuro watched as Byakuran drifted into unconsciousness, then wrapped the blankets around him.
"I'll think about it," he whispered, shutting the door quietly so as not to disturb him. The offer was intriguing, but the most important thing in his life was currently waiting outside.
~oOo~
Hibari had calmed down to a seething rage by the time Mukuro left the hotel. Neither of them spoke as the Illusionist slid into the passenger seat and calmly did up the seat belt, yawning broadly and stretching his legs out in front of him.
At least he had washed, thought Hibari. He wasn't sure he could have coped with Mukuro smelling of sex and blood and sweat, reminding Hibari of what had just happened. He looked over at him. Mukuro looked... Pleased. Amused. Satisfied.
“How long’s this been going on for?”
Mukuro glanced at his watch. “About nine and a half hours,” he replied.
Hibari's hands clenched the steering wheel. "If you fuck him again, I'll..."
The words choked in his mouth. He needed to get Mukuro home, on his knees, and inside him as fast as possible.
"Ok," said Mukuro, an easy smile curving his lips.
Hibari started. "What?" he spluttered.
"I won't fuck him again."
Hibari's head turned so fast it hurt.
"That easy?"
For a moment Mukuro just looked at him, then he shrugged. "It was something I needed," he said quietly. Pure agony shot through Hibari at the idea of the Illusionist needing something, or someone, that wasn't him. He didn't like it one bit. Mukuro... needing... anything. It didn't seem quite right.
"Are we even then?" asked Hibari eventually, determined not to let his turbulent emotions get the better of him. To his horror, he felt himself blush as Mukuro turned lazy, sated eyes towards him, and calmly smiled at him.
"No," came the reply. "Not yet."
Hibari growled and floored the accelerator, the tires screaming as the car lurched forward into the traffic. Even the reckless driving didn’t seem to bother his infuriating passenger, Mukuro merely rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest.
He drove directly to the apartment, not asking if it was where Mukuro wanted to go, or if he was being honest, particularly caring. The urge, the need, to get Mukuro back where he belonged, in Hibari’s bed and preferably tethered to it, overwhelmed everything. The car skidded to a halt and Hibari only just held himself back from dragging Mukuro to his feet and marching him to the lift, instead he tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the Illusionist to catch up. The lift seemed to take forever, but eventually they arrived, Hibari exhaling deeply in relief.
Home, he thought. We’re home. It would all be alright now.
Mukuro strolled into the living area and flopped down on the large sofa. “You want to talk about this?” he asked.
“Not particularly,” replied Hibari. “I’m going to shower. Wait here.” With a gargantuan effort he refused to look back as he raced up the stairs, swallowing down panic at the thought of Mukuro leaving again. When he returned, however, dripping wet with a towel wrapped around his waist, the other was still where he had left him, relaxing on the sofa, his arms spread across the back.
“Get upstairs,” he ordered, irritation rising up in him when Mukuro merely sat there.
“You never learn, do you Kyouya,” the other replied, his voice soft.
“I said, get upstairs.”
Mukuro’s eyes narrowed. “Make me,” he whispered.
Hibari found he couldn’t move…
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Sparks Will Fly