Pairing. 6918. (overpossessive!69)
Warning. bloody scene, character's death (neither 69 nor 18)
And definitely not designed for Dino's fans. Press 'back' if you think he will appear in all shining glory.
I warned, twice.
I don't own KHR.
Note. My late, very late (and short) attempt for Halloween. Sorry for the OOC-ness, yes, really sorry.
Short notice, I never write threesome. So no intentional hint for any couple but 6918.
Euhm, enjoy if you please?
"Kyouya, you're late."
Hibari didn't answer. He frowned deeply at the scene presenting before his eyes, nose scrunching in distaste.
He came back late. One of his incompetent lackeys stumbled on the neatly arranged desk and knocked all over—files and documents and laptop and sample boxes and flamey rings and—the steaming hot tea spilled on Hibari's suit.
The insect had that audacity to apologize and thought he could get away with just a simple prostration on the floor. Reality must have dawned him harsh when Hibari slowly arose from his seat, face like death god and fingers itching as though wanting to crush some bones.
Some bones, he gulped, would be his bones.
Cleaning took longer than expected, Hibari scowled. The useless wimps paced back and forth in his office, tried to make clear words out of blood-stained papers as he commanded them to put all back in alphabetical order. Eyeing the meaty mess sprawling across the room, the men in black couldn't help but let out a shaky breath. It was an intimidating image to see, got them all nauseous and pale. Their fellow man was alive just an hour before, alive and kicking, until a short notice brought them here to clean up his corpse.
His disembodied corpse to be exact.
Hibari arm-crossed grumpily from the side, watching them crunch up with a snort.
It already passed eleven thirty when he arrived at his base that night. There was light flicking out from his workroom and a person's shadow printed clear on the shoji paper. Hibari, suddenly felt a roil in his stomach, made way to open the door, only to find—
Blood. Lots of it.
He continued frowning, disguting at the sight of a bloody shape on the tatami floor. After several secs to register the whole surrounding, Hibari can make a smart guess. That tattered fur green jacket, blonde hair strands, half-cut whip.
It was Dino. Or something like Dino.
His face had been completely tore off, like someone grabbed and stretched it until the skin eventually got ripped from the skull. His body was cut open like a plastic bag, organs pouring out unaesthetically, his ribs crushed and broken and his leg—
Now that Hibari mentioned it, where was the other leg?
"What kept you from coming back, Kyouya?" The standing man called out to him once more, voice deep and elegant and totally contradicted to the scene he himself had caused. "Is anything wrong?"
Anger welled in dark eyes as Hibari wordlessly stared at the blue-haired man holding a trident loosely on right hand. The Italian replied with that cryptic glint within mismatched orbs. Hibari's delicate brows furrowed when he looked over his left hand. So that's where Dino's other leg was.
The illusionist almost looked as bloodied as the dead tutor, only he was very much alive, and—much to Hibari's disappointment—very far from bleeding and dead.
Holding back a violent fit, The Cloud Guardian settled with grinding his teeth. "Mukuro, what", a hitched breath, "did-you-do?"
The taller man cocked head to the side, his face so blank and bored. He quirked a brow questioningly and gazed at the mutilated body on the floor. Silence engulfed them both for a while until Mukuro turned his head to face Hibari.
"What, of course the thing I always do, Kyouya." He shrugged, curling his mouth's corner a little. "This twerp came and babbled too much about you. Made it sound like you two were very close. He kept talking and bothered my ears, so I decided to shut him up." He brandished his hand—the one holding Dino's leg—as if to show Hibari. "It worked well."
The raven didn't put a hint of appreciation. He just looked at the scene before him with boiling, slanted eyes and clenching fists.
"What's the deal with him anyway?" Mukuro asked, turned away to scrutinize the dissected body like nothing. "He said he was your tutor. But the way he talked about you, how his face lit up every time he mentioned your name, you surely worth more than just a student. Hilarious isn't it? He even pried about our relationship. You should've seen his face when I said we're simply sex partners. I had a good laugh."
The taller man chuckled sardonically, sneering at Hibari's unpleasant grimace. "Yes, that's what I said. He was all jumpy and loquacious until my short answer came out. Then I thought, mmhm, this bug was trying to get my Kyouya. This bug, was trying to meddle with our affair."
The creases between Hibari's brows crinkled deeper by second. "You—"
He was cut off rather flippantly before any other word can grit out. "But the trouble was still, he talked too much. I decided to shut him up for good. And rip out his blinking eyes while I'm at it. But I didn't want to waste too much energy, so I just did both in one go."
Mukuro gestured to the tore off skinface lying amidst scattered clothes. His free hand waved the dangling leg in air. Hibari scowled as tiny chunks of human meat falling on the mat, blatantly disguted.
The illusionist looked at the shorter man and graced a charming—but disturbingly eerie—smirk. "Anyway, Kyouya?" He approached Hibari with those broadwide steps, eyes squinting and observing his every move. "You haven't replied my question yet, dear. Is anything wrong?"
But the skylark didn't chirp one note. He kept silently frowning at the corpse in the middle of his workroom, where most blood spilled and tainted. Mukuro let out a small sigh, running hand through his sweated hair.
"I will change the question, Kyouya." His tone hung dangerously low, carried a glimpse of calculating thoughts. "Is anything wrong with me killing that twerp?"
"Yes, there is," Hibari finally answered after somewhat like a century of staring, tongue dripping with venom and potential outburst. "Something very wrong, you loony bastard."
The smirk on his lips never faltered, he didn't even seem surprised at the displeasure the shorter man showing. Only the grip on his trident absently tightened, ghosting over night's cold air as he came to a stop in front of Hibari.
"Care to tell me what, dear?"
There was a spat.
It was clear as day that his snarky beauty was angry, by the disgrunt in that smooth cold voice, the demeaning names he called him with. But Mukuro never complained, he never complained and only fixed a feral grin when Hibari said—
"You're dirtying my room with his blood, screwhead."
And the shorter man just icily spunned around to leave. Didn't wish to tire himself out anymore.
Maybe tomorrow he will tell Kusakabe to cleanse off the mess. Maybe he should add the illusionist's body on top before. Or whatever.
A smirk adorned Mukuro's lips. He tossed Dino's leg in the bloodpool at the center of the room, marched his way toward Hibari's leaving back. The metal shoesoles broke some sounds, needling through the calm, nonchalant night. As calm and nonchalant as a certain ravenous skylark.
But of course, Mukuro bemused, noticed the long-dried red stains on Hibari's silver cufflinks.
—He wouldn't expect any less from his Kyouya.
Deranged Paramour / End.