Rating: M (rated for violence, language and romance)
Pairing: 6918 (and, I guess, a hint of tension towards 10069)
Disclaimers: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn (and I think we should all take a moment and be thankful for that)

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Part I

~ a reasonable doubt concerning Aces ~

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When Mukuro realized he was trapped, truly, irrevocably trapped, his first thought was that he wanted to laugh.

Above him stood Byakuran, smiling his bright, sugar-candy smile and knew he had won. "I told you, Mukuro-kun," he spread his arms wide in a mock gesture of welcome. "This place is sealed off entirely."
Mukuro was already at his limit. His entire body felt like a raw, exposed nerve, he wouldn't be able to last much longer now…
His mind was searching madly for an opening, his thoughts prodding and jabbing like frantic fingers at the oppressing, invisible walls. There ought to be an opening. Why wasn't it there? Had the brat failed him? Where is it – here, somewhere – wherewherewhere?!

But there was nothing there. Byakuran's shields, however he had constructed them, were flawless. There was no gap.

This is it, Mukuro thought suddenly, and the realization hit him like a bullet. It's over…!
"Since you don't have the Vongola ring," Byakuran went on, his voice languid now and slow, because he had all the time in the world, "I have no real interest in you."
This is how I die!
"It is time for you to die. For real, this time…"
Byakuran was smiling (always smiling) down at him, cheerfully, like a kid, speaking in a near sing-song voice. "Mu-ku-ro-chan!"

He is insane, thought Mukuro – vaguely so, because it hurt to think. This man is crazier than I am…

As he began to lose consciousness his last thoughts were of Hibari Kyouya – beautiful, beautiful Kyouya, cold as ice – and he pictured him standing on his grave with that expressionless face, the face that only Mukuro in the entire world could read (could sometimes read), muttering 'I told you so, you stupid, good-for-nothing herbivore'.

And as he fell forward and into blissful darkness, the thought made him smile a little…

Hibari had called for Mukuro only once, and when they met, they were 23 and Kyouya had cut his hair again (he did this from time to time, when it started to get in his eyes, and he would hack it off in chunks with whatever sharp objects lay nearby) while Mukuro's had gotten even longer.

"Well, this is new. Long time no see, Mr. Head Prefect."
"I want you to die, Rokudo Mukuro," said Hibari promptly without so much as batting an eyelid.

As far as Sawada Tsunayoshi and his other guardians and various other allies knew, it was their first meeting in nearly 3 years (after their little 'bar incident', the entire Vongola famiglia had worked very hard to keep them separated) – but they didn't know. They didn't know that Mukuro had in fact gone to see Hibari on several occasions.
They didn't know about the books or the fighting, which they both pretended to take seriously, all the little things he had done to stir up the neat, unshakable normalness of the other boy's life, or the quiet hours they had sometimes spent just being together without saying anything. It could hardly be called a relationship, this thing they had, or even a friendship (not by any conventional standards at the least) – he was fairly certain that Hibari still longed to claw his throat to bloody shreds. But it was close enough.

"Oh ho, forward as ever I see." Mukuro's lips curved in a playful smirk, "is that a threat…or an invitation?" He remained quite unfazed. Throughout the years in which they had known each other Hibari Kyouya had frequently threatened, swore and even promised to ultimately kill him (with his teeth) and, as far as Mukuro was concerned, this was just Kyouya making conversation.

"Consider it a proposal," said Hibari coolly, studying him through dark, half-lidded eyes. Cold, empty, strangely seductive… Mukuro caught himself staring and, chuckling lightly to hide it, he leant back with the appearance of perfect comfort and drew his fingers languidly through his hair. "My, my, a proposal from you… I suppose I should feel honored?"

Hibari had called him out to one of his private domains – one of his many private domains, actually. This particular one was located in Venice in Italy and on the outside it was an exclusive-looking restaurant that belonged to the Cavallone family. The entire upper floor was tastefully furnished and decorated with big oriental paper fans, miniature plants and quiet fountains of clean, clear water that looked like glass even when it was flowing. It belonged to the Foundation (not to the Vongola, which was Hibari's current Ace-up-the-sleeve of choice for whenever Dino Cavallone appeared to have any qualms about giving into his young student's every whim).

Mukuro personally thought Hibari's sense of style was impeccable. He wondered what it would take to make him attack him in here. He smiled like a snake and leant over the table with his chin propped up in one hand. "You know, you look lovelier every time I see you." He wanted to fight. "I should have brought flowers." It had been so long since they had last seen each other!

But Hibari's eyes were calm and serious. He pressed his palms together, contemplated Mukuro from across the table and didn't bait. "I have something for you…"

"For me? How intriguing…" Mukuro pretended to study his nails. "Is this scheme in any way connected to my, ah, imminent demise?" he added, in reference to the other's less than polite opening-line. A carnivorous smile was all he got in reply.

And then Hibari explained to him with no superfluous words and no unnecessary digressions, exactly how Mukuro was going to help Hibari and the Vongola screw up the Millefiore's plans. And when he was finished, Mukuro's perpetual smirk had a different feeling to it entirely.

"Your concern is touching," he began in a slow voice. He got up smoothly to his feet and began to pace the room with all the grace and alertness of a feline predator, much the same fashion in which Hibari observed him from his own chair. His mind was working furiously. Because this plan (or, proposal as Hibari had phrased it) – as fun and ridiculously risky as it sounded – was so very much unlike the Kyouya he knew. It was a good plan, by all means, and it might really provide the Vongola family with the advantage they sorely needed to crush the Millefiore… but it was also quite unselfish and the Kyouya he knew could be described as nothing short of the very personification of egotism (Mukuro thought it was all part of Hibari's…charm, really, and found it quite fascinating).
He wasn't about to let his confusion show, however.

"You truly are going to unprecedented extremes for the sake of the Vongola. You, who normally don't involve yourself at all…"
"I'm not doing it for them," scoffed Hibari, sounding almost offended at the idea. He took a sip of his chilled green tea, his eyes closed, and put the glass down with a faint 'clink'.
Ah, so there is more to this after all then, thought Mukuro with a smirk. "Then why?"
"I owe you no explanations, low-life, but if you must know, that spineless maggot seems to have taken an interest in my town." He spat the word 'maggot' as if it were a rotten thing on his tongue, clenching one delicate hand into a hard fist as he did. He meant Byakuran, obviously, the infamous head of what was rapidly becoming the largest and by far most powerful organization in the world; the one who had forced Sawada Tsunayoshi into demanding that they all destroy their hard-won Vongola rings.
"I don't approve."

Mukuro stopped in front of the large floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the colorful and lively piazza beneath. "This plan of yours…" He turned his head slightly so that he could see the other over his shoulder. "You're asking a lot of me, Kyouya."
"I am not asking."
"Kufufu – again with that bluntness of yours…"

He moved to stand behind Hibari's chair, leaning his elbows on the exquisite white leather. His hair fell down over his face. "But, you do realize, of course, that for this, if I do this, you will be indebted to me. The thing you hate the most…"
Hibari tilted his head up and leant it all the way back, studying him upside-down with a calm defiance. "No, I won't."
Unable to resist the temptation, Mukuro reached out and touched the thick, fragrant hair with one finger. His finger wandered down to the tender curve of Hibari's ear. "I am going to want something in return for this…"
"What do you want, herbivore, a plaque?" drawled Hibari and didn't flinch.
The finger reached the perfectly sculpted jaw. "I could really die, you know," he said with mock-gravity in his smooth voice. "I just don't see what I have to gain from –"

Before he could finish his sentence Hibari had spun his chair around and, while maintaining the same indifferent expression, he kicked him in the shins, grabbed onto his ponytail with one hand and yanked him down with a force that made him stumble to his knees. It happened so fast Mukuro barely had time to shape his mouth into a surprised 'o'.

"Do you think I'm someone else, hellspawn? You seem to be under the delusion that I am asking your opinion."
Hibari twisted the silky hair in his grip, forcing Mukuro's head up and back into an awkward and quite painful angle. This, in Mukuro's experience, was Hibari's least violent way of demanding the undivided attention of a listener and Mukuro took it with a smirk and a coy glint in his red eye.

"I will make you no promises, Rokudo Mukuro. I owe you none. But I have information you don't. I can give you an opportunity that you will probably never have again." There was a pause, then, "it appears the Vongola is the not the only family out there that stash away their unwanted garbage in the Vendicare…"

Mukuro's smirk disappeared. "What do you mean?"

Hibari closed his eyes and, as if by some magical transition, Mukuro's infuriating smirk appeared instead on his lips. "If you're discovered you may attempt to kill him or do your brain-leeching as you please," he went on, completely ignoring Mukuro's question. "Every detail you can find out about that filthy parasite is of value." Hibari spoke in a careless fashion, but when he next looked up and their eyes met his gaze was intense. "But…" he got to his feet and almost angrily he jabbed a finger down hard against Mukuro's chest. "I don't want any of your antics, Rokudo Mukuro." His voice was low and dangerous. "This is a delicate operation and you need to show some temperance; no games this time."

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Hibari would be the first to admit, however reluctantly, that he and Mukuro were alarmingly alike each other.

But there was one thing that set them very much apart, which had nothing to do with Hibari's cool demeanor, Mukuro's extraordinary abilities or their choice of henchmen; rather it was how they preferred their kill.
Hibari loved to fight, lived to fight his clean, unforgiving Dead or Alive battles, to killbitedestroy… but Mukuro was different; Mukuro loved Games.

Rokudo Mukuro lovedto plan elaborate schemes and he watched them unfold with great satisfaction and self-confidence, dropping his little playthings (for, in his two-colored eyes, that was what they all were – what everyone were) hints along the way just to make it more interesting. His victims never saw it coming, and Mukuro played with them until the very end, all the way smiling his playful, ever present Cheshire-cat smile as he watched how they met with their ultimate and inevitable demise (the worst part of it was how every elegant victory only served to blow his ego further out of proportions – or so Hibari thought, anyway).

But he couldn't do that, not this time.

But he had, of course.

"The flowers were a nice touch," purred Byakuran. "They were lovely, Mukuro-kun."

Mukuro was not dead.

"I do love riddles, after all, just like you do. Or did you expect the symbolism would be lost on me? But, then again, of course…"
A small part of him wished he was because he was barely conscious and it hurt a fucking million different worlds of scorching blinding pain! But he had asserted with some dim satisfaction that Byakuran had not gone through with his promise and that, for whatever reason, he had let the ring-less Vongola illusionist live for just a little while longer.
"…I already knew who you were. I knew that from the moment you came in here."

Mukuro was not so stupid as to lure himself into some vain belief that this might possibly mean anything good – no, he could only begin to imagine what was now in store for him… But at least there was, well, hope.

He might make his Grand Escape yet...

After he had made his offer to Rokudo Mukuro, Hibari was forced to remain in Italy for nearly a full week due to a small number of other business engagements of a rather urgent nature. His third meeting that week, however (fourth if you counted the one with Dino), took place in Namimori, only a scarce handful of hours after his plane had landed.
For this particular meeting they were three; only three. It was a secret meeting.
And it was held in the middle of the night…

Hibari did not enjoy laying his plans on the table for anyone – especially not Sawada Tsunayoshi, the Herbivore King himself, or his exceptionally pathetic new pal, Irie Shouichi.

"The Varia?!" Tsuna looked at him terrified. "But, but they have nothing to do with this part – what, how did you –?"
Hibari glared at him coolly, seemingly completely unfazed by the outburst. "Xanxus and I have an understanding," he said simply and enjoyed the shudder that ran through the two young men seated before him.
"Xanxus and Hibari…"
Irie Shouichi adjusted his glasses and his voice was barely a whisper. "What a dangerous duo…"

In spite of the impractical hour of the meeting and the trouble the two others had to go through just to get there, Hibari had insisted that they don the proper, traditional Japanese attire that he had all his guests wear. People usually found Hibari to be quite the persuasive host.

"A-Anyway!" Irie was always a little wary in Hibari's presence. He was clearly terrified of him. "What about that… other thing? Did, err, did you figure out a way of getting inside the main base –"
"Yes." Hibari gave them a dark look. Then he closed his eyes in a resigned fashion. "I'm sending Rokudo Mukuro."
Tsuna's wide eyes looked almost as terrified at the prospect of involving Mukuro as he had at the prospect of working with the Varia. "You're what?! But," he wrinkled his brow in puzzlement, "wouldn't that be impossible…?"

Hibari looked away. "He is the only one who has a slim chance of getting close to that filthy grass-eater."

And then he explained to them in brief, accurate terms exactly why it had to be – why it could only be – Rokudo Mukuro who would be their spy. He did not elaborate much. He hated the thought of others knowing things about his schemes, even if they were directly involved in them – it was a matter of principle, he felt. It did nothing to brighten his mood.

Afterwards Irie had one question. "It's true that Rokudo Mukuro's abilities are extraordinary," he said. "But so are Byakuran's. He'll no doubt know all about Mukuro and probably even expect him to come. And so will a fair portion of his sub-ordinates. The Millefiore are well aware of the Vongola's capabilities, it would be naïve to expect them not to take their precautions."
"Perhaps they would," said Hibari and a small smile curved his lips for the first time that evening, "but Rokudo Mukuro is going to die. By the time those worthless herbivores realize there is a leak Rokudo Mukuro will have been officially dead for a long time."

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When they were outside again in the fresh air under the starlit night sky, and Irie had bid them goodnight while casting nervous glances at Hibari's henchmen, Tsuna stalled.

"Byakuran will know," he said suddenly with that definite certainty that sometimes tinged his voice when he made observations he wasn't consciously aware of making. "That's your plan, isn't it? He is going to test Byakuran's combat skills… isn't he?"
"Rokudo Mukuro is the only one who can."

Tsuna was wrinkling his brow, chewing thoughtfully at the inside of his cheeks. He doesn't like it, thought Hibari. But he had expected this, of course, and didn't care.

"Hibari… have you – are you absolutely sure about this?"
Hibari didn't reply.
"Byakuran is not someone to be toyed with or taken lightly, and if Mukuro fails then it will affect not only him but Chrome as well. If he's cut off from her, even if it's not for long, she could die. The girl we know now is strong, but she was not always that way."

"I made an offer. Rokudo Mukuro accepted it."

"Of course he did!" Tsuna's eyes were suddenly blazing with emotion, his hands forming hard fists at his sides. "He always does!"

Hibari turned his head. They stared at each other. Tsuna's chest heaved with something akin to anger, but his eyes were suddenly widening, as if he had only just realized to whom he was making accusations. "I mean," he began, "it's only… He could never say no to you, could he? He won't listen to me so much. I suspect not at all, if it were not for Chrome. But when you're there –"

"I fail to see how any of this is my problem, Sawada Tsunayoshi," interrupted Hibari. He did not raise his voice, but his eyes had a dangerous gleam in them. "Do not speak of things you know nothing of. I have little interest in the meaningless motives of herbivores," he went on, "but make no mistake, I always repay my debts."

"I've met him, you know," said Byakuran suddenly, glancing down at Mukuro's supine form. He was seated in his couch again now, surrounded by bits and pieces of what remained of his expensive office interior. "…Hibari-chan."
At the mention of that name, Mukuro's eyes met Byakuran's, briefly.
He put a small, white cotton-candy roll into his mouth before adding with one eyebrow casually arched, "or isn't it because of him that you're here?"

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The first and last time Byakuran had met Hibari Kyouya was when he found him waiting, perfectly unannounced and without warning, inside his office – his private, well-guarded office to which only he had access. He'd known at once who it was, of course, although he had never actually seen him.

"Ah, what a pleasant surprise… I heard you were out travelling."
The young man glared at him, coolly, quietly, saying nothing. He was very beautiful. Byakuran smiled, the way he always smiled, and enjoyed the way Hibari remained seated and unafraid even as he moved to stand in front of him.
"You're not quite what I expected from someone with such a… fearsome reputation, Hibari-chan." He said, studying the lovely face and the ice-cold posture. His beauty was almost feral, like something wild and blood-thirsty was hiding, patiently waiting underneath that calm, inviting surface.
"Are you here on behalf of the Vongola?"
"Don't group me with those herbivores," drawled Hibari. "I am here to warn you."
This made Byakuran laugh. He couldn't remember if anyone had ever talked to him like that before within the confinements of these walls.
"Leave Namimori."
"Yes, I heard you had an affinity for your hometown. Well, if you want to join me –"
"Leave," Hibari broke him off, "and get your worthless minions out of my town."
The perpetual sugary smile did not leave Byakuran's face even for a second. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Hibari-chan," he said slowly, and only the faintest trace of gravity tinted his voice. "Your darling town happens to be of importance to me."

As he was about to leave, Hibari Kyouya cast him a long look over his shoulder with eyes that were dark and suddenly solemn. "Just remember that you were given this chance to forfeit. You will not be given another."

Byakuran smiled but said nothing.

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"He's precious to you, isn't he, Mukuro-kun," taunted Byakuran. "Perhaps I'll kill him while you watch. First the girl you used and then him."
Oh if you only knew… thought Mukuro.
And then suddenly Byakuran was there in front of him and his long fingers, sticky with sugar, were on his chin, tangling in his hair, tilting his head up so that they came face to face, because Mukuro could not muster the strength to do it himself. Byakuran's eyes were narrow now, and there was a very, very dangerous gleam in them.
"The young Vongola has such pretty bodyguards…" his thumb stroked almost tenderly over Mukuro's lips and came away red with blood. "How fortunate I am that he is sending them all to me!"

Mukuro did not speak – he didn't think his voice would bear. But his thoughts did and he had plenty of those. I will kill you, just wait, you don't know how patient I can be. You don't know who you are dealing with! I will make you regret being born! These thoughts were quite coherent to him even in his severely diminished state. I will possess you, I will make you kill everyone you care about with your own bare hands, I will crush your brain…

"And how sad," continued Byakuran, his smile widening, "that you will remember… nothing of Hibari Kyouya." For a short instant, Mukuro's eyes focused. "Or anyone else, for that matter!"

When Hibari finally returned to his own private chambers he was suffering from a jet-lag of roughly 8 hours and he had not slept for nearly 12, something he was not remotely used to. Also, someone had turned all the lights off. He scarcely seemed to take any notice of it, however, for he was deep in thought over the young Vongola's final words, and he navigated through the darkened room with a thoughtless, practiced ease.
He stopped when suddenly a soft, silky voice spoke from somewhere in the pitch black. "My, my, you seem distracted."

Hibari's eyes narrowed. "You…!"
In the next instant, quick as a heartbeat, one of Hibari's tonfa flew across the room, spinning in the air like a throwing-star in the general direction of where his desk was, where Mukuro – who was not supposed to be in Japan at all – sat in the darkness looking smug. Mukuro caught it in one gloved hand with a lop-sided grin and slid down soundlessly to the floor.

"Welcome back."

He had no sooner uttered this (perfectly ordinary and above all polite) greeting than Hibari stood suddenly very close to him, his other tonfa pressing hard and threateningly against the underside of his chin. The smile never left Mukuro's face. Oh Kyouya…

"I don't recall inviting you here, brain-leech."
"What? No kiss for me?"
They stood like that for a moment, motionless, staring at each other, before Hibari seemed to change his mind about mutilating the other and opted instead to merely shove him away with an irritated sneer. "You should have stayed in Italy. Or do you want to get bitten to death?"

"Kufufu…" Mukuro hoisted himself backwards up onto the desk. "You know…" He rubbed his chin absentmindedly and turned on the lamp that was there. "If you acted half as a beautiful as you look, the world would be yours for the taking."

Hibari scoffed. "Only weak herbivores have such preposterous ambitions."
"Only those with no ambitions at all are truly preposterous," retorted Mukuro elegantly.

He watched on in fascination as Hibari began to undo his black yukata and disappeared behind a thin paper screen with a printed Japanese motif of waves and birds. Mukuro could only just make out the shadow of movement from behind it. Kyouya was changing.
He could vividly recall how, only a few years back, Hibari and he had needed only to be in the same room to promptly lose focus of everything except for each other and attack with teeth and claw, completely disregarding their surroundings – and he marveled silently at how much their relationship had evolved over the years. How wonderfully curious it was that they hadn't killed each other yet.

"Why did you come here, Rokudo Mukuro?" asked Hibari, yanking his train of thought to a sudden halt. "What is your purpose?"

Mukuro dangled his legs like a kid and paused as if pondering some difficult question over in his head before he answered. "I came to tell you that I accept. There will be conditions, naturally, but I will do it." He chuckled and added smoothly, "after all, why shouldn't I? It sounds quite promising, and I truly would hate for someone else to take over the world..."
The shadow behind the paper screen stilled momentarily before it slowly started to move again. There was the sound of rustling silk and then Kyouya emerged on the other side, dressed in a midnight blue yukata of a slightly different cut. He leaned his shoulder against the screen and stared at Mukuro with narrow eyes. He didn't say anything.

Mukuro spread his arms out. "Well? There you go, Mr. Head Prefect," he offered and smiled like an angel, "now then… I believe you mentioned there was something in it for me?"

Hibari held his gaze and they regarded each other in silence. Finally he said, "His name is Ghost."

Hibari did not much enjoy sharing information, and he knew to a certain degree how Mukuro's twisted brain functioned. Information was not so much power to that guy as it was a weapon, and it was a dangerous thing to hand over weapons to someone who could strangle you with flowers (a running favorite of his).
"Possibly he is some lost brother. His existence is kept secret from the rest of the world and information is scarce… to the rest of the world."

Mukuro's eyes narrowed suspiciously. He knew Hibari would not simply straight out tell him the things he wanted to know, not in a situation like this.
"We believe, however," Hibari went on, glancing up at him – here it comes, thought Mukuro, "that he is… an Ace-card."

An Ace-card? "You mean the Millefiore might use him in a fight with unfavorable odds?" Mukuro cocked his head and gave a small derisive smile. "They would never get him out. The guardians of my, ah, current abode have no interest in politics."
"Certainly they would not budge in the case of some bitch-fed violator of Discipline, such as yourself," said Hibari with distaste, and then he paused, as if searching for the right phrase, "but there is reason to believe that Ghost is not a prisoner."

He detached himself from the screen and let Mukuro think while he unpacked the few items he had brought with him to Italy.

"Why do you know about this person?" asked Mukuro after a moment's silence. "Did Bucking Bronco –"
"No."
"Hmm, never the matter… The Millefiore must have a contract with the Vendicare… how unusual. They must be more powerful than I suspected. If what you're saying is true…"

I could arrange my own escape.

It had taken him less than a minute to work out how the things Hibari had just told him about could work to his advantage and the realization of opportunity bloomed inside him like fireworks. He would have to do some research, work out a few kinks… but it could be done. He could do it. Everything he would need to know would become available to him once he was inside the Millefiore's main base, and no doubt it would be conveniently located in the exact same place as everything Hibari wanted to know. If this Byakuran truly had some Secret Weapon hidden away in the Vendicare, where he was…

I could be free!

"Ironic, is it not," drawled Hibari as he sauntered toward the sliding doors which lead to the room where he normally slept, "that your one selfless act in that pitiful life of yours should end you chained up in confinement for a decade?"

Behind him Mukuro's jaw tensed and his red eye glinted dangerously.
"Ironic, is it not," he retorted softly without looking up and, quick as a rattlesnake, grabbed Kyouya's wrist before he could pass him by completely, "that you with your petty pride-issues should come to me, the only one who has ever had you on your knees, seeking help?"
And in one swift, hard movement he yanked Hibari back. It would probably not have worked if the other had not been so deprived of sleep, but as it were, Kyouya tumbled backwards and practically crashed into his lap. Mukuro smirked down at him. "Perhaps I shall have you beg me?"

And that was all it took – that one, curt reminder of their initial encounter was all the invitation Hibari needed. There was a flash of polished steel and Hibari's tonfa appeared as if conjured out of nothingness and then things began to happen very quickly. Mukuro jerked sideways and dodged his first blow, but Hibari managed somehow to twist his body around in spite of his awkward position and his second strike hit Mukuro in the solar plexus like a demolition ball. It also left Hibari's defenses open for just that split second Mukuro needed to grab onto his shoulders.

They lost their balance and fell roughly to the floor, wrestling, attacking, and pretending, for brief, fleeting moments, to surrender in order to lure the other into dropping his guard. Hibari's tonfas soon rolled soundlessly across the tatami floor and were quickly forgotten in the heated battle to push the other onto his back. Neither could quite suppress their fierce grins and suddenly they were teenagers again and nothing else existed in this world but them. Their fingers tried to close on each other's throats, knuckles aimed for patches of exposed, unprotected skin, knees seeking places to shove and push and restrain, until Mukuro was straddling Hibari's waist, smirking down at him, his eyes full of smugness and sparkling with triumph.

There was a moment of perfect stillness, when neither of them moved and only the sound of their slightly coarse breathing could be heard. And then their lips crashed together, hard and hot.

Mukuro felt the electric thrill of contact, the tip of his tongue touching Kyouya's, and a wonderful, vicious heat exploded inside of him. He thrust Hibari's arms back against the floor. His own slender fingers were like vises around the pale wrists, pinning them down.

This was a game they had played many times; a ritual of sorts that never quite molded into one due to both parties' loathe of predictability and routines that weren't felt down on paper. But they would go through with it now, all the way. They were both quick and definite in their decisions, always, and resentful towards the implied weakness of hesitation.

Leaning down he ran his tongue along the arc of Kyouya's collar bone, leaving a trail of warm wetness that in the next instant turned cold. He pressed his heated forehead against the exposed chest under him, rubbing his lips against the café-au-lait colored nipples, hard as candy pieces, licking the tender stretch of skin under the ribcage, lavishing it with soft, slow, open mouthed kisses and enjoyed how Hibari's breath caught and his body arched with pleasure. His skin smelled like snow and tasted faintly of seawater. One could get addicted to a taste like that.
He grinned and brought his fingers down to grip the tantalizing curve of Kyouya's hip. Yes, it had definitely been too long.

Hibari tugged at his front, pulled up Mukuro's shirt, yanked at the stiff fabric of his jacket and, almost without breaking the contact between mouth and skin, they managed to wrestle it off together and it fell to the floor. And then Hibari's cool hands were on his chest, stroking his stomach and the hollow of his ribcage, sliding around to the small of his back before continuing their journey down, lower, until nimble fingers were making quick work of Mukuro's thin belts. He couldn't hold back a gasp as Kyouya's hands slipped inside.
He was crazily aroused now and allowed himself to indulge for a moment in the skillful ministrations of the other, letting his head fall back with a low, deep moan as those hands worked him expertly, stroking, squeezing, prodding and touching, building up an exquisite rhythm, harder and faster, until his entire body was all but trembling with want. All the while Hibari regarded him, as if trying to study something particular in his face, his eyes dark and glittering under the long lashes, a wry twist to the corner of his lips. He was wearing one of those expressions that only Mukuro knew how to interpret.

He slid his palms down along Hibari's creamy thighs, stroking the delectable, naked skin that was so easily accessible in that simple garment he wore, hooked them under his knees, lifting them up, parting them. Under him Hibari was pressing his body up against his, wrapping his legs around Mukuro's narrow waist. He was naked under the yukata.
His voice was low and slightly hoarse, "you are so damn weak, Roku – ah!"
Mukuro drove his hips down hard, impaling himself, clutching Kyouya's hands with his own in a painfully tight grip, bracing himself, their fingers entwining of their own accord.
"Ahhh –" Mukuro's teeth closed on Hibari's shoulder, a small exquisite pain. "You're so tight. It almost hurts!"
He began to move, carefully at first, almost gently – then more vigorously, driving them into a sort of rhythm that created a friction between Hibari's back and the floor which might have been painful if it had not been for the dark blue silky fabric of the yukata underneath him. Then again Hibari had never let the prospect of a little physical discomfort keep him from doing exactly as he pleased.

He was holding Hibari down, gripping his hair, grinding those delicate bones hard, too hard – but this was Kyouya, and he took every bit of it. Kyouya liked it rough. It could never be hard enough. He was like this beautiful toy that was impossible to break and Mukuro loved this about him. It became more and more difficult, impossible, to constrain his movements – the soft inside of Hibari's thighs brushed against his hips with each thrust, back and forth, and it was so incredibly, unbelievably, wonderfully tight, and he thought that this was all he wanted to do ever for all eternity because it felt so insanely good!
He forced himself in deeper, harder, used the palm of his hand on the back of Hibari's knee and pressed it forward and further down, slightly shifting angle to get better access.

He pressed his lips against the graceful curve of Kyouya's neck, licked the soft spot under his jaw where his pulse beat like a drum, nibbling gently at the soft, velvety skin of an ear lobe and was rewarded with a little sighs and faint whimpers of pleasure that reluctantly escaped from those pale, full lips.

Hibari threw his head to the side sank his teeth into the sharp, jutting curve of Mukuro's thumb, until the corner of his mouth was stained dark red with blood. But now Mukuro was pounding into him so hard he didn't notice the pain.
Hibari's body was thrashing wildly under his own, fingers tangling in his hair, grasping at his upper arms, dragging his sharp little nails over the small of his back and nothing about him was passive, or soft or yielding. There was this about Hibari that he could never hold still when he wasn't sleeping, reading or deep in thought. And most certianly not while having sex. Hibari called it being passive-aggressive, and Mukuro thought it was such a wonderfully interesting misinterpretation of the term that he could never bear to correct him.
And he wouldn't want those hips to stop shifting, never, not when it made his every thrust feel different, deeper, better than the last, driving his desire to a wild, uncontrollable haze.

He felt Kyouya's breath, hard and warm against the underside of his jaw, brushing the nape of his neck, it came in sharp, high gasps now. He threw his head back as his entire body convulsed and he shuddered and hugged his arms tight, tighter, around Kyouya, burying his face in his thick hair. He exploded inside him and it felt like the blood rushed from his head all at once and the room spun and he was seeing stars.

Hibari exploited this moment of vulnerability to grab Mukuro's smooth hips. He braced himself against the floor with the heel of his foot and gave a hard shove that made them tumble around on the floor, leaving Hibari once more on top, his thighs pressed hard against Mukuro's sides, arms wrapped around his chest. Their bodies were slick against each other and smelled of sex and heated skin and clean sweat. The sudden, rough motion made Mukuro groan painfully through gritted teeth. His flesh felt sore and tender like a fresh bruise, the muscles of his thigh jerking weakly with the aftershock of his climax.
And then Hibari's slender body suddenly tensed on top of him, his sharp teeth closing on the soft underside of Mukuro's neck and with a violent tremor he came, too.

As he laid there panting on the floor with Hibari on top of him in a tangle of limbs and the few rumpled up garments they had not bothered to get rid of, Mukuro felt suddenly, inexplicably, insanely alive. Even if it was just for now, in this fleeting little moment while he was still in his own physical body, he was alive. The sensation was dizzying – he felt suddenly desperate, eager to touch and taste and experience every tiny, miniscule thing. Swept up, carried away, he had no idea why he did what he did next – but he did it anyway. With one hand he grabbed Hibari's head by the hair, tipped his mouth up to his and kissed him, hard.

Hibari responds passionately for three full seconds. Then he bites.

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Author's note: alright, that was part 1! Hope you like it ^_^
My current plan is to make a part 2 and an epilogue. I should probably hurry though, before everything is revealed and all of my ideas are proven wrong.

About my theories – if no one knew about Ghost from before, he's probably not been imprisoned for any crime, but judging from everyone's reaction he obviously should be locked up anyway. Also it was the Foundation who got information from Mukuro, not the Vongola HQ, and there are plenty of clues that hint to a connection between him and Hibari, especially since Dino seemed to know when the adult Mukuro was going to appear.

I got the term 'constructive destruction' from a fic called Darling we'll go adrowning by Kaesteranya, by the way. I just loved it so much, I had to use it! The fic is in my favorites, you should definitely read it (it's so good I couldn't read or write a word for days after I'd read it)!

Reviews are humbly accepted with EXTREME gratitude and will be given a warm and loving home (honest – I never even delete them from my inbox).