(no subject)
title: Scramble part1? (Hibari vs. Gokudera/Uh picture them in their late teens, kay?)
rating: PG-13
sample: "They're just like dogs. Snarling, hissing, growling as they wrestle each other into the ground."
Wrote this for the kink meme but I-I can't find it in my heart to complete it... it's fine the way it is.
- - - - -
They're just like dogs. Snarling, hissing, growling as they wrestle each other into the ground.
Fuck me? Hell no, no, no.
It's fucking fuck you.
A brutal knee to the ribs makes Gokudera’s fingers twitch which makes the burn on his wrist sing. Oh how he’d love to blow something up in this asshole’s face. Bang. Bang. Bang. He can just picture a thousand angles and all with Hibari’s stupid-narrow-slits-for-eyes widening in surprise in that frozen millisecond before the blossoming roar of light and fire. So what if he’s too close? It’ll be worth getting his face burned off just to see it, just to be there to grab this rare chance by the throat. But his explosives are nothing more than ash in the wind because for the first time in years Gokudera’s run Dry. Dry. Dry. However the sacrifice is far from meaningless: Hibari’s own tonfa lay abandoned in the dirt, broken and dented.
When the dust cleared he couldn’t believe it either. Hibari just stared at the scrap metal in his hands before raising them slowly.
He hurled them to the ground. The hollow clang of steel ringing into the empty lot sent a shiver up Gokudera’s spine. Was it a spoiled child’s tantrum? Or a shark merely spitting out a chipped tooth?
He didn’t have time to think any further because Hibari was up in his face, his eyes burning and murderous and clenching Gokudera’s hand in a merciless grip. The abrupt breach of personal space made Gokudera freeze for a disastrous moment. Thought Hibari hated crowds. Hated people. Hated contact. Hated touching. Hated-
Finger tips traced his lips, too deliberate to pass off as a mere brush. They lingered before the man delicately plucked his cigarette from his mouth-
Oh.
-and stubbed it out on the inside of his wrist.
FUCK.
But he didn’t scream, he couldn’t let himself utter a single hiss, not when Hibari’s deadpan stare was drilling into the depths of his own eyes. Watching. Measuring. Weighing. Judging. Like every shade of white his face turned, like every sharp intake of breath, like every fluttering blink was a sign of something. Something that affected some sick twisted equation in Hibari’s fucked up mind.
Realization dawned on him like a deer caught in the headlights of a freight train when a smirk curled Hibari’s pale lips. A tongue darted out but wet them slow and it was like a period to punctuate Gokudera’s death sentence.
He was a herbivore no more in the eyes of Hibari Kyouya.
Hibari jerked him closer, smiling like a razor. Gokudera’s wrist still stung with pain but he was strangely calm before the inevitable clash.
He drew back his fist.
Really… fight or flight is a choice of luxury.
A fucking luxury, he will never have in this miserable lifetime.
//PART TWO
rating: PG-13
sample: "They're just like dogs. Snarling, hissing, growling as they wrestle each other into the ground."
Wrote this for the kink meme but I-I can't find it in my heart to complete it... it's fine the way it is.
- - - - -
They're just like dogs. Snarling, hissing, growling as they wrestle each other into the ground.
Fuck me? Hell no, no, no.
It's fucking fuck you.
A brutal knee to the ribs makes Gokudera’s fingers twitch which makes the burn on his wrist sing. Oh how he’d love to blow something up in this asshole’s face. Bang. Bang. Bang. He can just picture a thousand angles and all with Hibari’s stupid-narrow-slits-for-eyes widening in surprise in that frozen millisecond before the blossoming roar of light and fire. So what if he’s too close? It’ll be worth getting his face burned off just to see it, just to be there to grab this rare chance by the throat. But his explosives are nothing more than ash in the wind because for the first time in years Gokudera’s run Dry. Dry. Dry. However the sacrifice is far from meaningless: Hibari’s own tonfa lay abandoned in the dirt, broken and dented.
When the dust cleared he couldn’t believe it either. Hibari just stared at the scrap metal in his hands before raising them slowly.
He hurled them to the ground. The hollow clang of steel ringing into the empty lot sent a shiver up Gokudera’s spine. Was it a spoiled child’s tantrum? Or a shark merely spitting out a chipped tooth?
He didn’t have time to think any further because Hibari was up in his face, his eyes burning and murderous and clenching Gokudera’s hand in a merciless grip. The abrupt breach of personal space made Gokudera freeze for a disastrous moment. Thought Hibari hated crowds. Hated people. Hated contact. Hated touching. Hated-
Finger tips traced his lips, too deliberate to pass off as a mere brush. They lingered before the man delicately plucked his cigarette from his mouth-
Oh.
-and stubbed it out on the inside of his wrist.
FUCK.
But he didn’t scream, he couldn’t let himself utter a single hiss, not when Hibari’s deadpan stare was drilling into the depths of his own eyes. Watching. Measuring. Weighing. Judging. Like every shade of white his face turned, like every sharp intake of breath, like every fluttering blink was a sign of something. Something that affected some sick twisted equation in Hibari’s fucked up mind.
Realization dawned on him like a deer caught in the headlights of a freight train when a smirk curled Hibari’s pale lips. A tongue darted out but wet them slow and it was like a period to punctuate Gokudera’s death sentence.
He was a herbivore no more in the eyes of Hibari Kyouya.
Hibari jerked him closer, smiling like a razor. Gokudera’s wrist still stung with pain but he was strangely calm before the inevitable clash.
He drew back his fist.
Really… fight or flight is a choice of luxury.
A fucking luxury, he will never have in this miserable lifetime.
//PART TWO