They are both legal here, that's important to mention I think ^^'.
Disclaimer: I don't own KHR.
This is a first for me with this pairing, and I really love it- the story I mean hihi.
Enjoy!
Sexual Attraction
The young woman is fucking beautiful. Fran is aware of this, has been aware of this for a while now, ever since his pubescent body let hormones rage through him and take over his mind, putting in terms and adjectives for the spitfire, glamorous bitch (not to be mean, there is just really no other word better suiting her) that he never would've come up with when he was still a prepubescent snot-nosed brat.
M.M. strides across the Kokuyo den, steps long but curt, her shapely legs covered by high-heeled boots that come halfway up unto her thighs, made of supple brown "suede" (He doesn't know what that means, but it looks like it would be nice to rub his cheek against). Creamy skin peeks out from between the edges of those boots and her flaring skirt, made of some kind of light blue material that she hasn't told him the name of, and Fran is confident that she knows exactly how much she is teasing any hot-blooded man (and woman) looking.
Except him.
She seems to be blissfully unaware of the fact that the green-haired, green-eyed kid that she's practically helped raise is actually in possession of a libido. Fran doesn't really mind this. It saves him from suffering through incessant teasing, that's for sure.
Except that it doesn't. Not when the young woman, so incredibly sexy and so incredibly good at using that to her every end, flaunts herself subtly, simply by dressing in a way that shows her off in a way she knows is mouth-watering. Inducing stupidity in the minds of all males watching her, enough so to drive them to spend ridiculous amounts of money to be allowed to go on a single date with her.
A date. Not to go to bed.
Sometimes her victims forget that. She is good at reminding them. The corner of Fran's lips curls up as he remembers the image that the last imbecile made when M.M. was done with his ass.
Ahh, she is as vicious in her style of fighting as she is in her bitching.
And she can bitch. Damn, can she bitch. Fran holds a respect for that. As a master-bitcher himself. He must say that he has learnt some things from her, definitely. Can't help it, as they have been spending their lives together since he was eight.
'Hey, you! Brat! Come over here and help me out with this! I don't want this shit to stain my clothes.'
Fran blinks at her, then shifts his jade gaze to the "shit" standing a few inches in front of her booted feet.
Ah. She wants him to carry the muddy boxes filled with technological equipment for her. She's an awe-inspiringly good hacker, but like anyone using tools, she needs the required material to work her magic. His pineapple-headed shishou has gotten his hands on these (indirectly, of course) and they're supposed to help her do something that he doesn't understand, but is crazily effective.
Fran slides off the crumbling wall he's been using as a seat and struts over to her lazily, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his short trousers. Once he's close enough to hear the toe of her boot tapping impatiently against the cracked stone floor, he nonchalantly glances down at the cardboard boxes.
He takes one more look at the pointed expression in her purple eyes before sighing heavily and bending down. He sneaks a surreptitious look at her creamy thighs while he's down there, squinting to see if he can catch a glimpse of her panties. He can't. He folds his hands around the boxes, realises they're too heavy to carry like this and crouches lower instead, straightening his back to carry them properly. The three boxes stacked atop each other are heavy as hell, considering they're filled with metal and wiring, but he's too lazy to walk to and fro her "office" more times than absolutely necessary, so he lifts them all op in one go. It's not too heavy, he can manage. It pays to have a master who does not disregard the strength of the body in favour of the strength of the mind.
A warm breeze brushes past, bringing in the spicy air from outside. Though there are so little walls still standing around here that inside is practically outside.
Fran has his heavy load three inches off the ground when that same traitorous breeze lifts M.M.'s loose skirt, making it flutter around her thighs. Of course he's been looking, and the boxes crash to the stone underground with a muted metallic clanging, the woman shrieking in outrage and hopping back in a way that she even manages to make look elegant.
She's not wearing any panties.
Fran is stuck in his crouched, bent over position, hands still holding air-boxes while the real ones lay on the ground. He swallows, still staring at the spot where he's seen his first ever womanly flesh.
Asdflkjrielhv-
'YOU IDIOT!' Her piercing shriek is so sudden to his slowed mind that he literally topples over comically. The kick she delivers to his now aching shin is just as sharp as her voice was just now and he winces theatrically before quickly scrambling out of reach.
Luckily, the dangerous woman finds it more important to check her goods than to murder her unhelpful associate and crouches beside the boxes, folding the flaps open snappily and searching through the contents. She is uncommonly gentle while doing so, sliding her dainty hands inside and fingering the metal to see if there are any dents. After a few minutes that Fran spends holding his breath, eyes fixed on her lap, her short skirt not hiding a whole lot when she's sitting on her haunches like that, M.M. stands back up with a sigh of relief.
Then she promptly kicks him again.
'Owww...' He half-yelps, rubbing his no doubt bruised lower leg and looking up at her with an uncertainty that she doesn't spot- she's so used to him not showing any clues that she's stopped looking for them.
It's why she didn't care to fold her skirt in between her thighs while crouching, and also why she,
'WHY THE HELL DID YOU DROP THEM YOU FLAKY IDIOT?! IF THEY'D BEEN DAMAGED MUKURO-SAMA WOULD BE PISSED AS HELL! YOU'RE SO FUCKING LUCKY, YOU HEAR ME?!'
doesn't suspect that he's dropped them because of the effect she's just had on him.
Fran draws his face back, away from her outburst and mumbles 'Flaky...?'
Breathing heavily through her nose, the woman turns sharply, this time giving him a generous view of her voluptuous, perfect behind when her skirt whips up. Fran's mouth falls open and he swallows thickly, feeling suddenly incredibly thirsty.
'Carry them to my room and IF YOU DROP THEM AGAIN I'M GOING TO SKIN YOU, YOU SNOT-NOSED BRAT!'
Fran can only work himself up and carefully restack the boxes, managing to lift them properly this time to carry them after the fuming lady. Words are failing him at the moment. He leans back slightly to let the boxes lean against his chest and not overbalance the other way.
M.M. leads him to her room/office, swaying her hips in short, aggravated movements that are thankfully hidden from his view by the boxed technology- if not, her equipment would perish and then so would he.
In her office/bedroom, he lowers his burden to the fluffy rug on the floor, very careful not to make the stack fall over again. The woman is tapping her foot yet again and tsk-s when he finally manages to safely unload. He straightens up and stares at her, still speechless as he stands there, helpless like a puppy dog after seeing so much of her.
'What?' She snaps once she realizes he's not moving. Ignoring him the very next second, she strides over and opens the top box, beginning to unpack what she needs.
Fran doesn't know what to say or do. He knows what he needs, but he is also fairly sure she'll cut off his dick if he tells her.
After a while of his silence, she glances back at him, irritated expression on her dainty, perfect features. Fran swallows some more saliva.
'What? What do you want, brat?'
Yoooouuuuuuu...
He gestures helplessly, mouth working fruitlessly, and then realizes that in her bent over position, her low cut, brightly-coloured top is giving him a lot of insight when it comes to her physique.
'Hungh-' Is what he manages to come up with, jade eyes glued to her so, so huuungghh cleavage.
M.M. pauses in the midst of her next crabby retort. Her sharp purple eyes narrow and focus on his, follow his line of sight.
Oh.
Really? The brat has that kind of interests?
Unholy amusement fills the redhead's expression for a fleeting moment and then it's gone, replaced by a sugary, innocent expression that Fran should never buy, but she's going to try out how far his normal-ness goes.
Let's see if she can reduce this annoyingly unaffected illusionist to nothing but the pubescent boy he really is.
Her mental grin evil, M.M. moves around her stack of cardboard containers, slow and catlike, every inch of her action showing off the curves of her body. Humorously, his eyes stay stuck to her cleavage all the while and miss that completely, nothing but his jade irises moving with her. Holding back laughter, she slinks up to him, watching his attractive green eyes widen when he realizes she has just put herself very much into his personal bubble. No more than two inches separate them and his recent growth spurt does nothing to prevent him from coming nearly face to chest with her- his eyes are level with her clavicle bones, something that makes him unbelievably thirsty once more, and he need do nothing but lower his eyes (which he does) to see that he is literally breathing down onto her soft, warm, perfectly proportioned, warm, soft, haaaaahhh breasts.
'Hiungh-' This time passes for his question as to what- no, never mind, he's not actually capable of thought. Hasn't been since the first flash of her enticing flesh.
'Fran~'
His eyes snap up to hers, dazed. They lower to her full, shimmering lips and he notices something fruity in the air- cherries, perhaps, probably her lip balm.
Unngggggggghh...
Her usually shrill voice caresses his ears with a smooth, seductive hum and he feels himself falling hopelessly into a pit of arousal. He squeals something with a question mark at the end.
M.M. pushes herself up onto her toes, hearing him choke when her breasts are this close to brushing his face and she smirks evilly above his green head. A slim-fingered hand slides up the young man's (still a boy, really) chest, making his loose tank top bunch and pull in the wake of it and making him jerk and pull away reflexively before settling again to let it happen. The sly woman enjoys the hitching of his breath and appreciates his firmly toned chest- Mukuro-sama really knows what he's on about with that "illusionists should not be powerful in mind only" that he always spouts at Fran when the brat is complaining about the taxing training.
He's filling out rather well, actually.
Fran can only watch and feel, completely out of it, a rush in his ears, a line of fire tracking up his chest and M.M.'s pretty, beautiful face smiling at him in a way that makes her heart-shaped features stand out their prettiest.
Another mangled sound releases itself from the confines of his throat.
M.M. leans close, down, and just when Fran's heart stops beating and he thinks he's going to get his first ever kiss (and nearly comes in his fucking pants), the devious woman tilts her head to the side and a warm breath softly brushes his ear.
He squeaks.
She smiles.
He still nearly creams his fucking pants.
'Fran...'
A shudder walks down his limbs at the tone of voice she uses, absolutely seductive, sweet and with an undertone as though she is asking him... something, something he wishes he understands right now. Her breath caresses his ear and makes him feel a white-hot tremor in his lower belly, almost makes him moan.
She keeps saying his name and it's killing him.
Her face comes back into view, long lashes fluttering at him.
Well, there went his poker-face, M.M. thinks smugly, highly satisfied with herself. His face is openly displaying a desperately aroused longing, his expression stark with it. A small line of electricity in her abdomen answers him, but she knows herself and what she thinks of him well enough not to be surprised- he is turning into one hot piece of man, even if he is absolutely insufferable.
Although... lately he hasn't been so bad.
Her tickling nails have reached the corner of his jaw and he shudders visibly, eyes narrowing briefly and his lips parting. She gives him her sweetest, most innocent-but-actually-I'm-a-vixen look through her dense lashes, watches his eyes grow wide and darker than they already were. Fingertips stroke the skin she's tickled, making his eyes close completely, and Fran truly thinks he must have died and gone to heaven, because this kind of sensation just can't exist on earth, now can it?
A high-pitched whimper of pure need leaves his lips when her breath billows out over them, sending the heat in his belly up higher until it fills his torso, his chest where he can still feel her single questing fingertip ghosting through his tank top, even though it's long gone. His breath is heavy when her fingers finally close around the back of his neck, his jade eyes closing as he drowns in the sensations.
'Hungh...'
Well, his noises are still monotone. She thinks, amused.
M.M. is not unaffected by his behaviour in response to her. She takes the final step closer, presses her entire body up flush against his.
Fran's mouth drops open, his chest rising and falling rapidly while the luscious one of her, those two soft round mounds, cushion his chin and he feels his knees go weak beneath him. Heat ricochets through his skin like electricity and makes his head impossibly light. Her thighs and knees brush his, sending flashes of what those booted legs look like through his mind and he jerks forward involuntarily, hearing her surprised noise at the sudden contact. It only spurs the searing heat growing inside his body on, making him want to drape his arms around her, put his hands on her womanly waist.
So he does, braindead.
M.M. feels her own heart pounding behind her ribcage, not yet quite as fast as his, but still. Her purple eyes are wide, not having anticipated that sudden move of his, and certainly not the bold hands dropping onto her hips, sliding the tiniest of increments up and down to explore the feeling of a woman under his hands.
He isn't supposed to make a move back.
Still, she continues with her initial plan, not one to be daunted so easily.
'Open your eyes, Fran...' She whispers unto his passion-reddened lips, breathlessness not entirely fake as she shifts the side of her hip into him, not expecting the feeling of his hand moving with the motion, twitching. There is a sliver of naked skin between the waistband of her soft skirt and her rougher top, and he finds it flawlessly, sucking in an audible breath when two of his fingers slide onto her warm soft skin, his attention immediately fixated on it.
M.M. holds back a quiet huff, a mixture of amusement and exasperation.
His eyes open though, giving her front-row seats to the darkened jade depths. Her breath catches in her throat. She tightens the grip her slim fingers have on the back of his neck and starts to slowly draw him to herself. Those dark eyes widen and his breathing spurs out of control-
Fran wheezes against her lips when they finally, after eons of time, press against his. He goes cross-eyed before his eyes shut completely. M.M. clearly knows what to do and he follows her lead in the coaxing kiss, making him breathless with hunger, tilting his head to fit against her instinctively. Her soft lips are making his brain, already gone up in smoke, short-circuit like he's gone mad, the unbelievable soft pressure of them against his own thinner ones running heat through him like he's got a hot iron shoved into every part of him.
His everything is melting as he tries to go slow, somehow responding to her frailty that he is recognizing only now, or maybe he always has but only now is he realizing it is something important- she is leading the way and taking it easy, so he follows, but-
'Haaaahhh,'
His mouth parts against hers to breathe harshly, his lungs feverishly working to get enough oxygen inside.
M.M. is not much better off, on her end. Her full, red-painted lips tremble against his surprisingly strong ones, suddenly not knowing what to do when this simple touch is making her knees go weak and turning her belly into heated liquid.
Hagh. Because of Fran?
And all of a sudden, the young man in front of her loses control of himself.
M.M. lets loose a shriek of surprise when she's abruptly flying through the air, the loose arc dumping her on her own bed, where she bounces a little on the mattress with her covers floating up around her. Bewildered and quite dazed, she tries to reorient herself, only to look up and see Fran leaping for her with a wild look in his dark, focussed eyes.
M.M. pales and grows incredibly hot all at the same time, a startled shriek of
'Fran watch out-!'
unable to complete itself when the young man in question lands on top of her, on his hands and knees around her, those hungry eyes fixed on hers. She squeaks in a breath and raises her hands, not sure what she's going to do with them. Fran lowers himself to her before she can decide and she arches into him when all of a sudden his hot mouth latches on to the crook of her neck, laving, sucking, biting and she lets out a whine she never has before. His startlingly strong hands with those broad, warm palms are everywhere- the excited teenager touching her everywhere he can find a patch of bare warm skin. Stunned and staring up at the cracked ceiling with wide eyes, she can only lay there and take it, gasping when his heaving mouth returns to hers, kissing her senseless in a matter of minutes.
When the two wobble back out of her room some hours later, Mukuro is there to greet them. A sly smirk plays around his thin lips and his eyes twinkle, although slightly evilly.
'Oya, oya,' he purrs, one of M.M.'s discarded magazines in his long fingers as he sits cross-legged on the armrest of a worn couch, 'it's good to see you two have finally gotten rid of all that sexual tension.'
M.M. is too busy being dreamy to care about his teasing and floats off, headed for a nice corner outside that she knows, where she can sit in the sun and remember the way Fran has gone down on her, doing things with his mouth with such enthusiasm that she had trouble getting him to stop after the third consecutive time he'd driven her out of her head. And then... Haaaahhh...
Fran is too busy being insanely happy and proud of himself to give a flying fuck about anything, and follows the pretty lady outside like a puppy connected to her by an invisible leash.
Mukuro huffs to himself, eyes sparkling as he watches the two. The satisfied Fran doesn't even seem to realize that he's following M.M. around, while the girl, for the first time in all the time their youngest addition has been with them, doesn't shriek at him to leave her alone.
'Wh-Hey! What the hell are you following me around for?!'
Ah, scratch that last thought. Although she does sound flustered instead of pissed, which is a marked improvement.
'Ahh, round two?'
'What do you mean, round- THAT WAS ONLY ONE ROUND?!'
And, after the initial shock wears off and some thoughtful silence, there comes a much more subdued
'You can go again already?!'
A moment later, Mukuro's heterochromatic eyes follow his subordinates storming back into M.M.'s room, the Little One being dragged by the wrist (though looking infinitely happy to be so), and the door slams closed hard behind them, flakes of paint falling off the walls around it.
He chuckles quietly and flips the page, considering relocation (the walls are not exactly soundproof, what with all the holes in them).
Well, that's that and please review!
~Kiwi Erin