Disclaimer: If this was mine it wouldn't be on a site for Fanfiction. This one is really not mine though, because it belongs to my Beta's sister, who is awesome. Find her other stuff on this very site, under the name 'MadRabbit'. The only thing I own is the title, which is my name for Gokudera in stories that follow this general plotline.
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn.
Characters: Gokudera Hayato (sort of), Rokudo Mukuro (kind of), and various others in passing (approximatly).
Warnings: Don't read this if you're easily offended by parodies, because this is one. This is for all the people who's stories end with Gokudera turning into someone's whiny little bitch, but not for the people who take that kind of fanfiction seriously. Don't hate, people.
Other: My Beta tells me (I don't know how she knows, but I trust her) that the most common word used in this fic that isn't a name is the word 'sexy' or some kind of variation. I wish I had written this...
Gokudera is running. In the dark. Why, precisely? Because statistics show that humans are twenty-five percent more likely to run in fear while in a darkened area. But I digress. You see, he is inconveniently low on dynamite, blood, friends, and sanity, all of which contribute significantly to his horrified state of mind. In the paralyzing and frankly uncharacteristic terror that has gripped him, Gokudera trips and dashes through the thick, clinging, bewildering, swirling, dark darkness. It is very dark.
Because it is necessary to reach the meat of the story as quickly as possible, Gokudera, the Smokin' Bomb, fearsome Vongola Right-hand Man, is assaulted from behind and drops, unconscious, like a sack of potatoes. He lies there, bleeding out messily but not unattractively onto the forest floor.
For he is, indeed, in a forest. Now that I come to think of it.
Actually, not anymore. Now he is in a cold, dark room of the sort where Very Bad Things happen.
"Hnnngh," says Gokudera, with weak and girlish conviction. He tries to move and discovers that his slender, lily-white manicured hands have been secured above his head in the sexiest way possible.
"Damn," he growls, freaking a little. "Not again…!" he knows that shortly growling will leave his repertoire of author-relegated skills and probably pass to whoever comes into the room next. This person, male, will have a very direct schedule in mind—ostensibly torture and information-gathering, two agendas which invariably have only one ulterior motive, even if the perpetrator is actually heterosexual.
Of course, it must be noted that by this point, Gokudera will have passed well beyond the realms of masculinity and his already limited vocal talents for the purpose of this story will have been reduced to whimpering, moaning, and other such high-pitched ululations.
If he is lucky, it will be someone he likes.
"I've been watching you for some time now," says Rokudo Mukuro's voice, silky and deep and sourceless.
Damn. So much for that.
"And how's that been going for you?" He growls, a little tremulously. Damn!
"Immensely boring," says Mukuro sexily, appearing before Gokudera in a swirl of sexy, dark mist. He exudes enigmatic seme-ness. Gokudera can feel the fiery, manly Mafioso of his soul waning, and grimaces.
"Do your worst."
"Such bravado is pointless, Gokudera Hayato," says Mukuro huskily. "Kufufu…once I'm finished, all the information of the Vongola will be mine."
"So you're going to use the influence you got over me during our first battle to take the answers out of my brain?" Says Gokudera, restraining the hope in his voice (barely). (Sorry, Tenth.)
"That would make too much sense," purrs Mukuro, "and should my usual sexily bloody…torture methods fail, you will at least be…anemic enough to excuse your pathetic behavior during the…techniques that follow…kufufu…"
Gokudera, still conscious enough to notice the extensive use of suggestive ellipses, forces himself into one last stretch of bravado in the apparently terrifying darkness of the room.
"If it comes to that, why didn't you just take off my clothes in the first place?"
"Well now, that wouldn't be sexy, would it?" breathes Mukuro, who is slowly running out of sexy ways of talking. Eventually, the author will be forced to re-use "purrs" and "huskily". "I would much rather remove them slowly and teasingly, probably with my trident."
I am horrified and yet strangely aroused, thinks Gokudera, as he always seems to end up doing. But because there was no sexual tension in consensual sexual acts, he says "I am not a whore."
"Just keep telling yourself that, darling," purrs Mukuro sexily, and pulls his own jacket open to reveal his preciously undisclosed rock-hard abs, which gleam like white seashells in the blackness. He is paler than an eyeless, soft-skinned deep-sea fish.
Apparently, Gokudera finds this sexy as well. Straining for straightness and normality, he manages to croak, "What about Chrome? I though…you…were straight…"
This is not strictly true. However, it's the best last-ditch defense he can think of.
"That was an illusion," whispers Mukuro, and begins to slice away Gokudera's shirt with impressively precise strokes of his trident. Then he shoves his pale, sexily creepy/creepily sexy face into Gokudera neck, which makes The Other Boy (TM) whimper like a weepy little girl. One cue, Mukuro chuckles sexily and then growls possessively and goes after Gokudera's pants. Various atrocities are then committed upon Gokudera's pale, slender, smooth-skinned, rosy-lipped, emerald-eyed, apparently delicious and irresistible person.
After several inordinately long paragraphs of these explicit endeavors, repeated until total ukefication has been induced, the two lie there, panting and sweating and doing various other things one generally expects after vigorously intimate activities.
"You know I love you in a unique, twisted, and faintly sado-masochistic way, Hayato-kun," breathes Mukuro in his deep, sexy, silky, husky, sexy voice, his white, rock-hard abs heaving like seagulls floating on the arctic swells.
Yes, Mukuro-sama," moans Gokudera prettily, kind of hating himself but not really because, let's face it; he doesn't really count as Gokudera Hayato anymore.
"What about me?" cries Tsuna weakly from off-screen, making a last-ditch attempt at canon.
"I am conflicted," says Gokudera-thing sadly, and then goes to make sweet, fiery love with some guy he was supposed to hate.
And it is very, very sexy. The ostensible purpose of interrogation is forgotten and Chrome is…who, again?
(Somewhere else: )
"I feel affection for you," said Xanxus throatily.
"Oh God," said Squalo.
(The End)
Poor Squalo. IT'S RAPIN' TIMEZ NAO. TT_TT