Title: Guilty Pleasure
Rating: T
Warning(s): Implied stuff. Affairs.
Prompt: IV - 32. TYL!Tsuna/Present Haru – Needs – Searing touches
Word count: 600
Summary: Those touches, burning her very skin, was the spring's guilty pleasure. And damn did she feel guilty.
...
She needed him. She needed him so, so badly.
She could never have him though.
Not in this present time.
There was always the future however.
Yet the future itself seemed bleak.
He was infatuated with another in this time.
If things went this way, nothing would ever happen.
So she took drastic measure.
She seduced him.
Not exactly him, but the 'him' of ten years later.
Her future self did not tattle, so that was a bonus.
But of course, her future self could not tattle.
Not when this affair was something she badly wanted herself.
Not when she couldn't forget about him.
Not when she was this guilty of herself.
Not when 'she' was technically cheating behind her best friend's back.
Even though 'she' was of ten years before.
It was easy.
All she had to do was bribe darling little Lambo into lending him her bazooka.
And all she had to do was be there when his wife couldn't be there.
It was easy.
She hadn't thought it would be easy, but apparently, 'he' was too lonely.
'He' needed someone there.
She felt guilt, immense crushing guilt but after the first time…
She couldn't stop.
Those searing touches he trailed on her skin, leaving goose bumps.
His touches burned, and she was hooked to the pain.
Addicted.
His touches were her drug.
His touches were her guilty pleasure.
And she was in far too deep to stop.
…
Many times she was nearly caught, only to be saved by the time limit which had been increased by the Bovino famiglia to change as per the user's wish.
And each time, she would avoid her best friend for days.
She was always able to come up with excuses, and her best friend, naïve little girl she was, never questioned her.
And that added to her guilt.
She would try to stop, but she would never be able to.
She would always be back again and again, many a time waiting for the perfect chance to let her feel those electrical touches again.
She would wait patiently, and he would touch.
And the pleasure, oh the pleasure.
It was like eating your favourite candy, smelling your favourite perfume.
Like watching your favourite painting come to life in your imagination, hearing your favourite music.
Touching your favourite texture; in her case silk.
It was like doing all of that at the same time, only better.
Way better.
It was her high.
It was her europhia.
And it always, without a doubt, comes crashing back down onto her.
…
Haru would lay there, shoulders bare, the rest of her porcelain body covered in a flimsy white sheet.
Her heart would be crushed, mind near insanity.
Her guilt.
It would choke her; killing her slowly.
Just as it did every time after he touches her.
Tears prickle at her eyes, body turn cold.
"I have to stop."
She would whisper, face contorted in some twisted agony.
But then 'he' would touch her.
And she would forget about what she had told herself.
It wasn't his fault, she knew.
It was her.
Her entire fault, through and through.
But desire drives people to drastic measures.
Especially someone like her.
She knew, she knew.
She would turn in the bed, facing to the adult man lying in bed with her.
She watched his eyelids flutter, brown hair matted with sweat.
Her pale hand reached up to touch his face, and with a kiss, she stood up and prepared to leave.
Only to be back again for more.
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