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Dino likes that Hibari doesn't react much too much to him.

He likes that whenever he plants small, chaste kisses on Hibari's neck, Hibari doesn't even move to respond. He stays motionless and he tries to continue his afternoon nap, making the smallest of sounds to acknowledge the blond. Hibari doesn't care, really, until he's finally felt a spark of lust initiated by the Cavallone. Even still, the skylark doesn't do much work. He just lays there, placidly, almost as if trapped, under Dino's nice and slow ministrations.

Mukuro likes that Hibari reacts too much to him.

He likes that whenever he comes within Hibari's self-imposed danger zone, Hibari almost always jumps to a fighting stance. The boy narrows his eyes and glares, calmly telling Mukuro that this time -whatever Mukuro had just done- Hibari will not let it pass. They fight the customary fight they've always had and, when they finally reach their physical limits, and when they both fall to ground panting and cursing, when Mukuro pushes Hibari's buttons further that causes the skylark's self-control to snap, they fight again. Only this time, tonfas and spears are cast aside to use tongues and hands –and other various parts of the body- to battle for domination.

Sometimes, Dino can smell another man intermingling with his stoic Hibari's scent.

Sometimes, Mukuro can smell another man mixed with his feisty Hibari's scent.

Sometimes, they pass by each other along the hallway, in front of Hibari's quarters. Sometimes, it is the Cavallone closing the skylark's door: sometimes, it is the illusionist.

Dino's smile is so sickeningly sweet; it makes Mukuro's stomach churn. Mukuro's smirk is so smug; it makes Dino want to hit him hard until all his teeth fall off.

But then, there are times –there are very rare times- that when they're ready to pounce on each other and skin each other alive, and Hibari is around and keeping an eye on them, when the thin line on the skylark's mouth curves a little upwards –a smile so small that both contenders might as well assume that it is merely perceptual- that the two rivals congratulate themselves that everything –anything and everything they've been fighting each other for- is all worth it.