Standard disclaimers apply. Written for the KHR kink meme, and here for archive purposes. Read at your own discretion.
.-.
Tsuna groaned, and for the second time in all twenty-one years of his relatively short (or miraculously long, seeing as assassination attempts started when he was only fourteen) life, wished he wasn't male. His wrists hurt, goddamn it, and for the umpteenth time, futilely attempted to break free of the accursed tie that just, wouldn't, snap. His necktie, as a matter of fact, one he had received a mere hours earlier amidst a chorus of "Happy Birthday!" and "Congratulations!" Haru had given it to him all the while urging him to try it on, babbling about how red was in fashion and what not. Something seemed off at the time, but unable to pinpoint the cause, Tsuna had brushed it aside, not one to refuse such a seemingly simple and innocent request.
Come to think of it, Haru seemed awfully friendly with her lately, and didn't she mention about going on an all-girls shopping spree with Kyouko-chan and some others? His stomach curled, struck with belated realization.
A languid tongue lazily trailed down his chest, circling slowly before zoning in on his right nipple. Tsuna hissed, clenching his teeth as a jolt of pleasure went straight to his groin and his stomach fluttered with a completely different sensation. Damn. Here he was, firmly tied down, stripped to his boxers, and completely at the mercy of the woman who had come so close, dangerously close, to taking his and all he held dear's life.
Someone who was now removing his boxers and dear god, that's a really nice view down her shirt.
Shaking his head as he felt his already impossibly red cheeks heat up further, Tsuna dragged his mind away from all that involved hands and tongue and removing the battle-worn, half unbuttoned shirt to expose and, realized he was failing miserably in the attempt. He groaned, and furtively wished to stop the blood flowing down south. This didn't go unnoticed, and inwardly, he cursed the infamous Vongola intuition.
"Do you think it's unfair?" came a soft, seductive whisper as his boxers were unceremoniously tossed away (where was he?) and red eyes locked his gaze.
Unlike the exalted tenth generation leader, she was fully dressed. Granted, her once pristine blouse now sported burn marks and missing buttons, and her leather skirt was frayed from their earlier "400 Year Old Traditional Vongola Birthday Get-a-Chance-to-Beat-Dame-Tsuna-to-the-Ground Challenge Match," as Reborn had called it. Tsuna swears it was created not three minutes prior to the announcement, and solely to satisfy the hitman's own sadistic pleasure of seeing him squirm.
Said challenge was basically one-on-one matches to test his strength, within a ring where leaving meant an automatic loss. Consecutive one-on-one matches, until either Tsuna loses or he succeeds in defeating all the challengers. Surprisingly, quite a few people wanted to go first, despite the obvious disadvantages. He thought he had been doing quite well, managing to trick even Hibari to step outside. That had earned him a bone-chilling glare that promised blood and broken bones the next time they held sparring practice though. Regardless, he was barely breathing hard when she, the fiery Queen of Varia, stepped up with a gun in each hand, the cause of his current misfortune.
"Do you regret it?" that soft, seductive voice asks again, successfully recapturing Tsuna's full attention. Blood-red lips curved upward as slim fingers close around his hardening shaft and jerked. A lustful moan escaped his throat, deep and needy, as Tsuna threw his head back and rainbow stars dotted his vision. "Hesitating before delivering the final blow. You're still so soft, just like that useless, crippled old man. Soft and weak." Crimson eyes narrow she sneers, cruel and cold and loving at the same time. "It's because I'm female, a woman, a girl, isn't that right, Tsunayoshi?"
Another stroke, this time harder, causing his hips to buck and leaving him panting for more contact. She was right, of course. The Vongola intuition ran deep in her, as it did in him. Since an early age, Tsuna had been taught to never hit girls, regardless of the reason. The guilt and shock of seeing curves when the bandages around her chest unravel right before he zero-pointed her five years ago still lingered strong. Up to that point, he treated her as a man, because seriously, who would name their daughter Xanxus? Though thinking back, perhaps he had known all along, and was merely refusing to acknowledge it for the sake of survival.
"Answer me," was all the warning Tsuna got before he felt something hot and wet descend around the head of his arousal. He was not at all prepared for the sudden jolt of pleasure, the heat that engulfed his body. An experienced tongue swirled around him, licking, teasing, moist. Tsuna's mind blanked. It wasn't as if he'd never had any experience. He had, guiltily, jerked himself off to Kyouko-chan many times in the showers, and there was that one time with tequila and Gokudera and pineapple pudding.
But this, this was Xanxus of all people. And somehow, it's making him that much hotter.
Calloused hands graced across his inner thighs, sliding along sensitive skin while parting his legs further. Groaning and panting, Tsuna offered no resistance, carnal pleasure having completely taken over. Her mouth was now sliding along his shaft, gradually, sucking him in. He thrust forward, searching for a rhythm, a way for more friction, deeper. Arms twisted against their red restraint, matching the unusually bright orbs that never left Tsuna's flushed face.
And then they disappeared, her mouth also abandoning her previous post as she pushed his legs up and apart. Through half lidded eyes, he looked down, silently yearning, begging for the lost attention. He was so close, so close.
But years and years of enduring Reborn's Spartan-hell training didn't amount to empty air, and Tsuna wasn't boss of arguably the most powerful mafia family for no reason. Gathering what he could of his happily scattered mind and pushing his libido as far away as possible (which regrettably, wasn't very far, half-watching her lick her fingers like that) he panted in a breathy voice, "Xa-Xanxus, I don't-"
Before he could get any further, a finger roughly shoved its way up his ass and Tsuna screamed. Pain and shock and fear ran in shivers up his back, and he wished now, more than ever before, for a normal life that did not involve the mafia, sadistic hitmen, and certainly not an ex-enemy-now-turned-kind-of-ally molesting him in an unknown room. She was smiling, perfect white teeth flashing, licking her lips like a predator. Tsuna felt his vision blurring, recognizing the tell-tale signs as liquid pooled at the corner of his eyes.
"Pay back," she all but purred out, as another finger forced its way up. Tsuna felt his insides being torn apart. Between the pain and confusion, he no longer knew how to think, feeling her fingers move uncomfortably inside him, jerking, searching.
And then she did something, something that had Tsuna convulsing with spasms of ecstasy. The pain forgotten, eyes impossibly large, he could only stare while dark spots danced across his vision, before another jolt racked through him, tearing another scream from his throat, this time of pleasure.
Arching his back and gasping for breath, Tsuna squeezed his eyes shut and felt two cold streaks move down his burning cheeks. He vaguely recognized the feeling of teetering at the edge of consciousness, vaguely felt her fingers shift again. A third intruded his opening as fiercely as the previous two had, and just as another wave of pleasure washed over him, pushing him over the edge, Tsuna's world went black.
.-.
Xanxus stared at the man, the man who stole her rightful position, who lies helplessly before her, who is still full off childish dreams and ideals, and pulled her hand back. Carelessly dragged it across the sheets to wipe off splatters of his release.
"Passing out so easily like weak, worthless trash." Even though he wasn't weak, wasn't worthless, hard as it was to admit. A yawn escaped her, and she finally became aware of just how tired she was. Rushing to this party (not for him, but because the accursed Arcobaleno had threatened cut liquor funds) after three draining missions was taking its toll. The bed stood there, inviting. However, she was not so weak, so weak as to fall asleep here defenseless, where many, like that chain smoking bastard, would gladly have her head.
Sliding off the bed, she frowned at the passed-out Vongola Decimo. How easily it would to erase him here and now. How cowardly, and Xanxus was certainly no coward. She reached forward, eyes lingering on half parted lips, on already drying tear tracks, before untying the custom made crimson tie and tugging over a blanket.
She must really be tired, doing something like this, something so unlike her nature. This thought was enough for rage to boil, and the far wall stood testament to her anger. Unfortunately, blasting a gaping hole through any wall sets off the silent alarm. Well, she's not staying around and paying for damages. The Varia headquarters weren't terribly far from the main house.
With large, confident strides, the Queen of Varia strode towards the door with every intention of leaving in a flourish of grace and airs, but not before turning around for one last look. "You could have won, but today, it is my victory."
