In the morning, Mukuro makes an effort to look as presentable as he possibly can. He wipes the dried semen off the corner of his mouth, reties his hair and arranges the blanket to hide any bruises and cuts that appeared during the night.
He cannot use his illusions and even if he could, he would never waste his strength on something so trivial. After all, it is not how he looks that had kept him alive thus far. Nonetheless, his pride prevents him from looking anything but composed and serene. When the mafia boss wakes, he will calmly look down on him and wait for his answer as though his life does not depend on it.
The room is painted white, and bright light filters in through the large clean window. From the angle of the bed he is sitting in, he can see a branch of a tree and the clear blue sky. Pure, beautiful sky. Pure, naïve, dead, bloody, unmoving sky. How he hates it so. How he hates how sanitised the room feels. How he hates how he cannot strangle the man lying next to him because he's probably already awake, only feigning sleep to observe him breaking down.
Only he is not. He's disappointed yes, but the occurrence of last night had only made his goal shift from Vongola to Millefiore, the latter closer yet considerably more difficult than his late debatable-boss.
"Good morning, Mukuro-kun~."
And the white demon is awake. The illusionist shifts his expression into an amiable smile and tilts his head slightly, waiting for his answer. His throat feels too dry; he decides not to risk talking lest it comes out in a rasp.
The book is on the floor, too far for him to reach, so he talks from memory, improvises, and distracts. The details he makes up, but he stays true to the basic storyline.
The forty thieves and the cave of treasures, the impoverished youth who overhears them and speaks the magic words.
"I remember this, it's—"
"Open Sesame, and the entrance of the cave releases its secret."
They watch the screen as a determined young boy strides into the vision of the ground floor camera. They watch his surprise as he discovers a receptionist at the end of the hall.
A receptionist. At the entrance of a mafia base. In the middle of the night.
The look of confusion increases on the Vongola heir as he sits uncertainly on the seat the woman had gestured to. He leans forward, ready to stand and fight at the slightest warning.
"The boy tells of the treasure cave to his rich, greedy brother and that night, the brother visits the cave as well. Being consumed by his voracity for wealth, he forgets the words to exit the magic cave and is captured by the thieves, overpowered, although he was quite the capable fighter."
Byakuran chuckles. Mukuro decides to respond with indifference.
The woman dials a number and their phone rings. Cheerfully, Byakuran moves away from the bed and picks it up, telling her to guide him through. The woman motions for the boy to follow him, and they walk out of sight of the camera.
"What happens next, Mukuro-kun? Does the brother die?" He leans forward and draws squares on the illusionist's stomach with his nails. Mukuro considers whether he should deviate from the original.
And the thieves and the brother lived happily ever after. The brother killed the lead thief and lived happily ever after. The brother succeeds in manipulating both the thieves and his brother then lived happily ever after.
He decides to go with the original storyline.
"…And the next time the boy enters the cave, he finds a corpse of his missing brother, diced up into tiny pieces and displayed as a warning for anyone who sees. The boy takes his brother home and stiches the body back together. Finding the corpse vanished; the thieves go in search of the one who entered their treasure cavern."
"But that won't happen here, will it? Let's wait for Tsunayoshi-kun before we continue on with the story." The Millefiore's fingers inch down from his chest to his hips, then he spreads his hand out, gently stroking as though reassuring an insecure lover.
Mukuro waits silently, hoping his movements will not be as restricted for long.
Tsuna walks in with the receptionist. The woman leaves and shuts the door noiselessly as the Vongola boss stares, comprehends, and then prepares to attack.
The fight concludes like every other fight that had occurred for the last several nights- with the loser equally as unharmed as the victor but nevertheless completely defeated.
Byakuran waves to where Mukuro sits waiting, takes the man's trident, then makes a small scratch on the unconscious Tsuna's arm. Finishing his job, he strolls over to the illusionist, anticipating the warmth of blood on his fingers with a grin slightly less artificial than normal. He climbs on to the mattress, straddles over his hips and without warning stabs down, using all his strength and momentum to pierce all the way through with Mukuro's own weapon. It is this moment that Byakuran enjoys the most.
He watches and compares Mukuro's reactions from the previous night, taking note of how rapidly he appears to give up on life. He presses down on his neck to check his pulse.
There is a risk. The possession skill had weakened with every pass over. The first few times the passing had been almost instantaneous but with every night, Byakuran observed how closer Mukuro had become to being trapped in a bloody corpse.
Tsuna coughs, and then laughs quietly in that soft, distinct way that Byakuran could recognise immediately. Not tonight, he is still strong enough for another attempt.
A new mobile body, this time one with immense power. Mukuro stands ready, sifting through his new vessels knowledge as he readies himself to fight against the Millefiore boss once again. He has experience through the past nightly battles and knows that with him, Byakuran prefers to fight solely with physical force. His trident is thrown towards him and he catches it with ease.
Then it begins.
As usual, Mukuro is the first to attack. He swings his trident in a graceful arc then slams it down, creating illusions of the floor rippling out like water. Lotus grows rapidly away from him, all aiming towards Byakuran in an attempt to confine his movements. He checks whether he can use Tsuna's powers while his opponent is distracted. A brief moment when the gloves light up, then the flame is gone, out of his reach. He tests to see if Tsuna is conscious but he is still unresponsive, and Byakuran is making his way towards him.
Byakuran smacks his forehead, and it is humiliating because he could not dodge away in time and again because it's not even a proper attack. The grin is still there on the mafia boss but Mukuro could tell he was mildly disappointed. The trident falls on the floor as he is held still by a lung-crushing hug.
"You lost again, Mukuro-kun~. Tsuna-kun lasted far longer than you did, and it makes me wonder if you really are as strong as you claim. Now," he pushes down the illusionist to his knees "you lost so you know what's next."
Mukuro explores inside Tsuna's mind. All he finds are his memories, as the true occupant of this body is no longer present. As he unzips white pants and moves his mouth closer, and as he watches Byakuran give a slight shiver when he exhales onto exposed skin, he thinks up plans and discards them one after another. This could be his last chance. He doubts he could defeat the man in any other body.
He holds the base with one hand and licks up slowly, letting his tongue rest at the tip and swirls it gently before kissing back down. He repeats the movement then opens his mouth and pushes himself forward, letting his mouth cover and surround all the way up. He feels the cock harden completely with his tongue.
Hands in his hair control the rhythm. He sucks, chokes, and then decides to bite down but before he could act upon it, he is pulled away. His teeth drag against tight skin before his mouth is left empty.
The strike against his jaw is flat handed, and with the ringing in his ears, he cannot hear what Byakuran is saying to him. He realises in disgust that he lost control. He should have been preparing for a second attack while he distracted the man with his hand and mouth.
Too late now, so he stands and holds his trident. Byakuran zips up and straightens with a smirk.
And they start again.
The third fight of the night ends with a dislocated shoulder and a shattered left femur. Mukuro breathes heavily, and the red of his cursed eye flickers like a flame. He tries one last time, attempts to draw out Tsuna's power but fails.
First came Chrome. Then the next night rain, then thunder, sun, storm, cloud and now finally, sky. There is nobody left that the Millefiore boss could possibly invite and tomorrow, when he is stabbed for the last time, there will not be a vessel left for him to escape into. This was his last chance and all he managed to do was give the man an insipid blowjob.
Byakuran hums a simple tune as he rips fabric as though it is wrapping paper. Mukuro smiles mindlessly.
If he concentrated hard enough, perhaps he could make memory feel more vivid than reality. For the second time, he shuffles through the past thoughts of Sawada Tsunayoshi and pauses as he realises that this child, this powerful yet completely vulnerable idiot of a boy had come here not out of curiosity as to why Byakuran had invited him, but purely with the intention of saving him.
Mukuro realises he is laughing. Laughing to prevent himself from shouting and kicking and he needs to keep a cool head, there should still be a way for him to…
"Good morning, Mukuro-kun~."
And the white demon is awake. The illusionist shifts his expression into an amiable smile and tilts his head slightly, waiting for his answer. His throat feels too dry; he decides not to risk talking lest it comes out in a rasp.
"We had lots of fun last night, didn't we? I think we should play again tonight." Byakuran stands and stretches his arms. He rolls his shoulders as he turns back to the illusionist.
Mukuro remains still. He keeps his expression neutral.
Byakuran's grin widens even further.
"Will you tell me the rest of that story? I have a surprise package from Vendicare for you~."
Mukuro blinks. Bluebeard gives his beloved Scheherazade another final chance.
AN: So I don't own anything.