Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4864847.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Katekyou_Hitman_Reborn!
  Relationship:
      Dino_Cavallone/Hibari_Kyouya
  Character:
      Hibari_Kyouya, Dino_Cavallone
  Additional Tags:
      Established_Relationship, Age_Difference, Blow_Jobs, Hand_Jobs, Threats
      of_Violence, No_Plot/Plotless, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Inline
      with_canon, Anime_Spoilers, Manga_Spoilers
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-10-23 Words: 4137
****** Unsteady ******
by tastewithouttalent
Summary
     "There’s no indication of impatience in Hibari's voice, nothing to
     give away the physical threat he is pressing to Dino’s throat, except
     for the constant stalking tension that is ever there. 'You have
     usurped my authority.'" Dino sends away Kusakabe and Romario and has
     to deal with Hibari afterward.
When Dino steps into the hotel room, he’s greeted with the press of cold metal
against his throat.
He stops dead in his tracks, any attempt at forward motion stalled by the
threat of the weight now smooth at his neck. There’s no edge to the sensation;
it’s smooth metal, not the bite of a knife, and when Dino swallows he can feel
a familiar cylindrical curve against his skin. He didn’t need this proof of the
weapon in question anyway; there’s more than enough information to deduce what
it is in the steely eyes fixed on him, in the sweep of dark hair across pale
skin.
“Kyoya,” Dino says, feeling the way the syllables hum against the metal pressed
to his throat. “Hi.”
“Dino Cavallone,” Hibari says, fitting the name into the shape of intention as
he speaks. There’s no indication of impatience in his voice, nothing to give
away the physical threat he is pressing to Dino’s throat; there is only the
constant stalking tension that is everpresent on his tongue. “You have usurped
my authority.”
“What?” Dino asks, and Hibari pushes harder on the tonfa until Dino has to move
backwards or choke against the weight. He takes a stumbling step, catches his
shoelaces under his own foot and teeters, almost reaching out to catch himself
at Hibari’s shoulder before he manages to fall backwards instead of forwards.
The wall hits his shoulders with bruising impact, catches him as he slides to
the floor, and for a moment he’s flinching at the ache of the fall and too
distracted to meet Hibari’s gaze.
There’s a pause, silence from over him while Dino hisses hurt and reaches out
to rub at the promise of a bruise he can feel forming along his shoulderblade.
Then:
“You sent Romario away too,” flat and unsurprised.
“What?” Dino says again. When he looks up Hibari’s no longer threatening with
the tonfas in his hands; they’re at his sides, now, idle alongside the smooth
white of his shirt.
“You sent Kusakabe away,” Hibari announces, as certain as if he’s handing down
a verdict. “With Romario.”
“Oh.” Dino lets his shoulder go and leans back against the wall. “Yeah. I
thought they deserved the evening off.”
Hibari’s eyebrow comes up, drawing out an arch over the steady silver of his
eyes. “You thought.”
“It’s been days--” Dino starts, but Hibari takes a step in closer, his foot
sliding dangerously high between Dino’s sprawled-open legs, and whatever
explanation he intended to offer dies into tense panic on his tongue.
“You sent a member of my Disciplinary Committee away,” Hibari reiterates, and
understanding starts to form in Dino’s mind, the clarity of hindsight
suggesting the foolishness of his actions. Hibari’s shadowed by the light
behind him, his features made unreadable as much by the dim illumination as by
his usual stoicism. “Without speaking to me.”
“Ah,” Dino says. “I.” He coughs, attempts a laugh, drags up the best apologetic
smile he can muster. “I didn’t think?”
“Not well,” Hibari agrees. His hands are still steady on his tonfas, but
they’re not coming up to catch the light, at least not yet. “Were you
thinking?”
He makes it sound very nearly sincere, like he’s truly interested in the
answer. He might even be; even with years of practice Dino has never become
very good at reading Hibari’s moods, and the recent reversion to a ten-years-
younger version of his Kyoya has left him even more off-balance than he is
usually kept.
Dino clears his throat and attempts a sheepish grin. Usually falling into
assumed foolishness is enough to dull the edge of any anger that might aim
itself at him; it’s never been very effective on Hibari at any time, but it’s
the best he has to offer right now. Hibari just watches him, neither comments
nor bats at eye at Dino’s attempt at disarming charm. The steady consideration
of his gaze is enough to turn Dino’s laugh into something high and nervous and
far more sincere than it was to start.
“I just.” He hesitates; this is either going to go very well for him or very
poorly, and he has no idea which direction Hibari’s mood will swing.
Unfortunately, 50-50 odds are the best he has right now. “I thought it would be
nice to have you alone for a little while.” He clears his throat, the tension
of panic in his chest enough to dip his voice into the suggestively low range
he wants to hit. “Just the two of us.”
Hibari stares at him for a moment. He doesn’t move, either to swing a tonfa or
to voice a protest; his total lack of reaction is enough to jar Dino’s
certainty, to have him backwards-calculating Hibari’s age again, wondering if
maybe he’s speaking to far more of an innocent than he expects. But Hibari
knows him, knew him without the need for introductions, and if they’ve met
already then that means Dino’s overtures can’t possibly go misunderstood, even
if they are unwelcome.
“I see,” Hibari says finally. It’s neither the sudden agreement nor the abrupt
rejection Dino was braced for; his shoulders tighten with the confusion of it,
his mind skidding as he reaches for some kind of framework for Hibari’s steady
consideration. But the other’s composure is as unassailable as it ever is,
glass-smooth walls set behind his eyes to keep out even Dino’s excellent
intuition. “Alone.”
“Yeah,” Dino says, his voice trembling into nerves on that word. Hibari’s still
looking at him, his eyes just the same as they are -- as they will be -- in the
future, and for all his uncertainty Dino’s body is responding as if Hibari’s
stare is a siren song. “Together.”
“Mm,” Hibari hums, offering a weird threatening resonance under the sound that
tingles along Dino’s skin like static electricity. “What sort of activities did
you have in mind?”
Dino’s not sure he heard correctly for a moment. The words are undeniably
suggestive, the more so when touched with the elegant emphasis Hibari pressed
into the noun. But Hibari still looks calm, nearly bored, and for all that he’s
Hibari he’s still a teenager; there’s no way he can be so calm asking that
question while Dino is thrumming himself into tight-wound strain where he sits.
Dino tips his head back against the wall, frames his mouth around the shape of
a smirk. He’s slow with this one, offers far more of a taunt than he normally
would dare give to Hibari, at least without his weapons to hand, and when he
speaks he drawls the words long and heavy with suggestion.
“Kyoya,” and his knees go apart, his posture dipping into invitation as
Hibari’s eyes skip down to track the motion. “Are you sure you’re old enough to
hear?”
Dino is expecting a hiss, a threat, maybe the cold press of a tonfa against his
temple. He’s ready for that, prepared to take advantage of his greater size as
soon as Hibari is in range so he catch him into immobility. He’s not ready for
Hibari’s chin to come up, for his eyebrow to raise into amusement, and
he’s definitely not ready for the way Hibari’s foot slides sideways to press
against the inside of his thigh.
“Try me,” Hibari says, and Dino has a single heartbeat to process the tension
under the words, the tilt at the corner of his mouth, and is that amusement in
his eyes? Then Hibari’s foot presses up, the arch fitting against the inside
seam of Dino’s pants, and suddenly there’s friction, the careful press of toes
against the front of jeans, and any consideration of possible readings of
Hibari’s expression vanish in the rush of joint panic and interest that floods
Dino’s body.
“Oh,” he blurts, reaching up to grab at Hibari’s knee to hold off the danger of
more pressure. “Kyoya.”
“Speak,” Hibari commands. He can’t be oblivious to the way Dino’s rushing
heartbeat is surging into heat under the press of his foot or to the flush of
blood sweeping high across Dino’s cheekbones, but he appears wholly
disinterested, like it’s beneath his notice. He tilts his foot forward, presses
his toes in against Dino’s zipper, and Dino has to curl in against the
crippling surge of heat in his veins, his cock going so instantly hard his
arousal cramps heat into his stomach.
“I want you naked,” he blurts, fast and awkward as if it’s he who lost a decade
of experience. “I want you out of that jacket and away from your weapons and
just you.”
“My weapons,” Hibari repeats back. “You think I’m helpless without them?”
There’s a warning in the tone alone -- Dino doesn’t need the extra push against
his jeans to make the point -- but the rush of Dino’s racing heart is making
him lightheaded, making words hard to form.
“No,” he says, and the pressure eases, turning into something more like
friction as it drags a groan from his throat. “Ah. No, no, Kyoya, you’re never
helpless.” He shifts his shoulders, feels the ghost of scratches across his
back, the memory of teethmarks in his skin. “You’re just better without a
disguise.”
“Disguise.” Kyoya shifts his weight, his foot sliding back from Dino’s pants to
press flat to the floor. His ankle makes itself into a suggestion, offers
resistance Dino doesn’t quite dare to take yet. “So you want bare skin,” he
says, making the request into a mockery, twisting the words into a taunt. “And
then what? Admire my exhibitionism?”
“No,” Dino says, and he does rock forward then, brings his weight up over his
heels so he can push against Hibari’s foot. “I want to brace my hands against
your hips and lick against the inside of your thighs.” He’s hard at the front
of his jeans, is flushing hotter with every beat of his heart and every tilt of
his hips, and Hibari isn’t pulling away. “I want to suck your cock until you
can’t stand up straight.”
There’s pressure in Dino’s hair, fingers fisting into gold curls. Hibari’s
tonfas are gone, returned to their usual location at his hip sometime while
Dino was lost in the press of Hibari’s ankle against his jeans. “Have I become
so weak in the future that I let you speak like this to me?”
Dino has to laugh, his mouth cracking into a grin that he can feel glowing hot
in his eyes. “You don’t let me do much of anything.” When he blinks he can feel
his gaze dipping into shadow, can feel his lips parting into a suggestion even
before he touches his tongue slick and wet against his lower lip. “I just do it
anyway.”
There’s a tiny quirk at the corner of Hibari’s mouth, a tell Dino recognizes
even in this far more telltale version compared to the restrained severity to
which he’s accustomed. “Do you frequently attempt to seduce strangers as well?”
“Kyoya,” Dino says, risks lifting his hands to Hibari’s hips. His fingertips
fit against familiar angles, his thumbs press against the slim curve of
Hibari’s waist. “The only one I ever attempt to seduce is you.”
Hibari’s weight tips forward when Dino tugs at his hips, his back arching to
make nearly-an-offering of his body. When he speaks his voice is still level,
as utterly self-assured as ever in spite of Dino’s advantage of age and
experience both, and it goes through Dino as painless-sharp as Hibari’s words
always do. “Is that what you’re doing?”
“Is it working?” Dino asks, feels the skid of Hibari’s fingers against his neck
form the answer that doesn’t manage to break free of the other’s lips. He ducks
his head, hums a purr of satisfaction as the touch skates along the back of his
neck and under his coat to feel out the shape of his shoulders like Hibari’s
mapping new territory. It brings warmth in its wake, a shudder of pleasure that
runs all along Dino’s spine, and someone else might be satisfied with just
that, might be content to bow his head and take what Hibari is offering without
asking for any more.
But Dino is himself, and Dino is greedy. He slides his hands down along
Hibari’s waist, out against the friction of his slacks and across his hips, and
when he leans in closer it’s to fit his mouth against the fabric, to breathe
out hard and hot against the dark cloth. Hibari’s hips come forward, his back
arching into artistry Dino can’t see, and Dino’s opening his mouth wider,
panting heat against Hibari’s clothes and trying to lick against the zipper
before the fist in his hair drags backwards to keep his mouth out of range.
“Clothes off,” Hibari says, and Dino doesn’t look up before he moves to obey
the assumed command in that tone. His hands come forward, thumbs catching at
fabric and fingertips scrabbling against the metal teeth of Hibari’s zipper,
and Hibari’s hand slides, his pinky slipping over Dino’s hairline to press
friction against skin. The motion is delayed, hesitant in a way Dino isn’t used
to, and when he gets Hibari’s slacks open there’s a flicker of movement there
too, a tremor of nervous tension fluttering visibly under his skin.
Dino doesn’t pause. There may be scars missing, the hips under his hands might
be narrower than he remembers, but it’s still Hibari, and years and memories
don’t make any more of a difference now than they did the first moment Dino set
eyes on him. He tightens his fingers, braces Hibari’s weight as he slides his
thumbs over smooth skin, and when he leans in close it’s to part his lips and
sigh satisfaction as he takes Hibari’s cock in over his tongue. There’s a
quiver of motion under his hands, a stalled-out attempt to rock forward, but
Dino has a steady enough hold to still the action before it finishes and is
coming forward rapidly enough to stop any protest Hibari might put into words.
Hibari makes a sound, faint and low and wordless, and Dino shuts his eyes and
lets heat fill his mouth, sucks friction and wet over Hibari’s cock as he
slides back to set himself into a rhythm of motion.
Hibari catches on quickly. Dino may be the one who takes the first few strokes
but then the fist in his hair tightens, the hold bracing Dino in place as
Hibari rocks forward himself, and this is familiar too, this resistance Hibari
has to passivity of any kind. Dino doesn’t mind; he likes the unexpected slide
of movement over his tongue as Hibari thrusts past his lips, and when he hums
the note he strikes is pleased and purring far in the back of his throat. It
feels like Hibari’s name, the vowels long and slurred, and when Hibari rocks
forward Dino tilts his head back and lets the friction slip past the back of
his tongue and down his throat. Hibari catches his breath, the steady pace of
his inhales stalls for a moment, and then slender fingers are pressing at
Dino’s hair, both of Hibari’s hands catching to pin Dino in place as he takes
over the pace himself.
Dino lets him. It’s enough to have Hibari slick and hot over his tongue, the
bitter so far back in his mouth he can barely catches a taste of it to linger
at the back of his throat. Hibari’s hips are shifting with each thrust too, the
shape of bone moving under skin against Dino’s fingers, and it’s thrilling,
it’s satisfying, to come together over their gap of distance and the space of
experience and still to fall into the same easy complement they have ever been
to each other. Hibari’s breathing is coming faster over Dino’s head, his
movements taking on the quivering intensity of anticipation, and Dino can
remember this too, the way Hibari used to shudder and quake on his feet before
he learned to control his reaction, to limit himself to a single trembling sigh
and a faint smirk of pleasure. Dino tightens his hands and his lips at once,
presses his mouth into a drag of friction at Hibari’s cock, and there’s a jerk
of motion, involuntary reaction falling still at Dino’s bracing hands. They
press together, fingers in hair and lips on skin, and then Dino starts to draw
back and Hibari gasps over him, a groan of sound to match the spill of come
across Dino’s tongue. Dino sucks hard, swallows as quickly, and when Hibari
tips forward his hands catch the other’s weight to keep them balanced against
each other. They stay like that for a moment -- Hibari’s fingertips digging
against Dino’s scalp, Hibari’s weight trusted to Dino’s support -- and then
Hibari tips back, reclaims his composure and his posture at once, and Dino lets
his hands go, draws back to press his hand to his lips and swallow the familiar
bitter off his tongue.
Dino knows how it goes from here, usually. There’s a period of Hibari
recollecting himself, straightening his clothes and steadying his breathing
before he tugs Dino to his feet and backs him against a wall or out over the
bed to jerk him off or strip him down for another round. Habit tells him to
struggle upright, to press his weight over unsteady feet while he’s still
flushed and hot with desire; he’s thinking about that, just starting to get a
foot under himself, when there’s movement, a flutter of clothing and the slide
of fingers, and then Hibari’s on his knees in front of him, his cheeks tinged
faintly pink and lips parted on his inhales, and Dino’s chest goes tight and
hot.
“Kyoya,” he manages, his throat tightening on the affection he doesn’t usually
get to indulge in, and then he can’t speak because Hibari’s mouth is on his,
his lips hot and pressing bruising force against Dino’s. Dino makes a strangled
noise, startled pleasure going liquid on his tongue, and Hibari’s fingers
loosen in his hair, slide down to trace out the bottom edge of his t-shirt
instead. There’s movement at his lips, the quick slide of a tongue at his
mouth, and while Dino’s sucking in a gasp of satisfaction his belt falls open
under Hibari’s fingers, his jeans catch at the other’s reaching touch.
They break apart for a moment, Dino’s shudder rocking him backwards from the
press of Hibari’s mouth as fingers fit past his undone zipper to press against
the thin fabric of his boxers. Dino can feel Hibari’s fingers as clear as if
they are made of fire, the pressure they offer coursing under his skin and
flaring into friction in his blood, and when he grabs at Hibari’s shoulders his
hold is desperate, as much for his own benefit as to hold the other in place.
“Kyoya,” he says again; then, as Hibari huffs against his mouth and fumbles
himself to the top edge of Dino’s boxers: “You don’t have to,” the words
spilling fast as the leading edge of guilt starts to hit him. It was easy to
fall back on habit and years-old experience when Dino had his eyes shut, easy
to align with a body whose motions are the same even if the past-tense form
might be somewhat different. But with Hibari on his knees his too-young
features are impossible to ignore, the steel of his eyes lacks the honed edge
Dino is used to seeing, and suddenly the gap seems impossible to cross.
Hibari frowns at him, eyes narrowing into irritation, and he doesn’t stop. “I
assure you,” he enunciates, picking through his words as carefully as if they
are a minefield, “I feel no sense of obligation to you at all.”
Dino’s exhale comes out as a coughed laugh, shock turning itself to sound
without his intent. “You’re harsh as ever, Kyoya.”
Hibari doesn’t laugh. There is, however, a catch at the corner of his mouth, a
motion that starts to form the shape of a smile before he can restrain it into
deliberate tension instead. The sight makes Dino laugh again, the sound purring
into satisfaction in his throat, and then Hibari’s fingers are past his clothes
and dragging against his cock and any further possibility of restraint
evaporates.
“Oh,” he says, and he’s leaning in, rocking up into Hibari’s touch. A hand
closes around him, Hibari’s fingers settling into place like he’s done this
hundreds of times, and the hand still in Dino’s hair slides down to curl into a
bruising hold at the back of his neck.
“I’m doing this because I want to,” Hibari says, clear and cold on every word.
It doesn’t make sense that they should strike through Dino like fire, that they
should melt a groan off his lips and into the air, but rationality has never
been a staple between them, and Dino doesn’t question his reaction now. He’s
far from words in any case, his coherency slipping farther from him with each
drag of Hibari’s fingers, until when a thumb catches and pushes against the
slick head of his cock he can’t manage anything but a choking inhale, a
desperate “Kyoya” to match the way his fingers dig in hard against slender
shoulders. There’s a huff of air, a suggestion of sound, and then Hibari’s
mouth is on Dino’s again, stealing his air as easily as his fingers are
stealing Dino’s composure. Hibari exudes a calm beyond his years, or perhaps it
is Dino who is made to feel breathlessly inexperienced by Hibari’s proximity.
He lacks the resources to consider the question, lacks the ability to do
anything but gasp and cling, and when Hibari’s hand tightens and pulls it’s
Dino’s restraint that he strips away, leaving him to breathe a broken shape of
Hibari’s name as those fingers stroke him into white-blind heat. There’s sound
against Dino’s lips, a smile or maybe even a voiceless laugh, but Dino can’t
think of that, can’t offer a response in kind; he’s too busy shuddering into
release, each pulse of pleasure radiating up his spine to burst sun-bright in
his thoughts, and when he tips forward it’s to catch himself at Hibari’s
shoulder and let the other bear his weight a moment.
Hibari lets him linger while the first thrum of heat fades into a warm glow of
satisfaction. Dino breathes deep against Hibari’s jacket, smiles into the
fabric, and then turns sideways, pressing his nose into affection at Hibari’s
throat for the moment he is allowed to linger. He knows this will get him a
shove, the friction of fingers abandoning his skin as Hibari rocks back and
away, but it’s worth it for the momentary press of lips to skin, for the taste
of Hibari that clings to his mouth when he loses his balance and topples
backwards to the support of the wall.
Hibari considers his hand, flexes sticky fingers with a consideration so stoic
it carries a weight of distaste a frown or complaint could not. It makes Dino
grin, the satisfaction in his veins making him reckless, and when he says, “You
lick your fingers clean when you’re older,” he’s braced for the icy danger in
the stare Hibari gives him.
“You’re welcome to wait until then,” Hibari says as he gets to his feet. His
clothes are more rumpled than Dino is used to seeing, his slacks only half-on
and his jacket slipping off one shoulder. But on his feet the shadows grant his
features the lines they will have in the future, and besides Dino’s never
needed motivation beyond Hibari himself to offer breathless appreciation of the
other.
“I’m taking a shower,” Hibari announces, stepping carefully over Dino’s
outstretched legs as he makes for the bathroom. “Feel free to remain there
until I return.”
Dino tips his head to watch him go, fumbles through hazy thoughts for the right
way to frame his request; in the end he just blurts it, quick and rushed: “Want
company?”
There’s no spoken answer. But there is a rustle of clothing, the sound of
fabric sliding on itself, and then a flutter of dark cloth, almost-wings
cutting the air before Dino can reach up to catch the weight of what proves to
be Hibari’s jacket set free of his shoulders. Dino considers this offering a
moment, feels the warmth of Hibari’s body still caught in the shape of the
shoulders and breathes in the familiar biting spiciness of his hair that clings
to the collar; then he grins in delight, and tosses the jacket aside, and
scrambles to join Hibari in the bathroom.
Hibari is furious, after, that his jacket has been so ill-treated, but by then
Dino lacks the energy to care about anything but sucking water droplets off
Hibari’s shoulders.
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