Title: Devotion
Characters: Chrome Dokuro, Rokudou Mukuro, Joushima Ken, Kakimoto Chikusa
Summary: Sometimes it's really difficult to figure out what Mukuro-sama actually wants.
Notes: 11,602 words worth of no-holds-barred, balls-to-the-wall smut. Post TYL-arc, most of the permutations of Chrome/Mukuro/Chikusa/Ken that you can imagine and probably at least one that you weren't expecting, and did I mention the smut?

Devotion

The summer after Chrome returned from the future, the boys discovered sex.

Chrome didn't realize, at first, what was going on, save that Ken and Chikusa were both acting unusual (even for them). They were by turns restless and aggressive, then diffident and silent, for reasons that she couldn't connect to anything related to their day-to-day lives or the things Mukuro-sama asked of them.

When she mentioned it one evening, Mukuro-sama wasn't helpful at all.

They're acting strange, she told him, safe in the privacy of her own mind and own small room; when his lazy curiosity met hers, she gave him her impressions of them: Ken roaming the apartment that Sawada Iemitsu had pressed upon them like a lion confined to a too-small cage, Chikusa holding himself still and withdrawn, watching Ken with eyes that burned dark, the way the two of them snapped and snarled at the least provocation.

Mukuro-sama's amusement unfurled slowly in response to that cascade of images. I suppose they're of an age, he replied, at length; though his voice was only in her mind, it was rich with laughter. I suppose it's the summer heat. It ripens things.

That made no sense; Chrome let him feel her frustration.

Cute little Chrome. She didn't have to see him to know the smile he was wearing: it was the one that was ancient and full of secrets, reminder of all the lives he'd lived and the many things he'd known in them. There's nothing to worry about. Let them find their own way.

That made even less sense to her, but when she tried to get him to explain, she could feel him turning away, laughter trailing behind him like a scarf on a breeze, and he would say no more on the subject.

It came clear for her on a sweltering afternoon in July, when Chrome came home with the makings for zarusoba and found the apartment dark. Her first thought was that the Ken and Chikusa were still out, perhaps looking for a fight.

That was fine with her; perhaps a fight would bleed off some of the madness that had infected them lately.

She had turned towards the kitchen--to start the noodles so they would be chilled and ready whenever the boys came straggling in--when a moan floated through the muggy air.

Chrome was moving before she had consciously recognized Ken's voice, and had cloaked herself in illusion and called the trident to her hand by the time she had decided the moan had come from the open door of the boys' room. She lowered the bag of groceries to the floor, soundless even inside her illusion, and crossed the floor on cat-soft feet, ready to destroy whatever had invaded their territory and was hurting Ken enough for him to be giving voice to it.

It was Chikusa. And he wasn't hurting Ken. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Chrome stood in the doorway and stared, dimly conscious that she was staring and wholly unable to stop herself. As she watched, Chikusa drew Ken's hips higher and flexed against him, entire body curving sinuously as he drove himself against Ken--into Ken, if she was precise about it. Ken moaned again, something open and incoherent, hands raking at the bedclothes, and pressed back against him. Something wavering and hot wound through Chrome as she watched them.

And then it wasn't just her watching; Mukuro-sama's presence unfolded behind her eyes as Chikusa hitched Ken's hips up and Ken made a sharp sound. Ah, he said, very softly, using her eyes to trace over the flushed and intent expression on Chikusa's face. I thought so.

This was what you meant? Chrome asked him, winding the illusion tighter around herself, suddenly afraid that the boys would realize they were standing there, observing.

Her own shoulders shrugged at her. It seemed likely, he said, dispassionate. Puberty takes everyone like this eventually.

On the bed, Chikusa slid one hand from Ken's hip to close between his legs. Ken swore, voice ragged, and then arched on another wordless sound, body shaking. Chikusa made a sound in response that was more like one of Ken's own growls than anything else. His hips jerked hard against Ken's, hard enough that Chrome could see Ken's knees lifting off the mattress, and then he snapped taut, head falling back as he groaned.

I... Chrome stopped, hesitated, and said it anyway, as Chikusa sagged over Ken. I didn't know boys could... with each other.

Mukuro-sama laughed. My cute little Chrome, he murmured. So sheltered. This is just one of the ways boys can fuck each other. His tone turned lighter, less mocking. Perhaps, if we're patient, they'll show us one of the other ways.

That recalled her to herself. Chrome turned away from their bedroom as Ken reached a hand back to Chikusa to--do something, she didn't know what. Never mind, she said, embarrassed, retracing her steps and retrieving the bag of groceries.

Mukuro-sama laughed again, his presence subsiding. Chrome let herself out of the apartment, closing the door behind her as silently as she could, and went to take a long walk.

When she returned a good hour later, she was careful to say nothing about the way the boys were sprawled across the living room floor, lax the way they hadn't been for weeks, or the ginger way Ken handled himself when she served up the zarusoba.

It was a small apartment; in the end it was impossible for the boys not to realize that she knew, not least because the walls were thin and Ken was loud.

They came to an accord without discussing it. Chrome pretended, politely, that she heard nothing and saw nothing. In return, Ken and Chikusa confined their (Fucking, Mukuro-sama suggested) bedroom activities to their bedroom and the times when she wasn't home.

There were slip-ups: the time she caught herself staring at a mark on Ken's nape for a solid minute before she realized it was a bite-mark and jerked her eyes away, only to find that Chikusa was smiling at her, sardonic. And the day she came home only to find they'd lost track of the time, and found them in the kitchen, Chikusa spread out on the table and Ken between his knees, mouth stroking up and down his cock.

All three of them had found it difficult to look at each other for a week after that, and Mukuro-sama had laughed and laughed and laughed.

But on the whole, it worked, and this new thing became just one more thing among many. The marks Chikusa left on Ken became unremarkable; when it was late at night and they were too loud for her to sleep, she banged on the wall between her bedroom and theirs until they took the hint to quiet down.

Chrome suspected, later, that she should have known that it couldn't stay that simple.

Sometimes Mukuro-sama's presence came to her, pressing against her temples like the way the air pressure changed before a storm. When that happened, Chrome bowed her head in assent and performed the peculiar mental side-step that let him slip into control. She never knew when he would decide he wanted to wrap her body in an illusion of his own and walk freely, or why. She could guess, sometimes: he enjoyed it when Hibari-san came to them, hot-eyed and spoiling for a fight, and liked indulging himself. Other times, she couldn't see what motivated him; he was as likely to borrow her body for a walk down the street, or to buy an ice cream, as he was to use it for a fight.

It was his business, not hers, and she didn't ask.

She was sitting by the open window one afternoon, watching the storm that was gathering, when she realized that the buzzing she felt along her jaw and spine wasn't just the storm-front moving in, but Mukuro-sama, asking for control without words. As the wind picked up, bringing the first breath of fresh air with it, she stepped aside for him and let him resettle himself, tucking his longer legs under him and leaning against the window's frame.

Sawada-san had asked her, once, what it was like when Mukuro-sama took possession of her body. She had shrugged at him, not prepared to answer when the very question had made Mukuro-sama's presence at the back of her mind go still and wary. Sawada-san hadn't pressed the point.

If he had, she might have told him it was like being an extremely-privileged observer to what her body was doing. She was still aware of its actions, still felt what Mukuro-sama felt, using it, but she no longer had the control of it. Even that didn't quite explain it, but it was the closest she could get to putting into words how it felt to be set aside by Mukuro-sama's (old, and deep, and enormously complicated) presence and to watch as he acted.

Just now Mukuro-sama wasn't really acting at all. He pushed the window wider, and leaned into the breeze as it quickened, inhaling deeply.

Behind them, the door opened. Ken and Chikusa came in--Ken grumbling about no-good punks with no respect for their betters, Chikusa rolling his eyes so hard it might as well have been audible.

They stopped short when they realized who was sitting in the window, one eye on the storm and one eye on them. "Mukuro-sama," Chikusa said, after a heartbeat had gone past.

Mukuro-sama turned away from the window and smiled at them. Chrome, who could do nothing but observe, saw the way their expressions changed--naked desire in Ken's eyes that was veiled but no less intense in Chikusa's.

Mukuro-sama saw it too; she could feel the recognition as it woke in him. As the first growl of thunder murmured in the distance, he stood and held out his hands to them. "Come here," he said to the boys, almost gently, and they did.

Chrome's body was not her own, which was just as well. Without a body, she couldn't blush when Mukuro-sama drew them to him, one hand sliding down Chikusa's back as he kissed him (so that was what it was like; it was... more damp than she'd expected) and the other stroking into Ken's hair as Ken buried his face against Mukuro-sama's throat. "Yes," Mukuro-sama told them, and both of them shuddered in his arms.

Mukuro-sama was a master of illusions. Even Chrome was hard-put to say just when the common room of the apartment shifted and blurred into something different. It had, however, because Mukuro-sama was able to push the two of them down into a pile of pillows that hadn't been there before. They reached for him, Ken making a sound that was open and wanting, and even Chikusa showing his longing plainly in the way his hands grasped Mukuro-sama's. Mukuro-sama laughed and let them pull him down after them.

Chrome was fairly sure that clothing wasn't normally as easy to deal with and that Mukuro-sama was cheating somehow. Neither Ken nor Chikusa seemed to mind when Mukuro-sama's clothes simply melted away and their own were brushed away just as easily, leaving them bare to the stroke of Mukuro-sama's hands and the damp breeze as the rain began to fall outside. They didn't complain, anyway, as they touched back, hands stroking over him eagerly, almost desperately.

Mukuro-sama murmured to them, indistinct between deep kisses, switching between the two of them until both of their mouths were red and swollen and Ken was rocking against Mukuro-sama's thigh, sleek and hard and hot. Chikusa was gasping, making small open sounds unlike any Chrome had heard him make with Ken, and moaned when Mukuro-sama's hand traveled down his side and closed over his rear. Mukuro-sama hushed him, while Chrome marveled silently at the gentleness of him, and stroked him open with slick fingers. That was more cheating, and she didn't understand how that could possibly be comfortable, but Chikusa moaned and squirmed and spread his legs wide and begged for more.

It made more sense from Mukuro-sama's perspective; she had to catch her metaphorical breath when he caught his hands behind Chikusa's knees and pushed into him in one smooth motion. Chikusa cried out for more, hands closing on Mukuro-sama's shoulders. Mukuro-sama obliged him. As he fucked Chikusa, hard and fast, the pleasure of it burning through him like a brand, Chrome understood why the boys had seemed to lose their minds earlier in the summer. She felt a little lost herself, in the face of this scorching pleasure.

Chikusa nearly screamed when he came, hips bucking against Mukuro-sama's and hands digging into Mukuro-sama's shoulders, bruisingly tight. Mukuro-sama fucked him until he stilled, and then smiled down at him and brushed a lock of hair back from his sweaty forehead.

Beside them, Ken whined Mukuro-sama's name, breathless and wanting. He was curled around one of the pillows, hips jerking against it, short and fast. Mukuro-sama laughed, softly, as he slid free of Chikusa and turned to him.

Chrome expected him to touch Ken the same way he'd touched Chikusa, but instead he pushed Ken down, bending him over the pillows and holding him there with a hand on his nape. Ken moaned, squirming, until Mukuro-sama spread his knees wide and drove into him.

Ken's voice was thin and harsh, as Mukuro-sama groaned at the tightness of him and Chrome gaped and Chikusa watched, eyes dark. Mukuro-sama drove against him again. Pressed against Ken's back like this, Chrome could feel the way he shuddered and went pliant as Mukuro-sama took him, until Mukuro-san set his teeth against Ken's nape and bit down. Ken cried out again at that, body wringing even tighter as he shook and came undone.

It wasn't until the silence after, when Mukuro-sama settled against a pillow and let them press against his sides, that Chrome realized what hadn't happened. She hesitated to say anything as Mukuro-sama stroked Chikusa's hair and let Ken snuggle against him.

Mukuro-sama decided it for her. Yes? he asked her; she could feel his lips quirking at her.

You... she began, shy. You didn't... um.

He chuckled aloud, provoking Chikusa into stirring a bit. Mukuro-sama hushed him again, fingers moving through his hair, and Chikusa subsided against him. No, I didn't 'um'.

Just as well that she couldn't blush, really, although there wasn't really any point in being embarrassed by this when Mukuro-sama had just used her body to do that with Ken and Chikusa both. She was never going to be able to look them in the eye again. Shouldn't you have?

It's not really important, he said, voice distant, the tone he took when he was done discussing something. Listen to the storm. Isn't it lovely?

Chrome bit her metaphorical lip, let him change the subject, and listened to the rain with him until Chikusa and Ken fell asleep. When Mukuro-sama finally slipped away, Chrome disentangled herself from the boys carefully. She covered them with a blanket and then retreated to her room for the night, despite her growling stomach.

At breakfast the next morning, they added that to their silent accord: she would pretend that she wasn't actually involved at all when it came to what the boys got up to with Mukuro-sama. It seemed to be the most logical way of dealing with this new development, at least without the three of them dying of embarrassment.

Mukuro-sama seemed to find the whole thing very funny. Chrome wasn't sure whether that was because it was funny, or because Mukuro-sama's sense of humor wasn't very like normal people's humor. Perhaps it was a little of both, she concluded. It was funny that Ken had trouble looking at her without turning a dull shade of red, and Mukuro-sama had seen many lives, and found things funny that really weren't funny at all from where she stood.

Whatever it was, the afternoon of the storm changed things again, like water breaking through a crack in a dam. The next time Mukuro-sama allowed Hibari-san to tempt him into a fight, Chikusa was there to watch. When Hibari-san had gone away again (with a dislocated shoulder and an unholy but gratified light in his eyes), Mukuro-sama didn't release his grip on Chrome's body.

She understood when Mukuro-sama turned to Chikusa, and she saw the look on his face and the way he swayed towards Mukuro-sama.

We're in public, she said, a trifle alarmed, when Mukuro-sama held his hand out to Chikusa, beckoning him closer.

What does that matter to me? he replied, amused, and pulled Chikusa against him. Chikusa made a soft sound into his mouth, arms winding around Mukuro-sama's shoulders. Public is a state of mind.

Chrome squirmed anyway, even though she could feel the veil of illusion drawn around them, hiding them from any possible passers-by as Mukuro-sama kissed Chikusa again, and again, demanding, and Chikusa moaned. Mukuro-sama laughed and ignored her; what she could feel of his pleasure seemed to come as much from the fact that they were in public as it did from the way Chikusa leaned against him. Shall I show you one of the other ways boys can fuck each other? he asked, teasing, and set his hands on Chikusa's shoulders, pressing him down.

Mukuro-sama... she protested, and then caught her breath as Chikusa undid Mukuro-sama's pants and closed his mouth around--oh, it was hot, and so soft, and...

Mukuro-sama murmured to Chikusa, warm and approving, and curved a hand against his skull, holding him and rocking into Chikusa's mouth. Chikusa moaned, lashes fluttering over his eyes as he sucked. Chrome panted at the heat of it, as Mukuro-sama watched Chikusa and rubbed his thumb over the fine arch of Chikusa's cheekbone. He smiled when Chikusa's hand dropped between his own legs to undo his jeans and fold around himself, and pressed deeper, fucking Chikusa's mouth slowly until Chikusa moaned, low and vibrant, and came.

Mukuro-sama, she said again, when Chikusa pressed his forehead against Mukuro-sama's hip, trembling as Mukuro-sama petted his hair.

Don't worry so, little Chrome, he said, and drew Chikusa to his feet again. It will be well. He pressed his lips against Chikusa's forehead and sent him ahead with a gentle word.

By whose definition? Chrome wanted to ask, or perhaps How do you know? He slipped away before she could, leaving her standing alone in the alley, herself again.

When she took herself home, Ken was loud in the bedroom as Chikusa did goodness-only-knew-what to him. Chrome shut herself away in her bedroom, drawing the illusion of a quiet library around her, and tried not to think of what all this might mean.

No one could accuse the boys of learning slowly. Or Chrome herself, for that matter--it only took a couple of incidents for her to learn to recognize the yearning expression in Ken's eyes and the way Chikusa always turned to Mukuro-sama, like a needle swinging to point north, and the way Mukuro-sama always responded to that. Deferring to Mukuro-sama so that he could pin Ken to a wall and fuck him slowly, or to draw Chikusa down and watch him move over Mukuro-sama's hips, became something like second nature, something that was another part of their normal.

Ken was the first to realize that Mukuro-sama responded to them the same way they responded to him. Chrome suspected that was because Ken was simpler than Chikusa, less prone to getting tangled in his own thinking. In any case, he was the first to come to Chrome as she sat and read. He didn't say anything at first, just crouched next to her, staring and intent, until she looked up from her book.

He ran his tongue over his lips. "Mukuro-sama," he said, voice soft and rough. "Is he--can you--?"

"Let me see," Chrome said, as she marked her place.

Mukuro-sama's attention was already turning towards hers, and there was the little shiver as she stepped aside for him and he changed things. Mukuro-sama set her book aside and met Ken as he surged up. He didn't try to soothe Ken as he might have Chikusa, Chrome noticed. Mukuro-sama bit Ken's lower lip and sucked on it, which made Ken groan, and he marked Ken's throat, biting down it, slow and hard, as he raked his fingernails down Ken's spine.

Chrome was fascinated, perhaps in spite of herself. Mukuro-sama...? she murmured, as Mukuro-sama bent Ken over the arm of the couch and held him there as Ken panted and cursed.

Mukuro-sama made one of his go on, I'm listening noises as he bit down on the curve of Ken's ass and sucked hard, raising a mark on the pale flesh.

How come you treat Ken differently from Chikusa? she asked.

Mukuro-sama marked Ken again, on the other side, before he answered. They need different things, he said, as though it were the simplest thing in the world. He spread Ken's knees wider and drove his fingers into Ken, three at once; Ken made a keening sound, body flexing under the hand that Mukuro-sama was using to hold him steady. Ken wants to know his place in the pack.

He drove his fingers into Ken again, at a sharper angle, fingers pressing against the spot that Chrome now knew made both Ken and Chikusa gasp and shudder. Ken shook, voice raw, begging for more, as she considered what Mukuro-sama had said.

What does Chikusa want? she asked.

Mm. Mukuro-sama spread Ken open and drove into him, pounding him against the arm of the couch with each thrust. Something very complicated. He slid his hands up Ken's back and then raked his fingers back down the straining arch of it, hard. I suppose you might say he wants to belong. Ken screamed as ten thin red lines raised themselves against his skin, wringing tight around Mukuro-sama.

Chrome thought that over as Mukuro-sama gathered Ken, who was limp and gasping, against his chest. Ken nuzzled Mukuro-sama's shoulder, curling against him. Isn't that the same thing after all?

Mukuro-sama's answering laugh was almost startled; it was certainly delighted. Perhaps it is, at that. Ken husked something against Mukuro-sama's shoulder, sleepy and unintelligible, and Mukuro-sama raised a hand to his nape, holding it. Ken mumbled something else, and let out a long, satisfied sigh.

You're very good to them, Chrome said, quietly, as Ken slid the rest of the way down into sleep, body going slack against Mukuro-sama's.

It only makes good sense to keep you three happy, he retorted, voice stiff, and whirled away fast enough that it left Chrome dizzy.

That left her to extricate herself from Ken's arms--sometimes she wondered whether he had an octopus channel, given how well he clung--and wonder what it was about what she had observed that made Mukuro-sama so defensive.

With Mukuro-sama, who could say?

The wall next to Chrome's bed thumped steadily. As Ken's cries began their slow crescendo, Chrome turned on her side, contemplating soundproofing, and whether the Vongola might pay for that, too.

It might be worth the inquiry, she thought, drawing her knees up and hugging her pillow to her chest. Ken and Chikusa could be so very loud, sometimes, and it wasn't practical to seal herself in illusion. Not all the time.

Ken shouted, triumphant, and the headboard slammed against the wall once, twice, a third time, and was still.

Chrome let her breath out, feeling how shaky it was, and curled herself tighter. Soundproofing. Yes.

Mukuro-sama's interest uncurled and stretched itself in the back of her head, like a cat first waking from a nap. I don't think that's the solution to your problem, he murmured. Chrome got the sense that he was laughing.

It might help. She shifted, restless, trying to make herself comfortable.

Hm. Mukuro-sama's voice took a cryptic note. I wonder.

Wonder what?

Instead of an answer, she received the impression of a hand stretched out to her, one of Mukuro-sama's invitations to come walking through his world. A little puzzled, she accepted, and let him draw her into his illusion.

In her private thoughts--if they were truly private; Chrome was never sure whether Mukuro-sama truly didn't hear them, or merely pretended he didn't hear them--she thought it was significant that the illusions he chose to build were always verdant under open skies when they met like this.

This time was no different; the grass was cool and green beneath her bare feet. A soft breeze stirred the simple sundress around her knees. Mukuro-sama was waiting for her in a small pavilion, leaning against a pillar and smiling. He held a hand out to her. "Come and join me, Chrome."

"Did you want to talk about something?" she asked, going to him.

He laughed again. "In a manner of speaking." He was still offering her his hand, even once she crossed from the sunlight into the pavilion's shade. When she took it, his smile stretched wider. "There," he said, and drew her closer.

Chrome sucked in a breath, quick and startled, at being pressed against his chest. "Mukuro-sama." His arm was warm where it curled around her back.

"My cute little Chrome," he said, softly, lifting her chin with his fingers. "You're allowed to acknowledge what you want, too."

"Oh," she said, and closed her eyes as his thumb brushed over her lips, something unfurling low in her stomach, hot and shivery. This was different, even from feeling what Mukuro-sama did with Ken and Chikusa. She lifted her hands and set them against his chest, delicately. "Yes. Please."

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" he asked, and kissed her.

Being kissed was different from kissing, in some unquantifiable way; it made something like heat walk down Chrome's spine, and she found that she had to grip Mukuro-sama's shirt to stay steady. He smiled against her mouth, slow and satisfied, and pressed her back.

Ah. That was why he'd chosen a pavilion, she realized, when she tumbled back against cool sheets and soft pillows. Then she realized something else: she could feel those cool sheets against every bit of her skin.

Apparently she wasn't beyond blushing after all. "Mukuro-sama," she protested, softly, when he slid a knee onto the bed and leaned over her, just as bare as she was.

"Hm?" His eyes had a lightness to them that was unfamiliar. He brushed his fingers against her cheek. "Surely you know it's nothing either of us haven't seen before."

"Not like this," she said, and gasped as his fingers trailed down her throat, and then lower still, to cup one of her breasts and fondle it. The sensation made her shudder and arch into the touch.

"No," he agreed after a moment, stroking slowly, "I suppose not like this." He leaned down and kissed her again, tongue soft against hers.

Chrome heard herself moan in a tone she didn't entirely recognize, and found herself grasping his shoulders without quite meaning to as his mouth traveled down her throat. His hands moved over her chest, stroking her breasts slowly, teasing them until her throat was dry with panting. He was gentler with her than he was even with Chikusa, the analytical part of her mind noted, and then she was distracted by the heat of his mouth on her breast and the way heat throbbed through her.

She roused herself again when his hands slid down to her thighs, parting them, and his mouth trailed down her stomach. "Mukuro-sama," she whispered, hoarse even to her own ears.

His eyes flicked up to hers; they were laughing. "It's not something that boys only do to each other," he noted, and bent his head again.

Chrome cried out at the first soft touch of his tongue, clutching blindly at the pillow over her head and the sheets under her as heat rolled through her. "Mukuro-sama," she gasped, hips lifting helplessly against the slow stroke of his mouth over her. He made a pleased sound in reply, one hand stroking over her thigh gently and the other running up her side to cup her breast again. She arched between those touches, body winding tighter and tighter with the pleasure running through it, slow and thick and hot, until it broke over her like a wave and swept her down.

When she had stilled again, and come back to herself, Mukuro-sama was leaning over her, hands smoothing up and down her body. She was hard-put to classify his expression. The closest thing she could come to was satisfied, and even that didn't quite cover it.

She wondered what he looked like to Ken and Chikusa, after their times together.

Chrome reached up to him. "Mukuro-sama," she said, quietly, and he let her draw him down for a kiss.

He seemed to know what she really wanted, and settled over her, warm and solid. Chrome released the breath she hadn't even realized she was holding and wound her arms around him.

"I have you," he said, against her ear. "It's all right."

"Mm." She cuddled into him, and he rubbed a hand over her back. She let it lull her, understanding now how Ken and Chikusa always seemed to fall prey to a certain lassitude after Mukuro-sama had been with them. "Mukuro-sama," she said again, for the satisfaction of saying it, and fell asleep with the husky murmur of his laughter in her ear.

Chrome didn't notice that she was smiling until Ken cocked his head to the side and said, "Huh. It's about time, I guess."

Then he carried on slurping down his coffee, as if he hadn't said anything at all.

Chrome stared at him, lost at first, until he added, "Congratulations. Or whatever," which caused her to run through all the things he might be congratulating her for.

She could only think of one, and felt the heat creep up her throat. "Ken," she said, strangled, because this was clearly breaking their accord never to discuss such things.

"What?" he said. "You look happy. I'm just saying." He drained his cup and set it down on the counter. "I'm going out," he announced; Chrome barely heard him over the soft sound of Mukuro-sama's laughter.

Chikusa snorted. "Idiot."

He might have been describing either of them, or both of them--it could be hard to tell, with Chikusa--but the glance he gave her was almost wry, and Chrome thought he probably meant Ken. Probably. Chikusa unfolded himself from his chair, and followed after Ken, tossing a casual, "Later," over his shoulder as he went.

That left Chrome to press her hands against her flaming cheeks. "Oh," she said, as the door clicked shut after them. "This is so embarrassing."

Mukuro-sama's presence uncurled against her, interrogative; when Chrome turned towards it in response, she found herself stepping into his illusion.

Mukuro-sama's arms slid around her from behind, and his chin rested, pointed and sharp, against her shoulder. "Why so embarrassed? It's only fair, given how much you know about their sex lives."

"It just is," she said, and then her breath hitched as his mouth slid against her throat. "Mukuro-sama..."

He hummed a reply, hands stroking up her sides, warm through the cloth of her shirt, and then hot on her bare skin. He took her weight easily as she swayed and leaned back against him. "There's nothing to be prudish about," he said, against her ear, mouth soft and warm, and laughed when she moaned.

Some part of him liked this, she noted, while things around them blurred. She stretched against the sheets when he lowered her to them, breath hitching again as his hands smoothed over her skin, teasing the first slow curls of heat through her. Even if she hadn't ever seen him reach the same kind of pleasure she'd felt under his touch, there was something about this that he liked. He wouldn't have whisked her here again so soon, if he didn't.

Mukuro-sama's mouth found her breast again, and the shock of it shattered her concentration. "Oh," she gasped, dropping a hand to his head, fingers catching on the way his hair was twisted up. That didn't seem right, not for this, and she teased her fingers over the pins that held it up as his mouth stroked over her, drawing them free.

That made him laugh. "Don't you approve?" he asked, as his hair fell around his face in a soft arch.

"Not here," she said, and watched his mouth curve.

"If you insist." The ends of his hair tickled her skin as he nuzzled the hollow between her breasts, and it was silky between her fingers as she stroked it.

The thought came back to her as he ran warm hands over her body, sliding over her stomach and back. He liked this, the same way he liked answering Ken and Chikusa. Why did he like it so much?

His fingers dipped between her legs and stroked against her, slow and firm, sending fireworks skittering up her spine. "Mukuro-sama," she breathed, brought back to the immediate moment again with the slow movement of his fingers, sliding against her, sliding into her. "Oh..." That was a different kind of heat, one that felt very good, very right...

He curled his fingers inside her; the slide of them made her gasp at the rush of sensation. "This?" he murmured to her, head tipped to the side, watchful.

It took a moment to understand the question; when she did, she couldn't quite stop the flash of nerves. "I..." she said, and trailed off. He watched her, patient, until she turned her eyes away from his. "Will it... hurt very much?"

"Why should it?" he murmured, and drew her chin around. His eyes, when she met them, were serious. "Reality is what we make of it, my Chrome."

When he put it like that, it felt almost silly to be nervous. Chrome lowered her lashes, gasping as his fingers twisted again, slow and firm. "Yes," she murmured, and wound her arms around his shoulders as he shifted over her. He kissed her until she felt like she was melting from the heat of it, and she was conscious of her own pliancy as he slid his hands down her thighs, coaxing her open. "Mukuro-sama," she sighed against his mouth, before her breath caught with the first solid pressure of him stroking into her.

This too was nothing like she'd expected; it was all she could do to hold onto him and gasp with the fullness of him inside her and the slow thrusts that sent pleasure humming through her the way a wire sang when plucked. He seemed to understand, and held her close as he moved, hands warm on her back and voice low in her ear, murmuring soothing nonsense to her until the pleasure of it overwhelmed her and drew her down into sweetness. Mukuro-sama stroked her hair through it, and cradled her close after her body had stilled, smiling.

What did Ken and Chikusa see when they looked at him after, she wondered dazedly. Did he smile at them with that same pleased accomplishment, or did he take something else from their encounters?

Mukuro touched a fingertip to her forehead, resting it between her eyebrows. "You're thinking too hard," he said, amused. "I'm not doing this properly, am I?"

And he went about silencing her protests with another kiss and hands that moved over her body with intent; by the time he was done, she was hard-put to recall her own name, let alone her questions about Mukuro-sama.

The question came back to her whenever things returned to the bedroom, either when he invited her into his illusion, or crossed over to the real world to take up with Ken and Chikusa. Chrome worried at the problem of it while Mukuro-sama spread Chikusa out against the bed and held him there. Mukuro-sama clearly liked what he was doing, and she could feel the surges of pleasure as he slid in and out of Chikusa, slow and deep and steady despite the way Chikusa moaned for him.

But the pleasure wasn't the end goal for him. That was evident in any of their encounters, no matter who he partnered with--he left them limp and wrung out and never came close to that edge himself.

Why do you do this for us? she asked, as he thrust into Chikusa, who groaned as that drove him deeper into Ken.

Hm? Mukuro-sama asked, as Ken reached for the headboard and braced himself against it, head falling back and throat gleaming as he groaned.

This, Chrome murmured, with a metaphorical gesture at herself and the boys as Mukuro-sama rocked into Chikusa again, and the entire bed shook. What do you get from this?

Satisfied minions, he grunted, and pointedly ignored her after that as he fucked Chikusa and Ken into an exhausted, sweaty tangle.

The thing of it was, it had the ring of truth to it, she decided, as Ken wound himself around Mukuro-sama. Part of it was true--and not the minions bit. The satisfaction part felt like it was important.

Perhaps she was going about it all wrong. Chrome cast back through her memories, thinking about Mukuro-sama's first encounter with Ken and Chikusa. He'd responded when he'd seen the want in them.

What are you thinking so hard about? he asked, as Chikusa settled a head on his shoulder.

And the first time he'd brought her to bed--it had been when she was feeling particularly alone and excluded by the boys, hadn't it?

Chrome-- he began, tone wary, when she turned to him.

You want us to be happy, she hazarded. You want to give us what we want.

Don't be ridiculous, he snorted. Do I look like that sentimental of a fool?

You do, she said, softly, convinced now, by the irritation in his tone and the way his presence had turned impervious to her curiosity. You're doing it to take care of us.

I do it so you won't be distracted by your hormones when you should be concentrating on more important things.

Chrome took a breath. I don't believe you.

Oh, go to sleep, he growled, irritated.

She had just long enough to feel the uncertainty in him before his will folded over her and dragged her down into unconsciousness.

When she woke up, Chikusa was gone, Ken's hand was on her breast, and Chrome wasn't entirely sure how she felt about that.

What was more, she could feel Mukuro-sama lurking at the back of her head, pretending disinterest in the whole thing.

Mukuro-sama, where are my clothes? she asked--well, demanded--as Ken made a sleepy noise and stretched.

Mukuro-sama remained quite pointedly silent, and Ken finished waking up.

"Mm," he said, and pressed against her, face burrowing against her throat--and perhaps that was what got his attention, that she didn't smell like Chikusa. He went still against her side, and raised his head, and said her name in a kind of frozen disbelief.

"Mukuro-sama is being strange," she said, and shrugged at him a little helplessly.

That was when he realized where his hand was, but instead of going red, his eyes turned thoughtful. "Strange," he repeated, and tipped his head to the side, looking at her. His fingers curved around her, slowly, like he was uncertain what to do with softness. "Good strange or bad strange?"

Chrome ignored the way her breath and body wanted to respond to the caress, and thought about the question and the watchful presence overseeing them. She wanted to say, I can see what you're trying to do, but didn't. Mukuro-sama made plans within plans; this probably was to distract her from the questions he didn't want to answer, but it was probably to do something else, too. "Just strange," she said, finally, and set a hand on Ken's shoulder, feeling the rangy strength of him with her own fingers.

He snorted. "It's Mukuro-sama. What do you expect?"

"Good point," she agreed, and let him kiss her, not really surprised at all that he would accept this as easily as that. Ken was the uncomplicated one, the one who let things be what they were. It was no wonder Mukuro-sama had chosen him first.

She wasn't surprised that Ken had no idea what to do with a girl, either, and sighed, a little exasperated, when his hands turned too rough on her. "No," she said, and caught his hands. "Not like that. Like this."

He looked relieved at that, and let her guide his hands over her body, showing him how to stroke her so that heat wound through her. Chrome considered that relief, and took his shoulders when his hips began to rock against hers with an urgency that made her feel obscurely satisfied. "Lay back for me," she told him.

The way he did, without question, was gratifying, and so was the expression on his face--surprise, pleasure--as she knelt over his hips and lowered herself onto him. Chrome showed him how to hold her, and he caught the trick of moving with her almost immediately.

He really likes this, she said, kneading her hands over Ken's chest, moaning with the heat of his thrusts, hard and deep, and the pleasure that skittered through her.

She hadn't expected a reply, but she got the sense of Mukuro-sama lifting a shoulder, careless. It's Ken, he said, dry as dust. What do you expect?

Chrome couldn't help laughing, even as she took Ken's hand and showed him where to touch her, and she came undone with that laughter on her lips.

For good or ill, Chikusa wasn't nearly as easy to deal with. He took one look at Ken and Chrome when he got home, turned sharply on his heel, and left again, all without saying anything. Ken went after him; neither of them came home that night.

Chrome wanted to ask Mukuro-sama what he thought, and whether it would be okay, but he had withdrawn and wouldn't respond to her questions.

She wasn't sure which one of them was more relieved the next morning when the key turned in the lock. Chikusa came in with Ken skulking after him, both of them rumpled and with circles under their eyes and Ken with a series of bruises running down his throat and under his collar. It was hard to say; she'd already begun turning away from the sink, hands dripping with suds, when they came in. By the time she'd taken half a step, she'd ceded control to Mukuro-sama, and it was Mukuro-sama who folded his arms around Chikusa when Chikusa came to them.

"Shh, my own," he said against Chikusa's hair, as Chikusa wound his fists in Mukuro-sama's shirt and shook, silently. "I have you."

Chrome was the one who heard the unspoken corollary: I won't let you go.

But perhaps Chikusa heard it through Mukuro-sama's hands, when Mukuro-sama guided him into the bedroom and onto the bed, and in the way Mukuro-sama touched him, spread him out and bound him down with a set of soft scarves. Mukuro-sama took him like that, driving him over the edge of pleasure once, and then again, moving over him and in him relentlessly, until Chikusa was shivering and limp beneath him. Through it all, Ken stayed close, and for once, his eyes were all for Chikusa, and when he reached out to touch, it was to stroke his hands over Chikusa, carding his hair back from his face and stroking his shoulders.

"My own," Mukuro-sama told him again, after Chikusa's gasping cries had eased into silence.

Chikusa turned his face into the palm that cradled his cheek. His voice was hoarse when he whispered, "Mukuro-sama."

"Don't fret yourself so," Mukuro-sama told him. "It will be well."

Chrome started; that was what Mukuro-sama had told her, too, when this was all beginning to unfold.

Chikusa sighed and pressed his lips to Mukuro-sama's palm. "Yes," he said softly.

Mukuro-sama took the weight of that trust easily, and gathered him up, holding him and stroking his back. Chikusa unwound against him, slipping into sleep so easily that Chrome wondered whether Mukuro-sama had cheated, or whether it was that Chikusa simply hadn't slept the night before.

Ken crept closer, and Mukuro-sama folded an arm around him, too. "I have to go soon," he said, presently.

Ken made a sound, acknowledging the point, and let Mukuro-sama ease Chikusa into his arms. "He understands now," Ken said, not looking up as he settled Chikusa's head against his shoulder. "But you scared him."

Mukuro-sama's hands stilled on Chikusa's hair. "I see that now," he said, finally. "That was a miscalculation."

From Mukuro-sama, that was as good as an apology. Ken's eyes cleared. "Shit happens," he said, and caught Mukuro-sama's hand before he could go.

Mukuro-sama smiled, and leaned over to press his lips against Ken's forehead briefly. Then he slipped away, leaving Chrome behind.

Ken made a surprised sound, and caught her before she could overbalance. "Does it ever bother you when he does that?" he asked, easing her down against his side.

"Only when he doesn't leave me any clothes," Chrome said, which was, thankfully, not the case this time. Ken snorted. Chikusa's face was slack in sleep, the lines that had been etched around his mouth when he'd first come in eased away. She reached out and touched his cheek, delicately. "Will he be okay?"

"Oh, yeah," Ken said. "He's a tough bastard. You'll see."

Chrome leaned against him. One way or another, she supposed she would.

Ken's assurance notwithstanding, it still took Chikusa a while to relax. The way he looked at Chrome--whether he thought she was looking back or not--reminded her of the expression he'd worn when they'd first met, when she'd been the interloper who'd stood between Chikusa and Mukuro-sama and had threatened to displace him completely.

Now he looked at her like that again, despite everything, and Mukuro-sama was no help.

Give him time, he said, when Chikusa had given her a look of disgust upon catching her leaning against Ken. (That hadn't been particularly fair of Chikusa, she thought; it wasn't like they'd even been doing anything. Ken had been napping, for pity's sake, and she'd been reading!) And Give him time, he said, when Chikusa found reasons to drag Ken out to do things that left Ken dazed and grinning rather stupidly whenever they came back in.

And Give him time, he said, whenever Chikusa's first response to knowing that Ken and Chrome had been together was to pin Ken to the nearest flat surface and fuck him till he screamed.

Just how much time do you think he needs? Chrome asked him, finally, a little tired of being the patient one.

It's hard to say, with the ones like him. She got the sense that Mukuro-sama was shaking his head. Never mind him for now, he said, and drew her into his illusion. "Trust me," he murmured against her throat. Chrome surrendered and let him distract her from her worries.

When the days slipped by, and whatever it was that made Chikusa's eyes go flat and dark when he looked at her didn't materialize, he began to relax again, and even tolerate it (however grudgingly) when she touched Ken. Out of deference to his feelings, Chrome did her best to keep those occasions confined to the times when he was out of the apartment.

It was a good plan, except for the way it relied on his keeping to a normal schedule. Chikusa was anything but obliging in that area, as she discovered.

Ken was holding her against the wall, hands cupped under her and holding her in place as he rocked into her. Chrome had wrapped her legs around his waist and was pressing her fingers into his shoulders, coaxing him on and reveling in the easy strength and wildness of him, basking in the pleasure as each thrust drove her up the wall, and Mukuro-sama's lazy approval at the back of her mind, watching them.

Chikusa came in just as Chrome arched against Ken, crying out as heat tightened around her. Ken groaned against her throat, hips jerking against hers, fast and ragged, bucking against Chrome as she caught her breath and stared at Chikusa over his shoulder.

She expected him to turn and go back out again, or perhaps to say something sharp and then go back out. Instead he stood there, eyes dark, watching them.

Mukuro-sama made a thoughtful sound. Now, he said, with a gentle prodding. Go to him.

Are you sure about this? she asked, as Ken let out a shaky breath and eased her to her feet again.

Mukuro-sama's prodding turned more insistent, especially as Ken realized that Chikusa was watching and started towards him.

"Ken," Chrome said, softly, and he stopped, looking back and forth between her and Chikusa.

Something moved over Chikusa's face, almost too fast to identify, and that decided her as Mukuro-sama's prodding became urgent. "Chikusa," she said, just as softly, and went to him.

He held still, which was more than she'd really expected him to do. Mukuro-sama, help me here, she whispered.

Like this, he murmured, and showed her how to coax Chikusa to bend his head just a bit, so she could kiss him. Chikusa's mouth was unresponsive under hers, at first. Show him, Mukuro-sama told her, warm and encouraging at her back.

Chrome did what she could, slipping her fingers into Chikusa's hair and kissing him again and again, stroking her mouth against his. She wasn't sure it was going to work, given how still he was holding himself; it felt like kissing a statue. She leaned against him anyway, determined to show him whether he was going to pay attention or not. "Chikusa," she said, against his mouth, setting a hand over his heart.

The resistance ran out of him all at once like water, and his mouth softened under hers. Mukuro-sama made a pleased sound and settled back. Chikusa brought a hand up and flattened it against her back, and she heard Ken's sigh of relief behind her.

Chrome twined her arms around Chikusa's shoulders, leaning into him, feeling the long lines of him against her bare skin, and kissed him again, open and slow and offering. The sound he made in reply was one part resigned and perhaps two parts willing. That was good enough to go on, for now.

She pressed against him more insistently, tempting him with the kind of slow kisses she knew he liked when Mukuro-sama took him to bed, and felt him begin to respond. That was good. The way he shivered when she ran a hand down between them to cup over the front of his jeans was even better, and so was the way he let her knead him through the denim.

You're going to do it that way? Mukuro-sama asked, tone curious, when she slid down to crouch on her heels.

The sound Chikusa made as she undid his fly and drew him out was like a strangled moan. He moaned again, outright, as Chrome curled her fingers around him, stroking him hard.

Would you suggest something else? she asked Mukuro-sama, leaning forward to stroke her tongue over the head of Chikusa's cock, hesitating a bit over the first flat taste of him.

It's more ambitious than I would have chosen for my first blowjob.

That was part of the point, but she suspected he was well aware of that.

Chikusa moaned above her again as she closed her mouth around him and sucked, trying to get used to the fullness of his cock on her tongue. When she glanced up at him, Chikusa was looking back, eyes dark and face flushed.

I would do this, Mukuro-sama said, clinical, and showed her how to stroke her mouth over him. When that made Chikusa groan and his hips jerked forward, he added, And then do this, as he showed her how to move with the rocking of Chikusa's hips. And now this, he said, when Chikusa's hand came down to curve around the back of her head, holding her still as his cock slid deeper.

Good advice, Chrome said, a little distracted by the slow movement of Chikusa's hips, fucking her mouth, and the way her stomach was tightening in response.

She hadn't expected to like this--it was supposed to have been purely for Chikusa's sake--but as he relaxed over her, making soft, pleased sounds, heat pooled low in her stomach again. Chrome set a hand on Chikusa's hip to steady herself, and dipped the other between her own legs. Pleasure twined through her and she moaned, fingers stroking faster.

Chikusa shuddered above her, voice catching on something that might have even been her name, and snapped taut.

Mukuro-sama offered another bit of wordless advice that was tinged with laughter, and when Chikusa let go of her, Chrome rocked back on her heels, gasping. Chikusa looked down at her silently, eyes dark and unreadable, before dropping to his knees. "Chikusa..." she began, and was surprised by the huskiness of her own voice.

"Shut up," he said, and ran his hand up the inside of her thigh, displacing her fingers.

She cried out from the surprise of it, and again when his fingers stroked up into her, thrusting hard, and caught at his shoulder as she rocked against him, grinding against the palm of his hand. His face next to hers was as intent as the quick movements of his fingers. The unexpectedness of it all brought the heat rushing down on her fast and fierce, and left her leaning against him, gasping for breath.

He made a sound that was almost disgruntled, but he didn't move away from her.

Behind them, Ken's whistle was low and impressed. "Damn," he said, "dinner and a show."

"Don't be vulgar," Chikusa snapped.

"Please," Ken drawled, and came over to drape himself against Chikusa's side. "You know better'n that, Kakipi." He reached over and ruffled Chrome's hair. "Not bad for your first time."

"Mukuro-sama helped," she murmured, as Chikusa went a different kind of still against her.

Even though she had her lashes lowered, she didn't miss the way Chikusa's eyes changed, or the way some little tension relaxed itself from his shoulders. He made a harrumphing sort of sound.

Both she and Ken were very careful not to say anything about it when Chikusa curled an arm around her shoulder.

Chikusa remained the one who was difficult to handle, wary as a dog who'd been kicked too many times and prone to taking insult even when none was offered.

That was okay, Chrome decided, because he'd stopped looking at her like she was an interloper, even when he'd seen her twined around Ken. Sometimes he'd even let her touch him instead, though that was rare.

Does he not like girls? she asked Mukuro-sama one afternoon, when Chikusa had deflected her offer to let him take her, and then asked for Mukuro-sama immediately after.

Mukuro-sama smoothed his hands over Chikusa's upturned ass, spreading him open and circling a thumb over his entrance. Perhaps not as such, he mused, as Chikusa jerked against the pillows, voice catching as Mukuro-sama's thumb sank into him. It would explain things, wouldn't it?

Some things, she agreed, and thought more about it as Mukuro-sama worked Chikusa's ass slowly. A possible solution presented itself to her as Mukuro-sama slid his slick fingers into Chikusa. Maybe I should offer to take him instead?

Mukuro-sama actually twitched, like he was genuinely surprised; Chikusa shuddered under his hand. My little Chrome is growing up, he said, finally, and his mental voice was full of laughter. You may want to pay attention to this next part.

I always pay attention, she told him as he crooked his fingers, pressing them against Chikusa's prostate and rubbing firmly.

Yes, he murmured, tone a little distant, as Chikusa moaned, full-throated, you do, don't you?

She made a noncommittal noise in reply, because that was a silly sort of question for him to ask her. It's good to pay attention to what people want, she said instead. That reminded her of something; to distract him, she asked, Do you think he would rather I used my fingers? Or--they make things, right?

Fortunately, Chikusa was so far gone that he didn't even seem to notice the way Mukuro-sama broke into laughter at that.

That was fine by Chrome; if Mukuro-sama thought the idea of her taking Chikusa with--she wrinkled her nose at the image that was drifting off Mukuro-sama; neon purple? really?--a sex toy was funny, then he probably wasn't paying attention to her decision to figure out what it was that Mukuro-sama wanted.

She enlisted Ken's help, because—after he'd finished clutching his stomach and laughing—his eyes had turned hot and speculative at the thought, and he'd been more than willing to let her experiment with him. Mukuro-sama had observed as well, offering the occasional bit of advice regarding technique in between coughing fits that sounded remarkably like stifled laughter.

In between her sessions with Ken, Chrome pondered the enigma of Mukuro-sama. If he wanted for them to be happy, then he ought to have what he wanted, and if what he wanted was for them to want each other... they were working on that. They were getting there.

It had to be something else, something that she was missing, or that Mukuro-sama was keeping tucked away where she couldn't see it.

She'd figure it out, sooner or later, though, she decided, and tucked it away for later consideration. Just now she had more immediate things to worry about.

It's a pity we don't have a camera set up, Mukuro-sama observed as she opened the door to the boys' room and slipped inside quietly (although there wasn't all that much call for quiet; Ken was wrapped around Chikusa and had him well and truly distracted). I think Chikusa's face is going to be one to record for posterity.

You have a low sense of humor, Mukuro-sama, she returned, and stole over to the bed. Ken was arched under Chikusa, one leg wrapped around Chikusa's hip as he rocked up against him. He saw her, and threaded his hand into Chikusa's hair and tugged him into a kiss. Chrome took a breath and slid onto the bed with them, and stroked her hands down the line of Chikusa's spine. She curved them over his ass and squeezed the tight muscle of it.

Chikusa moaned against Ken's mouth, and again as she stroked her fingers down the cleft of his ass, slicking them with illusion and pressing them against his entrance. "Mukuro-sama," he breathed, arching against Ken, who groaned as that drove their hips together.

Chrome leaned against him, sliding her fingers into him as she let him feel the softness of her breasts against his back. "No," she said, against his ear, fingers stroking deeper. "It's me."

Chikusa made a sound that was hoarse with shock and something else, hot and wanting. "Chrome?" he managed, and gasped as she twisted her fingers.

"Mm," she said, and kissed the spot under his ear. He arched again, moaning, and Ken grinned at her, eyes dancing, giving her a thumbs-up. Chrome smiled back at him, and used her knees to spread Chikusa further open as she called on illusion again. "I have you," she told him, settling her hands on his hips to hold him.

He made another of those shocked sounds as the blunt head of the dildo slid into him, body flexing under her hands, and she almost stopped then, worried that this wasn't what he wanted after all. No, Mukuro-sama said, softly, go on. It's okay. Listen to him.

Chikusa was shuddering, little gasping cries working out of his throat as Ken's hands smoothed up and down his back, and he moaned again as Chrome sank all the way into him. Chrome smoothed her fingers over the sharp blades of his hipbones and rocked against him again, more firmly, driving him down against Ken, and savored the sounds they made together. It was all right after all.

Ken gathered Chikusa closer, holding him and rolling their hips together steadily. Chrome drove her hips against him, deep and careful and relentless, until Chikusa cried out, voice gone thready, and came undone between them. Ken gasped at that, hips lifting against Chikusa's, quick and urgent until Chrome slid a hand between them and wrapped around him, helping him the rest of the way over the edge.

"That went well," she said, when Ken had helped her to arrange Chikusa between them.

Chikusa stirred a little from where he'd tucked his face against Ken's shoulder. "What the hell was that?" he demanded, muffled.

Chrome decided it wasn't worth telling him he didn't sound half as angry as he probably wanted to; while she hesitated, Ken pounced on the opening. "That was awesome," he pronounced, in tones of deep satisfaction.

Chikusa twitched, and Chrome stifled the giggle that wanted to escape; in the privacy of her head, Mukuro-sama gave vent to a proper laugh. "Did you enjoy it?" she asked, and ran her fingers over the nape of Chikusa's neck.

That roused him enough that she caught a glimpse of one baleful eye. "It wasn't horrible," he admitted, finally. He made a brief gesture. "Did you—?"

"Don't worry about that," she told him, smiling. "This wasn't for me. It was for you."

"So?" he said, impatient. "I'm not the only one involved, am I?"

"No," she said, surprised—there was something about that which made her attention sit up and take notice. "I suppose you're not."

"Then stop being stupid. You're part of this, too," Chikusa said, and shifted away from Ken to run a purposeful hand down her side.

"Oh," Chrome said, getting it, and smiled at him. "Oh, yes, of course."

And if the boys and Mukuro-sama thought that was because of the way Chikusa's fingers were playing against her, well, that was okay, too.

She had to wait a little while to test out her epiphany when a sudden spate of mafia business required her to attend to her duties as Sawada-san's Mist Guardian. For a handful of weeks Chrome (and by extension, Mukuro-sama) barely had time to eat hasty meals and to catch a few minutes' sleep at a time between running battles with a trio of mafia Families who apparently didn't like the looks of the Vongola's chosen heir. When it was over—after Sawada had demonstrated his strength again, in a way that made Mukuro-sama quietly thoughtful—Chrome sustained just enough presence of mind to stagger homewards and plant herself in her bed to sleep for fourteen hours straight.

The boys let her be, absenting themselves from the apartment for the handful of days it took her to recover. She would have thought that they'd stayed away the whole time, except that every time she emerged from her bedroom to forage for food, there were fresh boxes of leftover takeout in the refrigerator. That was Chikusa's touch, she decided; Ken seemed to think that food descended from the heavens like manna.

By the fifth day, she felt more like herself again, and was curled on the couch when they came slinking in, quiet and careful. Ken cheered right up when he saw her sitting there. "Hah, I thought you were going to sleep forever," he said.

Chrome put her book aside and stretched. "I thought about it." Mukuro-sama, she added, when she looked past Ken to Chikusa's expression.

I see. He laughed and stretched himself out. By the time she came to her feet, he'd taken control and wrapped her body in his illusion.

The boys practically mobbed him; he let them and gathered them close. "It's been a long month, hasn't it?" he noted, against Ken's hair. Chikusa made a sound, soft and wanting, and Mukuro-sama chuckled softly. "Come to bed," he told them. "Let's get reacquainted."

Chrome never got tired of the way Mukuro-sama casually rearranged reality to suit himself; rather than deal with shuffling Ken and Chikusa to their bedroom, he made the couch and the wall between them and the bed simply disappear. He dealt with the matter of clothing the same way as he eased them down to the sheets. "There now," he murmured to them, as Ken pressed against him, trailing kisses down his chest, and Chikusa lifted his face, asking for a kiss.

Mukuro-sama obliged him, drawing him closer and kissing him, open and deep; Chikusa moaned and draped against him, nearly boneless. Mukuro-sama hummed into his mouth, clearly pleased, and hummed again when Ken's mouth slid over his cock, open and hot.

Chrome watched, considering, as Mukuro-sama touched them and soothed them, one hand curled in Ken's hair as he fucked Ken's mouth, the other hand sliding down to rub the spot behind Chikusa's balls. What would be the best way to do it? she wondered, as Chikusa arched against Mukuro-sama, coming with a low moan. Mukuro-sama smiled at him, and then drew Ken up onto his knees, bending him over and driving into him, hard and fierce, until Ken's body wrung even tighter around him as he keened his pleasure.

The boys helped her, although they had no idea they were doing so, by drawing Mukuro-sama down between them after he'd released Ken. Mukuro-sama chuckled and let them do it, trading slow kisses with them and nearly purring as their hands wandered over him. There was nothing for it but to simply do it, Chrome decided, and gathered the feeling that her times with Mukuro and the boys had given her to her, wrapping herself in the sense of being held, the feeling of being warm and safe and wanted. She reached out to Mukuro-sama's presence, and wrapped herself and that feeling around him, and snuggled close.

He started. What are you doing? he asked, mental voice gone unusually tight.

Chrome pressed herself closer to him, the analytical part of her noting the way the illusion of his physical body was reacting to this, drawing tighter. Chikusa seemed to be taking that as encouragement, and was rubbing slick fingers over Mukuro-sama's cock. Ours, she told Mukuro-sama, as Ken nuzzled Mukuro-sama's throat. Like we're yours. Your family.

This isn't the kind of thing normal families do, he said, his mental presence vibrating against hers with tension. Honestly, Chrome—

Chikusa shifted himself to settle over Mukuro-sama's hips, sliding down onto his cock with a long, low sigh, and Ken purred, leaning over Mukuro-sama and kissing him, hot and open.

We're not normal, Chrome told him, tightening her metaphorical arms around him. We make our own rules up, remember?

Mukuro-sama shivered against her, hands coming to rest on Chikusa's hips, drawing them down to meet his as he thrust against Chikusa. I believe I was referring to the general rules of reality, he said. The dryness in his voice did nothing to distract her from the way he shifted against her, some part of him wavering. If nothing else, she had his attention.

This is our reality. Chrome wound herself around him, as gently and persuasively as she knew how to, feeling him waver again. You're our reality.

Ken kissed his way down Mukuro-sama's chest again, and closed his mouth on Chikusa's cock with an enthusiastic sound. Chikusa groaned, his head falling back as he came again, hips grinding down against Mukuro-sama's. Mukuro-sama gasped, hips jerking up against Chikusa's. The heat that she could feel drawing him taut was more immediate than she'd ever felt from him. Our family. And we're your family, she whispered to him, slow and coaxing, as Chikusa draped over him and Ken pressed closer. She wrapped herself around him, more tightly. And this is what we do for each other, because we belong to one another.

She could feel that catch Mukuro-sama, and feel him surrendering, accepting the claim. He made a sound, like a gasp, and arched up—against Chikusa, against her—and came undone, sweet fierce joy burning through him, and through Chrome too as she held him. Ours, she whispered to him again. Yours.

He laughed, soft and astonished, once the heat had released him. My cute little Chrome isn't little at all any more, he said, surprised and pleased and a little wondering. When did you become so wise?

He asked such silly questions sometimes. I watched you.

Hm, Mukuro-sama said. The world blurred again. Chrome wasn't at all surprised when it resolved into the pavilion in his world, and she found herself actually wound around him instead of metaphorically. Nor was she surprised that Ken and Chikusa were pressed against him, too, making surprised sounds at the shift.

"My own," he murmured, as Chrome arranged herself in the tangle of them.

"Yeah," Ken said, nuzzling his shoulder; Chrome saw the way Mukuro-sama's eyes brightened at that, and the way Chikusa agreed, "Yours," as he draped an arm around Chrome's shoulders, casually, like it was an accident.

"Of course," Chrome said, and smiled at the way Mukuro-sama laughed, free and easy and without any undercurrents to it at all, and gathered them all closer to him.

- end -