If these characters were mine, I'd be a significantly better artist, not to mention much wealthier than I am. Alas, we cannot have all we wish for. A tiny D18 drabble, written for a friend who wanted it... ages ago.

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The second time Dino kissed him that day, Hibari bit down. Blood seeped into the cracks in their lips, dribbled in morbid lines down their chins, and Hibari waited until a thick hand was knotted comfortably in his hair before knocking his tonfa upwards and into the Cavallone boss' windpipe.

"I guess I can't distract you, can I, Kyouya?" Dino chuckled, rasping slightly from the tonfa's heavy impact with his voice box, neck arched where it pressed into him still.

"Shut up," said Hibari, and the fight came up to meet him once more, blow by blow and cut by cut, whirling and biting and tearing and bleeding until it felt like there was nothing left of his unmarred skin at all. Between movements, in a tiny moment of quiet before Hibari tore free of the whip's bonds for the millionth time, his tongue darted out and licked the Italian's blood from his chin and lip, filling his mouth with its salt-tang.

They stayed on the roof for four more hours than usual, until they'd run out of water bottles and Dino's men were starting to doze and make their leader founder. Hibari's focus remained heightened, relentless, long after he'd left that rooftop behind for the night, and he tore a few new holes in his walls when he reached home. Oh, there was no one in the world like Dino Cavallone; no one else Hibari wanted to see dead that badly.

Because the first time the Bucking Horse had kissed him that day, it had gone very differently. The first time, Hibari had not resisted at all. He hadn't even moved.