"If you could sleep nearby?" is the request he always makes of her whenever Chrome is about the fortress, a smile on his lips as his brow furrows almost in apology.
Being a burden to his friends, letting them down in some way, Tsuna hates such a thing. Anyone who knows him knows that. It's the side effect of having grown up alone, no Family to curl in and protect him and love him until he was approaching fourteen.
Yet Chrome is the best choice. There's no other way to say it.
On nights like this, where he's thrashing in his bed with a grimace on his face, memories of past sin practically drowning him, sure to force him awake just like so many other nights...
"Of course, Boss. When I sleep it will be near you." Because when she does sleep it's in the room next to his the spare that no one really claims as their own. It has an adjoining door meant to be the Vongola Donna's room, but Kyoko had made it clear from the beginning that she and Tsuna would share one room and the adjoining one could be for the collective rotating use of all of them considering the number of lovers they all had and shared.
However, on the nights he poses that request to her, when he can actually bring himself to make such a gentle demand, Chrome does not sleep. She makes a point of joining him in the bed, illusioning herself intangible when need be to avoid his flying limbs. She lays there and watches his face, running conjured fingers along his skin gently and soothingly, waiting for him to wake from the Vongola's bloody past.
Those are the worse nights, in his opinion, because there's no real rest to them. Just wave after wave of blood, enough to suffocate, to drown. Whenever morning comes for him after those kind of nights, he meets his friends and lovers with a bloodshot gaze that even his best attempts to smile can't erase.
Better these sort of nights where he does wake up so that he can go back to sleep at some point... Even if he wakes up with a guttural gasp as he jolts upright in his bed, tears pricking at edges of his wide eyes. There's a flicker of flame at his hands, as if he needs to fight, to protect himself, and he's already jerking his head around to look for enemies.
Chrome can feel it the instant before he stirs, the surge of power that signals his awakening and she's so very careful not to react with her own. She doesn't want to be seen as a threat despite all the instincts in her screaming that Tsuna is dangerous. He is, but not to her, never to her.
She waits for him to look at her, carefully vulnerable in her slip of a night gown, exposed from where his thrashing and wakefulness has thrown off the covers.
"We're safe, Boss." She murmurs. It's the first thing to tell him.
No immediate answer, not verbally. Tsuna just stares at her, pale and feeling as though he's been left in the snow from how cold he is even with the sweat on his skin. Every bit of air is gulped down.
"Safe?" he quotes back to her, still breathless, but at least the heat in the air is starting to dissipate. His eyes are dark, not bright piercing amber. Shakily, he wipes a hand across his face. He can still see blood. "We're safe..."
Chrome reaches up, catching his hand after he wipes it across his face, and brings it to her own, rubbing her cheek against his fingers. Then she props herself up on one elbow, the strap of her night gown sliding off her shoulder.
She moves closer to him, pressing against his side now that he's acknowledged her presence and has registered her as something other than a threat.
Her weight besides him, her hand guiding his touch to her weight, it keeps his dazed stare on her. Automatically, without really thinking about it, he leans back. His fingers stay along her cheek. A woman, missing an eye, with indigo hair- like no one in so many of the memories.
"You," is the simple but honest answer, his fingers still roaming slowly along her skin and dipping down to her now bare shoulder. He knows he needs her, to be exactly as she is. It brushes away any of the other, foreign, memories.
Chrome is a little afraid sometimes she's spent too much time with Mukuro because of the surge of possessive satisfaction she gets when Tsuna expresses his desire for her. Not Kyoko, not Yamamoto, or Gokudera, or any one else, just her.
"I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."
She lays back again, making herself purposefully vulnerable to him, and to the room at large, another signal to prove to his subconscious that they are safe.
A small noise hops out his throat when she suddenly goes back against the bed, away from his touch. He stares at her, blinking slowly, before his request falls from his lips.
"Can I touch you?"
He knows her, he does, and he's certain that exploring with his hands will make it all clear. Just that, nothing else.
Chrome smiles, and shifts, lifting the thin silk over her head and dropping it away towards the empty part of the large bed. She doesn't know if Tsuna wants something sexual or just confirmation of her, but it doesn't matter.
"However you want to."
She will give him as much of herself to touch with no illusions as he wants. Her scars are all there, from the accident and organs, eating up her skin across her right ribs and her stomach, but there are other smaller ones too littered here and there from later years.
With Tsuna, admittedly, sometimes the lines can be rather blurred. The soft way he ghosts his hands across her chest is very much similar to the way he enjoys touching his partners in bed- adoring them, worshiping them, taking his time so that he doesn't forget the shape of their bodies. Chrome has never been any different, with how much he loves her, too.
Every scar gets his utmost attention as his fingers trace out the lines and shape, eyes staring down quietly, and he lingers on every curve of her breasts. It's when his touch reaches the blatant scarring on her sides that he slows even further. Flame flickers to life again at his fingertips, but just briefly, a flare of soft orange, and sinks into her flesh.
"Chrome," he whispers after a moment, blinking rapidly in succession a few times, but still a little spacey.
"Boss." Chrome murmurs her name for him back low in her throat.
His tracing of her scars has drawn goosebumps along her skin. She is alternately over sensitive and unfeeling at different points around her scar tissue and she never quite knows what part of his touch is going to create a reaction for her.
The harmonious flames he sinks into her skin, right over her transplanted organs seep relaxation through her and pull a soft moan from her throat.
Whether he actually notices the sound that pours out from Chrome is a mystery. Tsuna doesn't act like he hears her, just slides his fingers against the subtle differences where her skin is scarred and not. Something about it seems to sooth him and, eventually, he curls up against her side with his head on her stomach and hair brushing along the underside of one breast.
"It's really you." The world is starting to come into focus again.
Chrome hums and carefully threads her fingers into Tsuna's hair. It tickles the sensitive skin it's brushing against as she plays with it, but a tickle is by no means the hardest sensation she's ever had to work around or ignore.
"It's me, Boss. In the flesh, no illusions. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
Despite the conversations they've had in the past, Chrome's fingers still rank high in Tsuna's list of favorite things about her. Something about them is noticeable, unique, as they thread through his hair, and Tsuna breathes. In, out, slowly. Steady.
Safe. Everything is safe, and Chrome is there. No one else.
"...Tell me a favorite memory. Between the two of us. Please?"
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badliifechoiice22016-01-03 08:14 pm
Chrome
Being a burden to his friends, letting them down in some way, Tsuna hates such a thing. Anyone who knows him knows that. It's the side effect of having grown up alone, no Family to curl in and protect him and love him until he was approaching fourteen.
Yet Chrome is the best choice. There's no other way to say it.
On nights like this, where he's thrashing in his bed with a grimace on his face, memories of past sin practically drowning him, sure to force him awake just like so many other nights...
She's the best choice for helping him fix it all.
no subject
However, on the nights he poses that request to her, when he can actually bring himself to make such a gentle demand, Chrome does not sleep. She makes a point of joining him in the bed, illusioning herself intangible when need be to avoid his flying limbs. She lays there and watches his face, running conjured fingers along his skin gently and soothingly, waiting for him to wake from the Vongola's bloody past.
no subject
Those are the worse nights, in his opinion, because there's no real rest to them. Just wave after wave of blood, enough to suffocate, to drown. Whenever morning comes for him after those kind of nights, he meets his friends and lovers with a bloodshot gaze that even his best attempts to smile can't erase.
Better these sort of nights where he does wake up so that he can go back to sleep at some point... Even if he wakes up with a guttural gasp as he jolts upright in his bed, tears pricking at edges of his wide eyes. There's a flicker of flame at his hands, as if he needs to fight, to protect himself, and he's already jerking his head around to look for enemies.
no subject
She waits for him to look at her, carefully vulnerable in her slip of a night gown, exposed from where his thrashing and wakefulness has thrown off the covers.
"We're safe, Boss." She murmurs. It's the first thing to tell him.
no subject
"Safe?" he quotes back to her, still breathless, but at least the heat in the air is starting to dissipate. His eyes are dark, not bright piercing amber. Shakily, he wipes a hand across his face. He can still see blood. "We're safe..."
no subject
She moves closer to him, pressing against his side now that he's acknowledged her presence and has registered her as something other than a threat.
"What do you need, Tsuna?"
no subject
"You," is the simple but honest answer, his fingers still roaming slowly along her skin and dipping down to her now bare shoulder. He knows he needs her, to be exactly as she is. It brushes away any of the other, foreign, memories.
no subject
"I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."
She lays back again, making herself purposefully vulnerable to him, and to the room at large, another signal to prove to his subconscious that they are safe.
"What do you need from me?"
no subject
"Can I touch you?"
He knows her, he does, and he's certain that exploring with his hands will make it all clear. Just that, nothing else.
no subject
"However you want to."
She will give him as much of herself to touch with no illusions as he wants. Her scars are all there, from the accident and organs, eating up her skin across her right ribs and her stomach, but there are other smaller ones too littered here and there from later years.
no subject
Every scar gets his utmost attention as his fingers trace out the lines and shape, eyes staring down quietly, and he lingers on every curve of her breasts. It's when his touch reaches the blatant scarring on her sides that he slows even further. Flame flickers to life again at his fingertips, but just briefly, a flare of soft orange, and sinks into her flesh.
"Chrome," he whispers after a moment, blinking rapidly in succession a few times, but still a little spacey.
no subject
His tracing of her scars has drawn goosebumps along her skin. She is alternately over sensitive and unfeeling at different points around her scar tissue and she never quite knows what part of his touch is going to create a reaction for her.
The harmonious flames he sinks into her skin, right over her transplanted organs seep relaxation through her and pull a soft moan from her throat.
no subject
"It's really you." The world is starting to come into focus again.
no subject
"It's me, Boss. In the flesh, no illusions. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
no subject
Safe. Everything is safe, and Chrome is there. No one else.
"...Tell me a favorite memory. Between the two of us. Please?"