Pairing: Xanxus/Squalo (XS)
Disclaimer: Katekyō Hitman Reborn! and all its characters are property of Amano Akira. No copyright infringement is intended.
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Superbi Squalo was a proud man, but not so proud that he could deny a certain sort of satisfaction when his boss grabbed him by the hair, yanked backwards, and growled at him to make himself useful. Pride never seemed to matter at those moments. All that mattered was that Xanxus wanted him, and that, in of itself, seemed an achievement as great as becoming the Sword Emperor.
Xanxus did not care about Sword Emperors, though, or what Superbi sacrificed to become one. He hated Superbi's prosthetic arm. If Superbi accidentally pressed it to Xanxus's chest while he rode him, Xanxus would automatically fling it off his chest and wrap his fingers around Superbi's throat. By the time Xanxus reached orgasm, Superbi would be dizzy from the loss of air. Xanxus would toss him off when he was finished, and Superbi would be left to take care of himself, still gasping for breath. Xanxus would turn on the television, but after a minute, his gaze would shift, and he would watch Superbi instead of whatever craptalk show he had put on. It was then, when Superbi had Xanxus's attention, that he would come.
It had always been like that, even before Xanxus had been locked away in his frozen prison. Xanxus had about as much romance and seduction in him as a grizzly bear who just found a tasty-looking family of four barbecuing hot dogs in an American national park. What he wanted, he took, and Superbi was happy to give it to him. Anything to catch his eye, even for a moment. In those moments when Xanxus yanked Superbi's clothes off and ran his gun-calloused hands over Superbi's skin, Superbi felt as if he were part of something so large that it wrapped the world. This was what the Sky truly was: a buffer between the earth and infinity. The Sky was a gateway to the universe, a universe that constantly expanded beyond its own boundaries.
A part of Superbi knew how pathetic he was every time he unzipped Xanxus's trousers to get Xanxus's attention. It made no sense, but reason and logic were for geniuses like Belphegor and Mammon, not predators like Superbi. He lived for two things: the sword and Xanxus. The sword remained at his side, but Xanxus was always just ahead of him. Superbi could not run fast enough to reach him, but he could not stop trying. He longed for that rage, a rage so powerful it set the Sky on fire.
Instead, Superbi was the Rain. Xanxus laughed when Superbi screamed and told Superbi that he tried too damn hard. That he was fooling no one, and no matter how loud he raised his voice, he would only ever be the Rain, who washes everything clean. For it was Superbi who tied up the loose ends. When the other Varia screwed up, he was the one who saved their sorry asses. There was no glory in cleaning up everyone else's messes. Yet, that was Superbi's purpose. He squared the accounts.
When he reported to Xanxus on his accomplishments, Superbi usually wound up wearing whatever Xanxus was drinking. But after he flew at Xanxus in a rage, after Xanxus grabbed him and disarmed him, after Xanxus wrestled him to the bed and took him until he cried out at the top of his lungs, he could accept who he was. He could accept it because Xanxus slept fitfully beside him, his fingers curling around Superbi's long hair, his hand heavy against Superbi's side.
Superbi was the Rain, and he had this power of tranquility, this one power, over the ever-expanding Sky. For after the Storm passed, the Lightning struck, the Sun set, the Mist faded, and the Clouds drifted, it was the Rain that washed the earth clean and left the Sky beautiful once again.
