With not a doubt in my mind, I spent my last hour on earth with my archrival.
In that hour, he ignored me, he abused me, and then he began the cycle over again by ignoring me. And, in that small hour, all I could do was stare at him.
I remember promising Vongola that I would make this time worth it, that – after spending hours trying to find another way, hours of trying to talk me out of it – I would have no regrets.
I stared at him and… I had no regrets.
"What the hell are you staring at, you dumb cow?" He sneers without even looking at me.
I feel fearless. "Yare, yare, I thought it was obvious." I am willing to play dirty for what I want. "You, gorgeous." Overdoing it just a bit? Most likely.
His eyebrow twitches, his only sign of annoyance. "Someone suddenly has guts." He tilts his head up and (finally, after 35 minutes) looks to me from his newspaper. "Should I rip them out or scramble them inside?"
I have to remind myself that I am already going to die once today, no matter what happens. I have to make a mantra of the fact in my head, just so I don't do something so stupid, Reborn will kill me long before anyone else does.
Is slipping into his lap suicidal? I am not immediately killed, so it must not be as bad as I thought it would be.
I am happy I have followed him all the way into his apartment (though it had hurt dearly) and now am free to do as I wish… or as much as he will allow me.
One arm around his shoulders… I am still alive. The other hand wanders across his clothed chest... He only watches me.
I glance up at the clock; 23 minutes to go. I want to go slow, but there isn't time for that. I should have grown the backbone to do this a long time ago where time was abounded and overconfidence normal.
'Click' His pants come undone in one hand and my fingers trail curiously over the flesh beneath. It is getting so hot in this room… or that that just my face?
His flesh twitches against my palm; I gasp in surprise, having not expected it. It was kind of like… it was alive...? Yeah, it was like that; and, the weirdest part was that it kept twitching. I rub my thumb back and forth against the skin, feeling the loose fold as it tightens over living meat.
My lips are so suddenly dry. I want to lick them wet, but I every part of me except for my hand feels frozen. I am already daring death; I do not want to outright throw myself into helping commit my own murder. No… just stay still… The skin is getting tighter. The flesh in my hand is rising and lengthening and, curiously, I run my hand from baste to tip a few times. Every time I do that, the flesh feels… hotter, harder.
I wish I had at least masturbated before now… alas, sharing a room with mama Fuuta (who was a saint) stopped many things that other teenage boys usually did. Now I have no clue how to touch him… Yare, yare, he is getting even bigger. Is this supposed to fit in me? I know enough about the lube and the stretching, but I don't see how that will help me. … I think I know how to make it slick enough.
On my knees between his legs, I look back up at him; he is still just staring down at me with those abysmally black eyes, almost as if he is waiting for me to do something – what, I don't know.
I feel the clock ticking as if it were my heart; I have to be quicker than I am being. Even if it hurts like hell, I have to finish soon.
He tastes salty and fleshy on my tongue, a horrible taste for me, me being a sweet lover instead of a spice lover. I almost want to stop, but I want him bad. I feel my stomach twist as his taste floods me, my mouth around as much of him as I can swallow. My eyes water as my gag reflex tries to push the flesh out of my mouth, but I don't release him. Bobbing my head, I rub my palm against what I can't fit in my mouth. He feels hotter now, feels thicker too. He is like steel wrapped thickly in velvet, which feels good, but – still, I can not believe that people could enjoy this – tastes terrible.
When I think I am going to vomit, I pull away, coughing. Imagine if he had bucked up into my mouth; I don't want to think about it.
Time is dwindling.
My pants go somewhere over my shoulders, followed by my cow print boxers and then my black jacket. I hesitate at my shirt… I don't know why, seeing as how I am already revealed. Taking off my shirt should be easy… but I can't do it.
He is still watching me, still waiting for something. He doesn't even look like a man lusting, except for the erect length between his legs. He is even fully dressed, is even lazing there in the chaise, his chin resting on his one hand.
No time to prepare myself – I can only hope that he is slick enough to fit into me. Even if it hurts like hell, even if I scream in agony, I want him in me… if only once.
And it does hurt; it hurts so badly, I can not even move. Kneeling on his lap, holding his erection straight up, trying to push his head into me, I can not do it. The pain tenses my shoulders and I sob once before trying to force myself on him even so. There is not enough time to be picky, I either want him in me, or I want to be able to walk away.
The latter is inevitable, so I might as well have the former. Yare, yare, I should feel scared or begin wailing, but I can hear everything as time dwindles. My breath is rasping, my lungs are burning, my heart is a drumbeat of thunder in my chest and my every cell shivers.
I jump slightly when his hand comes to my hip. "You can't even do this right, you dumb cow." He almost sounds… affectionate.
He lifts my hips and – "AAAAAAAAHHH!" – the pain drives black spots into my gaze as he impales me on his cock. For a moment, my world goes blank and, when I come back to myself, I am whimpering, my head tucked into the junction of his shoulder.
"Can't you handle me?" I hear the mocking in his voice, the sweet lilt of sultry teasing into my ear.
He pulls me up… and pushes me back down… pushes me back up… and then back down. Slowly, the burning pain numbs to a pleasurable hum in my veins. He feels… so good in me. I want more of him; I want him so deeply in me that I can feel him in my throat. I want him moving so fast, so hard, I want him to fuck me so that I can't walk away.
When I murmur so into his ear, if a bit shyly, I can feel his smirk rather than see it. "Oh?" He purrs, swiveling his hips, making me moan. "That hard?"
The coffee table is hard on my back, but he distracts me immediately from that as he thrusts himself completely into me, riding me as if we were some beasts rutting in the woods, complete with grunts and growls and pleasure-filled howls (mostly from me).
He bites my neck, I bite his shoulder. His hands bruise my hips, I drag my nails down his back. He plunges continuously and brutally into me, I shove back with all of my strength. The coffee table scratches against the floor, moving slight inch by slight inch the harder we move.
When we cum, we almost cum in the same moment, only seconds apart as my body squeezes and suckles him dry in my own orgasm. It is so explosive, my world explodes into a thousand dazzling stars and then falls into a dense haze.
When I come back to myself, he is already cleaning his piece off with a damp washcloth; I feel suspiciously wet between my legs, not in a sticky way like I had expected. It makes me blush, but I feel between my legs and pull my hand away… clean. He washed me off; that has to be the kindest thing he has ever done for me.
… I don't want to die. Yare, yare, this might have been a bad idea. I think doing this… makes me want to live more. What nonsense; it was a one time thing. How I managed to even do this once is beyond me, I can not push my luck. Wait, that was a lie.
I do have to push my luck. From the first time I ever saw Reborn, a small, overconfident, obnoxious four year old cow-obsessed boy, I have always wanted to do one thing… And I still want to do this one thing, more than I had wanted to experience the hitman before me.
It hurts to walk, but I do sore, ignoring the soreness of my butt as I wrap my arms around his shoulders. He ignores me, despite the fact that I am hanging onto him; I envy him that ability to not think about what he does not want to think about. I wish I could do that sometimes… this time.
On the tips of my toes, I am able to reach his lips with my own. As a lover of sweet things… I can not believe how could clove cigarettes and vanilla espressos taste mixed with the natural aroma that is Reborn, the number one hitman in the world. I feel almost as if I could drown in him, almost as if I need nothing more than him to live.
How sad that I do… I need a miracle. But, for now, all I need is him. I need nothing more than him for as long as I will live.
I have to leave in a few minutes… I have to be brave now, braver than before.
"Reborn…" I whisper, afraid and uncertain. "I… am in love with you."
There is silence… and then a snort. "I know, cow." He pulls at my hair, almost to the point of pain. "I don't like how weird you're acting. I have been trying to figure out what could have possibly happened to make you so brave, but I just can not figure it out." He doesn't ask, but he is obviously expecting an answer to his weird behavior.
How could I answer? I can't; not without telling him everything. "As long as you know, than I'm happy." I want to kiss him again, but I know I won't be able to stop myself from staying if I do so. I have to be strong and leave now. "Yare, yare, you are boring, Reborn." A bit too cocky? "I expected to be kicked out of your apartment by now." I have to be careful not to look at him; my eyes are swimming with tears, so much so, everything I look at is wavy and blurry.
"Kick yourself out. I was relaxing before you fucked yourself on my cock." He sits back down on his chaise, newspaper in hand as if he had held it always.
I do so without a word, closing the door silently behind me. I am… so scared. But I have to be brave. For Vongola… for me…
For Reborn.
I am two minutes late, but that seems okay because no one reprimands me for it. Vongola stands to one side and three men stand to the other. Vongola's mouth keeps moving, but he never seems to find the words he wants to say because he remains silent.
One man steps forward after moments of tense quiet, a gun in one hand and a video camera in the other. "I am sorry, child." I can hear the honesty to his words, the actual regret he must feel. "Orders are orders, or else I would not be here today, doing such a thing as ending such a young life." He turns on the video camera and hands it to one man behind him. "I will make this quick." He pauses for a moment, his eyes flickering to Vongola. "You may leave, Vongola Tenth."
"No." He grounds out, hands clenched at his sides. I can not see his eyes for the fall of his hair, how his chin is tilted down. "I will not leave Lambo, no matter what." He is still trying to figure out another way about this, some way he can stop this.
I am so sorry, Vongola… but there is no way around this. The Vachini family will have it no other way, or else we will have a nuclear mini-war on our hands; they specialize in poisons, and I can not have them killing my family, not in a way we can not fight back against.
I am sorry that the Vachini boss saw me and decided that, for the insult of having his son murdered by Hibari, I should pay for him. That I, visually alike to his late wife if only different in sex, pissed him off so badly that he would not listen to reason. He had been willing to listen to reason with Hibari, had almost let it slide because, truly, he was half glad for the death of his rapist, homicidal son who he had never actually known; he had only ever been upset because his son had been under his care and it had shone badly for someone under his care to die by another's hand.
I am… so sorry… and so scared.
And the gun points directly between my eyes, the camera rolling, focused on me as I cry – for once – quietly without a wail.
"… Stop it…" Vongola is ignored. "Stop it!" The safety is clicked off. "DAMN IT, DON'T DO IT!"
The gun goes off.
I have… no regrets.
Five months later, there stand two graves instead of one. The first belongs to Lambo Bovino Vongola, decorated with daffodils and with small treats resting on the gravestone.
Next to Lambo is the grave of Reborn, the number one hitman in the world. His grave is decorated simply by a pair of horns.
Lambo had never gotten to learn that Reborn loved him completely and entirely; so much so that, when the reason of his death was finally revealed, he lost his cool head and became a being of cold vengeance. Only hours after gaining this knowledge, he had stormed the Vachini home base and slaughtered everyone in his way.
He succeeded in killing the Vachini boss and half of the family before succumbing to poison. The security camera, complete with audio, manages to catch his last whispered words.
'I love you too, Lambo.'