"I have no children. Xanxus is not my son."

He couldn't comprehend the journal entry. He opened his mouth to say something: yell, ask himself questions, curse. Anything. But nothing came for a long, long time. And when it did, the scream didn't even sound like his voice. And he screamed and screamed.

The diary in his hands crumpled and burned until there was nothing left. It didn't change anything. He was not the Vongola heir. But the reminder was gone.

Insane rage pulsed in Xanxus's veins like a wildfire, spreading until it reached his broken heart. His "father" had betrayed him. He was just a bastard child of an Italian prostitute. He was trash. The fire was fanned. He then destroyed the study.

His feet took him somewhere. In his seeping anger, he could no longer see, hear, or talk. He had just learned that his life up until now had been meaningless. He had no need for such things as control. He practically ran through the Vongola mansion.

"Xanxus?"

He had flung the younger boy's door open so hard, it broke from its hinges. Squalo jolted up from his bed and stood to Xanxus's attention.

Xanxus said nothing. But Squalo waited.

The former heir gritted his teeth until they stung and ached. He could never tell his right-hand man about this: Ever. Or else he'd betray him too.

The thought made Xanxus even more dangerous with rage. With a burst of it, Xanxus had Squalo by the hair. Squalo had promised to grow out that hair, to show how loyal he was, loyal to a street urchin.

"Xanxus!" Squalo cried out, grabbing onto Xanxus's burning hands so they'd stop ripping his hair from his skull. He was forced to his knees as he struggled fruitlessly. "What the hell is it?"

Xanxus wouldn't tell a soul.

He tugged Squalo up to his feet again and pushed him face first into the pillows on his bed. The silver-haired boy flailed and kicked, anything to get him out from under Xanxus and away. Soon, he couldn't breathe.

"X-Xan-" he gasped into soft cotton filling his mouth. Xanxus had yet to loosen his hold, and Squalo could see the black speckles taking over his vision. Was he going to die?

Within an inch of passing out, Xanxus yanked his face up from his pillow and gave him long enough to gasp violently back to life. Squalo coughed and coughed as he forced oxygen into his lungs again. He did not have the energy to fight Xanxus off anymore, and remained limp in his grip as he tried to just breathe. It wasn't until Xanxus lay over him that he regained a little composure. He pressed his chest into Squalo's back, his hips against his ass, his arms trapping him beneath his stronger, angrier body.

Squalo glanced over his shoulder as he panted for air. Xanxus' eyes were dilated with wrath and his grip on the sheets beside Squalo's head was unrelenting.

Squalo wasn't weak or easily contained, but he'd be damned if he wasn't loyal to Xanxus. He set aside his instincts to rebel for only a moment.

"X-Xanxus, what's wro-"

"Shut up," he whispered.

Squalo shut his mouth. The situation was awkward all on its own without the silence making it unbearable. The swordsman swallowed his protests for the sake of Xanxus.

Roughly, Squalo was pulled by the shoulder and flipped onto his back, forcing him to look straight into Xanxus's furious eyes. Squalo was not one to back down from a challenge, but the eerie look of pain on his boss's face made him stray.

After meeting Xanxus for the first time and vowing his allegiance, Squalo quickly learned that nothing could hurt Xanxus. He was invincible. He was brash and stubborn and everything Squalo valued in a leader. The sight of Xanxus in pain was something he thought he'd never see.

Squalo and Xanxus stared at each other for a long time. Squalo could see the insistence and urge to break and destroy in his eyes. Their bodies were too close, hot and breathing hard. Someone needed to do something.

Xanxus smashed his lips to Squalo's and flattened his body into the mattress. The former heir wasn't kissing Squalo: He was attacking. He was always on the offense, even when he didn't need to be. He needed to be stronger than everyone else.

And Squalo let him.

Sure Squalo could have pushed him off and beat him down, but he'd much rather be under his boss like a good follower. He'd call this practice.

"Xanxus," he mumbled against the lips ravishing his mouth. He could taste the tang of copper, feel his lip split open as Xanxus bit down like an animal. Not only that, his boss's angry shaking hands grabbed onto his shirt and ripped it apart, popping all the buttons off.

Hands fumbled at his nipples roughly, pinching and rubbing until he moaned. Squalo couldn't breathe again, heavy dark lips still stitched to his.

Soon, pants were gone and he could barely withstand the embarrassment of being naked in front of his boss. But the way he analyzed all of his body made him feel just a tad bit important. Fingers were gliding over every inch of skin, and Squalo was getting needy and hot. The touches were nowhere near gentle or loving: they were anxious and forceful, calloused and angry. But Squalo liked it better that way, he supposed.

He was flipped onto his stomach once more, but his face was free to move on its own accord. He looked over his shoulder to see Xanxus unzipping his pants and freeing his proud erection, red and dripping in all its glory.

"Shit," Squalo whispered to himself, turning back to grasp onto his pillow like a vice. He doubted if he could do this after all.

But the hesitation held no power, as Xanxus gripped his guardian's ass and pushed into the dry pink hole in front of him.

Squalo opened his mouth to cry out, scream, anything, but all that came out were choked gasps and untamed saliva. He knew his boss wasn't going to be gentle with him, but he almost couldn't take it.

The red pulsing organ pushed all the way to the hilt, drawing blood that oozed down Squalo's upturned thighs. Xanxus' shadow loomed over Squalo like the devil needing to consume, leaning over his ass as he groaned. Squalo gripped his pillow as tight as he could, trying to breathe still.

"Hnn!" the boy whined as Xanxus pulled out a little and pushed back in. More blood escaped, and he trembled. "Ahhn!"

Xanxus only groaned again as he pushed back, shoving Squalo's quivering hips in the process. The feeling was blissful, but he was still distracted with his anger. He started thrusting, thrusting deep and quick and hard, to the point of Squalo actually feeling tears prick his eyes. He wouldn't cry ever, he told himself. But it was close.

In and out was a pattern that was irregular and brutal. He'd pull almost all of the way out, revealing his organ slathered in crimson, and ram back in with a force reserved for bulldozers. And it kept getting faster and faster. Squalo was incapable of screaming for once in his short life. The force of the rhythm was making him choke on any words he had thought to say, along the lines of "hold on" or "stop" or "fuck, fuck, fuck". All he could do was moan and whine like the submissive he was.

Xanxus gripped his pelvis until the skin bruised and broke, pumping in and out as fast as possible, as hard as he could. He needed release, and fast. He grunted over Squalo's back, crushing him into the sheets as he fucked him senseless.

Squalo held on for dear life. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, all he could do was feel the pain taking him over from the hips up. His head rubbed harshly against the pillow, and his back arched under the strain to the point of a blazing ache he suspected he would have for a few weeks.

"Fuck," Xanxus cursed, slamming in even harder, scratching skin even deeper. In just a moment, Squalo's insides melted with a burning pain that made him sob loudly. Xanxus had come inside him with a force that could not be parried, and it coated his wounded insides with acid.

When Xanxus pulled out, Squalo's hips dropped back to the bed the moment he let go. He didn't turn over to address his boss. He just hugged the pillow close to his face and stayed silent. He made no effort to cover himself up, no attempt to save the sheets from bloodstains.

He listened to the rustling of Xanxus behind him, wiping the blood off himself and zipping his pants back up. He fixed his disheveled hair and retied his tie, returning to the look that screamed "heir of the Vongola throne". In no way had he just reverted to animalistic behavior. He was above that after all. He turned on his heels and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

He wasn't going to forget the diary after fucking Squalo, but it made it a little bit easier to handle. Maybe another go some other time would help even more.