What he's about to do is so unbelievable that he can not believe he's going to do it. He's shaky all over about this – from his twitching fingers to his teeth biting into his raw bottom lip.
He's going to die tonight; there is no other possible outcome. There is not even an impossible outcome.
Impatiently, he waits in his lover's apartment. He fidgets in the seat he has claimed, paces the length of the room, and then stares apprehensively at the silent door. The air is alive with his nervousness, wired and ready to blow up at the slightest spark.
His resolve dies little by little as time goes by.
And then it's dead; he shudders and runs for the door, grabbing his pants as an afterthought as he dashes. His hand grasps the knob and tries to swing the door open. Too late, the door opens and not by his will. He pales and gulps; his eyes trail up from a pair of black Italian loafers to the face before him.
Standing in the doorway is the most gorgeous man on earth; high cheekbones; a strong, chiseled jaw; thin, firm, but beautiful lips; a straight, proud nose and, beneath the one button Armani suit, a sexy, godly body of sinewy flesh and proud masculinity from his broad shoulders to his tapered waist to everything below, between, and above. His eyes are glossy black and his raven-black head of hair thick and spiky. His sideburns curl handsomely against each cheek.
The most gorgeous man on earth pauses in the doorway, glaring down at Lambo with usual annoyance and exasperation. As that glare scans his body, it slowly changes – they become heated and lusty. His tongue slips over his bottom lip and his hand flexes around the door knob.
The door shuts behind him as he stalks Lambo back into his apartment. His eyes speculate him, scrutinize him, judge him like a horse on market.
His crème beige skin glistens, the scent of grape oil wafting from his person. He is bare but for the white lace chiffon nightshirt that drapes to his thighs, displaying his lithe, unblemished frame to the man before him. His sable black hair is wilder than usual, cast into a careless tousle. His one bright emerald eye – surrounded by thick, long eyelashes, effeminizing his features - is wide with surprise. His dainty oval face is flush with color and his full, caramel lips are parted on a frozen yelp of shock.
Despite his obvious embarrassment of being caught in the act of leaving, he looks fresh, young, and more beautiful as no man or woman has the right to. And, just as obvious by how Reborn won't take his eyes off of him, his lover knows that.
The hitman saunters forward - the guardian falls back. His hands fist in the nightshirt, nervous and almost numb with fear; but it isn't the only reason for his elusion.
Reborn pauses between one step and the next, his eyes narrow threateningly. His expression says it all: 'do you think I will chase you down?' It is such a strong thought that the words almost seem voiced aloud.
"Yare, yare…" His voice, baritone and husky, is a whisper. "please…?" He lifts a hand and… crooks a finger, asking to be followed in the same way Reborn often demands that he come. His boldness could bring upon him emanate death or ethereal mercy.
He rearwards one slow step after another down the hall towards the bedroom. Reborn studies him with obsidian eyes glittering from beneath the brim of his fedora.
And then he follows, his loafers left at the door and his jacket tossed lazily onto the nearest chair. His eyes prey on Lambo, hundreds of ideas visible in their black depth of what he plans to do to the hapless guardian.
Lambo falters – pales and then explodes with color from his hairline all the way down his neck. He is… leading? He is leading Reborn?
He falls back into step, hips swaying such as a seductress had once taught him. His entire body blooms red underneath Reborn's unblinking reconnaissance, his unwavering attention so completely fixed on him that he drops his pants and holds the lapels of his shirt protectively. Reborn's scrutiny intensifies at the gesture.
His back hits the door to the bedroom and he reaches behind himself to open it. Reborn closes in, lazing a hand across Lambo's throat. The door opens and Lambo escapes the caress.
Reborn's eyes spark. His fedora streaks through air to land perfectly on the bulb of one bed post. His tie, belt, and socks are abandoned behind him as he hunts Lambo across the floor.
He corners the guardian yet again next to the bed. Nervous and excited, Lambo shakes; his tongue drags over his suddenly dry lips. Reborn's eyes trail the movement, mimicking it – so Lambo does it again.
'Thump' "Oof!" 'sshhhwwwipp'
The breath knocked out of his body, Lambo stares down at Reborn with a hazy eye; his hands claw the hitman's shoulders and his legs squeeze his hips. Reborn stares hungrily up at him. Heart frantic and breathing erratically to regain what he had lost, he dips his head and… kisses his forehead.
Time stands still. Tension wires Reborn's frame.
His lips endear Reborn, ghosting over the ivory skin of his hairline, cheeks, and the bridge of his nose, each caress softer than the brush of a butterfly's wing. He trails his lips across one high cheek bone and then the other, adoring the perfect structure with his soft, warm touch.
Time hesitantly begins to tick again. Reborn's eyelids droop and his frown relaxes. He accepts the uncharacteristic praise.
Lambo tickles a kiss across both heavy eyes – shutting them – and ensuingly presses his lips to the hitman's. Coffee and clover flood his senses, clouding his mind.
As gently as Lambo gives, Reborn returns. Lips mesh and part; tongues dance and tangle. Air becomes unattainable.
Reborn relinquishes him from the wall and drops him to the bed. He undoes the cuffs to his long-sleeved vest and two of the first buttons. His eyes narrow as his hands are pulled away from the lapels, replaced by the guardian's eager ones.
Unspoken requests are answered wordlessly.
He smiles, giddy from the control he has been given. His palms slide from Reborn's hands up his forearms, trailing over the pristine white sleeves; they rest on his shoulders and then whisper over his revealed collarbone; with deft, precise movements, the hitman is unveiled from throat to hip. The vest flutters forgotten to the floor. He strokes the hitman's chest with childish awe.
Like a kitten with cream, his tongue chafes each pale rose pink nipple. His eye slides shut and his back arches – Goodness, he's the one doing this but it feels so hot. He nibbles the hitman's collarbone as his hands rub and memorize the steely flesh before him.
Reborn cups the base of his skull in one hand and watches him through hell burning eyes.
He urges Reborn onto his back with gentle pushes. He nips his ribs and licks along his happy trail; his tongue dips into his belly button. His hips begin to buck and a faint pulsing builds in his nether region.
Panting, his fingers tremble as he undoes Reborn's slacks and pulls them down; the hitman's erection bobs in the open air, already half hard.
He licks the slit, teases it and rubs the head roughly. He leaves sloppy, open mouth kisses down each side of his penis before daring to slip the gland into his mouth. His head bobs as his hips jerk reflexively – doing this so freely, it feels almost as good as when Reborn does it to him. His lover says and does nothing in hindering or helping him. He becomes velvety hot steel in Lambo's mouth – he can feel the tip of his shaft at the back of his throat.
He releases him with a small 'pop' and sits back; he tastes the salty musk on his lips. Smearing the pre-cum seeping from the slit, he rubs it down Reborn's entire length. Reborn begins to sit up; Lambo stops him with a hand to his chest and a kiss to his lips. He shakes his head before turning his back to Reborn and kneeling.
He rests his jaw on his shoulder, watching Reborn watch him. He trails a finger down the crease of his ass and that act alone makes him jolt. Reborn stares avidly.
"Aaaaahhh…" He moans pleasurably as he arches his back, head lolling back on his shoulders. Using Reborn's own pre-cum, he encloses one finger in his own body.
A hand trails down his one thigh and he grasps it with his free hand, not pushing it away or pulling it closer, but asking that Reborn keep still. He brings the hand up to his lips and kisses each knuckle as he adds a second finger and – "Oooooohhhh…" – scissors himself.
Three fingers. "Nnnnn… Reborn…" He whispers the man's name: rolling it naturally off of the tongue, giving it a beautiful meaning instead of a foreboding sense. It means lover, it means savior, it means please, and it means mine. He feels so empty… he needs to be filled.
Reborn sits up, having waited for this exact moment – this moment where Lambo's need for fulfillment exceeds his want to pleasure him. He reaches out with both hands to turn Lambo around and prop him on his lap.
Lambo undulates against him, knees on each side of his waist. He throws his head back even as he continues to stretch his sphincter.
His hand is stolen from his body – Reborn sucks on each finger, eyes wicked on Lamb's flushed expression. He rolls them. Lambo ends up with his legs cast over Reborn's shoulders, the hitman's shaft nudging insistently at his orifice.
"Take me in." The hitman purrs. He thrusts teasingly.
Trembling, shaking, needing, he wraps his free hand around Reborn's member and guides it into his heat. His body seizes at the intrusion and he bows against the bed, yet he eases Reborn into him still.
"Ah, aaaahh… h-help me… Oh good-d-ness, help." Lips capture his – destroying whatever sanity he had had.
Reborn dips his hips and eases into his sphincter. He trails kisses over his cheeks, his neck, and his shoulders, comforting him.
Lambo's hands scrabble at his arms as his eye tears. "R-Reborn…" He sputters. Drool escapes from the corner of his lips. How gentle~ how loving! Why…? How? …What? This kind of Reborn exists?
It was more than he could have ever hoped for.
He plunges into Lambo, sheathing himself completely in his torso. "Ah!" Lambo tenses at the slight pain – not nearly as much pain as he usually experienced.
"That was the hard part." Reborn assures, his mouth next to Lambo's ear. "No more pain."
He doesn't move until Lambo bucks against him, hands biting into his shoulders. "More, Reborn…" He begs, face pressed to Reborn's shoulder. "More."
He thrusts lightly – begins a lazy tempo that tempts more than teases. Lambo licks one nipple; pants and moans. Teethes on his collarbone as pleasure builds.
"Nnnnnuuuuuhhh… Reborn!" Lambo's voice remains a husky whisper; Reborn's name still pertains to godly beauty on his lips. It feels so good to be taken slowly instead of forcefully taken; it feels like the sweetest and most addicting torture.
He nuzzles his face into Reborn's neck and then cups his cheeks in both hands; he steals a kiss.
Reborn sinks slowly into his body, thrust by thrust. He disregards time and rank – he treats Lambo like a human. Tears slide down from an emerald eye for the gentleness of it. "Reborn…"
He begins to rock against Lambo; he bites gently down on his shoulder and then kisses the small wound. Their bodies join without fault, one sure plunge after another that brings them together with a shock every time. It's explosive and ethereal – if Reborn touches him one more time, kisses him again, he will certainly cum.
He holds it back as well as he can.
Reborn's hand comes between them; his fingers undo the transparent white lace separating Lambo from nudity. He pushes the halves aside and bends himself to kiss and suck one hard bud.
"Ah!" Lambo arches off of the bed, tangling his fingers into spiky black hair. His mouth opens wide, but no sound escapes him.
His orgasm gangs up on him as Reborn's kisses leave hot, wet trails over his neck and shoulders.
The tension in his belly snaps and his essence sputters over his belly and the white sheets of the bed. "Reborn!" His voice finally succeeds a whisper and rises into a scream. Their sweat is mingling, their bodies twining, and the words begin spilling. "I love you!"
Reborn cums in him, enamoured by how Lambo's body milks his. He places one last kiss on Lambo's mouth, on his throat, on his shoulder. "I know."
Reborn slips out of his body and rests back against the bed; he closes his eyes and his face hardens familiarly, meaning simply: when he opens his eyes, Lambo better be gone.
He dares to stay, even resting against Reborn's side. So many times he had fantasized about this simple intimacy, the kind that others took for granted.
Reborn doesn't harm him: doesn't point a gun in his face or kick him out of the bed. He simply… does not acknowledge that Lambo's still there.
When he wraps an arm around Lambo's shoulders and drags him across his chest, it is more convincingly a mistake made while stretching in his sleep. Except Reborn doesn't make those kind of mistakes, does he?
"I know you'll never say that you love me back." He breathes into the silence of the room. "But I want you to know that you make it obvious that you at least care." He pecks the hitman's cheek. "Thank you for that." His eye drifts shut as he nuzzles his face under Reborn's chin, tucking his nose into the warmth of his throat. He tugs a blanket free from the mattress and curls it around them – just a light sheet to fend off the nakedness in the warm night.
Dreams close in on him.
Mixed into the haziness of unreality comes strangely real air against his ear and a strangely familiar voice into it: 'What a stupid cow to have only now caught on.' There feels to be a soft contact of lips. 'You will never come to realize how much I care.'
Yet it can only be a dream because that strangely familiar voice resembles no other than Reborn.
What a beautiful dream it is…
Author's Note: I loved this story but I hated how I had written it before. That is why I rewritten it. I want to make it as good as I can.