"Yare, yare, you really have to stop doing this, Reborn."
The fields are endless; tall, healthy green grass filled with daises and lilies and a trickling stream nearby. Sitting down in the middle of this peaceful meadow is a 26 year old boy; his sable, shaggy hair flutters with the small breeze coming through and his beautiful face is bathed by the soft light of the setting sun.
Said boy tilts his head up and then looks at him with gentle, loving eyes; his smile is warm and understanding. "You need to pay attention to what he is saying, Reborn. You do not want to miss anything."
"Reborn!"
The hitman blinks, looking up from where he had been fixedly staring at the table. He turns dull, black eyes onto the Vongola boss, his arms crossed over his chest and his fedora tipped down over his forehead.
Tsuna pales and looks away from him. His hands tap against the table as he recollects his thoughts.
"Now you have made Vongola nervous, Reborn. Heh heh, how mean of you."
Reborn ignores the voice in the back of his head, refusing to look across the table to see if there is anyone there, already knowing that the seat would still be empty.
"How rude, Reborn! You are still ignoring me."
"Reborn, I want you to take a week off."
Now Tsuna returns Reborn's soulless stare with his own determined one. He sits back down at his chair and does not break eye contact with the hitman.
"You haven't been the same since… that happened. I want you to pick one place in the world, and you will have a paid vacation."
Reborn, for a moment, does not even bother to consider it. Take time off for something not even the matter? Tsch, how stupid is no good Tsuna for thinking such a thing?
"Time is a place, Reborn."
He manages to stop himself from moving as he feels the ghost touch of fingers across his chest, arms coming around him to hold him. He is tempted to turn around and shoot whoever the hell it is touching him, but he knows there will be no one there and no one to shoot. He bears the madness in silence.
"Don't you want to see me again? Where is that 10 year bazooka? I bet it can be tampered with, send you back into the past and for longer than five minutes if we work on it."
Despite knowing that he was going insane thanks to the voice in his head, that voice made a valuable point. He could stop torturing himself and just… go back. Perhaps, he could even stop all of this from happening in the first place. Then again, there were reasons why they had not already tried that.
For one, the bazooka was missing. For two, Giannini could not, for the life of him, make a way to update the bazooka so, especially with it missing.
"Find it; you have a week."
He feels lips at the corner of his own. He can see his smile clearly in his mind. Sable hair tickled his cheek, but he knows no one is that close to him.
"I want to be with you again… Please don't leave me alone."
He stands to his feet and tips his hat to Tsuna. Without a word, he takes the envelope outstretched to him and leaves. He knows Tsuna watches after him with pained worry and that the three guardians in the room try to look everywhere but at him.
Chrome and Mukuro are somewhere else in the world and Hibari is still not fond of crowding. There is one chair at the table that can not be explained by a mere absence.
If he follows this madness right, it won't be empty for long.
10 years earlier…
"STUPID REBORN!" Lambo sobs and slams his door in the face of the hitman; he locks it, and then slides down the length of it until his head is tucked between his knees. He wraps his arms around his legs and lets it all out. He cries as if the world will end, as if he hopes to drown himself using only his tears.
"Dumb cow, what did you expect?" Comes the taunting voice of the very man he wished dead at that moment. "I told you, we are not a couple. I hold no sole loyalty to you. If you want to wail and cry, than so be it; I'm leaving." He hears the hitman chuckle and then can actually feel him leave his apartment.
He waits another half hour before leaving the bathroom; he looks around cautiously before rubbing a hand over his eyes and slinking into his bedroom and hiding underneath the covers.
He hears the front door open and, though he can not hear it, knows that the man who had entered was making his way to his room. Stalking Reborn for so many years had given him a heightened intuition for the hitman. Something feels different, but he ignores the sensation; after all, why should he care?
His bedroom door opens and he can finally hear the quiet clack of Reborn's shoes against the boards of his floor. "Go away." He pleads, his head pressed into a pillow, muffling the words. "I don't want to see you, Reborn." He grabs the blankets and pulls them over him for extra protection.
The bed dips and a hand trails over his back. How gently he is touched urges Lambo to turn his head away from his pillow and look curiously to his tormentor; his cheeks are stained red and still tears are trickling from his eyes. His lips are bruised and full, having been bitten raw from all of the times Lambo had tried not to scream out in emotional pain.
What he sees is… perhaps not as confusing as it should have been. It is Reborn, but he looks… older. Not so much so, but there are crow's feet at the corner of his eyes; possibly too many times squinting in the sunlight or glaring. His lips look more severe and the angle of his jaw tighter.
Lambo takes a moment to think about it… He sniffles and sits up, shrugging off his hand. "The 10 year bazooka?" He croaks, looking away from him. It seems like the only answer; the only questions left would be how they tuned it to send Reborn into the past instead of into the future and how they found it, seeing as how it was hidden after the 'future that had never been' trip.
He isn't answered; then again, he did not expect to be. Why ever would Reborn care to talk to him? He hadn't given a shit 10 years ago, he didn't care in the present, and he most certainly would not care 10 years in the future.
And, yet, an arm circles his waist and pulls him flush to the hitman. He can hear him breathe in deeply against his neck and the shiver that runs down his spine. He rubs at his one eye and looks at Reborn.
He is… smiling. Another arm circles his chest and Reborn begins kissing his throat, nipping at his adam's apple.
"R-Reborn?" He pushes at him. "Stop it; I'm not in the mood." He did not care if this was Reborn from the future, the present, or the past; he wanted nothing to do with him. "Stop it!" He slaps the hitman across the face and retreats, hiding beneath the covers again, but holding them tightly around himself.
Reborn watches him with glittering obsidian eyes. "You are so beautiful…"
Lambo forgets to breathe and his heartbeat kicks up in his chest. "Wh-what?" His hands began shake and he clenches his teeth. "How dare you. What have I done to you for you to mock me like that?" He gets off of the bed, blanket and all, and stumbles out of the room. He goes to his door and holds it open, his lips trembling as he glares at Reborn. "Get. Out."
Reborn follows him, his eyes trained on him with a predatory glow. He grasps the door handle and shuts the door, locking it as he corners Lambo against the wall. With that done, he puts a hand on either side of Lambo's head and touches his forehead to Lambo's breast. He nuzzles there until he rests his ear to his heartbeat. "Being near you stops the voice."
"… Voice?" He doesn't know what to do with his hands, so, in a show of defeat, he puts them on Reborn's shoulders. "Yare, yare… when do you go insane in the future? Just for reference, of course." He looks away, still pissed at him and still deeply hurt.
Now he knows that Reborn shivers because he can feel it against his fingertips. "Say it again."
He tilts his head. "Say what? Reference?" He begins to edge away, trying to, subtly, escape the mentally unstable man. Reborn looks up at him with such a smoldering glare, Lambo squirms. "…Yare, yare?" Again, that shiver. Reborn's eyes slide shut and he rests his head over his heart again, arms wrapped around Lambo's waist. "… Hasn't it been longer than five minutes?"
"Again." Reborn ignores his question.
Lambo huffs. "Not until someone tells me what this is all about." He pushes at his shoulders. "You're acting weird, Reborn."
The blanket is ripped from him, tossed somewhere behind the hitman. His shirt is torn apart and lips descend upon his revealed chest. "Ah – ha!" His cheeks darken with lust as his knees weaken and knock together. Yes, Reborn seemed to still know that spot just beneath his third rib on his right side; the same exact spot that made Lambo go crazy with need. Who knew why that spot made him so hot; all that mattered was that it did and now Lambo was needy.
His hands weave into his hair, tipping the fedora off of his head and onto the ground; amazingly, he isn't murdered or shoved to the ground to pick it up and dust it off. Oh no, Reborn is completely… entirely focused on him.
"Y-you are acting s-s-so weird… Ah –ha aaaaahhh… Reborn!" He arches sharply against the wall, aware of a hand shoving his pants down and fingers teasing his orifice, easing him open none too gently.
He is lifted off of the ground and Reborn undoes his own pants, freeing his hard, long, thick length to the air. In only a moment, Reborn drops Lambo to impale himself on his cock.
"AAAAHH!" Lambo grips his shoulders with biting nails. "Aaa- mmmnn…" Reborn steals his lips and kisses him deeply, almost as if he wants to bring Lambo's soul into his own body. He bites his bottom lip and tangles tongues with him, all while thrusting wildly up into him, no tempo whatsoever, but only driving need.
He is pounded ruthlessly into, his body no longer his, but Reborn's to do with as he wishes. He breaks away to gasp, but is kissed again only moments later, his every breath stolen from his mouth into Reborn and vice versa.
"Ah- aaaah! R-REBORN!" He cums across their bellies. He sobs as he feels his insides being bathed by liquid heat. He sags against the wall, a haze filling his mind. "Reborn…" He whimpers, his world becoming dark as sleep begins to envelope him.
Lips tease his with a curious gentleness that he wants to question, but does not have the strength or will to. "I'm staying."
He blinks once and then smiles. He brings a shaky hand up and strokes it through Reborn's hair. "Yare, yare…" His voice is hoarse. "You are getting old, Reborn…" He tugs the hair strand free and studies its grayness. "See this? That is bad…" He blinks again… and is out like a light, only supported by Reborn's arms.
He never sees the one teardrop that falls.
10 years in the future with 10 – year younger Reborn
"No good Tsuna, what am I doing here?" He glares at the Vongola while simultaneously taking in the changes 10 years had incited.
Tsuna blinks and then smiles sadly. "So it worked… that's good." He gestures for Reborn to follow. "The older you wanted me to show you a few things while he was away."
"My older self would be in my place 10 years in the past; there isn't much you can show me in five minutes."
"Actually, you will be here for two days." Reborn cocks his head for an answer and Tsuna shrugs. "It took three days to find the bazooka and another two days to tune it to go backwards and for a longer time. Because I gave your older self a week off, he was adamant in finishing this in a week…" He looks away and his shoulders tense; obviously, something is wrong.
"Why would I set myself a time limit and what for?" Good old Reborn, always wanting to know everything no matter how he has to learn it.
"Don't be offended, Reborn; but you got a little… loose… in the head." He doesn't seem to want to say anything more.
"Why do you say that now?"
"Because…" Tsuna pauses to take a deep, wheezing breath, as if someone had just socked him in his stomach. The Vongola looks back at him with tearing eyes. "… I'm sorry…" He turns away again and continues on their way. "I don't know what he wants me to tell you or not, so let's just get to his room first."
Silence descends. They arrive at a room which, inside, has an espresso maker, a writing table, and nothing more but a bed. On said bed is a letter.
"I'll be down the hall, the last room on the left, if you need me." The Vongola smiles at him from the door before silently shutting it behind him as he leaves; Reborn waits until he can not even hear his footsteps before picking the letter up. He opens it and the first thing to catch his attention… are the pictures; perhaps a dozen of them at most.
He begins at the first one: Lambo, 25 years old in this picture(as the back of the photo says), is smiling up at the camera; his coat is drooping from his shoulders and he bites the knuckle of his pointer finger, his cheeks flushed red. He looks god damn sexy, his other hand under his shirt. Clearly, this picture was meant for someone special to him. Reborn knows without a doubt that it was meant for his 10 year older self. After all, Lambo would never cheat on him with another.
He can not help but smirk at the thought; from age 5 to 26, Lambo is still under his thumb.
He moves on to the second one: again, Lambo; but, this time, there is a very familiar fedora wearing man in the picture as well. Lambo has his legs spread wide, sitting on the rail of the Vongola's headquarter's balcony. Between his legs stands older Reborn, his one arm draped over Lambo's one thigh, an obvious state of possessiveness. Lambo has one arm around his shoulders and the other hand entwined with Reborn's free hand, a soft smile on his face.
He isn't so certain how to think of this picture; of this apparent affection and – on Lambo's part – love. Even trust, because he knows without a doubt that 16 year old Lambo would sooner try to tear his eyes from his sockets than sit on a three story high ledge with only him to hold onto. Honestly, Reborn could not blame him; he would have shoved him off of that ledge, just to meet him at the bottom and laugh at his stupid ass for trusting him to begin with.
The third one: Older Reborn has a gun pointed at the camera and Lambo looks lazily irritated about it. Older Reborn has an arm wrapped around Lambo's waist and Lambo has a hand resting on Older Reborn's outstretched wrist, his chin tilted up and his lips brushing Older Reborn's cheek. There is something being whispered; he knows because Older Reborn is looking down at Lambo from the corner of his eye.
He sits back on the bed, resting one foot on the opposite knee. What was this about? All of these pictures of Lambo and him? Was his older self trying to tell him not to do it or forewarning him that he might actually come to care about the stupid cow?
The fourth picture is almost sickeningly sweet: Lambo had fallen asleep in his white tee, his head of shaggy sable resting on Reborn's chest. He has one hand curled to his mouth and a leg thrown over Reborn's waist. Worst of all, Reborn is sleeping as well, though his eyes are open. He has one arm across Lambo's shoulders and the other is lazing on Lambo's thigh.
He can not believe how soft he is in the future; what good could come from actually sleeping with the dumb cow? More likely than not, he would wake up with his own gun in his face.
Each picture continues along the lines of intimacy until, finally, he is down to three pictures left.
The ninth picture: 25 year old Lambo is standing off to the side and in the far back of the picture; the camera is at an askew angle, for one reason or another, tilting everything in the frame. Foremost is Reborn… with cruel smirk on his lips and a woman on his arm. His eyes are directed towards the thunder guardian, almost as if he is daring Lambo to do anything about it. Obviously, this is not a rare occurrence. Even from a distance, he can see Lambo's broken expression.
It is a lot like the expression he had had before Reborn had been sucked into the future. He takes a moment to consider that, even after 10 years of infidelity; Lambo had remained loyal to him. He almost feels pity for the guardian, but decidedly doesn't. After all, he wasn't holding Lambo back; he could leave whenever he wanted.
The tenth picture depicts otherwise: Older Reborn has Lambo by the elbow, his face twisted into a dark smirk, even as Lambo cries. His other hand is on Lambo's waist; visibly, Lambo is grimacing, suggesting that the grip is stronger than it looks.
He is becoming curious as to who had been taking these pictures.
The eleventh picture, he frowns: he isn't in this picture. By 'he', he is referring to Lambo. Older Reborn stands alone in a large meadow, dark clouds billowing above with a distant flash of lightening. There is something off about his expression, almost as if he was not completely there and what is there of him is both furious and confused. There is rain dripping off of the rim of his fedora and his suit is completely soaked through; there are bloodstains on his yellow dress shirt and a smear of red across one cheek. There is something that older Reborn is staring at, but he can not make it out; some lump on the ground.
He scowls, not liking the discernable shape if only for how it escaped name.
He flips to the twelfth picture, he pauses: There is a photo in this picture atop a coffin. The photo is of… Lambo. And, next to the coffin, is older Reborn; looking torn between being pissed off and in denial.
He stares at the picture with a narrowed glare; is this why he is here? To stop Lambo's death? People die; especially in the mafia.
That is what he tells himself as he takes the letter out and reads it.
For two days, you are going to live without Lambo. Trust me, you're going to miss him. While you realize how much he means to you, I am going to be accompanying your time period's Lambo.
~ You
Well, wasn't he a sneaky bastard? He almost wants to feel proud of himself, but mostly he just wants to shoot his older self. People die, and Lambo was weak; how he had lived so long was beyond Reborn.
He did not care.
Ten years earlier…
Lambo shifts in the bed and stretches his arms above his head; it is as he is doing this that he realizes… he is really warm. And, also, his pillow is strangely fleshy.
His eyes flutter open and there is Reborn, his eyes open, but possibly sleeping. He sighs and tries to break free from the arm around his waist.
Reborn is acting really weird; the older one, that is. He is almost acting as if… he cares.
The arm tightens and Reborn's gaze flickers down to him. Lambo blinks as he stares back at the hitman; a silence descends.
"Lambo…" A hand comes up and pets Lambo's cheek. He turns his face away, eluding the touch.
"You still haven't told me why you're acting so weird, older Reborn." He finds it best to address this Reborn as he is; not the one from his time period. It might put some distance between them.
"It's not for you to know." Reborn pushes Lambo onto his back and towers over him. He kisses Lambo, using tongue, teeth, and lips to tease Lambo into a moan.
His mind hazes and his body begins to shake; in 10 years, Reborn had become an even more amazing kisser.
His will rots somewhere far away; he just… can not stay mad at him, though he is positive he has a reason to. He can not stop himself from lifting his arms to circle his shoulders and arches up against him. His eye shuts and he wraps a leg around his waist.
Reborn grabs his hips, lifts him up, and impales Lambo with his length. "AAAAAAAAH!" Lambo's nails bite into his shoulders and he throws his head back, pleasure and pain warring in his body as he shakes from the shock. It only takes a moment before wanton sounds escape his throat.
He wraps the other leg around Reborn's hips and buck back against him. "R-Reborn… A-aaahh…" He forgets to address him as 'older', but it does not matter. He welcomes Reborn's tongue into his mouth, dueling and then submitting to it. Fingers tweak with one nipple as Reborn drops his head to nip the other one. His thrusts, despite the violent beginning, are gentle; rolling his hips against the curve of Lambo's ass.
"Rebor-nnnah!" He bites the knuckle of his pointer finger, his eyes misting over. "H-harder… harder! AAH!" Reborn goes from gentle to wild in seconds, his hips snapping back and forth as the bed creaks and Lambo's body rocks with the force Reborn uses. "REBORN!"
He is exited and brought to his knees. Before he could gasp for breath, before he could even balance, he is shoved back into the bed when Reborn plunges into him once more. His hands are on Lambo's hips, using his hold to shove Lambo back on him every time he shoves forward. "Ah- AAH – REBORN!" His body quakes as his essence colors his black bed sheets.
He collapses completely, Reborn still rocking into him. He groans when, finally, seed abuses his insides. "Reborn…" He whimpers, trying to twist onto his back again. Once exited, Reborn helps him and stares down at him. Tired, he opens his arms. Amazingly, Reborn sinks into them, dragging Lambo half on him. "Yare, yare…" He croaks through a voice hoarse from screaming. "I am not going to get anything done today, am I?"
He smiles at the thought, wrapping his arms around Reborn's head and nuzzles the hitman against his breast. "I think I like you like this… You're nicer."
Reborn says nothing.
Ten years later…
"You dumb cow, what the hell did you do with my - …" Damn it, it had only been a night, but he had already slipped.
He finds the supposedly missing fedora on the chair and places it on his head. One night… and he had already accused the nonexistent Lambo twice. First, he had accused him of being lazy when his espresso machine had not blown up… and then had remembered that Lambo was not alive to make it blow up. And, just now, he had accused Lambo of stealing his fedora… except, how could he steal it?
He was going mad.
He saunters out of his older self's bedroom and makes his way to where he knows the kitchen is. Sitting at a chair at the kitchen table, Gokudera looks beyond exhausted and on the verge of passing out.
He flinches when he sees Reborn's shadow before looking up and blinking tiredly. "… You look younger, Reborn." He seems to think about it for a moment before sighing and looking away. "I don't care." He stands up and leaves, dumping his half full cup of coffee in the sink as he went. "I'll see you later." He disappears.
Reborn notes the affect of losing Lambo on Gokudera.
He sits at the table and – out of habit – ducks… nothing flies over his head. Damn it, he had done it again. He was just so used to watching a missile go by.
He sighs and stands. He's going out… now.
"How are you doing, Reborn?" Tsuna stands in the one of the two exits, innocently curious.
"Fine. Why wouldn't I be?" He makes a retreat through the other exit.
"Where are you going?"
"Nosey, No good Tsuna… I'm going to have sex." He doesn't bother to look back at the Vongola. "I need to calm down."
"… Really? It's that easy for you." He turns around and comes face to face with a tearful Tsuna.
"What is that easy for me?" He drawls. Tsuna blinks and takes a step back, looking almost confused, but mostly as if something was occurring to him.
"… You're in denial. That's why it doesn't bother you."
"I don't go into denial; that is something someone weak would do to escape the obvious."
He receives a blank face. "… Lambo is alive; he asked us to be a part of a joke for him against you. We asked your older self to test out the newly upgraded bazooka and placed the letter on your bed."
In that moment, Reborn realizes that Tsuna is right. He is trying to deny it; if only because, in that moment, he wants to believe him, but can't. For one, he would never have gone through the bazooka simply by being asked; for two, he knew his own hand writing. And, yet, for one moment… he had believed him anyway. He had almost started to walk away to hunt down the stupid cow and make him pay for the damn joke.
As he realizes this, it finally occurs to him: Lambo. Is. Dead. There is no one in the shadows, following him from place to place. There is no sable haired beauty playing hard to get or trying his hardest not to forgive him for cheating on him with some bimbo. The electricity won't be going out because Lambo is not alive to be pissed enough to lose control of himself for long enough to shock the system with his fury. There will be no wailing in the background because the cry baby isn't alive.
There is no sable haired, easily infuriated, crybaby, beauty anymore; not in this time period. There will be no amateur ambush or quick fuck in the nearest room.
Suddenly, his future looks very… bleak. He had spent 20 years with the damn child, and now it was too late to go back and kill the baby while he could have. He had already grown up, already realized that Lambo does not care for every time he ignores him, but only cared that he would mutter three little words to him, even if they were a lie.
Above all else, Lambo had only ever wanted him to say… 'I love you'. And, every once in a while, he had said that… just to mock him. He had laughed constantly at the hope that would flicker into the guardian's eyes and had watched it fade away, knowing he could rekindle it without effort if that was his wish.
Now, if that was his wish, he still could not make it come true.
"Reborn? Reborn!" A hand shakes his shoulder. "Did you fall asleep?"
He grabs the hand and twists until Tsuna is on his knees. "No good Tsuna, you still have things to learn." Though, he couldn't concentrate on what that could be at the moment.
Lambo is dead. He grabs Tsuna by the throat and lifts him back to his feet. "How did he die, when, and why? I want to know everything by the time I get back." Tsuna, after a moment of staring at him, smiles and nods.
"Thank you, Reborn…"
"Don't thank me; I'm not doing this for you."
Ten year earlier…
Finally, he had managed to leave the bed. And, yet, he swears he is glowing with bliss. Is this how a pregnant woman feels? Like life has filled her every cell and given her joy? Well, he feels like that.
Nearly an entire day had gone by; they had spent most of it in bed, only leaving for the occasional restroom break and (towards the end) a shower (which had just ended in more sex). And now, 9 hours after having first woken up, he was finally making something to eat. He was starving.
He cooks up pasta and makes a large salad, enough for the both of them and maybe a little more afterwards.
He stretches his arms over his head again as it cooks, the tails of Reborn's dress shirt lifting as he does so; he had felt far too lazy to put pants on, so he had just stolen his lover's shirt. Reborn hadn't minded when he had worn his fedora earlier (that had actually seemed to turn him on), so he had decided to risk it.
He ruffles a hand through his hair as he feels Reborn enter the kitchen. An arm circles his waist and drags him against a solid frame. "Yare, yare; I will already have trouble walking through the rest of the month, don't make it any more difficult for me, older Reborn." He tilts his head back to look at him with loving eyes. "I'm hungry." Maybe for more than food; his body is so overly sated, he swears he could melt into a puddle at any moment, but he is still hungry… for one more thing.
Fingers drift over his chest and lips feather over his caressingly. "I love you." He sighs, memorizing the lilt of those words, the words themselves, and how they roll off of Reborn's tongue. He know that, in the next moment, Reborn is going to mock him for wanting to hear those words so dearly. He accepts it, knowing that, despite the pain he will feel, it is much worth it.
Nothing happens. The timer goes off before Reborn even bothers to let him go.
He edges away slowly; pretty sure that Reborn would sprout two heads or grow a tail. That does not happen either, but he still stares at Reborn, waiting for it.
He finishes the pasta and sets it on top of the stove, putting the salad bowl near it but not close enough to heat the glass. "Food's ready." He makes his own plate and sits down, watching out of the corner of his eye as Reborn makes his.
A moment later, he is lifted, his plate pushed aside; and then he is in the lap of his lover, an arm curled around his waist. "Feed me." Lambo gives an incredulous stare to the hitman over one shoulder. He receives an earnest, serious face.
He squares his shoulders and lifts his chin; debating denying the older Reborn… but it never goes like that. How ever could he deny Reborn, past, present, or future?
He smiles a little bit as he lifts a forkful of pasta to the hitman's lips. "Yare, yare… I feel like I'm spoiling you." He puts his other hand against his jaw, feeling him chew. "Hot, isn't it?" He knows it is, he can see steam rising from the plate. Despite it, Reborn says nothing and opens his mouth demandingly. He continues to feed Reborn until his plate is empty.
And then he goes about feeding himself. The fork is stolen from him and then returned, but Reborn does not let go of it. Lambo blinks and tilts his head. Slowly, he opens his mouth and Reborn feeds him.
'Older Reborn is being very strange… What happened in the future?' He has no answer for himself, so he shrugs it off and rests against his lover; soaking up the attention like water deprived weeds.
He pets a hand across Reborn's bare chest, feeling the warm thrum of life beneath his palm. A hand rests on his bare inner thigh and edges its way up. Wile he wears Reborn's shirt, Reborn is wearing his own pants… which makes for an interesting petting session.
His half-filled plate is forgotten as Lambo is tackled to the floor and ravished thoroughly.
Ten years later…
"Fuck…" Well, he had made an ass of himself. Amazingly, when expecting Lambo to have trip wired the front door, when Lambo had not trip wired the front door, threw him off balance… meaning that he stumbled and then fell down three steps before catching himself.
Alright, this was just stupid.
He scowls as he stands up and continues on his way. Tsuna had given him directions to the scene of Lambo's death. And, now, he was travelling to a meadow; the same one in the 11th picture.
He had to prove to himself that the idiot was dead; sure, he had an understanding for it, but the knowledge could not break through the 'that dumb cow is too stupid and idiotic to die' haze. It was crimping his style; messing with his mind.
Three times on his way to the meadow, he nearly crashes the car, certain he sees movement in the backseat (Lambo would hide there whenever he wanted to follow Reborn, but did not have his own ride); except, every time he looks back, there is no one and nothing to have created the movement.
This was more than stupid, this was preposterous. This was annoying and screwy and illogical.
"When I get back, I am screwing that dumb cow into the bed and then kicking his ass." He vows as he speeds away from the side of the road from his third 'sighting' of Lambo. "Fuck it; I'm going to kill him myself."
Ten years earlier…
"Yare, yare… How awkward." Lambo stands between his lover and a man who had had the gull of putting a hand on his inner thigh. Younger Reborn would have smirked and told him to defend himself; this Reborn had all but pointed a gun at the man's head. "Calm down, both of you."
"Calm down?" Questions the unfortunate man, his voice shrill with fear and his eyes as wide as saucers. "He tried to shoot me!" He backs away in terror as the click of the safety of a gun is heard. Since Lambo had just watched the safety be clicked on, he knows this is not good.
"Older Reborn…" He reaches a hand out and rests it against his breast. "This is not Italy; you can not get away with shooting whatever bastard you want." He steps up to him and cups the hitman's cheek in one hand. "Look at me; don't pay any attention to him." He strokes a thumb over his bottom lip.
Irrevocably, older Reborn's attention is drawn down to him, his obsidian eyes glittering.
He doesn't know where the gun goes, but hands curl around his butt and lift him up and onto the bar. No one has the guts to tell him that minors aren't allowed at the bar (16 is hardly old enough).
He turns back to the offender; his fedora tipped forebodingly over his eyes as he lifts his gun and points it. There is a trickling sound as the man pisses himself. Reborn smirks and puts his gun away. "Are you ever going to touch what is mine again?" The man shakes his head, trying to cover the growing wet stain with his hands. "Good."
He reaches out a hand to Lambo, helping him hop down from the bar (which he finds more annoying than cute because Reborn put him up there in the first place) and then wraps an arm around his shoulders with obvious possessiveness.
Lambo sighs and relaxes against his side. "You change a lot in 10 years." He tells Reborn as they walk out of the bar. "First, you cuddle, second, you care, and, third, you're possessive." He looks up at him. "Why?"
"Things happen." Is simply all he says. He pulls Lambo closer and continues on their way.
"I would like to know what things, but I don't think you would tell me if I begged." Reborn smirks at him. "You have such a dirty mind."
Ten years later…
It has been two days and now Reborn was waiting impatiently to be sucked back into the past. He was sitting at the lounge chair of his room, one foot on the opposite knee and his chin leaning on his hand.
Soon… very soon now, he would be back with his murderous lover.
Ten years earlier…
"Uuuh UUUH Aaaah!" He reaches a hand down and grabs himself, pumping his length in time with Reborn's brutal thrusts. His body rocks back and forth every time he is plunged into, his prostate being thoroughly abused by his lover. "M-! Mmmm! AAAH!" His head twists from side to side as he bites the knuckle of his pointer finger, his back arching off of the bed. The pleasure is so intense, his toes curl. "Reborn!" He gasps, panting for breath that would not come.
He tangles a hand in his hair and pulls his head down, meshing their lips together. He moans and whimpers into the kiss, his body shaking and jolting. He was going to hurt so badly in the morning, but he is okay with that. This feels too good, so good, he could die.
"REBORN!" He screams as he cums yet again, making that the third time. He whimpers as he wilts, but Reborn is not done with him. He acts like a desperate man, growling as Lambo ruptures around him and squeezes his cock.
He pushes harder, thrusts deeper, plunges into him faster. He turns Lambo on his side and lifts one leg up over his shoulder before burying himself to the hilt inside of his lover over and over again, until Lambo screams again and seed yet again bathes his belly.
That is when Reborn allows himself to orgasm, but only then!
He falls to the side and strokes back Lambo's hair, raining kisses over his forehead, cheeks, and his lips. Simultaneously, he pulls his pants on. He would have to go soon… but he was okay with that. Two days without Lambo, knowing that he was dead, his younger self would have no will to simply let the thunder guardian die.
He strokes Lambo's shoulders, tilting his head when he hears quiet snores; the teenager had fallen asleep. He kisses his cheek.
A cloud of pink smoke envelopes him.
When it clears, he is sitting in his lounge chair in the room he uses whenever at the Vongola headquarters. He had only had time to pull his pants on. He sighs into the silence of his room, waiting for the memories to come crashing on him; the memories of how his younger self would change his own future.
There is a shuffle from his bed. "Reborn?" He goes tense; he knows that voice, he knows it beyond well. "Yare, yare, you're up already?"
He is bombarded with memories; memories of actually cherishing the dumb cow, of going with him on that mission gone terribly wrong. They had both left that battle unscathed and now… now they were here. Lambo had never died.
He looks up at his lover slips out of the bed and struts towards him, wearing a white tee and cow print boxers. There are braids in his hair and his frame is thicker than his 16 year old self. He stretches as he sets his legs down on either side of Reborn's hips and lowers himself down into his lap. When he brings his arms down, they wrap around his shoulders.
"…" He kisses him deeply, almost desperately. He pries his mouth open and slips his tongue in; like a pro, he curls his tongue around the pill on the tip of Lambo's tongue, turns his head, and spits it out.
Lambo smiles bashfully. "I love you, Reborn." Says the man who had just tried to poison him.
He can't help but smirk as he tugs on one braid. He cups his jaw and kisses him again, this time without fear of having his lover attempt to kill him. With adoration, his hand slips up beneath his white tee. "I know you do."
Ten years earlier with ten year younger Reborn…
Lambo wakes up slowly to the feeling of fingers stroking his cheek and throat. His eye flickers open and there is Reborn of his time period. He yawns and stretches, sitting up and rubbing his one eye. He grabs the yellow dress shirt on the other side of the bed, pulling it on over himself; it is older Reborn's, so it covers more.
"Hello, Reborn. How have you been?" He runs a hand through his hair and smiles lazily at the hitman. And then he remembers – oh – he hadn't had a reason to be angry at the older Reborn, but, this one, he should still be pissed at for cheating on him… in his own living room.
Except Reborn lays a hand on his thigh and his other hand over his heart; his eyes close and his lips part slightly. Silence descends as Lambo watches curiously his lover.
When he opens his eyes again, he kisses Lambo as if the world might end. Lambo swears there is a promise in this touch of lips, but, for the life of him, he can not figure out what the promise could be. So he only wraps his arms around his shoulders and holds him tightly as he knows as well – though he doesn't – that the world will end.
And, 10 years in the future, 26 year old Lambo is also being treated like life as they know it could end in but a moment. And, just like 16 year old Lambo, returns the affection just as desperately.
After all, they love Reborn – past, present, and future – enough not to question his madness.