(X) Chapter Warning: Sexual Content (X)
Word Count: 1,884
"Hi kaa-san." Daiki chimed, leaning against the window frame in the room, Xanxus watching him from the bed.
The rogue Sun's phone had released an abrasive noise upon the morning and broken the peace the two had fallen in, and what was once quiet slumber, was now a distance and a talk. Xanxus thinned his lips and leant up against the headboard, arms crossed as he observed the other in early morning's dark halo.
"Yes, I'm still studying, Economics, Physics and Chemistry are all done now. I have Maths and Extension English up next." He continued, nodding to unheard words. "Mhm, is Todd still helping you? That's good, be careful though."
There were a few more moments of silence on their end, the little clock an obnoxious noise in the silence of the inverted twilight.
"Okay, I miss you too, kaa-san, I'll be home soon. Love you too, be safe." Daiki hummed.
Xanxus blinked as the Sun stood from the little nook he had managed to balance on, phone cast onto the small table with a clacking. Golden eyes, lit with the shadowed luminescence of dark morning were brought to the half-empty bed, a lazily looking being sent back. The Sky made a noise before laying himself back down, still facing the standing rogue, waiting for the warmth to return.
Daiki walked from the room and closed the bathroom door behind him, the sound loud and offensive. He had no intention of returning to the bed. Xanxus scowled and got up too.
"Don't you dare." Xanxus growled, wine eyes melting into a boiling swirl of ruby and blood.
Squalo was fingering the hilt of his blade in preparation, not quite taking a hold of it, just in case he was required to thrust his hands forwards to save the threated creature. Lussuria was holding his breath at the back of the room, his brows furrowed in worry, Belphegor gritting his teeth in a grin, Mammon floating unsure and weary at their shoulder. Leviathan had his hand one of his umbrellas, face pulled with stress.
He had been the one to let Daiki out of his glorified cage.
"VOOIII!" Squalo roared, at the side of the Sky. "What the fuck do you think you're doing!?"
Daiki pursed his lips, unaffected by the tension of the moment.
"You lot are meant to be at school." He stated, for the fifth time in the ordeal. "Skipping will do you no good in the long run."
"Tch," Xanxus scoffed. "I will not mingle with that trash."
Daiki raised an eyebrow, he let his hand slip a little more.
"Wait! Wait! Fuck!" The Rain shouted, before rounding on his Sky. "Boss, it's not worth it. Let's just go for the day."
Xanxus curled his lips in a scowl, hating and loving how Daiki watched on, absolutely radiating an air thick and saturated with known victory and satisfaction.
"Boss," Mammon spoke, flying forwards to their place. "The loss would be a fair one. I suggest- no, I would prefer a deal be struck with the boy."
The Varia Sky bared his teeth at the Family members who spoke to him, before pausing and sending a glance to the hostage. He thinned his lips over sharp canines before growling and tucking his chin into his chest in a show of hostility.
"Fine." He spat.
Daiki smiled. And dropped the liquor cabinet out the window.
"You shouldn't be drinking anyway."
The words were accompanied by a thousand dollar, polished mahogany crash.
The Varia held their chin's high as they walked onto the scene, the Mafia riddled schoolyard giving them fearful, respectful and curious looks, not used to the usually truant students appearing at the establishment. Squalo scowled at the onlookers while Xanxus paid them no mind, instead boring holes out of molten ruby at the rogue Sun.
"Timoteo will come and pick you all up after the bell goes to make sure you all didn't leave as soon as I turn my back." Daiki announced, his arms crossed as Lussuria wrestled Belphegor out of the car, the child whining and kicking his legs. "That goes for you too, Bel."
"I'm a prince, Ottone! I do not attend school with plebeians!"
"You're enrolled, so you do now." Was the brush off. "I'll see you all after I'm done, and I'll be asking your Vongola Boss if you skipped."
Xanxus glared after the car as it carried the elder Varia and spare Sun off to the public schools, Daiki required to attend three exams from the next hour.
"Fucking hell, why'd you have to bring that pretty bastard, Boss?" Squalo huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"Let's just get this over with." The Sky scowled, turning on his heel and storming the school.
Sheets shifted as the wrathful Sky threw his damp body against the bed, freshly stripped of the towel and clad in loose night pants, his top unclothed and still shiny with water, uncaring if Egyptian cotton was tarnished, another set being an easy buy. No, right now his mind was too clouded, even if the remedy was simple, his breath was too thick and his skin was too warm as his thoughts swam and made him close brilliant blood from a peach lit ceiling.
His door was locked, leaving him alone in a crackling seclusion and allowing the silence whisper things to him. The Mafia rolled himself onto his front, hair askew and braided with feathers, the bright hanging shifting as he froze, before rutting, having pressed his nose into the ghost of the Sun.
Oh, wrap him up and break him.
Xanxus grasped the phantom pillow and tossed himself onto his back, the action forceful and causing a jar to come to his shoulder, but only a hint of what he wanted. His arm bent backwards to hold the case to his nose, mildly suffocating as he inhaled deeper, mind flashing to before, to the scene that had plagued his head and scratched at the inner walls of his cranium all through the class, calculus cast aside of callous.
A low growl escaped him, feral and angry as he remembered the cabinet dropped from the window, lost to the earth in a wet, alcoholic and fractured mess of wood and glass, unsalvageable from the fall. Then he snapped his teeth at the soft casing, remembering what made his blood boil, and insides shift to accommodate a physical craving.
Xanxus remembered the breath hitch and the knee knock of the moment Daiki has lifted the solid mahogany piece, brimming with wine, brandy, scotch, spirits, tequila, vodka, rum, gin and all else. The thing, he knew, weighed a hefty number, needing four bulky men to bring it in empty. But Daiki had lifted it alone, muscles shifting and rolling beneath copper-tan skin, pearl shards of teeth gritting to bare and his brow furrowing wonderfully as he brought it off the ground and moved with it to the window.
With another breath, he remembered how honey drizzled gold had swum with mirth and annoyance, mixing together in a vicious cocktail that made his hips buck, the cloth too tight for the bitter swelling that hurt so marvellously when it grated against the fine fabrics. He hissed as victory raked itself in thick layers through the Sun's aura, success a heavy odour and perfume for the panting Sky as he tried to recapture the lazy satisfaction that had painted the baker before the Mafia.
Daiki had gotten stronger, he had gotten bigger, it dazzled and dazed the Wrath, making him want to learn the terra incognita, terra nullius, terra sancta. Learn, claim and taint. To do and to be. So much, so much, so much.
Eat him alive and grind him between his teeth.
His body shivered and his skin pebbled as he tapped at his creativity, shutting his eye to wretched reality and opening them to another alternative, etching the scene of the shifting plains of brass skin over rolling muscles and moving shoulder blades as the Sun, warm as the namesake itself, crawled atop the strewn Sky. Waves of caramel, sun heat, sugar and the hefty odour of female arousal swarmed and saturate his senses, making his breath a heavy exhale. Vermillion lips were curled in a cruel smile, the creature above him knowing full well that there would be no losses here, no matter how the cards were to fall.
And eyes, oh, eyes that hissed a Satan's snake's language of a history of hate that enveloped a love and a loathing. A deep-seated craving and a need for a carving. Carnal and careful. Primal and primadonna. Putrid and perfumed. Golden and worshipable, beings in themselves and something that he could and would deify, a shrine built in their honour alone in a place of seclusion away from unworthy mortal understanding.
Hold him. Hold him. Hold him and hold him under the water until his lungs fill with honey and salivation.
The Sky gave a beautifully filthy curse as he buckled and caved, ridding himself of his lower layer and baring himself to the room, the chill forgone for an internal inferno of primitive origins as he clasped himself with brutal memory. He scowled at the state he was in and forced more of the scent into his system, loathing and loving the way it sank its teeth into his lungs, brain and heart, recrafting it to only breath in another's image, and like a lotus-eater, he wanted nothing more than only his Lotus.
Lotus. Lotus. Lotus. Lotus. Lotus. Lotus. Lotus. Lotus. Lotus. Lotus. Lotus. Lotus!
Xanxus jolted and curled as his end ripped through him, sending his nerves into a sizzling tizzy and his vision into a white oblivion or a paradise. His bones moaned an age-old song of satiation as his vertebrae lined up in a curve to match the circumference of their Earth, small as it may be but filled with his Lotus.
His mouth was agape in a silent scream for more, wanting a weight upon him and a hand around his neck in a secure embrace of his breath. He wanted more. He wanted the teeth in his shoulder, the nails in his scalp, the bruises on his skin and the bleeding scores along his chest. He wanted the biting words and soothing tongue, the harsh jut of an elbow in his stomach and the press of another's core, hot and needy, but not willing to give until it was given.
A kiss, packed with poison and narcotics. Lips, painted a blush with the blood stolen from him. A caress, cupping his face and pouring acid upon it.
Everything. Every last Hydra venom petal. He wanted every drop on his tongue, bathe in the whole, young blood like Báthory. Love every burning moment, every saline tick of the clock as his body shuts down on itself, skin eroding in an Eitr pleasure. He'd let his jaw fall and calloused, tanned hands pour nectar down his open throat uncaring if it slides into his lungs or his stomach, just wanting it inside, the essence of his Lotus.
Lotus. Lotus. Lotus. Lotus. Lotus. Lotus. Lotus. Lotus. Lotus.
Daiki, his copper-bronze, gold and bitter-sweet lotus.