It's a little pass midnight when Lambo wakes up. He blinks and sits up – only to wilt back onto the bed and whimper. He hurts in places he didn't even know existed. His butt has its own pulse and it's the strongest one in his body, even stronger than the one in his nipples and his inner thighs.
That haze of lust comes back to him little by little – how many times had he cum using Reborn's Beretta?... Three times – Goodness, what the hell had gotten into him?
He begins crying, hiding his face into the pillow. Why had he done that! He had stolen his own virginity using a gun! He's sick, he has to be! It had all happened so suddenly, so abruptly; he hadn't meant for it to happen!
After what feels like hours, his wails quiet to sniffles and he gets the will to force himself to think. He needs to clean up his mess before Reborn gets home. That includes the bathroom, the living room, the bed, and the guns… Yare, yare… He has a lot to do.
He begins to push the covers off of him when five different things occur to him with dizzying force.
He had been above the covers when he had passed out, and they had smelled like sweat, blood, and orgasms. There had been a Beretta handgun shoved four inches up his butt when he had lost consciousness (he flushes to realize what an explosive orgasm that had been). Then there was that he was now fully dressed while he had just barely been wearing his cow print shirt before becoming unconscious.
This… no matter how it happened… was a bad thing. Because that means that someone saw him like that.
He sits up and whimpers at the force he has to exert. He did a number on himself… how pathetic.
"Ciaossu."
"GAH! Reborn!" Lambo jumps in surprise.
The hitman swaggers into the bedroom. "There is a gun I will never use again because you could not stick to the lotion bottle." He sits down at the foot of the bed.
Lambo draws his legs to his chest and stares at Reborn with a wide, horrified eye; he is going to die.
The hitman snaps out his cellphone, smiling fondly at what he sees when he flips it open. "Well worth it, though." He turns tilts his hand so Lambo can see the main screen.
Tears had stained his rosy cheeks; his mouth is open on a soft snore. Cum and blood soaks the bed sheets, the pillow he's holding like a teddy bear to his chest, his belly and his thighs. His lips are a raw red and swollen. The cow print shirt is drooping off of one shoulder and completely off of the other arm, exposing half of his sweat glistening back. His shaggy, sable hair is shiny with perspiration and an amazing wealth of a mess.
He gasps and reaches out to nab the phone. "Don't set that as your main screen, you old pervert!" He yelps. Reborn holds the phone still out of reach. "Reborn… please?" He tries to use an adorable pout – the same one that wins his way every time against Tsuna, Fuuta, and I-Pin.
Reborn smirks. He moves up the bed, close enough that his breath ghosts over Lambo's lips. "Persuade me." He catches the fist that flies at his face, tilting his head up so that one eye is revealed from the shadow of his fedora.
Lambo is crying again. "Cruel Reborn! I lost my virginity to a Beretta!"
"Actually, you lost your virginity to a container of vanilla body lotion. You stopped in the bathroom first after drinking the Viagra."
"I didn't drink any Viagra!" Lambo snaps, shocked at the notion of it.
"You didn't know you were drinking Viagra; the bell boy was supposed to deliver it to B29 but mistook it for this penthouse. You drank the cup meant for a woman whose fetish was date rape with her husband." He explains it all without changing tone of voice – if he's disgusted or awed, it's hidden by slight amusement.
He stares blankly at the hitman. Is this what happens when he doesn't follow Reborn? He somehow still ends up in unfortunate situations.
"I fucked myself with a gun while drugged… and you are sitting there laughing."
"Well, you stupid cow, you shouldn't have drank a beverage that arrives at your door but wasn't asked for." He states it airily with a curl of his lips.
"… I want to go home." There; he gives up. After 11 years, he is ready to go home and rest and spend a few days (or weeks) without seeing the bastard.
"You can't go home. You are more than 6,000 miles from home." He leans in to Lambo, one arm braced by his side and his lips brushing Lambo's jaw. "All you have is me, my. Naughty. Cow." He licks up from the jaw to the corner of Lambo's eye.
He shoves at the hitman's chest. "You cruel, cruel, stupid bastard!" He sobs. "Why are you doing this?" He looks at Reborn with a broken eye. "Did I do something wrong? Is there some unforgiveable thing that I have done that you can't forgive?" His hands clench into the lapels of his Armani suit. "Tell me!"
Reborn's face had blanked out, staring down at Lambo with no emotion. "You did do something wrong – something so wrong that your fate chose you and there is no escape from it." He speaks softly, as if speaking to a spooked deer.
Lambo sobs. "What did I do?"
Reborn brushes his tears away – that look is back; hollow and distant, as if he were buried in darker thoughts. Suddenly, he chuckles, tilted his head down so that his fedora hides his eyes. "You haven't figured it out yet, you stupid cow?"
Lambo shakes his head. His jaw is cupped and Reborn descends again; Lambo shuts his eye.
Lips brush his forehead. "I have loved you since you were nine years old."
Lambo gasps, his eye snapping open. He's lying! He has to be lying! There is no possible way that he is telling the truth! Reborn doesn't love, much less love Lambo. Tears trickle uncertainly from both eyes as he stares up at Reborn with shock and disbelief.
Reborn strokes a thumb over the eye to shut it again and Lambo obeys, too stupefied to defy him.
Lips brush his cheekbone. "Remember when you asked the question about the Vongola couples completing each other." He states it, demanding that he remember instead of asking if he does. Lips brush his other cheekbone. "Remember how you said that they complete each other." He kisses the lid of his damaged eye. "Remember what I said to you." He kisses the other eye. "'Because you chose to follow me to the ends of the earth, and as long as you do so, there's only one choice for you.'" His breath ghosts over his lips. "And that choice is me."
It is the softest touch of lips Reborn has submitted him to yet; so gentle and caressing that Lambo has not a thought to fight. His hands loosen in the folds of the suit and his body begins to melt as he is so tenderly marked by the hitman.
"If I don't have a choice… does that mean that you still do?" He asked with a low, rejected voice, as if he already knows the answer and it is not in favor of him. He stares at the all telling hickey.
Reborn tilts his head up to meet his gaze. "She had important information she wouldn't share unless I slept with her." Lambo remembers how dirty he had felt when seeing the kiss; imagine how Reborn had felt. And then he doesn't have to because he remembers that devoid, spacious look.
His eyes drift back down, ashamed. "I'm sorry." He can't remember the last time he said that.
Fingers bunch in the short hairs on the back of his neck and tug his head back. "Don't be." The hitman purrs. "Your kiss made sleeping with that 'cheap whore' worth it." He smiles as if he had just made a joke, which he kind of had.
He wraps his arms around his waist and lifts him off of the bed, slipping him into his lap. Lambo winces, but accepts (wearily) the attention by resting his hands on the hitman's shoulders.
Quicker than a flash, his hand makes a grab for the phone. Reborn has it out of reach before he can even reach it. "Damn it, Reborn! You can't have that as your main screen, what if someone looks at it?" He stretches over Reborn, following the retreating phone.
A tongue trails over his nipple through his nightshirt. "If I let them see it, they will see my lover fucking himself with my gun, and will know without question that you belong to me."
"Eh heh heh… You're not going to let anyone see that, right?" He sounds a little too nervous for his own liking.
Reborn licks his thumb and stares at Lambo heatedly. "Make certain that no man or woman touches you with naughty thoughts in mind."
Lambo's head thumps against his shoulder. "This is going to hang over my head for the rest of my life, isn't it?"
"Yes." Lambo stretches further until Reborn's face is level with his ribs, still trying to get the elusive phone. "No good." Reborn lays him down and holds himself above him, one hand tangling with Lambo's and the other throwing the phone far away from the bed where it lands in an empty chair.
He huffs and glares at him. "Stupid Reborn!" He wraps his arms around the hitman's shoulders and jerks him down, mashing their lips together. Their tongues dance together and their lips bruise. "Stupid, stupid Reborn…" He breathes against Reborn's mouth, eye at half mast and cheeks a deep red. "When I kill you, that picture is going with you."
"When I die by something possible, of course; it will make me a happy man while I'm burning in hell." He agrees flippantly. Before Lambo can think about that statement, they're kissing again.
"Yare, yare, that's not a very comforting thought." Lambo eventually gets to say, panting somewhat and his shirt half unbuttoned. "Because you know that where ever you go, I have to follow to make sure that you don't get into any serious trouble."
"You won't be going to hell." Reborn twists one nipple and licks the other. "You're too stupid to have committed any crime of any kind that would damn you."
"Hey, hey, I'm not stupid… I'm smart enough to know that you shouldn't be doing what you're doing." His fingers tangle into his mass of spiky black hair anyway.
Reborn rolls his eyes up to stare at him. His tongue twirls wicked designs over Lambo's chest before nipping lightly. "You shouldn't have drunk the hot chocolate that lead to you fucking yourself on my gun." He bit down on Lambo's collarbone, hard enough to leave a lasting mark.
"Ah!" Lambo arches into the abuse. "That doesn't make me any less sore!"
"No." Reborn agrees, right before he slides his cow print pajama bottoms off of him and then raises his one leg over one shoulder. "But it will make you sorer." He drops his head and suckles on Lambo's inner thigh.
"Nnnh!" Lambo bites down on the knuckles of one hand and clenches the other between Reborn's shoulder blades. The mouth slid forward and then… lower, not towards his growing problem (how is that possible after what he just went through!), but towards his swollen entrance.
Reborn flattens his tongue against it and, quite suddenly – "Oooooh…" –, he doesn't have an argument anymore as the muscle weasels past reluctant muscles to wiggle against bruised walls. It's soothing and painful at the same time. He wraps his other leg over Reborn's shoulder. "Reborn!" He cries out. He can feel Reborn's smirk against the curve of his butt.
A finger joins the tongue and Lambo jolts. "Ooooohhh, Reborn… yessss…" He strokes a trembling hand between Reborn's shoulder blades. He claws at it when a second finger is added and he can feel each slippery digit reach deep inside of him – Oh… Reborn had gotten hold of the vanilla lotion. Clever Reborn!
He's making incoherent noises by the time Reborn sits back, his lips glistening and his eyes hot and desiring. Reborn starts to unbutton his pants, but Lambo makes a daring move; a move so daring, others would have been murdered for it before they even succeeded.
He grabs Reborn's yellow vest and – 'pop', 'pop', 'pop!' – trails his hands over the naked chest revealed. He's grinning like the small child he had once been, trailing his hands over two dusky nipples and then down hard abs and then to the waistband of his pants.
The hitman allows him his fun, leaning back to shoulder out of the jacket and vest and tie. He throws them with his expert skill and they land over the cell phone. The belt follows when Lambo whips it out of the loops and then the pants are simply discarded onto the edge of the bed.
Each of them is only wearing an article of clothing, Lambo his nightshirt and Reborn his fedora. In a moment, even the nightshirt is gone, two torn halves that float to the ground beside the bed.
"Yare, yare, I really liked that shirt." His lips are sealed by another pair.
Reborn lifts both of his legs over his shoulders, stroking one thigh as he uses his other hand to guide him into Lambo.
"Ssssss!" Lambo grits his teeth and grabs the hand at his thigh, holding on tightly. "Uuuuhhh…" Reborn is much bigger than four inches.
The hitman kisses his cheek, his neck, his chest, as he begins thrusting his length into him until he is fully encased. "Reborn!" Lambo gasps in a small, breathless voice. He's tense with pain, tears slipping from his eyes, but he watches Reborn with awe and… love; not that Lambo knows about the latter (not that Lambo knows that he had loved the hitman since first seeing him at who knows how young in who knows where. Not that Lambo knows that the obsession he had held for Reborn had nothing to do with bringing death. Not that Lambo even knows now that Reborn is hilt deep inside his body).
He is explosively happy and relieved – amazingly enough because it feels like he is going to rip in half and simultaneously blow up – with no idea why.
"Reborn…" He moans now, arching back onto the hitman, his head thrown back against the sheets, offering his pale neck to the other.
It's nipped and sucked on by Reborn's mouth as each long thrust rocks the teenager against the bed. The pleasure is invading his every sense, drowning out the pain and making it hard to breathe. "Reborn!" His legs slip off of his shoulders and wrap around his waist. Reborn grabs one and pushes it back up, nearly touching it to Lambo's shoulder. "Aaaaaahh, AH! Uuuuuuhhh…" He makes a sound between a moan, a whine, and a gasp, one he never knew he could make.
Reborn's eyes catch fire and his lips twist into a life threatening grin. He bites Lambo's throat as he twists his hips and shoves flush into him, his sac slapping against the curve of Lambo's ass. Lambo makes the same sound again as he sees spots, Reborn hitting his prostate with ferocity.
He's exited and flipped over onto his hands and knees. Shaking and dazed, he looks over his shoulders at Reborn with a hazy, misty eye. He bucks his hips back, hoping to re-entice the hitman.
For his efforts, he is slammed into with no forewarning, sending his head crashing into the headboard with a cry of surprise and pain and then – at last – pleasure that makes him forget to cry about his wounded skull and try to shove himself back onto the man's cock.
A hand wraps in his hair and pulls his head back and to the side; teeth nip at his revealed neck and a tongue licks up to the corner of his lips before covering them. Lambo whimpers, unable to breathe, to think, to even hold himself up as his body is violated time and time again. He kisses back with all of his might, gasping things even he doesn't understand against his lover's mouth.
His orgasm is explosive, sending him from the edge of bliss and agony into the sky at rocket speed and then lets him fall into an abyss. He is just barely conscious enough to watch as Reborn wipes a finger through the cum sticking to Lambo's belly and brings it to his mouth, licking the fluid off with a wicked look on his face.
He turns the limp guardian onto his side and enters him a third time. He doesn't have the strength to do anything but moan as Reborn thrusts into him. When the hitman breaches his orgasm, he wraps an arm around Lambo's waist and pulls him flush to his chest. He remains in Lambo's body, a thick, long length in him that makes him whimper tiredly.
After a few minutes in the afterglow, he chuckles. Reborn slips out of him and permits him to turn on his back so that he is looking at the hitman. "Yare, yare…" Lambo begins in a teasing voice, his one eye sparkling. "You still haven't taken the fedora off yet." He reaches up to do it himself.
He pauses right when his fingers are about to touch it; how far does Reborn's love go? Sure, he had let Lambo rip his shirt open, but how much further? Lambo only knows one person who had ever gotten to touch Reborn's hat and that had been Yamamoto (who had told them all much later after it had happened) who had done it for training purposes. In that situation, Yamamoto had still been in a death-like situation with Reborn.
He had never even seen Bianchi touch it even before Bianchi had found another to turn her obsessive love to.
Reborn watches him with a masked look, dark eyes even darker than usual. He's waiting for Lambo to try it and now Lambo has no clue how he is going to react when he does it.
Slowly – with trembling fingers – he grasps the rim of the fedora. He waits a moment… Since he isn't beaten to a pulp or shot at, he begins (very carefully) taken the fedora off. It slips off of Reborn's head, letting black spiky hair spring back to fullness. He isn't dead, amazingly enough; so he sets the fedora down next to him and strokes a hand through his hair, feeling the soft strands between his fingers. He smiles delightedly as he adds another hand and buried them into the wealth of raven wing ebony.
"Ah hah hah…" He laughs softly, tweaking the curl of hair against Reborn's cheek. He is being so daring!
"Still want to go home?" There's a upward tilt to Reborn's lips as if he already knows the answer.
"Huh?" Lambo blinks at him, having had distracted himself. "Yare, yare…" He begins in a mellow voice. "and leave my archrival alone?" In other words: Hell no.
He decides to do something usually referred to as 'suicidal' and picks the fedora back up; instead of placing it on Reborn's head, he places it on his own. He waits for seven tense (he's the only one tense) minutes to see if he suddenly dies or is crippled. Neither occurs, so he grins and tips the fedora over one eye and smiles at Reborn.
He's kissed with hard lips before Reborn releases him and lies down. "We have a long day tomorrow, you dumb cow. Be ready for it."
"Yare, yare! I'm not a dumb cow, stu-…" Reborn, he knows, is asleep. He doesn't snore bubbles like he used to as a kid, but Lambo had worked hard to be able to tell the difference between a conscious and unconscious hitman. "… Stupid Reborn…" He takes the fedora off and rests it on his own pillow. Hesitantly, he edges closer to Reborn and rests his head on his chest; he can feel his heartbeat against his ear. He wraps an arm around his abdomen and curls a leg over his thigh as his eye drifts shut.
It is, easily, the best sleep he had even gotten.
Author's Note: There are not going to be any more flashbacks… Sorry for that, but I know they are going to be a bad idea. The whole reason for them was to show that there had already been a relationship of sorts between them.
About this chapter… Reborn seems possibly a little (maybe very much) OOC. I, however, like it.
