Hey guys i'm so very very sooooorry for not publishing this chapter sooner. I had a lot or problem writing my thesis and giving it back, and i'm sure hte next chapter will come late too cause i'll have a stupid thesis defense soon, so i can't precisely write a lot lately.

And OMG this thesis is going to kill me. Yesterday, when i gave it back, i almost threw up everything i'd eaten, and the worst was that i had barely eaten anything since the morning. And my brain acts strangely too, like i forget a lot of things and i can't calculate as fast as before... scarecely. And i'm not really sure how to write words at all. i hope it will be over soon.

Please enjoy this chapter. i wrote it when i still was in full capacity of my brain cells.


That morning.

"Xanxus! Are you listening?" Squalo asked for the second time. The raven, though, didn't look as if he had heard what he said. He just kept on watching the Bachelor, sprawled on the couch and eyes glassy, like mesmerized by the infinite stupidity of the show. The silverette sighed, annoyed. "Don't fucking complain later."

Squalo picked his coat and got out of the apartment. He was sure the raven would complain, that was an obvious fact. After all, he certainly wouldn't be back before 10 or 11 in the night, so who did the tanned man think would be cooking his damn dinner? The silverette could almost see the tantrum, in the same way one can see a tornado coming from the desert. Still, it couldn't be helped. He had given his word, and Superbi Squalo would never take it back.

"Oh, Squalo-sensei!" A dark haired youth greeted him at the entrance of Namimori U, all smiling. "I'm glad you didn't skip."

Squalo glared at Yamamoto. "Voooi, shitty brat. Who do you think you're talking to? And don't wait for me in this kind of place first thing in the morning. That's gross!"

Takeshi followed the long haired man as he crossed the gigantic portico. It was a week day, so the corridors of the university still were full of people waiting for their next courses while chitchatting idly. And it was with a dumbfounded expression that everyone welcomed the sight of Yamamoto walking by the deadly silverette's side. Just who was that lucky bastard who succeeded in getting that close to the silver beauty? Voices were whispering. Squalo didn't even notice them.

"But if I didn't, I wouldn't be sure you were really coming or not." The boy laughed, him, too, oblivious to the envious stares. "Still I'm surprised. Well, I'm surprised and thankful, of course. When I talked to my dad about you, the first thing he said was that you were the best swordsman he had ever seen in his whole life. And if dad said that, it must be true. But saying that such a great sword master would actually be a professor at my college, and even accept to train me specially… I'm amazed."

"Stop grinning like a complete idiot." Squalo hissed. "I've already seen your fighting style… No, I won't even call that a style. It's more similar to a dancing monkey than anything else. I can't believe you're truly Tsuyoshi's son. The poor man must be puking in his grave right now."

"Ha ha…" Takeshi scratched his temple. "Dad isn't dead yet, though…"

By that time, they were entering into a huge gymnasium. There were many of them in Namimori U, but that one had a particularity: it was the farthest gymnasium from the campus. Once locked in, one could scream, cry and call for help, but no one would come to save them.

Unsurprisingly, Squalo was the one who chose the place. It's been a long time since he last waved a sword in his hands. But at the moment his skin made contact with the firm handle, the old reflexes came back. Yamamoto's lips stretched as he saw the silverette swing his wooden blade from a hand to another, his expression already betraying the boiling impatience in him.

"I'm glad you like it." He said and unsheathed his own katana. "You know, sensei, I actually was a bit nervous about today, but it seems-"

He wasn't given time to finish his sentence. Hell, the boy barely had enough time to dodge the silver haired man's attack, just half an inch from his head. If Yamamoto hadn't thrown himself on the floor, he more than certainly would have been beheaded by now. So Squalo was truly serious about this training.

He looked down at the boy. "Vooi, kiddo. Where are you looking at? Don't forget your fucking adversary is right in front of you. Do something as stupid as taking your eyes off of me only one second and you won't make it till tonight."

Never taking his eyes off him? It wasn't as though it would be very difficult. The spectacle of a focused and overly proud long haired beauty wasn't something one could get tired of easily. Yamamoto raised his hand. "Um, sensei? Don't you want to have a change of clothes before we start? There are kimonos and hakamas in the changing rooms, so… Aaa!"

Another fast parade. Takeshi was maybe 'dancing like a monkey', he however had swift eyes and reflexes that were matching Squalo's. Barely enough to survive, though.

By the end of the day, the youth wasn't recognizable: his clothes were torn on many points, his skin was blossoming with various bruises, and he was quite sure he had more than two broken bones. Still the training wasn't over. They hadn't stopped since the morning, nor for the lunch, neither when the sky started growing darker. But if Yamamoto was beginning to regret asking for a 'special' training with the swordsman, Squalo, on the other hand, was more than pleased he had taken a day off for it. In the end, he was showing his true self, which was the sadistic and stubborn instructor.

Yamamoto could scarcely follow the older man's moves, yet, he still could follow them. This made of him a less vulnerable prey for Squalo. Now their speed was at perfect equilibrium but, while the dark hair teen was putting all his might defending himself, Squalo kept on attacking and attacking over again, not once breaking a sweat. In the vast empty space of the gymnasium were only resonating the sound of katanas knocking together and the stomps of the swordsmen on the floor. It looked as if none of them wanted to stop that senseless battle…

Till someone violently slammed the gymnasium's door open, stopping both of them dead on their track.

"You useless herbivores," the newcomer glared at them, "how long are planning on disturbing this place's tranquility?"

"Ah, Kyo-san." A taller man – the prefect's right hand man – appeared behind Hibari Kyoya. "It's okay. They've booked the gymnasium for the whole day."

Kyoya eyed disdainfully at them. "Huh. I don't think it allows them to continue their useless training throughout the night."

"Oh, Hibari." Yamamoto said after casting at the screen of his phone (which had been tossed on a pile of clothes in the middle of the tatami). "Now you talk about it, it's already past 9p.m."

"Quickly get out of here, herbivores." Kyoya demanded. "Or I'll bite you to death."

"Maa, don't be that mean, Hibari!" Yamamoto laughed the threat away. "You really never change, even since we were kids."

Hibari's eyes widened, as though Yamamoto had just uttered something really outrageous. He finally humph-ed and left the gymnasium, Kusakabe on his heels.

Takeshi laughed nervously. "I made him mad…"

"Voi, that brat's always mad at something." Squalo stressed while ruffling at his silken hair. "Anyway, it's too late to continue. I guess you've made some little progress since that morning. At least you're not totally disappointing."

"Really?" Yamamoto beamed. Squalo was sure if that brat had had a tail, it would have been whipping frantically at that moment.

"Aa. But don't get too cocky. You still have a long way to go until I approve you as a real swordsman."

Squalo's eyes were, as always, unwavering. But at his tone only, Takeshi could tell the man in front of him wasn't as harsh as everyone said. Carelessly, he held his hand out for Squalo to shake.

"Then… Starting from today, please be kind to me."

Squalo frowned but didn't move an inch. "Yeah, I'll be kind. Enough to break all your bones, so get prepared."

"I was sure you would say that." Yamamoto chuckled lightly. "Oh, you're leaving already? Wait!"

And before Squalo could retort, Yamamoto, after quickly putting away the swords, was following him again on the way back to the campus, not caring about taking a shower after their 12 hours long session or about his bruises.

Now the college grounds were completely silent. If it wasn't for the lamp posts scattered here and there on their way, the place would have been totally bathed in the darkness. This only added to the tension between both men. More than once Yamamoto tried to begin a discussion about things and over, but each one of his attempts was met with a 'Voi, shut the fuck up!' or a 'Ah. So?' Utterly vain, that was an understatement.

He sighed with disenchantment. So in the end, they were back to the teacher-student relationship? That thought crossed his mind when they reached the portico.

"So, see you tomorrow, brat." Squalo was on the point of turning his back to the dark haired teen when suddenly, he felt the latter grabbing at his arm. "Voi? Hadn't I broken that arm yet?" He asked, indifferent. Yamamoto grinned.

"Maybe it's the other?" He shifted nervously? "I… Um… I wanted to thank you for today."

"Ah? You don't. Not as if there's anything a brat like you can do to thank me."

"That's… wrong. Maybe."

The boy cast his eyes down. The silverette was starting to get annoyed from Yamamoto's hesitancy. He quickly wanted to go back home and get over with that tiresome day. "Voi, if you've got nothing to talk about anymore then let go of me. I-"

This time, it was Squalo's turn to get interrupted. Still, this time, it had been with the teen's lips fiercely crushing against the bewildered silverette's ones.

Then that night

"Stupid kid!" Squalo cursed as he splashed more water on his face, and then glowered at his reflection in the mirror of his office's bathroom. The vision only made him grunt with frustration. "Still not fading…"

Rather than going straight home, he went back to the campus to delete the evidences of his previous assault. But they were spreading so visibly right above his shirt's collar it was almost useless. Squalo could find no ice to cool the skin around the bruises, so he had to do with cold water instead. At any rate… how could have he let such a brat take advantage of him that way? Being kissed by someone way younger than him – a man, most of all – and even letting said brat going as far as leaving kissmarks on him… That was simply shameful.

Against all expectations, the silverette wasn't used on being hit on. He was definitely more handsome than the average human being, but since people surrounding him were mostly college students (the brats) or same professors as him (the old farts), there had never been any serious threat before.

Until that day.

Ten minutes of rubbing later, no change. One way or another, the silverette had to put up with the glowing hickeys and the embarrassment that was going with them. He got out of the bathroom but paused when he got in the adjacent office.

"What the hell?"

Even in the half-dimness of the room (the silverette didn't bother about switching the light on), he easily spot the dark form of Xanxus sitting on his desk, legs crossed and eyebrows furrowed, staring angrily at him.

"Don't fucking 'what the hell' me, you piece of trash." He fumed. "What the fuck are you still doing here?"

"Huuuh?" Squalo's eyes widened with anger. "Hadn't I already told you I have some stuff to do here?"

"Do I give a damn shit about that…" Xanxus got up and quickly cornered the silverette against the wall. He lifted the latter's chin with his thumb. "What is this?"

Squalo slapped Xanxus' hand away. "Nothing you should care about. And don't come that close!"

But the raven didn't back. On the contrary, he seized viciously a handful of the silver mane and pulled hard, making Squalo whine. "What's this, scum. So you can have fun when you want too. You manwhore."

"V-voi. I don't want to hear that from someone like… Ngh!" The silver haired man shivered when a thick tongue went licking at the already sensitized skin of his neck. "Voi… What… are you…!"

Xanxus listened to nothing. He just brutally pushed the silverette against the same desk he had been sitting on few seconds before. Squalo cursed as his back hit painfully at the angle. "Xanxus, you bastard. Did you go mad or something?"

"Shut it." The tanned man said while trapping the silverette between his arms. As he towered above him, the reality of the long haired man's gorgeousness was even more palpable. Squalo was extremely annoyed at the moment, yet his anger made him look way more attractive to the raven's eyes – or maybe it was just because of the booze.

However, Xanxus was also irate. He couldn't say anymore if it was due to the fact he didn't have his non-explicitly promised dinner or because he had to go all that way to find the silverette… or because he actually found him, but marked by some unknown stranger. How was it that the raven one-sidedly assumed the silverette would never have something as a sexual life?

"Hey, fucking stupid trash." He sneered at him. "What kind of woman was it? A biter? Although I'd never thought you'd be fond of those ones. But with a girly face like yours, you surely can pleasure men too. Am I wrong?"

The guy had gone mad, that was certain. If he hadn't, how could something as stupid as that cross his mind? What the silverette felt at that precise moment was beyond anger. Each cells of his body was practically crying at his wounded pride; each one telling him to kill the man who just offended him to the bones.

"Vooi." He said suddenly very calmly, his greyish orbs two bullets digging holes in Xanxus' face. "I don't know what kind of shitty suppositions you're making right now, and I fucking don't care. Anyway, you got it all wrong. Such a stupid brat… He doesn't even-"

"He, you say? A man?" Xanxus' expression darkened. He now was staring heinously at the silver head. "After all, you're just a slut."

Squalo couldn't retort to this last affront as the raven's lips locked with his.

A toxic, carnivorous kiss that had nothing to do with the one he received earlier. Even if they were both men (or rather no. For him, the katana brat was just a brat, like many others), the silverette could clearly feel the difference. And the taste of whisky.

"Mnn… Voi, Xanxus." He panted with difficulty, Xanxus almost never letting go of his mouth. "Ah!... You're drunk, aren't you? Stop that!"

"I told you to shut up." Xanxus roared and spun him so that he had the silverette's back against his chest. He then pinned his wrists on the table with one hand while the other was fastening Squalo's head to avoid any fighting back.

It was bad, very bad, the silverette's mind was processing like lightning. He was in danger and he needed to get out of that wasps' nest the fastest possible and pulp the other bastard's face. Still it wasn't as though Squalo could do so. What an irony. And to think that one hour earlier he was beating the shit out of a brat.

With his arms tied and whole upper body painfully bent over the desk, he barely could move a single finger. But the hand he felt had just left the back of his head to slip beneath the fabric of his shirt to caress his back, told him worse was yet to come. Somehow, not being able to see the raven behind him made Squalo way more aware of his presence. Which was something he didn't want.

"Xanxus, I swear if you don't stop this right now I'll-"

"You'll do what, you shitty piece of scum?" Xanxus smirked. "You'll call for help? You know you won't. Or are you planning on struggling? Don't make me laugh. A slut like you must be used being treated like this, aren't you? Whether having a man's meat deep in your throat or stuffing your asshole must be nothing for a whore like you."

"Fuck you!" Squalo cursed. He suddenly started when the rough hand finally left his back to pull his pants down and fondle at his ass. Soon after, he recognized the clink of a belt followed by the sound of a fly unzipped. Then something hard and hellishly hot prodding against his entrance. Words seemed to fail him as he slowly grasped at the horror of the situation: he was going to get raped, right there on his desk. And trying to free his wrists still was vain. Xanxus' hands were like a vice around them.

Only a sharp cry went past his lips when Xanxus forcefully penetrated him with his length.

TBC