So heeey everyooone i'm back. Yeah, i know i was supposed to stop this story after the 20th chap, but then it was valentines day & i had (of course) to write a special chap... & then i got alota ideas (too many ideas) for that chap but they couldln't all fit in only 4000 words. So... I'm back! ^^


It's dark… Yeah, it truly is. But once I open my eyes, I know there will be nothing but light. Light overflowing everywhere, filling every corner of the bedroom with white. I don't wanna wake up. I'm not gonna open my eyes. Not this time, when my pillow is so soft under my head. It smells clean laundry. I love that smell. It's there on the sheets, on the mattress, even in the air. It feels so good… So soft and cold…

So Squalo was thinking, half-daydreaming half-smiling in his bed on that morning, when something suddenly made his thoughts focus on something less agreeable.

Something hot, burning and hard pressing against his thigh. He grunted with boredom.

"Damnit… Xanxus, stop that. Are you a fucking teenager for being horny that early in the morning? I'm sleeping, for God's sake!"

The hotness, and in the same time Xanxus' weight shifted behind the silverette's back. An arm went to circle his waist, a calloused hand grazing at the pallid skin of his torso and belly as the raven's breath became heavier on his sensitive neck.

"You idiot." The tanned man replied. "If your mouth can be that damn annoying that early in the morning, it means you're fucking already awake."

Now, surely Squalo was, yet he still had some little hope. Eyes shut tight, he mumbled, "Vooi… I can't afford to miss my flight. And I don't want to look like a sleep deprived zombie for the rest of the day. I've already told you I'll have a meeting right after I get to New York."

"Like I give a fuck, stupid trash. What's the point of having a private jet if you still have to fucking worry for shitty details?"

And seriously, Xanxus didn't, neither did his left hand as it grabbed the silver haired man's member and started stroking it as awake as its owner.

"Damn you…" Squalo hissed, his eyes slightly cracked open. It was no use trying to reason with that stubborn bastard, even less when said bastard was in that kind of state. So the silverette just let him do as he pleased. Maybe he could go back to sleep after Xanxus was over with him. Casting a rapid glance at the screen of his phone on the nightstand: half past six. Good. There was still three hours left before departure. 'Let's just hope Xanxus' morning sex wouldn't last more than that.'

The silver haired man's body bent docilely when Xanxus took hold of his leg, making it hang lusciously in the air. The hotness came back, this time forcing its way between Squalo's buttocks. The latter suppressed a sigh as Xanxus' length smoothly made its way deep inside him.

"Hee. Still moist from last night?" The raven grinned. "It'll make things easier for me."

"Shut up. Do it quickly."

That order was totally out of place. The raven clearly made that fact known by pounding hard in the smaller man, so hard that even if his insides didn't need much preparation, it still really hurt. "You shut up, bitch. You're only allowed to moan like the bitch you are."

Squalo wanted to punch the tanned man for those words – more for the words than for the pain Xanxus was inflicting him, as a matter of fact. But since he couldn't do much in his position, Squalo just settled on actually keeping his mouth close and gripping the mattress tightly to counterbalance the raven's hard thrusts as they were turning more and more powerful with every second.

The rare contact of their skin, the wet sound coming from their connecting flesh, and Xanxus kissing, lapping, chewing that particular place between his shoulder blades, then his tongue trailing lazily on Squalo's spine…. Fuck, it felt great. As uncaring and rough as Xanxus could be, that bastard nevertheless could ignite the silverette's flesh and bones as fast as a forest fire in summer. But no way would he let the raven know, not after what that asshole said. Teeth gritting painfully, fingers not letting go of the sheets while the bed under them was creaking like in a constant complaint, the silverette had decided to be as stubborn as his boss.

However, it wasn't an easy challenge, and the raven actually was determined to have the silverette surrender to him. A total surrender, a complete victory, whether it came to sex or business, Xanxus didn't know anything else and didn't need to know anything else. And a hard slap, a deep shoving dead on the smaller man's bundle of nerves had been the beginning of Squalo's defeat.

"Ah!..." Barely a sigh, a squeak, a silent whine betrayed the silver haired man, and on the other hand made the raven smirk. Propping himself on his elbow, the rhythm of his hips grew faster. Now, Xanxus had an acceptable view on the silverette's face, that beautiful face the latter was striving, though without success, to keep composed. Simply enticing.

For a second, Xanxus paused his ministrations. He flipped the silverette so that they could face each other and, in a total selfish action, he caught Squalo's lips in an avid and capsizing kiss.

"Mmh… Ngh!... Ha…" Squalo couldn't help but hold on the raven's shoulders, then miss the touch of said raven's lips when the latter slowly drew backwards. Ruby orbs, dark and spiky hair, hot and tanned skin were everything the long haired man could focus his attention on; then the well-built body, the broad shoulders, the muscular abs; then the connection between both males' bodies, there between his legs spread wide open for the raven, so damp and slick and dripping, with Xanxus' dick throbbing painfully deep inside him, stretching the twitching ring of muscles, and his own arousal hard against his stomach, ready to climax at any time…

"Xanxus… Do it quickly…"

This time, it wasn't an order. More a pleading, the pray of a starving slave to his master.

"The jet is only leaving at ten." With an unreadable expression, Xanxus took the silverette's wrist in his hand and kissed the delicate inward skin. "I'll have you despoiled till then."

To this, Squalo found nothing else to reply but turning a deep red.

Almost in the same time, at the other side of the world.

Something was ringing, ringing, ringing atrociously in his ears. Just like a hammer constantly hitting his very brain.

"What the hell is that…" Lambo groped about in the darkness to find where that hellish sound was coming from. His hand finally made contact with a plane and cold surface. Tired green irises slowly appeared behind heavy eyelids, both turning to the smartphone's screen. "Huh… Huh? What's that…?" It was ten past nine. "Yeah, yeah, but what did I set an alarm for?..."

Lambo ruffled his jet black hair then lit a bedside lamp. Dim yellow light tainted the walls of the young man's bedroom in a gaudy and eye soaring canary color, highlighting the holy mess of the small room: creased clothes scattered all over the ground, shirts and ties hung in a complete confusion on the walls, on the wardrobe and the door and window's doorknobs, leftovers of the previous dinner (or was it the breakfast, God only knows) piled up on a makeshift desk, and magazines, ashtrays full of cigarettes butts and – this, Lambo honestly didn't remembered how and when it got there – a black laced bra crowning the whole chaos.

To make it short, it was a bachelor's room.

"So, what was it again…" Sitting up, the young man said in a yawn. "What day is it today? Wednesday, yeah. So Giannini called yesterday, he said something like… Haa, what again?… Someone will come today… Someone from…"

At that moment, Lambo spaced out. Certainly some job to do, he thought even if he didn't exactly recall what. What a pain in the ass. It was getting more and more annoying to him, that is, that story with the mafia and all that jazz. It wasn't as though Lambo was fit for that kind of world anyway. Okay, stuff those days were much more peaceful than what he had seen years ago, but it still was a drag! Like the day before, he was quietly eating pizza in a nearby restaurant, minding his own business and all, when some stupid kid just did the stupidest thing one could do in that place: a bloody stickup right in the middle of a goddamn mafia turf. Okay, he wasn't against giving a hand to calm the suicidal brat down, but at least the young man would have greatly appreciated if they had let him finish his dinner! And now, this.

"Ah, and I think that idiot actually stabbed me in the arm. A ruined $500 jacket, that's all I got that night." But back to his main problem, "so yesterday, Gianini called to tell me pick up someone… At the airport, yeah… And who…"

Scratching lazily at the top of his head, staring at the ceiling while recalling the mechanic's words, memory slowly but surely came back to him. Specially one of a very scary man in a very scary company. "Holy shit!" He cursed before getting up as fast as an electrocuted cat and picking random clothes on the floor.

Unlike some very scary men in some very scary companies, cursing isn't something Lambo is used to do. No, not that Romeo, caricature of the Italian man's charm, Lambo of the Bovino family. Otherwise he would have never been that popular with the other gender. This is only to say how much the fear of a meeting with Xanxus of the Vongola family could make the young man deviate from his usual self.

No time for a long shower, no time for a breakfast nor for anything else. He had to be at the airport before the landing of Xanxus' jet. Yes, he had to be, but that didn't mean he was allowed to look like a tramp, too. Almost a quarter of an hour was efficiently spent on arranging outfits, hair and facial expression (because if there is something the beast can sense from miles, that's with no doubt the fear of its prey). After finally deciding on the smile he would show to the Overlord of Bloody Hell VR Co. and that day's attire (suit honestly wasn't meant for him; instead, Lambo chose a pair of black pants in the latest fashion, clear suede boots, a casual yet stylish tailor shirt, a thin leathered waistcoat and on top of everything a three-quarter coat) Lambo swiftly crossed his living-room. Not once giving a thought about the shambles that would have made Martha Stewart ask for mercy, the young man left his apartment at the third floor of a not-that-old, not-that-modern building in Little Italy, driving as fast as his Lancia could allow. Fortunately, there hadn't been too much congestion on his way to the airport. Twenty minutes later, he was at Newark praying God he didn't go to the wrong airport.

It was cold and drizzling – a real awful weather for a trip to New York. A wicked wind was blowing on the whole runway, always forcing Lambo to arrange his hair every five minutes.

"Oh, thanks Heaven!" He finally sighed when he caught the sight of a jet minted with VR Co.'s blazon – that very recognizable golden bullet topped by two crossed rifles and a winged clam adorned with golden fire and the name of the so to speak noble family's name – crossing through the greyish sky before landing carefully on a soaked landing-ground.

Somehow dusting his coat, Lambo waited for the engine's occupant and most important guest to get out, the most convincing smirk of his stretching his sensual lips. At that point, the air hostess got out, making place for the Lord.

However, when Lambo was expecting a tall and dark and ominous form to stand out, instead it was indeed a tall frame, but more slender, way brighter: silvery, nearly white long hair and ivory skin contrasting with the black European suit and thick coat, leather gloves and sunglasses the stranger was sporting on a face that looked like it would be way prettier without them. They came down to Lambo's level and, after putting the sunglasses down (striking deep grey eyes) greeted him in pure Sicilian italian.

To tell the truth, if the stranger hadn't started talking, Lambo would have never known whether he should have replied to the greeting with a baisemain or a simple, virile handshaking. It had to be the handshaking.

Weird, Lambo thought. There was no one else but that guy in the jet. Did this mean that the matter Xanxus wanted to solve wasn't that significant to send more than only one man? Or another explanation that made the hair on Lambo's neck raise in anxiety: that this guy was the only one the boss trusted enough to handle the whole thing alone; in other words, he was Xanxus' Joker.

"So… Ahem, Squalo, that's it? Xanxus isn't coming?" Lambo said in a more moderate italian. It had been long since the last time he had talked in Sicilian; moreover the other man, in spite of the fact he was talking rather loud, was too fast to follow on some sentences.

"Voi, he isn't." Squalo answered quite irately, trading the dialect he had got more accustomed to for a basic one. "Our correspondent should have warned you guys. I'm replacing him for this case. The boss doesn't have to leave the head office for such trivia."

Lambo's features relaxed. "Is that so? That's too bad. So, how long are you going to stay here?"

"Of course, until we sort all this shit out." A deep wrinkle appeared between the silverette's eyebrows. "Now, where's our car? I don't want to lose my time here."

"Oh, it's there." The young man showed the silverette the way through the terminal. "Sorry, but they didn't allow my car on the runway. And your luggage?" Squalo simply showed a medium sized suit-case the steward had left beside him. The younger man gracefully offered to take care of it. Once inside the airport, all the checking went pretty fast. That was one of the good sides of being the P in VIP. Only crossing the vast building took a little time.

"So…" Lambo carried on as they were nearing the parking lots. "You really don't know how long the negotiations are gonna last." And when you're going to leave this city. To tell the truth, for Lambo, VR Co. was simply a synonym of problems.

"Voi…" Squalo eyed dangerously at him as they made a step outside. At that precise instant, a violent gust of wind went ruffling the long and silvery mane. Quite a stunning scene. The silver head brushed his locks away from his face. "Has Gianini ever briefed you on the reason why I'm here?"

"Yes, he has!..." It's just that I wasn't really listening to what he said, that's all. Lambo tried to smile his most tender smile to hide the awkwardness in his voice. "If I'm not wrong, it was something about a new contract… And making new allies here for VR Co. … isn't it?"

At the way Squalo was glaring at him – that kind of glare that was announcing impending doom on the one the long haired man was addressing – Lambo grasped that this time he wouldn't get away with his usual honeyed attitude. His only chance was the fact that the other man had spent six hours cloistered inside a plane and was far from being eager to dispute his point. Not yet. Squalo groaned and tsk-ed.

"Fuck it. At any rate, I'd have to explain that shit to you all over again once I get to my hotel."

Lambo froze. Now, they were outside the airport, ready to get in the younger man's car. The latter had the passenger door open for his guest "Hotel? You do have a reservation, don't you?"

"Huh?" Squalo paused. "I fucking told Gianini to handle that. And you fucking are the one supposed to get that shit done."

"Well… This is… This wasn't…" Sweat was dripping on Lambo's forehead and hands, and in such a quantity that despite the cold, the young dandy was certainly about to suffer a severe dehydration. "Ha ha… Sorry?"

" 'Sorry' you say…" The silverette sneered viciously then, in a quick movement only a certain someone he had trained for months could have followed, seized the younger man's throat with one hand, hard enough to break his vertebras, swift enough not to draw people's attention on them. He thundered, "I'll give you a fucking reason to be sorry! 'Sorry' my ass! You stupid brat only had one fucking shit to do and you weren't even able to have it done? Are you kidding me, you stupid?"

"Okay, okay, I got it! Gah!" The younger man was choking. "I'm gonna make few calls… So let go of me!"

After a quick analyzing in his shark brain, Squalo complied. He'd rather have that idiot looking for a goddamn hotel room than having to go through all that shit by himself. Letting go of Lambo's neck, he watched long-sufferingly the younger male going away from him while dialing on his smartphone.

Just why the hell did they give him such a dork? Squalo cursed in his inner-self. What a day for the silverette, really. It was as though everything in the world was against him. Just like sooner, after that forced morning sex, Xanxus went back to his usual grumpy and unbearable state, complaining for everything he was doing from the breakfast to the clothes he had chosen for him from the raven's own dressing-room. And when Xanxus wasn't criticizing each one of his choices, he just remained sinisterly quiet. Well, at first, it was restful, but in the end, that dark look the pig-headed bastard would cast him whatever he would say or do, it became honestly annoying. 'Why are you angry?' Squalo would ask. 'I'm not angry.' Xanxus would reply. 'Voi, you've been quiet for hours. You're pissed off.' 'I told you I'm not.' 'So why are you that damn quiet?' 'Fuck it, trash. Now I'm pissed!'

And so forth till Squalo left the mansion.

And that place also wasn't better: it was too cold, too rainy; nothing to do with Italy. Even thinking about the mild weather in Sicilia made the silverette want to throw away that stupid case and go back home, although that meant braving the raven's tantrum again.

Obviously, he couldn't.

Few meters away from him, the young Bovino still was talking on his phone. "Gotta put up with a kid again, huh." He muttered.

However, something was triggering the silver haired man's curiosity about that brat. His appearance wasn't that transcendent: he was young, tall, rather good-looking, but mainly sweetish; the kind of person Squalo couldn't get to like at the least. But what was the most intriguing about him (well, 'intriguing' was a very big word, let's say 'worthy of note') was that capacity he had to easily adjust himself to any kind of situation. One second earlier he had his neck ready to break in the silverette's fist, now he was already joking playfully on the phone with the receptionist of some hotel. Face and voice perfectly at ease. As if nothing ever happened at all.

When Lambo finally hang up after at least a dozen of unfruitful phone calls, the silverette was leaning on the door of the car, his coat laying over his folded arms. "So?"

"Mmh. It's no good." Lambo shrugged. "Everything is booked miles around." Which was fairly strange. "Come on! We're in the middle of March, it's one of the worst months in the year to visit the Big Apple! What's so funny to see here by that time-"

"Shut it! Where am I supposed to go now, voi?"

The younger man waved his hands in a vain attempt to keep the silverette quiet. "Alright, calm down. I didn't say I'll let you stay outside. You can stay at my home until a room gets vacant."

"Che. So that's your fucking solution?" Squalo grimaced. Lambo smiled.

"This is all I can do for now."

Look, those easy-going manners. But there actually was nothing else he could do apart from that. Now wasn't the time to argue about the housing; there were more important affairs to see before. The silverette frowned yet got in the car.

Once the other man out of view, Lambo heaved a sigh. It was going to be a very long day, he pondered bitterly; this one, and the other ones after. He too got in before switching on the ignition. Next to him, Squalo was silent, staring at streets and buildings unknown to him, appearing then disappearing fast behind the window pane as the car was running faster and faster on the linear roads. They were both silent, and Lambo frankly preferred that silence to another fight. From time to time, he would get his eyes off of the street and instead look at the long haired man. Squalo being more or less engrossed with the rapid sightseeing, he didn't notice the younger man's sometimes insistent glances.

Of one thing, Lambo was sure about the silverette: that is the fact he was past beyond being simply 'pretty'. His grave expression on the soft features, his long shiny hair framing said features and his slim body couldn't go unnoticed to the former's eyes. For someone who wasn't used to see them, it was almost impossible to take his eyes off of the sight. But at some point, Lambo had to: someone was calling him on his phone. He picked up.

"Hello? Hello?" A high pitched voice said. "Is that you, Lambo?"

"Of course it's me." Lambo smiled in his inner-self thinking about who was on the line. "It's my number you've dialed, who else did you think would pick up?"

"Aah, scusa, scusa, Lambo." Gianini laughed. "I just called to ask if everything is fine there."

"Oh, you're talking about that." The younger man cast a quick glance at the silverette. "Maa, there have been few unexpected circumstances, but I guess we're doing fine."

"Ha ha! I'm glad to hear that. When I called you last night I really thought you would mess things up. But it seems I was worrying for nothing."

The corner of the young man's lips tickled nervously. "Yeah… Really, for nothing."

"That's nice. Oh, and how is our guest? A charming person, isn't he? I'm sure you'll get along very well."

Oh I want to see that, Lambo pondered, then aloud, "Is that all, Because I'm driving, right now. I'm hanging up-"

"Aah, wait, wait! There's a very important message for Mr. Squalo. Can you pass him the phone, please?"

Once again heaving a sigh, Lambo handed the device to the long haired man. "Voooi, you fucking trash, you'd better have a goddamn excellent reason for not reserving my fucking hotel room-"

"What the fuck are you talking about, scum." Xanxus – it was indeed the raven's voice resounding from the receiver – Xanxus cut off what was about to become a very boring and very opprobrious ranting.

"Xanxus? What's wrong?" Squalo blinked. "You're still in Sicilia? Did something happen? Vooi, don't tell me it's about Asir's… No, don't tell me that idiot Leviathan wrecked the contract with the other German trash. I swear I'm not gonna deal with that fucking perv' Meier again. Even thinking about that fatso's face makes me want to throw up my lunch-"

"You stupid trash, can't you fucking shut up for only a second? You've turned your fucking phone off. How many times do you think I tried to call you, scum?"

Ah, that's right. Squalo totally forgot to turn it on at the landing. "Yeah, that's kind of my fault. It won't happen again-"

"Better for you, shitty piece of scum. Now, listen…"

Squalo tensed, persuaded that if Xanxus was expressly making an effort to try to contact him, it had to be because something terrible occurred at the head office. Apart from the almost inaudible and somewhat altered breath of the raven coming from the phone, everything suddenly became silent in the car. For about twenty seconds. "Voooi, boss! If you've got nothing to say, I'm fucking-"

"I'm wishing you happy birthday, you bloody trash, so shut your fucking mouth."

"Hah?"

"Excuse me?" Too late, it was Gianini again on the phone. "Voi, give me the boss back!"

"I can't, he has rung off so-"

"Che. Useless trash. I hang up…"

"Wait, wait, Mr. Squalo!" Gianini was back again. "Can you give me Lambo, please?"

"For you." Lambo caught with remarkable dexterity the device the silverette just neglectfully tossed at him. "That stupid boss, always so selfish..."

"Yeah, Gianini?"

"Haa, really, Xanxus is…" The mechanic started but, at that time, somehow remembered why he had called Lambo in the first place. "Oh, it's you. Yes, I'm truly sorry for disturbing. I know it's not easy to manage anything related to Xanxus. But don't worry about Mr. Squalo, he's a very nice person when you get to know him more, trust me. ("Ah, really?") More importantly, don't forget to treat him kindly…"

"What's that?" Lambo chuckled. "I'm always kind with people."

"Yeah… Or rather no, that's not what I meant… Ahem," embarrassment was evident in Gianini's voice. When he resumed, he was careful on clearly choosing his words. "What I wanted to say is… Don't bother Mr. Squalo with pointless things… That is, of course, you'll have to help him get his job done and all, but apart from that, please refrain your usual behaving!"

His usual behaving? What was that? "You know, Gianini, I'm kind of busy now and I don't have time for chitchatting, so if you could make it clearer…"

"Oh, boy! What I mean is this: Mr. Squalo is Xanxus' lover, so no touching!"

And then, the Lancia almost skidded.

TBC


Scusa: Excuse me