+ A Different Sort of Negotiation
Title: A Different Sort of Negotiation
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing: Reborn/Lambo
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: language, smut
Length: 3,687 words
Summary: Can you bridge the gaps of words unsaid?
A/N: Wrote this a long while back but never got around to posting it. A bit of a PWP fic, I'll admit. I really didn't like it when I first wrote it, but when I look back on it, it's not as terrible as I remember. *shrugs* Going to try and finish that other Reborn/Lambo fic before November hits (or at least get the actual writing done) because, damn, it's been long enough that the thing has been sitting at 90% completion.
It’s the alliance that’s supposed to last forever.
Tsuna’s office is quiet, the only noise being the muted ticking of a clock. Gokudera and Yamamoto situate themselves behind Tsuna, who is seated at his desk, while Lambo stands in the center of the floor, eyes downcast, arms hanging limply by his sides. The atmosphere is heavy, and despite the warm sunlight streaming in through the windows, the room feels cold.
Two weeks ago, the boss of the Bovino family had been murdered, and as if this wasn’t bad enough, Lambo had been away on a mission. He hadn’t even heard about it until his return to Italy, and by then, the funeral had long come and gone. A new boss had already been put in place, and that, it seemed, was that.
While the death of the Bovino family’s last boss has hurt him in more ways than one, Lambo tries to shoulder the weight. Some would say that he’s handling the loss well, but for those closer to the Bovino, they know he’s barely managing to make it through each day. The previous head had been like a father to Lambo, and now that he’s gone, who is left there for him now? It’s been about three days since he found out, and there are still tears in his eyes as he stands in Tsuna’s office now.
Unfortunately, he’s here to hear some more bad news.
“The Bovino family is blaming us for his death,” Tsuna says, voice quiet. From behind, Gokudera mutters something under his breath, but Yamamoto nudges him into silence, shaking his head. Lambo draws his gaze away from the two to look at Tsuna once more. “They sent this. It’s… for you.”
There’s a plain envelope on the Vongola’s desk, and Lambo reaches over, picking it up. He opens it, reads the contents, before returning it to the table. “Did you really send Reborn on such a job, Vongola?” Lambo asks. “They say he’s the one who killed the Bovino boss.”
A hurt expression flits across Tsuna’s face, and everyone in the room knows that the assumption hurts him more than he cares to admit. “Of course not,” he answers, fingers entwining on his desk. “I’d never dream of hurting the Bovino family in any way.”
“Then is he a rogue agent?”
The question is a surprise to all in the room, and this time it is Yamamoto who has to be restrained. Gokudera has a hand on his sleeve, holding him back, but the swordsman yanks his arm away. He closes his eyes and moves to lean against the wall. Tsuna watches the other for a moment before returning his attention to Lambo.
“I honestly don’t think he is, Lambo. We have evidence that…”
“Please stop.”
“But…” The Tenth drops his gaze to the table. “You have to believe that it wasn’t us. We can show that… We’ve been family-friends-for so long…
“Just hear me out. Please, Lambo.”
But the expression on the Bovino’s face is more than enough to let anyone know that he’s convinced that the Vongola family had something to do with the death. His emotions are running on high, and with the news of his original boss’ death still fresh in his mind, he’s not thinking straight, not as straight as he should and needs to be. Lambo pulls off the Guardian of Thunder ring and places it carefully in front of Tsuna.
“I’m sorry, Vongola. I…”
The room is dead silent as Lambo turns around and dashes out of the office. The door clicks shut. Gokudera turns to look at his leader, worry creasing his brow. “Tenth, you know that Reborn is…”
“I know, Gokudera. I know,” Tsuna responds. “I can only hope that he’ll be able to sort this out.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “He may not like the idea, but he’s the one best suited to negotiate with Lambo right now.”
+++
Lambo runs into his bedroom, tears streaming down his face. He slams the door and takes just one step inside before noticing the silhouetted figure by the window. The man slowly turns, but the Bovino already knows whom it is.
“You bastard,” he spits, sorrow vaporizing into anger in a split second. “How could you?” Lambo charges, fists flying, and throws Reborn to the ground. The action is easier than he anticipates, and for a moment, he finds himself looking down at the other in surprise.
Reborn’s face is expressionless, gaze unreadable, but when he reaches up to cradle Lambo’s cheek, there’s something behind that touch. Lambo automatically leans into it before slapping the other’s hand away when he realizes what he’s doing.
“I can’t believe you, Reborn,” he mutters as tears drip off his chin, soaking the other’s jacket. Lambo slams a fist down onto the other’s chest, anguish-driven punches doing little to Reborn. “Why would you do that? Why!?”
“You won’t believe anything I say now, so why bother answering the question?” Reborn responds, his free hand moving to rest in the small of the other’s back. “Would you believe me now if I just blatantly said that I didn’t kill him? The seed of doubt is there, and it grows well where there is anger and confusion.”
“…bastard.”
Lambo makes a motion to get up, and he’s already on his feet when Reborn yanks him back down, drawing him into a crushing kiss. One hand tangles itself in the Bovino’s hair, as the other keeps a firm grip on his arm. There’s more teeth then tongue and lips in the kiss, but it goes on, dragging out until they part with bruised lips and more bites than either cares to admit to.
The Bovino feels a hand slipping down the back of his pants, and a gasp passes his lips unbidden as he feels a finger circle his entrance. Lambo opens eyes he didn’t know he had closed and looks at Reborn, as an internal battle is waged. His mind is telling him to go, to kill this man in front of him, but his body is already arching into other’s touch, as soft moans spill past his lips.
An arm loops around his waist as Reborn shifts, and the pressure at his entrance disappears. Lambo whines before he can stop himself, but somehow it seems alright when a hand is tugging at his shirt, slipping buttons out of buttonholes, pushing it off his shoulders. A warm tongue traces idle patterns across his chest, stopping to lavish attention on a nipple before continuing its aimless journey.
“I’m… g-going to kill you, Reborn,” Lambo hisses, as his eyes flutter shut. Reborn nips at his skin before pressing a kiss to the reddening spot. “Hasn’t that always been your job, stupid cow? Ever since you were little, as early as you can remember…”
“Maybe if I had succeeded, then the Boss would still be here.” His voice cracks, as fresh tears start streaming down his face. Lambo’s fight to get out of the other’s embrace, get away from that addicting touch, starts anew, but Reborn has a good grip on that writhing body, keeps him pressed closed.
“Dammit, Reborn, let me go! Why are you doing this anyway? I’m going to-”
“Because this is the last chance I’ll have to explain things to you without having to point a gun at your head.”
Lambo stops struggling and stares at the other. Reborn’s cheek is against his chest, and just for a second, the man looks vulnerable, as if he’s let down all his defenses. It’s an expression the Bovino has never seen on the other. It’s never been there during times of loss, times of anger, times of passion.
“…Reborn.”
And then the vulnerability is gone. Reborn moves, throwing the Bovino to the ground, as a hand moves to hold his chest to the floor. His gaze shifts from Lambo’s face to his hand, where the guardian ring is noticeably absent. “I can only imagine…” Reborn raises the hand to his lips, presses a kiss inside his palm. “…the expression on Tsuna’s face…” He sucks lightly on Lambo’s fingertips. “…when you returned the ring.”
Reborn’s staring at him again, but Lambo can’t hold the other’s gaze and turns his head away in shame. But then there’s a hand on his chin, turning him toward another kiss, this one slow and sweet. This is slower and gentler than he’s used to, and the Bovino doesn’t know what to make of it; it throws him off, keeps him off guard.
“I didn’t do it,” the other murmurs when he breaks away from the kiss. He whispers it against his lips, against his neck. “I didn’t do it, Lambo.” Long fingers fiddle with belt buckles and pants. “I’ll get you to understand I didn’t do it, you dumb cow.”
“But they say they saw you there…”
Reborn pulls the belt out and away, tossing it to the side, before sticking his hand back down Lambo’s pants. The Bovino groans, back snapping off the ground. His hands claw at the ground, unable to find purchase there, but he’s unwilling to cling to the other, show the other a sign of admission and weakness despite his current situation.
“You were born into the mafia. You should know about betrayal and deceit.” The hand disappears again but only to pull away Lambo’s remaining clothes. The Bovino can feel the other’s eyes raking over his nude body, and despite himself, a blush crawls its way onto his face.
“But despite your upbringing, you seem to be ruled by your emotions,” Reborn whispers. The Bovino can feel the scrape of teeth against his ear, and he shivers, shakily exhaling. The other changes positions to stare at him again, expression still unreadable as ever. “Did you never think that someone in your family would try to have a coup d’etat? That someone would else want to lead the Bovino family?”
Lambo opens his mouth to say something in response, but Reborn just presses two fingers against his mouth, silencing him. They trace over his lips before sliding past them. The Bovino sucks almost obediently on the digits, like he’s done in the past. Lambo licks his lips when Reborn removes his fingers, and he squeezes his eyes shut, knowing what will come next.
It’s not the first time Reborn’s toyed at his entrance today, but now the fingers are pressing into, pushing against tight muscle. A single digit slips in; Lambo shifts uncomfortably for a moment. As it sinks deeper, he eases into it and sighs in pleasure. Before he can get too comfortable, though, Reborn pushes another in, causing Lambo to wince once more.
“And what better way to remove a major threat to the new leader and to get rid one of the past boss’ most loyal followers, then to send said follower after my head. You’re letting them kill two birds with one stone,” Reborn says as he scissors his fingers. The Bovino bites down on his lower lip, as another groan threatens to escape. He breathes deeply, trying to slow the frantic beating of his heart. “Guardian you may be-or were, I should say-you can rest assured that Tsuna won’t let you go if you somehow managed to do anything to me.”
“Dammit, Reborn! Why’re you telling me all of this while… while…” He flounders, unable to think of the words he wants. “While you do this!” He makes a vague gesture with his hand, as tears of frustration and embarrassment spill onto his cheeks. “You’re not making any sense!”
Reborn pulls his fingers out, eliciting a whimper from Lambo, and he unbuttons his pants, watches with amusement as the Bovino shivers in time with the slide of his zipper. He takes a moment to prepare himself, and then Lambo feels the burn of being entered, holds his breath until the initial pain subsides.
It’s more uncomfortable than usual, but Lambo’s not surprised; it’s not the first time they’ve used saliva as lube. So he just grits his teeth as Reborn settles into his rhythm and waits for pleasure to overtake the pain. Even before he hits that point, the Bovino’s already pushing back against the other, wrapping his legs around Reborn.
Lambo’s arms lift off the floor finally and move to circle the other’s neck. Reborn bites the junction between neck and shoulder before laving it with his tongue in hot, wet streaks. The room goes silent save for the sounds of sex, soft moans, and the occasional grunt, and the Bovino’s satisfied that Reborn’s not confusing him with conversation right now.
He hopes the ecstasy will never end because he knows that when it does, reality will come crashing down around his ears all over again.
+++
Lambo finds himself lying on his bed when he awakens, and the room is dark. He can still make out the other’s shape though. Reborn’s sitting on the edge of the bed, back to him. The Bovino moves slightly and reaches over to the nightstand, aiming to get the handgun that he always keeps there.
He cocks the gun as quietly as a he can and rolls over, pointing it at Reborn’s head. But there’s a muzzle shoved in his face as well, and as his gaze shifts, Lambo can see the other staring at him, eyes boring right through him.
“It seems like I was right before.”
Lambo looks away, a frown curling his lips. This isn’t how it’s supposed to work; with the other looking at him, it suddenly becomes a million times more difficult to pull the trigger. It’s a minute movement, but his body just doesn’t want to obey.
“If you intend to make me your enemy, then you’d best keep your eyes on me,” Reborn says, voice quiet. Despite what he had just said though, Lambo can’t bring himself to do it. The other chuckles, the sound soft and strangely melodious, and then the Bovino feels the weight in his hands increase.
A second later, the gun’s been pulled out of his grip, and Reborn is dropping the magazine onto the bed sheets. Something clatters in a corner of his room, and he can only assume that the other has thrown his gun away. Lambo still can’t bring himself to face him. The mattress dips as Reborn moves, and out of the corner of his eye, the Bovino can see a hand sliding onto his knee.
“Why the hell should I believe you?” Lambo finally says. He raises a hand and scrubs it against his eyes; it doesn’t do anything but smear his tears across his face. “They say they saw you at the Bovino headquarters shortly after the boss was killed.”
“Weren’t you listening to me at all earlier?”
“How could I!?” The Bovino raises his head and glares at the other. “You were… You were…” He blushes and looks away again. “I can’t believe you expected me to listen to you during that. You’re insane, Reborn.”
The hand on Lambo’s knee moves up his leg, trailing up his chest before taking his chin in hand. He averts his eyes when Reborn tilts his head toward him, but he gives in after a moment and looks over. The other is smiling of all things, and it makes the Bovino throw a wild punch at him.
Reborn catches his wrist easily, not batting an eye or even breaking his gaze.
“It was a coup, dumb cow, and before you ask how I can prove it, let me ask you if you even let Tsuna finish explaining before you ran away,” Reborn says all of this in a calm voice, but it doesn’t soothe Lambo’s nerves; it serves only to grind on them. “The Vongola family had heard about a potential takeover, and Tsuna sent me over to investigate.
“But I was too late.”
“I bet you were,” Lambo mutters. The grip on his wrist tightens fractionally for a second before it disappears completely. He’s struck a nerve, he can tell, but right now, Lambo can’t bring himself to care. Reborn had been right at the start. Once the seeds of doubt have been planted, they’re damn hard to remove.
“And what, pray tell, do I have to do to get it through your insanely thick head that I had nothing to do with this entire affair?” There’s an edge to Reborn’s voice now, an edge lined with steel and the cold bite of frost. The temperature in the room seems to plummet, and the two sit in silence, eyes locked in a wordless argument.
Lambo is the first to look away, and he slides off the bed, dragging the sheets with him. He wraps himself in the material and moves to stand by the window, gaze trailing upwards to look at stars. “Why’re you trying so hard to convince me, Reborn?” he finally says, his voice uncomfortably loud after the silence. “And why didn’t Vongola tell me about any of this earlier? I even missed the funeral.”
“Because you’re one of those idiots who would’ve panicked the second you heard, and Tsuna wanted you to come home in one piece.” The answer comes faster than Lambo had been expecting, and he glances over his shoulder. Reborn’s disappeared into the shadows, and all the Bovino can make out is the glimmer of steel, the cold lines and curves of a gun.
“He also thought you had more sense than to turn on us like you have. Tsuna…” There’s a pause there, as if Reborn had meant to add another name. “Tsuna’s still too naïve, it would seem.”
“So you’ve answered my second question, but what of my first?” asks Lambo, and while he had planned for the question to have more bite, it’s not there. There’s something strangely intoxicating about the way Reborn’s acting right now, the way he’s not as high and mighty as he usually seems. It’s rare to see the other pushing for anything so hard like this. This might as well be Reborn begging him, the idiot cow, for something.
Lambo wonders if this is what it feels like to hold the reins in his hands.
Unlike last time though, the reply doesn’t come a second later, not even a minute later. The silence grows longer and longer until Lambo isn’t even sure the other has heard the question, but finally, Reborn responds, his words just barely above a whisper.
“If you don’t already know, then I have no need to tell you.”
The Bovino stares wide-eyed as the other slides off the bed and heads to the door. Reborn pauses in the doorway, figure silhouetted by the light pouring in from the hall. Lambo can’t make out the other’s face, so he can only imagine the expression there. He wonders if it matches the voice that he hears murmur, “Arrivederci.”
+++
Morning finds Lambo with bags under his eyes, tears on his pillow, and a pile of tissues on the floor. But despite this, there is resolution in every step he takes, purpose in the way he walks. He dons his best suit, struggling with a tie he hasn’t had to tie in too long, and slips into polished dress shoes. There’s a plastic smile on his lips, plastered on like his tomorrows rely on it staying there, which it very well may.
The Bovino doesn’t notice the two men standing outside his door when he steps out of his room, doesn’t notice when they stare at him in disbelief. His feet take him directly to Tsuna’s office; he barges in without knocking. The two men have followed him from his room, and they’re yelling at him now, warning him that they’ll shoot.
Reborn’s in the room, looking worse for wear what with his tie loosened, shirt rumpled, and jacket in a wrinkled heap by his side, but he still looks up, ready to spring into action, when Lambo storms in. His lips form a thin line, and his hand is already on the holster of his gun. Tsuna’s mouth is open as if he was in mid-speech, but he quickly closes it, pasting on a wary smile.
“Vongola, I’d like to speak with you as a representative of the Bovino family,” Lambo states. He can feel the eyes of everyone in the room trained on him, and his voice quavers for a moment. But he steels himself, drawing on some previously unknown pool of courage, and continues. “I’d like to work with the Vongola family and investigate the death of the previous Bovino boss. I’ve reason to believe that some foul play may have come about back at home.”
Tsuna’s about to say something, but before he can do anything, Lambo’s striding forward. He comes to a stop before the other man and bows, bows so low that his forehead just barely misses the Tenth’s desk. “I’m sorry, Vongola,” he murmurs, voice just loud enough for Tsuna and Reborn to hear. “I’m sorry for running out on you yesterday.”
There’s a sympathetic smile growing on the boss’ face, and he reaches over, placing a gentle hand on Lambo’s shoulder. “Then let’s work together, hm?” he says, voice radiating warmth. “I’m sure we can sort out this mess.”
“Thank you, Vongola, but before that, there’s one thing I must do.” Lambo straightens up and then turns to look at Reborn. The other is expressionless as usual, but for once, the Bovino manages to catch him unawares when he leans down, kisses him, parting warm lips with wet tongue.
Tsuna blushes and looks away, making a jerky movement with his hand for the two guards to leave the room; they obey post-haste. A moment, an eternity later, Lambo breaks the kiss, but only just. His lips linger above Reborn’s as he whispers, “I’m not done with you yet. I’m nowhere near done with you yet.
“So don’t walk out on me.”
There’s a whimsical smile on Lambo’s face as he turns back to Tsuna. “So when can we start, Vongola?”
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing: Reborn/Lambo
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: language, smut
Length: 3,687 words
Summary: Can you bridge the gaps of words unsaid?
A/N: Wrote this a long while back but never got around to posting it. A bit of a PWP fic, I'll admit. I really didn't like it when I first wrote it, but when I look back on it, it's not as terrible as I remember. *shrugs* Going to try and finish that other Reborn/Lambo fic before November hits (or at least get the actual writing done) because, damn, it's been long enough that the thing has been sitting at 90% completion.
It’s the alliance that’s supposed to last forever.
Tsuna’s office is quiet, the only noise being the muted ticking of a clock. Gokudera and Yamamoto situate themselves behind Tsuna, who is seated at his desk, while Lambo stands in the center of the floor, eyes downcast, arms hanging limply by his sides. The atmosphere is heavy, and despite the warm sunlight streaming in through the windows, the room feels cold.
Two weeks ago, the boss of the Bovino family had been murdered, and as if this wasn’t bad enough, Lambo had been away on a mission. He hadn’t even heard about it until his return to Italy, and by then, the funeral had long come and gone. A new boss had already been put in place, and that, it seemed, was that.
While the death of the Bovino family’s last boss has hurt him in more ways than one, Lambo tries to shoulder the weight. Some would say that he’s handling the loss well, but for those closer to the Bovino, they know he’s barely managing to make it through each day. The previous head had been like a father to Lambo, and now that he’s gone, who is left there for him now? It’s been about three days since he found out, and there are still tears in his eyes as he stands in Tsuna’s office now.
Unfortunately, he’s here to hear some more bad news.
“The Bovino family is blaming us for his death,” Tsuna says, voice quiet. From behind, Gokudera mutters something under his breath, but Yamamoto nudges him into silence, shaking his head. Lambo draws his gaze away from the two to look at Tsuna once more. “They sent this. It’s… for you.”
There’s a plain envelope on the Vongola’s desk, and Lambo reaches over, picking it up. He opens it, reads the contents, before returning it to the table. “Did you really send Reborn on such a job, Vongola?” Lambo asks. “They say he’s the one who killed the Bovino boss.”
A hurt expression flits across Tsuna’s face, and everyone in the room knows that the assumption hurts him more than he cares to admit. “Of course not,” he answers, fingers entwining on his desk. “I’d never dream of hurting the Bovino family in any way.”
“Then is he a rogue agent?”
The question is a surprise to all in the room, and this time it is Yamamoto who has to be restrained. Gokudera has a hand on his sleeve, holding him back, but the swordsman yanks his arm away. He closes his eyes and moves to lean against the wall. Tsuna watches the other for a moment before returning his attention to Lambo.
“I honestly don’t think he is, Lambo. We have evidence that…”
“Please stop.”
“But…” The Tenth drops his gaze to the table. “You have to believe that it wasn’t us. We can show that… We’ve been family-friends-for so long…
“Just hear me out. Please, Lambo.”
But the expression on the Bovino’s face is more than enough to let anyone know that he’s convinced that the Vongola family had something to do with the death. His emotions are running on high, and with the news of his original boss’ death still fresh in his mind, he’s not thinking straight, not as straight as he should and needs to be. Lambo pulls off the Guardian of Thunder ring and places it carefully in front of Tsuna.
“I’m sorry, Vongola. I…”
The room is dead silent as Lambo turns around and dashes out of the office. The door clicks shut. Gokudera turns to look at his leader, worry creasing his brow. “Tenth, you know that Reborn is…”
“I know, Gokudera. I know,” Tsuna responds. “I can only hope that he’ll be able to sort this out.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “He may not like the idea, but he’s the one best suited to negotiate with Lambo right now.”
+++
Lambo runs into his bedroom, tears streaming down his face. He slams the door and takes just one step inside before noticing the silhouetted figure by the window. The man slowly turns, but the Bovino already knows whom it is.
“You bastard,” he spits, sorrow vaporizing into anger in a split second. “How could you?” Lambo charges, fists flying, and throws Reborn to the ground. The action is easier than he anticipates, and for a moment, he finds himself looking down at the other in surprise.
Reborn’s face is expressionless, gaze unreadable, but when he reaches up to cradle Lambo’s cheek, there’s something behind that touch. Lambo automatically leans into it before slapping the other’s hand away when he realizes what he’s doing.
“I can’t believe you, Reborn,” he mutters as tears drip off his chin, soaking the other’s jacket. Lambo slams a fist down onto the other’s chest, anguish-driven punches doing little to Reborn. “Why would you do that? Why!?”
“You won’t believe anything I say now, so why bother answering the question?” Reborn responds, his free hand moving to rest in the small of the other’s back. “Would you believe me now if I just blatantly said that I didn’t kill him? The seed of doubt is there, and it grows well where there is anger and confusion.”
“…bastard.”
Lambo makes a motion to get up, and he’s already on his feet when Reborn yanks him back down, drawing him into a crushing kiss. One hand tangles itself in the Bovino’s hair, as the other keeps a firm grip on his arm. There’s more teeth then tongue and lips in the kiss, but it goes on, dragging out until they part with bruised lips and more bites than either cares to admit to.
The Bovino feels a hand slipping down the back of his pants, and a gasp passes his lips unbidden as he feels a finger circle his entrance. Lambo opens eyes he didn’t know he had closed and looks at Reborn, as an internal battle is waged. His mind is telling him to go, to kill this man in front of him, but his body is already arching into other’s touch, as soft moans spill past his lips.
An arm loops around his waist as Reborn shifts, and the pressure at his entrance disappears. Lambo whines before he can stop himself, but somehow it seems alright when a hand is tugging at his shirt, slipping buttons out of buttonholes, pushing it off his shoulders. A warm tongue traces idle patterns across his chest, stopping to lavish attention on a nipple before continuing its aimless journey.
“I’m… g-going to kill you, Reborn,” Lambo hisses, as his eyes flutter shut. Reborn nips at his skin before pressing a kiss to the reddening spot. “Hasn’t that always been your job, stupid cow? Ever since you were little, as early as you can remember…”
“Maybe if I had succeeded, then the Boss would still be here.” His voice cracks, as fresh tears start streaming down his face. Lambo’s fight to get out of the other’s embrace, get away from that addicting touch, starts anew, but Reborn has a good grip on that writhing body, keeps him pressed closed.
“Dammit, Reborn, let me go! Why are you doing this anyway? I’m going to-”
“Because this is the last chance I’ll have to explain things to you without having to point a gun at your head.”
Lambo stops struggling and stares at the other. Reborn’s cheek is against his chest, and just for a second, the man looks vulnerable, as if he’s let down all his defenses. It’s an expression the Bovino has never seen on the other. It’s never been there during times of loss, times of anger, times of passion.
“…Reborn.”
And then the vulnerability is gone. Reborn moves, throwing the Bovino to the ground, as a hand moves to hold his chest to the floor. His gaze shifts from Lambo’s face to his hand, where the guardian ring is noticeably absent. “I can only imagine…” Reborn raises the hand to his lips, presses a kiss inside his palm. “…the expression on Tsuna’s face…” He sucks lightly on Lambo’s fingertips. “…when you returned the ring.”
Reborn’s staring at him again, but Lambo can’t hold the other’s gaze and turns his head away in shame. But then there’s a hand on his chin, turning him toward another kiss, this one slow and sweet. This is slower and gentler than he’s used to, and the Bovino doesn’t know what to make of it; it throws him off, keeps him off guard.
“I didn’t do it,” the other murmurs when he breaks away from the kiss. He whispers it against his lips, against his neck. “I didn’t do it, Lambo.” Long fingers fiddle with belt buckles and pants. “I’ll get you to understand I didn’t do it, you dumb cow.”
“But they say they saw you there…”
Reborn pulls the belt out and away, tossing it to the side, before sticking his hand back down Lambo’s pants. The Bovino groans, back snapping off the ground. His hands claw at the ground, unable to find purchase there, but he’s unwilling to cling to the other, show the other a sign of admission and weakness despite his current situation.
“You were born into the mafia. You should know about betrayal and deceit.” The hand disappears again but only to pull away Lambo’s remaining clothes. The Bovino can feel the other’s eyes raking over his nude body, and despite himself, a blush crawls its way onto his face.
“But despite your upbringing, you seem to be ruled by your emotions,” Reborn whispers. The Bovino can feel the scrape of teeth against his ear, and he shivers, shakily exhaling. The other changes positions to stare at him again, expression still unreadable as ever. “Did you never think that someone in your family would try to have a coup d’etat? That someone would else want to lead the Bovino family?”
Lambo opens his mouth to say something in response, but Reborn just presses two fingers against his mouth, silencing him. They trace over his lips before sliding past them. The Bovino sucks almost obediently on the digits, like he’s done in the past. Lambo licks his lips when Reborn removes his fingers, and he squeezes his eyes shut, knowing what will come next.
It’s not the first time Reborn’s toyed at his entrance today, but now the fingers are pressing into, pushing against tight muscle. A single digit slips in; Lambo shifts uncomfortably for a moment. As it sinks deeper, he eases into it and sighs in pleasure. Before he can get too comfortable, though, Reborn pushes another in, causing Lambo to wince once more.
“And what better way to remove a major threat to the new leader and to get rid one of the past boss’ most loyal followers, then to send said follower after my head. You’re letting them kill two birds with one stone,” Reborn says as he scissors his fingers. The Bovino bites down on his lower lip, as another groan threatens to escape. He breathes deeply, trying to slow the frantic beating of his heart. “Guardian you may be-or were, I should say-you can rest assured that Tsuna won’t let you go if you somehow managed to do anything to me.”
“Dammit, Reborn! Why’re you telling me all of this while… while…” He flounders, unable to think of the words he wants. “While you do this!” He makes a vague gesture with his hand, as tears of frustration and embarrassment spill onto his cheeks. “You’re not making any sense!”
Reborn pulls his fingers out, eliciting a whimper from Lambo, and he unbuttons his pants, watches with amusement as the Bovino shivers in time with the slide of his zipper. He takes a moment to prepare himself, and then Lambo feels the burn of being entered, holds his breath until the initial pain subsides.
It’s more uncomfortable than usual, but Lambo’s not surprised; it’s not the first time they’ve used saliva as lube. So he just grits his teeth as Reborn settles into his rhythm and waits for pleasure to overtake the pain. Even before he hits that point, the Bovino’s already pushing back against the other, wrapping his legs around Reborn.
Lambo’s arms lift off the floor finally and move to circle the other’s neck. Reborn bites the junction between neck and shoulder before laving it with his tongue in hot, wet streaks. The room goes silent save for the sounds of sex, soft moans, and the occasional grunt, and the Bovino’s satisfied that Reborn’s not confusing him with conversation right now.
He hopes the ecstasy will never end because he knows that when it does, reality will come crashing down around his ears all over again.
+++
Lambo finds himself lying on his bed when he awakens, and the room is dark. He can still make out the other’s shape though. Reborn’s sitting on the edge of the bed, back to him. The Bovino moves slightly and reaches over to the nightstand, aiming to get the handgun that he always keeps there.
He cocks the gun as quietly as a he can and rolls over, pointing it at Reborn’s head. But there’s a muzzle shoved in his face as well, and as his gaze shifts, Lambo can see the other staring at him, eyes boring right through him.
“It seems like I was right before.”
Lambo looks away, a frown curling his lips. This isn’t how it’s supposed to work; with the other looking at him, it suddenly becomes a million times more difficult to pull the trigger. It’s a minute movement, but his body just doesn’t want to obey.
“If you intend to make me your enemy, then you’d best keep your eyes on me,” Reborn says, voice quiet. Despite what he had just said though, Lambo can’t bring himself to do it. The other chuckles, the sound soft and strangely melodious, and then the Bovino feels the weight in his hands increase.
A second later, the gun’s been pulled out of his grip, and Reborn is dropping the magazine onto the bed sheets. Something clatters in a corner of his room, and he can only assume that the other has thrown his gun away. Lambo still can’t bring himself to face him. The mattress dips as Reborn moves, and out of the corner of his eye, the Bovino can see a hand sliding onto his knee.
“Why the hell should I believe you?” Lambo finally says. He raises a hand and scrubs it against his eyes; it doesn’t do anything but smear his tears across his face. “They say they saw you at the Bovino headquarters shortly after the boss was killed.”
“Weren’t you listening to me at all earlier?”
“How could I!?” The Bovino raises his head and glares at the other. “You were… You were…” He blushes and looks away again. “I can’t believe you expected me to listen to you during that. You’re insane, Reborn.”
The hand on Lambo’s knee moves up his leg, trailing up his chest before taking his chin in hand. He averts his eyes when Reborn tilts his head toward him, but he gives in after a moment and looks over. The other is smiling of all things, and it makes the Bovino throw a wild punch at him.
Reborn catches his wrist easily, not batting an eye or even breaking his gaze.
“It was a coup, dumb cow, and before you ask how I can prove it, let me ask you if you even let Tsuna finish explaining before you ran away,” Reborn says all of this in a calm voice, but it doesn’t soothe Lambo’s nerves; it serves only to grind on them. “The Vongola family had heard about a potential takeover, and Tsuna sent me over to investigate.
“But I was too late.”
“I bet you were,” Lambo mutters. The grip on his wrist tightens fractionally for a second before it disappears completely. He’s struck a nerve, he can tell, but right now, Lambo can’t bring himself to care. Reborn had been right at the start. Once the seeds of doubt have been planted, they’re damn hard to remove.
“And what, pray tell, do I have to do to get it through your insanely thick head that I had nothing to do with this entire affair?” There’s an edge to Reborn’s voice now, an edge lined with steel and the cold bite of frost. The temperature in the room seems to plummet, and the two sit in silence, eyes locked in a wordless argument.
Lambo is the first to look away, and he slides off the bed, dragging the sheets with him. He wraps himself in the material and moves to stand by the window, gaze trailing upwards to look at stars. “Why’re you trying so hard to convince me, Reborn?” he finally says, his voice uncomfortably loud after the silence. “And why didn’t Vongola tell me about any of this earlier? I even missed the funeral.”
“Because you’re one of those idiots who would’ve panicked the second you heard, and Tsuna wanted you to come home in one piece.” The answer comes faster than Lambo had been expecting, and he glances over his shoulder. Reborn’s disappeared into the shadows, and all the Bovino can make out is the glimmer of steel, the cold lines and curves of a gun.
“He also thought you had more sense than to turn on us like you have. Tsuna…” There’s a pause there, as if Reborn had meant to add another name. “Tsuna’s still too naïve, it would seem.”
“So you’ve answered my second question, but what of my first?” asks Lambo, and while he had planned for the question to have more bite, it’s not there. There’s something strangely intoxicating about the way Reborn’s acting right now, the way he’s not as high and mighty as he usually seems. It’s rare to see the other pushing for anything so hard like this. This might as well be Reborn begging him, the idiot cow, for something.
Lambo wonders if this is what it feels like to hold the reins in his hands.
Unlike last time though, the reply doesn’t come a second later, not even a minute later. The silence grows longer and longer until Lambo isn’t even sure the other has heard the question, but finally, Reborn responds, his words just barely above a whisper.
“If you don’t already know, then I have no need to tell you.”
The Bovino stares wide-eyed as the other slides off the bed and heads to the door. Reborn pauses in the doorway, figure silhouetted by the light pouring in from the hall. Lambo can’t make out the other’s face, so he can only imagine the expression there. He wonders if it matches the voice that he hears murmur, “Arrivederci.”
+++
Morning finds Lambo with bags under his eyes, tears on his pillow, and a pile of tissues on the floor. But despite this, there is resolution in every step he takes, purpose in the way he walks. He dons his best suit, struggling with a tie he hasn’t had to tie in too long, and slips into polished dress shoes. There’s a plastic smile on his lips, plastered on like his tomorrows rely on it staying there, which it very well may.
The Bovino doesn’t notice the two men standing outside his door when he steps out of his room, doesn’t notice when they stare at him in disbelief. His feet take him directly to Tsuna’s office; he barges in without knocking. The two men have followed him from his room, and they’re yelling at him now, warning him that they’ll shoot.
Reborn’s in the room, looking worse for wear what with his tie loosened, shirt rumpled, and jacket in a wrinkled heap by his side, but he still looks up, ready to spring into action, when Lambo storms in. His lips form a thin line, and his hand is already on the holster of his gun. Tsuna’s mouth is open as if he was in mid-speech, but he quickly closes it, pasting on a wary smile.
“Vongola, I’d like to speak with you as a representative of the Bovino family,” Lambo states. He can feel the eyes of everyone in the room trained on him, and his voice quavers for a moment. But he steels himself, drawing on some previously unknown pool of courage, and continues. “I’d like to work with the Vongola family and investigate the death of the previous Bovino boss. I’ve reason to believe that some foul play may have come about back at home.”
Tsuna’s about to say something, but before he can do anything, Lambo’s striding forward. He comes to a stop before the other man and bows, bows so low that his forehead just barely misses the Tenth’s desk. “I’m sorry, Vongola,” he murmurs, voice just loud enough for Tsuna and Reborn to hear. “I’m sorry for running out on you yesterday.”
There’s a sympathetic smile growing on the boss’ face, and he reaches over, placing a gentle hand on Lambo’s shoulder. “Then let’s work together, hm?” he says, voice radiating warmth. “I’m sure we can sort out this mess.”
“Thank you, Vongola, but before that, there’s one thing I must do.” Lambo straightens up and then turns to look at Reborn. The other is expressionless as usual, but for once, the Bovino manages to catch him unawares when he leans down, kisses him, parting warm lips with wet tongue.
Tsuna blushes and looks away, making a jerky movement with his hand for the two guards to leave the room; they obey post-haste. A moment, an eternity later, Lambo breaks the kiss, but only just. His lips linger above Reborn’s as he whispers, “I’m not done with you yet. I’m nowhere near done with you yet.
“So don’t walk out on me.”
There’s a whimsical smile on Lambo’s face as he turns back to Tsuna. “So when can we start, Vongola?”