Squalo didn't like how his life was going. They called him a whiner, but they could go fuck a cactus. Being a college student had no benefits. He didn't have parents to pay his way. He didn't get hot Italian chicks when he went to parties. He barely knew anyone in Italy, and he wasn't going to start socializing with trash anytime soon. He worked a dead-beat job to pay for his goddamned tuition at his tacky fucking college.

"It can't be that bad," Dino said, wiping down some glasses and putting them up, "There's gotta be something going for you, or you wouldn't be doing it at all."

Squalo snarled back. "I'm waiting for it to be worth it, you piece of fucking garbage!"

He didn't know when that would happen, but he would wait. He wasn't very patient though.

It was slow at the restaurant he worked at. It was a lazy Sunday evening, with the streets lined with lamps, and he laid his head on the shiny countertop, long silver hair billowing out over the edge. Dino didn't say anything else to him, occupying himself with more dishes. He let his eyes close, and he breathed slowly, resting for what seemed like ages.

"...Signora?"

Squalo jerked his head up at that, glaring at whoever dared call him a woman. But it was only an old man with a warm smile. Behind him, a tall dark man stood peevishly by the door. His red eyes glowed in the dim light, staring at Squalo most curiously, and Squalo could only stare right back. The old man apologized profusely.

"Mi dispiace, signore! I could not see your face! Mi scusi!"

Squalo shook his head and forgave him politely, guiding the men to a window seat. He took time to look the younger man over as he gave him the menu silently. He had dark skin, with even darker patched scars scattered across his face. His black hair spiked in all directions, yet held a refined style. But there was something beyond his good looks that Squalo found interest in, pulling him into the depths of crimson eyes.

"What are you staring at, trash?" he said in a deep commanding voice, smirk playing across his lips. Squalo, very unlike regular angry Squalo, couldn't find anything to say. He just gave them glasses of water and scurried away.

Dino looked at Squalo incredulously when he made his way back to the kitchen.

"What...What was that?" Squalo breathed heavily and glanced back at the table one last time. "Jesus Christ, Squalo, your face is red."

"Shut the fuck up, you little fucker," he hissed, holding a hand over his rapidly beating heart. He didn't know what had come over him, but he had embarrassed himself in front of the young Italian man. Whoever he was, he was a fucking jerk. "Go be their waiter, I can't look him in the eye."

For the first time, Dino smirked at Squalo without a hint of fear. "Are you a lovesick puppy?"

And that earned the blonde a severe wallop to the stomach. He held back a loud groan, but went to wait the table.

"Signore," the old man said to Dino, "Excuse my son for his attitude. Please tell that to the giovanotto!"

Dino nodded and smiled, glancing at the younger Italian in question, an aura of cockiness surrounding him. He took their orders and turned to leave, but the man stopped him.

"...I would like my order served to me by the...'giovanotto'...Per favore," he said lowly, red eyes gleaming, sending a shiver along Dino's skin. Dino had to agree, and he left them as quickly as Squalo had.

"What'd he say?" Squalo whispered. Dino gulped, wringing his hands in his apron.

"...You...He wants you to serve him..."

He would have throttled Dino, had it not been for their boss yelling at them to get back to work. He made due with a swift kick to the shin. The time was at hand eventually, and Squalo had to calm himself down as he took the food to the table. The old man was kind and always smiling, and he didn't want to be angry at his jerk of a son if it would upset him.

"Signori," he said quietly, placing the food on the table. The old man thanked him happily and eyed his son, a silent command to do the same. Yet he refused, turning his nose up at Squalo, who felt a twinge of annoyance.

"Xanxus," the old man snapped, "dicalo"

"Trash," he began, fiery eyes melting Squalo to the very core, "This meat is shit."

Squalo could feel his veins bursting at that moment.

"...You haven't even tasted it." Squalo knew the restaurant used only the highest quality meats and it was always cooked to perfection no matter what. But that seemed like the wrong thing to say, because next thing he knew, the man named Xanxus swept his arm across the table, throwing the dish on the floor. Had it not been for the interruption of Xanxus's father, Squalo would have thrown the man to the ground and beaten his arrogant face in.

"Xanxus, che cosa è errato con voi?" the old man's face turned sullen, and Squalo would have felt a pang of guilt, had that look been directed towards him. Xanxus was not regretful.

"You expect me to eat that shit?" He looked up at Squalo, whose nerves were shaking with rage. The old man stood from his seat quickly, his sad, sad face making Squalo calm down. He took Squalo's hand and placed several bills in it, so much more than he actually owed.

"Scusi, giovanotto. I am terribly sorry. Io sono spiacente." He walked out the door, and Xanxus only followed, leaving a brash smirk that made Squalo's heart stop. The restaurant was quiet, and it was making Squalo crazy.

But the restaurant closed eventually, and only an hour or two later, Squalo was done for the day. He left through the back door, trash littering the alleyway and lamps faint. He fingered the fat tip in his pocket the old man had left him, thinking incessantly of the bigheaded man named Xanxus. He was thinking so hard, he didn't notice the cigarette smoke clouding his face. He coughed wildly, waving his hands around until he could breathe.

"Giovanotto," a deep voice purred. Squalo felt his nerves jerk awake again at being face to face with Xanxus. The dark man eyed Squalo inquisitively, that smirk still setting the smaller man off.

"...I thought you left," was all Squalo could say, his insides churning. The sight of the man was making him feel strange. Xanxus puffed on his cigarette again, eyes falling on the red bricks surrounding the narrow alley.

"Mia anziano," he laughed at his words, "told me to find a way home."

Squalo thought that wouldn't be hard for the man. He was rich, after all. He could have called a taxi or a friend or his family's limousine service.

"...So...Why are you here, then?" he had to ask. Xanxus puffed again thoughtfully.

"Prostituta," he said. "You, preferably."

Squalo almost didn't want to dignify that with a response. He was shaking from head to toe with anger.

"F...First you come into my fucking restaurant and absolutely disrespect me, now you're calling me a whore...What the fuck is your pro-"

"Calmi giù, puttana," he whispered, throwing his cigarette to the ground and turning to press Squalo into the rough brick wall. Squalo roared with fury, squirming and kicking as hard as he could.

"My name is Squalo!" he screamed in his face, "And I'm not your fucking whore!"

"Squalo," he purred, pressing flat against him. He blew his last inhale of smoke straight into the longhaired man's face. "What a stupid fucking name."

Squalo opened his mouth to retort, but Xanxus went first.

"I saw the way you were looking at me, trash," he said, large dark hands holding Squalo's hips in place against his, "Like I was...meat."

Squalo didn't like that joke. Xanxus smiled mockingly.

"I'm right, aren't I? You want me to fuck you, puttana?"

Squalo didn't even get to object as his pants were ripped from his hips and those dark hands were on his dick. Xanxus pumped him quickly, little moans escaping his throat. He bit his lip to hold it in.

"Dai non fare cosi, let it out" he ushered, jerking harder. Squalo gripped at Xanxus's shoulders and cried out. "Buono, buono."

"F-Fucking...Ahnn!" he sobbed, thrusting his hips up into the calloused hands. Xanxus pressed his mouth against his throat and bit, thrusting his own hips against Squalo's. Squalo whimpered. He'd never been with a man before, and now he was about to have his first time with a man he'd barely even met, a man who was vulgar and cruel and angry.

The silver haired man curled against the wall, legs catching around Xanxus's waist. He knew he shouldn't have been doing this with him, especially since he was the rudest customer he'd ever had. Yet, he couldn't stop the aching in his stomach when he would turn those ruby red eyes on him and smile. He almost felt like the slut Xanxus thought he was.

Desperately, Squalo clawed at Xanxus's back, arching and moaning. Xanxus fumbled with his belt as he juggled keeping Squalo up and releasing his need. They kissed as he opened his zipper and pressed his erection against Squalo's. Xanxus's mouth tasted of the Prima Lux.

"S-Shifo è uno," Squalo whispered against his cheek. Xanxus laughed loudly.

"Get used to it," he said, pressing into Squalo's tiny unprepared hole. It wasn't like Squalo knew how it was supposed to feel, or how it was done. He just knew his ass was stretched beyond belief and it stung. He was probably bleeding.

"C-Caspita!" he cried, moving against the unrelenting bricks at his back, "What the f-fuck-"

"Attillato," Xanxus breathed into his ear, grasping onto Squalo's pale white thighs, grunting as he pushed in all the way. Squalo hoped his fingernails broke Xanxus's skin, the way he clung and scratched at him in an effort to hold on. He felt full and heavy and he could barely breathe with the way Xanxus covered him like a shroud. He was practically bent in half, his legs in the cold night air.

Xanxus didn't say anything as he began thrusting back and forth. The friction burned and the silver-haired Italian's body was not used to this treatment. But it brought stars behind his eyelids, saliva dripping from his lips as he kissed the man that tasted of tobacco and rage. Thrusting grew angry, and Squalo's back (even covered in a shirt) was beginning to chafe against the bricks, his legs starting to cramp. But he couldn't care. His insides crawled with fire, his dick jumping with every snap of Xanxus's hips. Squalo wrapped his arms around the man's head and pulled his face into his neck, crying out loud enough for the dogs down the street to bark in response.

"Ah! Ahnn, ah," he moaned, matching Xanxus's frenzied grunts of "Cazzo" against his throat. He could feel the man pulsing inside him, in and out, in and out, pumping like a heart's beat. Squalo loved this feeling.

As the lamps gave out, so did the couple. It was vicious and bloody, dirty fingernails scraping against flesh until it tore as loudly as the shrieks. Squalo's stomach surged with pleasure as his cock burst white all over his stomach. His scream brought uncontrolled satisfaction to Xanxus, and he bit into Squalo's shoulder as he thrust as far as he could into him one last time. In a daze, Squalo felt the man's cum rush inside him, moaning quietly into ebony hair.

Dogs howled and lamps flickered in the cold Italian night. Blood rumbled in Squalo's ears and dripped down his long white fingers. They had to remember how to breathe.

"Could have been better."

A fierce glare was all Squalo could muster, and he did not look in the least bit terrifying, half naked and bent strangely against an alley wall. Xanxus laughed loudly again, squeezing those pale thighs one more time before dropping them indifferently to zip up his pants. Squalo fell to the dirty ground gracelessly, covered in smelly garbage, cum and blood leaking all over his legs.

"There you go, trash. Right where you belong!" His large dark hands took hold of Squalo's paper white face and fingered the messy bangs framing it.

"Next time," he voiced deeply, getting his point through. Squalo blinked slowly up at his face, red eyes trained on his. There would be a next time? He felt his cheeks burn pink. Xanxus grinned, teeth gleaming in the distant waver of artificial light. "I better get the finest fucking meat in all of Italy."

Squalo blanched, agape. Xanxus stood straight up and walked away, not looking back to wave his farewell.

He'd be back tomorrow, anyway.