Pairing: Xanxus/Squalo, Squalo/Yamamoto (pre-slash)
Disclaimer: Katekyō Hitman Reborn! and all its characters are property of Amano Akira. No copyright infringement is intended.
Written For: KHR Fest. Prompt: 33. Xanxus/Squalo, jealousy. "You're mine, bitch."
Notes: "Orgoglio di Ligre" means "Liger's Pride" in Italian. I found myself incapable of resisting wordplays.
When Yamamoto arrived, with a sheathed katana slung over his shoulders, the box of Sword Emperor DVDs in his bag, and the smell of grass in his hair, Superbi spent far less time dealing with Varia things and far more time refining Yamamoto's new moves. Xanxus threw his dinner plate at Superbi's head if he returned late from a mission, but gave his silent permission for Superbi to train Sawada's Rain Guardian. At least, Superbi took it as silent permission, since Xanxus did not bash his face into the armoire or shoot Yamamoto in the face.
Superbi wondered if Xanxus would react to all the time he spent with another man and decided to satisfy his curiosity one summer evening. He sauntered into Xanxus's opulent bedroom late, smirking, and sat on the bed next to Xanxus, smelling of sweat and salt water. Xanxus only sipped at a bottle of Vodka and continued to watch television as if Superbi were not there. Superbi leaned over to kiss his ear, and Xanxus tilted his head away without turning. "Don't start with that shit again. I'm not in the mood."
Xanxus was never in the mood for kisses or tangling fingers in hair or sleeping with someone in his arms. Superbi never craved these things with anyone else, but no one else ever denied him these things. Xanxus was only ever in the mood for one thing, so Superbi slipped his hand down to unzip Xanxus's pants, willing to give it to him.
"If I feel your teeth again, shark, I'll pull them all out with a pair of pliers."
Superbi only smiled and bent down to enjoy a few moments of Xanxus at his mercy. In those few moments, Xanxus squirmed despite himself and gripped the back of Superbi's head, his breath escaping louder than usual. It was that sort of moment that kept Superbi coming back.
A few moments were not enough to satisfy Superbi for long, however. They were crumbs to a starving man, a thimbleful of water in the desert. Whenever Superbi tried to kiss Xanxus's neck, he was shoved onto the floor. If Xanxus woke up and found Superbi lying next to him, he broke an ashtray over his head and demanded he leave. Superbi considered stabbing him for a little more consideration, but he would only get his face burnt off in return, and he would get no satisfaction that way. He was a cold, wet thing, and he needed Xanxus's fire more than Xanxus needed anything of his.
Xanxus always lit up a cigarette when they were done, as if to personify some sort of cliché. He lay back on his bed with Superbi still on his hips, paying more attention to the way the smoke curled up into the air from his cigarette. Superbi pressed his flesh hand to Xanxus's chest, feeling his heart beat, momentarily considering punching through the sternum with his prosthetic hand to rip the beating organ out. But then Xanxus glanced at him, and the urge passed—until Xanxus looked away again, at the clock on the bedside table.
"I won't be here tomorrow night," Superbi announced.
"Really. You've got someplace else to be, shark?"
Superbi narrowed his eyes. "Yeah. I get tired of fucking two guys at once. Tomorrow will be Yamamoto's day. I figured you'd be all right without me for one night. There's always Lussuria if you get too horny." It was petty and low, childish, but maturity had never been one of Superbi's gifts. He was not fucking Yamamoto, but maybe he would have to start. Yamamoto was warm where Xanxus was hot, but at least some warmth was better than freezing.
Xanxus took a drag of his cigarette, his gaze fixed on Superbi's face, though his eyes gave nothing away. They were like two rubies, cut into hard little pieces.
Superbi slipped off Xanxus and grabbed his pants. "So I'll see you the night after. If he doesn't wear me out again." The lie felt natural coming out, but then, Superbi was used to lying. Most especially to himself about why he came here night after night to a man who hardly noticed him after his orgasm.
Xanxus only took another pull from his cigarette as Superbi left.
Superbi killed the Interpol informant before dinner, so he washed the blood from his hands and grabbed two dinner platters on the way back home. He was not sure if Yamamoto would like baccalà alla vicentina, but Yamamoto tended to like everything, so he did not worry about it much. It would not be terribly hard to seduce him. He even expected, in a shaded room, that he could pretend that Yamamoto's thick black hair was Xanxus's without stretching his imagination.
Yamamoto did not answer after the first knock, as he usually did. Nor did he answer after the second or third, nor even the fourth. Superbi opened the door, and his stomach dropped at the sight of Yamamoto's room. Blood stained the carpet, and splinters and sticks stood where a table and chairs had only yesterday. A crystal flower vase lay smashed to pieces on the floor. The pieces glinted under the waning sunlight streaming in through a window with torn curtains. A waste, Superbi thought, for it had not even been tossed at his head.
"Ushishishi," Belphegor said from behind Superbi. "Are you looking for that Japanese swordsboy? I liked the way he was bleeding when Lussuria dragged him out. It was pretty."
Superbi whirled around and glared down at Bel. "Where is he?" Idiot that Yamamoto was, Yamamoto was his to defeat.
"Clinic, I suppose."
Superbi took off at a run, still holding the bags of food. He dropped them on a chair when he entered the clinic. Yamamoto lay on the bed, unconscious, his skin pale under the bright white lights. Superbi approached and watched as Lussuria stitched up the boy's chin, anger causing his skin to prickle.
"Voooi! What the hell happened here?"
Lussuria glanced up, sunglasses obscuring his eyes. "There was so much blood, that I missed this one. I'm so tired from healing him and the boss that I have to do this the old fashioned way. He'll scar, but I think it will be a charming scar." He smiled in that strange, over-the-top Lussuria way of his.
"Wait, healing him and the boss?" Superbi shouted loud enough to make Lussuria wince.
"I gave the boss priority, of course."
"Who attacked them?" Superbi slashed his prosthetic hand out. "I'll fucking cut their legs off and turn them into fishbait!"
"Oh. Well." Lussuria cut the thread and placed a bandage over Yamamoto's chin. "It was the boss. He stormed into Yamamoto's room after you left and apparently had a small temper tantrum."
"A small temper tantrum?" Superbi grabbed Lussuria by the front of his shirt and shook him until his sunglasses fell off. His eyes were wide. "Why the hell would the boss jump this kid? He's here to train with me!"
"I—I don't know!" Lussuria cringed. "Ask him!"
Superbi threw Lussuria onto the ground and stormed off to do just that.
It was dark by the time Superbi reached Xanxus's room. Xanxus sat in his chair, sipping at a glass of deep red wine. He glanced at Superb when he stormed in, his eyes hooded.
"I thought you weren't coming tonight? Or did you have a change of plans?"
Superbi shut the door behind him. This was not for other people to see and hear. "Is there a particular reason you nearly beat Yamamoto to death?"
Xanxus took another sip of his wine. "He'll recover. He's a tough brat, I'll say that for him."
"Tough?" Superbi balled his fists, his breath shortening as rage filled his chest. "He's mine to beat. Mine."
Xanxus moved as if time and space have no power over him. The glass crashed into Superbi's forehead with an explosion of pain. Red wine and red blood dripped down Superbi's face. A few heartbeats later, strong hands yank his head back by the hair, forcing him to stare up. Xanxus glared down at him, his eyes matching the color of the liquid trickling down Superbi's cheek. "You don't want him to lose because that means you've lost to that person as well. Your defeat at his hands bound your honor to his, is that right?"
Superbi glared and tried to break Xanxus's wrist with his prosthetic hand, but paused when the barrel of a gun pressed against his temple. Bullets were faster than blades; even Superbi had to admit that. Xanxus leaned forward, close enough that Superbi could smell the wine on his breath.
"But you can't defeat me. Neither can that trash you've taken in. Neither of you will ever be as good as me. It's just that simple, shark."
Superbi took a gamble and wrenched himself forward. A few hairs ripped from his head, but he freed himself without having his head blown off. He turned around, resentment burning so deep within him that he could barely breathe. It dripped down his face with the wine and blood, staining his silver hair. This was the final insult. Superbi would take no more.
Xanxus, however, seem unconcerned with Superbi reaching for his box. He holstered his gun and sat back down in his chair. He grabbed a new glass and poured himself more wine, apparently unconcerned with Superbi's building rage. This was apparently what he thought of Superbi: nothing.
"Voooi! I'm sick of you insulting my honor!" Superbi lit his ring, the blue flame brightening the dim room. "You fought Yamamoto! Now you can fight me!"
"I didn't fight that trash to insult your pathetic honor. I fought him to assert my territorial dominance."
Xanxus's words punctured through Superbi's rage like a needle, and Superbi suddenly felt drained. The statement spun in his head, implying things Superbi never though Xanxus capable of. His dying will flame winked out.
"Territorial dominance? What the hell?"
"Stupid piece of shit." Xanxus turned to him, his lips curled back into a snarl and his eyes burning bright. "You are mine. And if that trash ever touches you again, I will fucking kill both of you. He can fight you until you've lost the rest of your limbs, but only I get to fuck you. Got it?"
That lie. That stupid, childish lie. It was something that a teenage girl would say, but Superbi doubted there was a teenage girl as frustrated as he when he had said it. But never did he consider it that it would work—in a rather indirect fashion, at that.
"Got it," Superbi said, his voice trembling despite himself. He detached his sword and set it against the armoire. Did Xanxus actually feel something for him? After all these years, never a hint—
"Now, get your ass over here."
Superbi approached and studied Xanxus. Xanxus looked up at him, smoldering as ever. It seemed as if something new smoldered inside him, some new gleam in his eye, some new quirk of his lips. Perhaps it had always been there, and Superbi had failed to see it. As rough and cruel as Xanxus could be, it was only ever Superbi he gave any attention to. No matter how hard those ruby eyes were, no matter how much stronger Xanxus was than him, he had a weak spot. And somehow, Superbi held a hand over that weak spot.
Xanxus growled low and pulled Superbi onto his lap. He was as graceless as ever as he took what he wanted. The sex felt no different. Xanxus's hands still left red marks on Superbi's pale flesh, and he still drove right into that spot without mercy. He bit into Superbi's shoulder and groaned like an animal right before he came, just as he always did. But when they were done, Xanxus was different. This time, he let Superbi stay pressed against him, and when Superbi kissed his neck, he did not shove Superbi to the floor.
Superbi did not know how long these things would satisfy him until he wanted more, but he would not refuse the spoils of his victory.