Title: The Nature of Loyalty
Summary: Sometimes keeping one's word is a pain. But sometimes there are perks, too.
Notes: Adult. For khrfest, prompt: Squalo/Xanxus - devotion & pragmatism; "just like you said/if you leave my life, I'm better off dead." Smut, Squalo's penchant for swearing, the fact that Xanxus and Squalo are both nuts. 891 words.
The Nature of Loyalty
Squalo hasn't cut his hair in years, and so it falls past his ass. It is, quite frankly, a pain in his ass, always getting in his face or tangled up in something. It takes for-fucking-ever to wash and even longer to dry, has ends that are split, and has, on three separate occasions, led idiots to mistake him for a woman and take certain liberties with his person that earned all three of them a swift, screaming death.
Squalo has never once considered cutting it, not even the time that, due to a truly unfortunate sequence of events, it got matted up with motor oil and effluvia, and had taken him a full fucking day to get clean again. He's a man of his word, though he doesn't give it often or lightly, and he made a promise. He means to keep it, or die trying.
That, of course, is far less a rhetorical thing to say than it is when most people say it. His boss is by far the craziest motherfucker Squalo has ever had the privilege of meeting, and Squalo includes all his coworkers put together in that count, as well as the face he sees in the mirror when he's shaving. One of these days, Xanxus will order him to do something that will get him killed, or Xanxus will lose his temper and do it himself. Squalo is perfectly aware of this fact, and doesn't really even think about it any more. He's made his peace with it, and besides, he doesn't give a fuck. Better, he thinks, to die under Xanxus' command than to live free of it. And besides, he made a promise.
This is, however, not to say that having Xanxus as his boss is entirely without its benefits. For one thing, Squalo is himself more than just a little crazy, and thus he enjoys the opportunity to match that against Xanxus' own bugfuck insanity. For another, the sex is fucking fantastic. Xanxus fucks the same way he does everything else, with no holds barred, and Squalo likes that. He's perfectly happy to wrap his legs around Xanxus' waist and let Xanxus pound him into the mattress, or pin him up against the wall after a kill, when blood and gun smoke are still hanging in the air, and fuck him raw.
And sometimes--sometimes, never often, and never predictable--sometimes Xanxus gets into a mood that's rare on him, a quiet mood that isn't quite brooding and isn't quite rage. It isn't quite contentment, either, and it's not quite sanity, but whenever he gets into it, Squalo ends up like this: pinned to the mattress, bent over a stack of pillows with his ass in the air and his hair spread out fucking everywhere, while Xanxus slides in and out of him, each thrust slow and deliberate. Squalo's already come once, groaning his way through the spasms of his body trying to wring tight around the thickness of Xanxus' cock, while Xanxus fucked him through it, never faltering. Now all Squalo can do is lie draped over the pillows, panting, throat dry and second orgasm hovering just out of reach, fuzzy as a gathering fog, while Xanxus keeps on fucking him, regular and slow, those big hands of his holding Squalo in place for it.
Squalo would beg, if only he could muster enough self-possession to form coherent words. That's not going to happen, though, so he takes it, fingers flexing against the sheets, gasping every time Xanxus' cock sinks all the way into him.
Finally the rhythm of Xanxus' breathing changes, and the hands caging Squalo's hips tighten on them, lifting them higher. He drives into Squalo at a sharper angle, and Squalo hears himself whine at the thick stab of pleasure. He doesn't give a damn, not when he's teetering on the edge of coming again, and that helps him find his words again. "Boss... oh, please, Boss," he gasps, raking his fingers against the sheets and knotting his hands in them, as Xanxus pulls back, leaves him empty and open and wanting. "Please."
Xanxus growls something at him, though it doesn't really have words to it, and slides home again, so hard and deep that Squalo can practically taste it. That's all it takes to send him off again, finally, thank fuck. He wails as he comes, scrabbling against the sheets as Xanxus holds his hips in place and fucks him with short, hard strokes, each one raking pleasure through Squalo, until Xanxus growls again. His fingers tighten on Squalo's hips, and he buries himself in Squalo as he comes.
Squalo's too limp to move when it's finally over. Xanxus has to shove him over, and Squalo doesn't even bother to protest the cavalier treatment. He just curls onto his side, body still thrumming with the afterglow, as Xanxus stretches out, lazy as a cat and looking just about as satisfied as one. And the mood, whatever the hell it is, still holds, because he just grunts when he catches Squalo watching him, and doesn't say anything at all.
Yeah, so one of these days, this is all going to have to come to an end, maybe, but Squalo doesn't much care. Way he figures it, there's plenty to enjoy along the way, and that's enough for him.
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