"I mean, itās not really necessary for both of us to go, is it?"
Gokudera stared down at the dossier in his hands, his brow wrinkled in confusion. This was a simple hit; three targets, low-ranking Millefiore members that had been seen near enough to Namimori to cause concern.
"Not necessary, no, but where the Millefiore is involved, Iād rather be safe than sorry, you know? You leave as soon as possible; I donāt want them here any longer than they have to be. Dispatch them however you see fit.ā
The hard light in his bossās eyes told the Storm precisely what that meant, and he nodded sharply as he stood, taking the second file with him as he brushed out of the room. His walk back to his and Takeshiās shared quarters was a short one, but he slowed it, took his time and considered his options.
Really, this was a painfully simple mission; he could go himself, make sure that Takeshi didnāt have to get mixed up in it (the haunted look in his loverās eyes was too much for Gokudera to take when he had to kill someoneāit made the silveret ache to watch the Rain tear himself apart over it), and be back within the week.
Takeshi was in the dojo now. If he justā¦ leftā¦
"Yeah, fuck it," he muttered to himself, tucking both dossiers together. He tucked them both into the front pocket of his bag when he got to his room, quickly packed, and was gone within the hour, leaving a hastily scrawled note for his boyfriend on the kitchen table.
Sorry about the short noticeāwell, okay, the no noticeābut thereās a situation that needs to be taken care. Iāll be back in about a week. I wonāt have my phone on me, so donāt freak out if you call and you donāt get an answerāI know youāll do that anyway, but donāt say I didnāt warn you.
āāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāā
Tsuna was pale, shaking, numb when he put down the report in front of him. Reborn, for once, had lost the cocky air he had when he handed them ināeven he was reserved, eyes downcast as he let the small Decimo absorb what heād found.
The Sky had sent Reborn out two days ago, after discovering that yes, Hayato had left on his own, no, he wasnāt taking any calls or e-mails or texts, and no, Takeshi had not known about this, had just come home to a note and an empty apartment.
The ex-Arcobaleno out after him, hoping that his friend was just taking longer than expected, and Reborn had found where Gokudera had been stayingāa cheap, dingy hole-in-the-wall hotel that required no id, no credit card information, and didnāt run a cleaning service at any time other than checkout.
The room was a wreck. Gokuderaās bag had been ripped open, thrown everywhere; a table was broken, as was the bathroom door. There was blood, a lot of it. There was a body in the bathtub, pale and long-limbed and missing its head but Reborn could recognize the bracelets and bangles on the wrists anywhere.
"Iā¦ A-are you sure?" Tsuna asked, his voice thick, wobbling.
Reborn nodded. āI wouldnāt put you through this if I wasnāt.ā
Tsuna parroted his nod, looked back down at the report, and brushed the tears off of his cheeksānot that it did much good, they just kept coming, they wouldnāt stop. The brunet muffled a sob into his hand and pushed the report away, pushed himself to his feet and stumbled out of the room. He had to tell Takeshi. He had to tell him before someone else found out and told himā¦
He hated that Takeshi opened the door with a smile. He hated how the Rainās face fell, how he shook his head, how he knew what Tsuna was going to say. He hated how he had to say it anyway.
"Y-Yamamoto, heā¦ Gokudera-kun isā¦ h-heās dead."
Hayato was supposed to be home soon. Takeshi had gotten everything ready, excited to see him again. Of course he was miffedā¦ Tsuna had been surprised to see him the day after the Storm had left, but really, there wasnāt much he couldnāt handle alone at this point. Heād already planned the scolding, but that would definitely come after making sure his lover was all right and welcoming him home properly.
The knock on the door startled him from his book. Hayato must have forgotten his keys. With a fond grin, the Rain opened the door quickly. āMaa, Hayato, did you forget your keys when you forgotā¦.ā
Tsuna, crying his eyes out. No no no no no. No. He couldnātā¦ he wouldnātā¦.
deaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddead
Hayato was dead. Gone. Killed by the Millefiore. The rest of the day passed in a blurā¦ he remembered Tsuna making him sit, he remembered a drink being pressed into his hand. Ryoheiās loud voice pierced the fog a bit and he knew Tsuna left, but he wasnāt sure how long it had been.
It didnāt matter. Hayato wasnāt coming back.
Tsuna and Reborn spoke to him about funeral arrangements, but Takeshi couldnāt muster up the feelings to care. He wasnāt even completely sure how much later it was, but he figured it must have been at least the next dayā¦ Tsunaās eyes were red, but he wasnāt openly sobbing anymore. Whatever day it was, whatever they did would be fineā¦ no, he didnāt care who was invited or when it was. The only contribution he made was the flowers.
"Liliesā¦ they were his motherās favorite. Heādā¦ heādā¦" Tears were pretty much a constant at this point. He just curled up on himself after that. Nothing else really mattered. Someone kept feeding him, but he couldnāt be bothered to notice who. He threw most of it up anyway.
Okay, so taking care of those Millefiore bastards had taken a bit longer than heād hoped.
Heād gotten cocky, gotten caught, damn near gotten ambushed in his fucking hotel room; theyād had him tracked that close.
As luck would have it, though, theyād been cocky, too. They only sent one guy after him, and though the grunt had fought like a wildcat, Gokudera had managed to put him down with little trouble.
He knew the others would come looking for him, though, and the bomber would be damned before he spent any amount of time looking over his shoulder, dreading an attack. He did what he had to do; he cut off the goonās head, dressed him in one of his own suits, put his bracelets on him, and left.
The ruse worked. The Millefiore idiots that remained were out four nights later cawing to all who would listen about their victory over the Vongola.
Their bodies were cold by morning.
āāāāāāāāāāāāā
It was lateāso late it had circled back around to earlyāby the time Hayato pulled up to the manor. He was exhausted but exhilarated; this had been a chase, a challenge, a true test of his abilities, and though his body ached down to his bones, the silveret felt alive. He made a beeline for his and Takeshiās room, unlocked the door, and beamed sunnily when he saw that the Rain was still awake.
"Hey," he said, a little breathless as he stepped in and leaned against the wall. "Sorry Iām lateāman, wait until you hear this; so the guysāwait, whoa. Take, youā¦ You look like shit, who died?"
He didnāt hear the door open, didnāt bother looking up. He didnāt care. With any luck, the Millefiore had gotten in and found him. It just didnāt matter.
Until he heard Hayatoās voice. Heā¦ was hallucinating, wasnāt he? That had to be it.
"Youāre dead." His voice was cold, as dead as the person who was supposedly standing in his doorway. He turned slowly to look at him, eyes wide and red, puffy from days of crying and full of tears and rage as he stared at the silveret in his doorway.
"Youāre DEAD! You fucking asshole! Youāre DEAD!" He stood, hands balled into fists at his side. He was shaking with fury, with the knowledge that not only had he lost his Hayato, but now his ghost, or hallucination, or whatever was standing there laughing at him.
"You just had to be a fucking hot shot! Had to do everything on your own, leave me here because you didnāt need me. You never fucking need me, and now look at you!!
"You made Tsuna cryā¦ you fucking piece of shit, you told him youād be there! You told him youād never leave, you swore to be by his side and you just fucking go off on your own like some fucking vigilante!ā
His fist hit the table, not noticing the crack in it as he turned his back on the āhallucinationā. āStay the fuck out, Gokudera. I donātā¦ I canāt deal with this shitā¦ it hurts too much as it is. Justā¦ get the fuck out.ā
"What?" Gokudera wasā¦ confused. Takeshi looked like a wreckāheād never seen his lover thisā¦ this empty; his eyes were hollow and his voice was hollow and even his movements seemed strange, seemed wrong. āTakeshiā¦ā
He jumped when the swordsman suddenly started yelling, his green eyes wide as he tried to figure out what the hell he meant. Dead? How the fuck could he be dead, he was standing right hereā
"T-Takeshi, whatā" The Storm cut himself of, curled an arm around his torso as he felt those words dig in, sink their claws in and rake their way through his insides. His other hand came up to ball over his lips as he stared with glassy eyes, so hurt by this unexpected attack that he could hardly breathe. He sagged against the wall, trying to pull in on himself, trying to block the angry words his lover spat at him. Where the hell was this coming from? He knew heād been gone a while, he figured heād have to suffer through some chastisement, butā¦
Gokudera felt warm tears slide down his cheeks. Heād upset Tsuna, heād made Tsuna cry, and now Takeshi wouldnāt even look at himāwhatā¦ this wasnāt the first time heād done, this, why this, why nowāTakeshi punched the table, cracked the oak, and Hayato jumped, flinched and pulled his arms up to defend himself.
He felt sick. He felt hot and sick and he was choking on questions and tears but nothing would come out because Takeshi told him to leave, told him to get out, to get the fuck out and howā¦ how was he supposed to live with himself now?
How was he supposed to live alone?
For a moment, the bomber panicked, but then a familiar calm came over him. He knew this calm. This calm came before he did something very, very stupid. This was the calm heād felt years ago, back in darker days, in darker times where it was kill or be killed and he leaned towards the latter.
He pulled himself up on shaky legs and said, in a voice thick with tears, āYeah, okay. Fuck you, too, Yamamoto. Sorry to be such a goddamned burden all these years.ā
The silveret turned and stumbled out of the apartment, pulled his keys back out of his pocket and damn near ran to his car. He didnāt cry, he wouldnāt cry, he wasnāt brushing tears off of his face; he didnāt care because of course this family was too good to be true. Of course he ended up alone again, wasnāt that how it was meant to be? He was a live bomb, a liability, a burden and a fuck-up, and it was only a matter of time before Takeshi, sweet and loving and kind and warm and everything, realized that.
Within the hour, he was on a plane. His phone was gone, dropped in a trash can at the airport. His wallet was with it, all except for his fake identification papers, the ones heād kept from Takeshi, and his money.
Takeshi wanted him to disappear? Fine. Gokudera was good at that, and heād been away from his madrepatria for too long.
Takeshi collapsed as his hallucination disappeared, dropping to his knees and keening, Arms around his chest, head to the floor, his body was wracked with sobs. His Hayato was goneā¦ he was so angry and hurt and destroyed. He couldnāt breathe. He couldnāt think.. he didnāt want to anymore. He just wanted the pain to go away, wanted the tightness in his chest to stopā¦ he didnāt want to feel anymore.
He had no idea how long he laid there. The sobs turned to whimpers and he fell to his side, curling around himself. That was how Tsuna found himā¦ the door hanging wide open made the little boss panic, fearing the worst when he finally had good news for his best friend.
"Yamamoto! Yamamoto, whereā¦?" He blinked, running over and sliding to his knees, pulling the Rain up off the floor. "Takeshi!" He looked him over for injury, hissing at his swollen hand but relieved to see that was the only physical thing wrong with him. He pulled him up more, letting the raven rest his head on his shoulder, running fingers through shaggy hair.
"Cāmon, Takeshiā¦ I have good news. I got a report from Gokudera-kun. Hey, listen to me. Gokudera-kun is not dead. Heās alive! It was a decoyā¦ He should be home any time nowā¦ Iām kinda surprised heās not here already.ā Because of course, if heād shown up, Takeshi would not be on the floor sobbing with a broken hand.
The Rainās head lifted, staring at Tsuna with shocked eyes. āWh-what? What? Tsunaā¦. no. Noā¦ he canāt beā¦ oh godā¦ā
The Sky blinked and nodded. Whyā¦ wasnāt he happy? āYeahā¦ heās alive. He said heād be home by nowā¦ā
"No no noā¦ oh god, pleaseā¦. noā¦ Tsunaā¦ he was hereā¦. it wasnātā¦ I thoughtā¦" Takeshi scrambled to his feet, starting to run for the door. Tsuna grabbed his arm, spinning him around.
"Yamamoto!" His voice cut the air like a whip, forcing his Rainās eyes back to him. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Ha-hayatoā¦ he was here, Tsuna. He was home, but I thoughtā¦" A whimper slipped from him. "Iā¦ I thought I was dreaming, or hallucinating. I was so madā¦" Tears slid down his cheeks as the full weight of what heād done slammed into him. "He left. I told himā¦ god, I told him to goā¦ to just leaveā¦"
Tsunaās eyes closed as he took a deep breath. Yelling and getting upset was not going to help. He could see the mistake, butā¦ ugh, what a mess. āAll right. He didnāt come to me eitherā¦ Iāll send a team out to find his car. He canāt have gone far.ā He hoped. āYou will get yourself patched up and weāll talk to him once heās found. Heāll understand, Takeshi.ā
āāāāāāāāāāāāāāāāā-
It hadnāt taken them long to find the Stormās car. The poor parking job only deepened Takeshiās guiltā¦ there was no way his lover would leave his vehicle in such a state if he planned to return.
After passing his description around the airport, they found that heād jumped a fast flight to Italy. The swordsman had followed, telling Tsuna to stay home. This was his fuck upā¦ heād fix it.
He was going to bring his lover home.
Almost a month went by. Takeshi sent biweekly reports, and handled little missions in Italy while he was lookingā¦ he swore heād been over and under the country 20 times. There was still no sign of Hayato.
Where the hell could he be?! It was like he had died all over again. Every night found the Rain in a different hotel, curled up alone and fighting his own growing sense of dread.
It was easy to lose himself in Italy.
The moment he got off the plane, got through customs, he ditched his id, dropped it in a trashcan outside il Aeroporto di Fiumicino, hopped a train, and headed south.
He stayed in no city longer than three days, heading for the amalfitana, keeping close along the coast until he hit Napoli. It was a huge, sprawling city, full of tourists and gypsies, mafiosi and regular citizens, and it was there that he ditched his suitsāthey were drawing too much attentionāand instead bought clothes that he hadnāt worn since high school; t-shirts and button-downs, jeans and sneakers, better for walking long distances in. Bought a beanie to cover his silver hair, bought sunglasses that that covered the majority of his face, bought a new slough of bracelets and rings, pierced his lip. Anything to divorce himself from the person Takeshi would be looking for.
His heart throbbed painfully. Youāre assuming heās going to look for you. He told you to leaveāno, he commanded it. What the hell makes you think he gives a fuck about where you are, Hayato? You could die here and he wouldnāt care. No one would care.
Three weeks in and he left Napoli after staying there for four daysāprobably two too long, but what the hell ever. Again, it wasnāt as though anyone was on his trail. He toyed with the idea of slowing down, enjoying the countryside that heād loved so dearly as a child, but just the thought of reminiscing about anything made him sick.
He stopped using public transportation then, too, stole a bike and headed for Vietri sul Mare, for Minori, through Amalfi and finally into Positano. He was ending week four, and though loneliness clawed at him, ate at his mind and left him weak and shaking and sobbing at night, he forced himself to ignore the friendly calls of both natives and tourists.
He left his bike behind in Positano, took a boat to Salerno, and found a place to stay there with little troubleāit was a city large enough to get lost in, but still small enough that it only took a little convincing for a kind woman by the name of Clara to take him in. He paid her, grateful for her generous spirit, even more grateful for the fact that she asked no questions and left him in peace.
The Stormāwell, could he even call himself that anymore? Hayato spent a few days in his room, crying his misery out and feeling generally sorry for himself, but finally emerged three days later, hungry and cranky and in sore need of nicotine.
Clara gently shooed him out of the apartment, told him to get some fresh air and some cigarettes, and to come back when heād stopped looking so unbearably sad.
He walked aimlessly around town until he finally wound up at the bay. For a moment, he leaned against the banister along the lungomare, stared down at the crashing waves, let his sadness consume him and ached for Takeshi, for his love, his lover, il suotutto, to make him better.
With a long, deep sigh full of regret and self-pity, the silveret hoisted himself up onto the railing, faced out over the ocean, pulled his knees to his chest, and lit a cigarette.
Takeshiās hits had started getting colder, and more brutal. The quicker he finished a mission, the quicker he could get back to his search. Tsuna had stopped sending most things his wayā¦ After Gokuderaās brazen decimation of the squad sent to kill him, the Millefiore had backed off and things were as peaceful as they could be in the mafia.
The Rain had wandered down to the bay after a breakfast he barely touched, coffee in hand as he strolled along the wall. He hadnāt given up hope, but so many nights spent alone, worried sick and horribly guilty were starting to weigh on him. Maybe Hayato was happier aloneā¦ Maybe it was better this way.
He was probably better off not having to deal with an idiot who couldnāt tell the difference between reality and a ghost anyway.
A frown tugged at his lips and he pushed his shades up, hiding the tears that he was trying desperately to blink away. The ocean sounds were so lonelyā¦ they were making him maudlin. He straightened his shoulders, noting absently that his jacket was getting too bigā¦ he really should consider eating more. He hadnāt dared communicate online with his bossā¦ he knew he looked like hell, and Tsuna was close to commanding him home as it was.
He just wasnāt quite ready to quitā¦ if he could just find-
It couldnāt beā¦ he hadnāt seen that sloppy, badboy style since high schoolā¦ He had to be wrong, but the way his heart clenched in his chest..
Heād accosted random strangers before, what was one more time. He walked up next to the man smoking on the wall, glancing sideways quickly. It wasā¦ he looked exhausted and sadā¦ but it was his Hayato.
"Can I bum one of those?"
Gokudera was used to strangers accosting him for cigarettes. It was Italy, after all; people were friendly here, open with their things, and sharing a cigarette with a stranger was one of the best ways to pass the time.
So when someone walked up to him, stood in silence for a moment, and asked him for one, Hayato simply held out the carton, not taking his eyes off the horizon, hoping to make it plainly obvious that he was not in the mood to talk.
It took him a beat to realize the question was posed in Japanese.
His head whipped around so quickly he was surprised it didnāt snap and he jerked away from Takeshi, his eyes wide and very suddenly brimming with tears. The silveret lost his balance but managed to find it again before he dropped to the ground, taking another step back for good measure as he pulled his hands up to his chest.
He couldnāt draw in enough air to speak. His heart was in his throat and it was cutting off his oxygen, making him choke on something that sounded like sobs and probably was, god, he was sobbing as he shook his head, took another step back, stared at Takeshi with wide, unblinking eyes, terrified that if he glanced away for just a moment the brunet would be gone.
āV-voiā¦ C-come cazzo mi hai trovato, nonāshit, how are you here, this is impossibleāyou w-werenāt supposed to find me, you werenāt supposed to look for me, Takeshiāā he gasped, the Japanese feeling clumsy and foreign on his tongue.
He fished his lighter out of his pocket, lighting the cigarette Hayato had given him with shaking hands. He stared out at the water, not wanting to move too fast, or at all just yet. He couldnāt spook himā¦ he couldnāt lose him again.
So he took a drag of the cigarette, closing his eyes as the nicotine calmed his frazzled nerves, amused by the irony that he was using the drug to calm himself. He started talking, letting the smoke slide out of his nose as he spoke.
"Hayatoā¦ pleaseā¦ just listen to me, ok?" He couldnāt bear to look at him yetā¦ the soft cries were ripping his heart up. It was all his faultā¦
"We got a report from Rebornā¦ your body hadā¦" He swallowed, taking another drag of the cigarette. It still hurt so much to even think aboutā¦ "Your body had been found in that motel. Reborn and Tsunaā¦ they were talking funeral plans and asking my opinion and Iā¦" His eyes closed, tears slipping down his cheeks.
"I thought you were dead. I thoughtā¦ Hehā¦ I thought Iād finally lost it. There you were, standing in the doorway like nothing happened while we were making plans to putā¦ god, to put you in the ground." He slumped over the wall, tears falling to the rocks below. "I was angryā¦ so angry at you for leaving me. For getting killedā¦ Iām sorry.
"I know it doesnāt fix thingsā¦ I know it probably doesnāt matter, and god, how much happier have you been not having to clean up my messes and deal with me. Butā¦ but I love you. And Iām sorryā¦ā He turned then, leaning on the wall and pulling his shades off. He wanted to dive at him, wrap him up in his arms, never let him goā¦
But he didnāt deserve that. He wasnāt worthy of the happy ending he wanted. He made his lover cry, he made him leaveā¦ all he wanted was for Hayato to come home, but he wasnātā¦ shouldnāt get that.
It was difficult to hear over the racing of his pulse in his ears, over the way his breath hitched and caught on sobs, but he listened. He listened and suddenly he understoodāof course. That bodyā¦ Heād expected the Millefiore to take it with them, but if theyād left it, if Reborn had found itā¦
Well, it had been a convincing decoy, though he never thought it would convince the ex-Arcoboleno. Then again, heād never had reason to believe any of the Vongola would see it.
He still hurt, he still ached and hurt from what Takeshi had said, and he shouldnāt have forgiven him so easily, he should have been pissed, he should have yelled and hit and kicked the bigger man for putting him through this. He should have been livid.
Instead, he gave a single, raw sob and rushed the few steps over to his lover, crushed himself to Takeshiās body and buried his face in his chest, his fingers clutching at the back of his Rainās jacket like if he let go the other man would disappear.
Gokudera gritted his teeth against his sobs, trying to quiet them even as they shook his body, and his voice was raw, rough and open, as he whispered, āI am happier cleaning up the worst of your bullshit than I could ever be without you.ā
"Hayatoā¦" His own voice broke as he wrapped arms tight around the smaller form, burying his face in his hair and weeping like a child. "Ti amo, Hayatoā¦ Iām sorry. Iām so sorry. Iāve been worried sick about youā¦ please, loveā¦ please forgive meā¦ā
He couldnāt move, couldnāt thinkā¦ all he could do was beg, over and over, for forgiveness, for Hayato to love him againā¦ Heād screwed up so badly, and everything was just wrong when he wasnāt home. He belonged in his armsā¦ he was never letting him go again.
They were starting to gain an audience, but Takeshi couldnāt find a fuck to give. The sound of the ocean didnāt seem quite so lonely anymore, and all he wanted to do was hold the Storm, just like that, forever.
"I love you so muchā¦ please forgive meā¦"
Hayatoās hands moved up, slid around Takeshiās ribs to slide up along his ribs, press over his chest, pause over his heart as he struggled to get himself under control. He couldnāt stop cryingāhis relief had broken a hole in the dam heād built around his emotions and now they were pouring out, sliding down his face to soak his loverās jacket as his hands moved up again, clutched at the back of Yamamotoās neck and at the short hairs on the back of his head.
āNon cāĆØ nulla da perdonare,ā he whispered, pulling the taller man down, pressing kisses to his lips, eyes, cheeks, nose, forehead, anywhere he could reach, kissing away the bigger manās tears as he, himself, trembled and sagged against the Rain, so relieved that he could do this again that another wave of emotion broke over him.
Finally, he found and caught Takeshiās lips. Gokudera pressed his sobs to his loverās mouth, kissed him until the sadness and the ache started to fade, until he started feeling warm again, until he could pull away and press his face to the Rainās neck without suffocating there.
"I love you," he whispered, then said it again, louder. "I love you. Ti amo, Takeshi. Ti amo cosƬ tanto. Ti amo piĆ¹ della vita, amore, ti amo piĆ¹ di qualsiasi cosa e piĆ¹ di ogni cosa e mi dispiace tanto. I am so, so sorryāI never meantā¦ I d-didnāt knowā¦ God, Take, forgive me, take me back, I c-canātā¦ I canāt do this without you. I canāt live without you, goddamnitā¦
"Youāre everything to me. Please, Iā¦ I canāt lose everything."
The little kisses, the hands on his chest, in his hairā¦ they all felt like redemption. Hayatoās lips pressed firmly against his, his sobbing breaths mixing with the bomberāsā¦ that was rebirth. He could breathe again, the pain that had wrapped around his heart, that had been suffocating him since heād first heard Tsuna say he was dead finally fell away, leaving him breathless.
It took him a minute to register that his lover was talking again, and when he finally did, he shook his head sharply. āNoā¦ No, Hayato, pleaseā¦ thereās nothing to take back. I never wanted you to leave, godsā¦ I wanted an image in my head, a tease when I thought you were dead and Iād never see you againā¦ thatās what I wanted gone. Not you. Never you. Youāre my everything, Hayatoā¦ I gave upā¦ā
Just saying it out loud hurt, but he needed him to understand. āWhen Tsuna said you were deadā¦ I checked out. Thereās no other way to say it.ā His hand cupped the silveretās cheek, resting their foreheads together as he tried to remember how to breath. āAll I want is for you to come home. I miss you so muchā¦ Iāve been searching all over Italy for you.ā He kissed his nose, thumb rubbing over the new piercings lightly. āIād really, really like it if youād stop hot-dogging and just take me on missions with you, thoughā¦ Iām a big boy, and I donāt think I can handle a report saying youāre dead again.ā He managed a watery smile, but the pain from that scare was still very evident in his eyes.
Gokudera sniffled, glanced up at Takeshi with watery eyes and scrubbed at his face until those big, warm hands cupped his cheeks and pulled his face up, forced him to look at him, and fuck, he was crying again, curling his fingers into the front of his loverās shirt like a lifeline.
"Iā¦ God, Iāve missed you," he said, his voice like a sigh, like it was a relief to finally be able to say it without feeling weak or pathetic, without hating himself a little bit or choking it out between sobs. He pressed a kiss to his loverās thumb and at least had the decency to look a little abashed as he ducked his head, kicked at the ground, pressed a kiss to Takeshiās sternum for good measure.
"Yeah, okay. Iāmā¦ Iām sorry. I didnāt thinkāI didnāt know this was going to get soā¦ so out of hand, you know? It was supposed to be easyā¦ I would never, ever do that to you on purpose, Take, youāve gotta know that," Hayato whispered, pulling his lover down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
He didnāt mean to, he didnāt, but then he was surging up onto his tiptoes, crushing his mouth to Takeshiās, throwing an arm around his neck as the other cupped his cheek, stroked his cheekbone and then slid up into his hair.
"I knowā¦ I know you didnāt do it on purpose. I love you," he managed to get out between kisses. The sudden movement caught him off-guard for a second, but his hands automatically went around his waist, holding him against his chest where he belonged. His head tilted and he kissed him back, groaning into his mouth and parting his lips.
He needed this so much. Like air, like life itself, he needed his Storm pressed against him, needed him in his arms and safe and alive. Tears continued to slide down his cheeks as he pulled the smaller man closer, kissing him until they were both breathless.
When he finally, reluctantly pulled away, it was only far enough to rest their foreheads together again, panting softly. āI love youā¦ I always will.ā
He slowly moved away, fingers sliding over the bomberās skin reverently. An impish grin fell into place, eyes bright and warm despite the tears drying on his cheeks. His Hayato was backā¦ thatās all that mattered. His hands slid into the Stormās front pocket, pulling his cigarettes out and tapping out a fresh one. Putting it between his lips and lighting it, he pulled out his phone.
"I have to call Tsunaā¦ he really has been worried sick about you, love." A drag of the cigarette, and he hit the speed dial. "Yo, Tsuna! Guess who I found?"
Gokudera had never before been so starved for affection. He drank in Takeshiās kisses like fine wine, breathed him in like air, swallowed his groan and returned it with one of his own, one that was breathless and helpless and sweet, so relieved he could taste it.
Heād missed this, missed the swordsman crushing him to his chest, missed how it felt to be wrapped up in these arms and kissed until he couldnāt stand without their support. His green eyes were dazed when Takeshi finally pulled away, his lips stinging and a little bit puffy, his breath coming quicker.
"I love you. Goddamnit, I love you,ā the bomber whispered, his own hands sliding down over the bigger manās broad shoulders, down the flat plane of his chest and across his sides to slip around his back, settling at the base of his spine beneath his jacket. He gasped when he felt fingers slip into his front pocket, his hips jerking automatically, though when they pulled away with his pack of cigarettes in hand, the Storm scowled.
"Thatās two youāve bummed now. Mooch," he grumbled, waiting until Takeshi had taken one good drag before he pulled the cigarette from between his lips. "Itās a nasty habit, you shouldnāt have started."
Hayato took a drag of his own, laid his head on Yamamotoās chest and winced as he heard Tsuna answer, sounding exhausted and strained.
"Yamamoto," Tsuna said curtly when he answered, expecting the Rainās usual terse greeting and clipped update. It was a little early, but the brunet worried so much he wasnāt going to complain about confirmation that the swordsman was still alive. However, his voice was chipper, relieved and happy and upbeat in a way that the Sky hadnāt heard in nearly two months, and he dropped his glass when he realized what, exactly, that meant.
Tears burned at his eyes, dripped down his cheeks, and he said with a thick voice, āY-you found him? Tell me everythingāwhere are you? Is he okay? Are you?ā
"Yosh! Heās all rightā¦ weāre all right. Weāre in Salerno.ā He chuckled, pressing a kiss to Hayatoās head with a relieved sigh. āIām not telling you everything over the phone, but weāre ok. It justā¦ god, it was such a huge misunderstanding.ā He could feel the thick swell of tears again, swallowing them back barely.
They were together. Hayato was safe, wasnāt dead, didnāt hate him. He turned, sagging against the wall and pulling his lover against him again as the adrenaline of finding him dropped.
"Hereā¦ Iāll let you talk to him for a few minutes. Weāll be on a plane tomorrow. I miss home."
Tsuna groaned and leaned back against the counter, scrubbing a hand over his face tiredly as he muttered, āSalernoā¦ Jesus, canāt you two fight like normal couples?ā Still, there was a fond note in his voiceāhe was annoyed, yes, from both a friendās status and from a business point of view. Heād been without his right-hand man for over a month now, and while heād been able to rely on people like Reborn (occasionally) and Ryohei (sort of) and Lambo (not really except in a pinch), he needed someone there who was intelligent enough to understand what he needed without needing to implicitly say it, as well as someone loyal enough to do anything he asked.
Heādā¦ heād missed Gokudera far, far more than heād expected.
Gokudera was, understandably, hesitant when he took the phone from his lover. āH-heyy, Juudaime,ā he said cautiously, and he flinched away when he heard a sharp inhale from the other side of the line.
"Donāt you ever do this shit again, Hayato,ā Tsuna growled, his eyes flashing orange as he clenched his phone tight in his hand.
The bomberās eyes widened as his cheeks flushed in shame. āI-Iām sorryāā
āGood. When I give you a mission with someone, youād better do it with them. And I donāt care how bad you and Yamamoto fight; if youever think itās bad enough to leave again, you tell me first. You need space? Fine, but I need to know where that space is. Do you understand me?ā
Hayato felt like shit. āYessir. Of course, Juudaime, Iā¦ I didnāt thinkāā
"No, you didnāt," Tsuna said, his voice suddenly weary and small and scared. "Pleaseā¦ Please donāt ever make me live through that again. I was so afraid, every day, that he was going to find you dead and heā¦ He lost you once already, Gokudera-kun; I donāt think he could do it again. I donāt think I could do it again.ā
The Stormās eyes filled again, spilled over as he leaned against Takeshi, and nodded, whispering, āIā¦ I promise, Iāllā¦ Iām so sorry, l-let me make it up to youāā
The Skyās voice was soft now, concerned and a little bit happy because no matter how displeased he was that Gokudera had run off, he was coming back now. It was going to be okay. āMake it up to me by coming home. By the time you two get to the airport in Rome, youāll have a flight booked. Get some rest tonight, both of you. And please, for the love of all things sacred, please make him eat something.ā
Gokudera laughed, cut a look to Takeshi (who did look a bit underfedāthe clothes that used to fit him so well were a little baggy now, and his eyes looked tired and sad) and nodded. āOf course.ā He murmured a soft goodbye, slipped Takeshiās phone back into his pocket, and then looped an arm around his neck, pulling the brunet down for a slow, sweet kiss.
"You need to eat something. So do I. Come on, Iāll drink too much wine and you can carry me home."
His eyes had slipped shut, not really able to handle watching Hayato cry again. Everything was still too raw, too fresh for him. He could hear Tsunaās tone, but not the words, and he wondered a bit that he hadnāt received his own scoldingā¦ that would probably come from Reborn when they finally got home.
The sudden weight in his pocket startled him, and he blinked, opening his eyes just in time to close them again as he melted into the Stormās kiss. Gods, heād missed him so muchā¦
The thought of food still twisted his stomach, but he shruggedā¦ it was just easier to go along with him than to argue. He snagged the almost-burnt out cigarette from Hayato and took a final drag with a soft sigh. āHow about we skip the wine and just get something to eat back at the hotel?ā
All he really wanted to do was lay down, wrap himself around his lover and not let him go. Possibly for a year or so. Food, Tsuna, the flight home - it could all wait. Making sure Hayato was real, making sure this wasnāt another elaborate nightmareā¦ thatās all that mattered at the moment.
"If you keep taking my cigarettes, stronzo, Iām gonna punch you,ā Hayato said fondly, threading his fingers through the bigger manās and pulling him towards the commercial side of Salerno, where he knew the hotels that actually looked like hotels were, the ones where Takeshi would be staying.
He wasnāt going to lie, though, ordering expensive room service and eating it in the comfort of a bed, wrapped around Takeshiā¦ hell, being in a bed, wrapped around Takeshi (and wow, he meant that in every way) sounded like a solid fucking plan right now.
But like hell he was going to make it seem that easy. āNon sei mai stato veramente ubriaco fino a che non hai ubriaco il vino italiano,ā the bomber said sagely, trying to make his words seem deep and wise, hoping his lover hadnāt picked up enough Italian to understand that no, there was nothing deep or wise about that. āYou always say Iām more fun when Iām a little drunk.ā
"Maa, Iāll just buy you another pack when I get mine." He followed easily, letting the bomber take the lead while he just enjoyed the view. The Italian phrase made him laugh, shaking his head.
"Then Iāve been drunkā¦ everyone in this country is insistent on getting tourists trashed, apparently." Heād heard it so often over the last month, and had to turn down more offers for alcohol-induced bad decisions than he could count. "I justā¦ I donāt want to deal with it tonight, ok?"
He turned them down a different street, heading to a small convenience store heād found a couple days before on his way to the hit. The cigarettes were cheap and the girl behind the counter was cute and gave him discounts for a smile. It was a good system.
He grabbed two packs of Hayatoās brand and a couple bottles of soda, setting them on the counter and grinning broadly at her. āCiao, bellissima, come sei stato?ā
āAnnoiato, amore. E āmorto oggi. Proprio questo o diā¦ā She winked with bright smile. āposso interessare a qualcosa dāaltro?ā
"Maa, tesoro, ti ho detto non devo tempo per quella ora. Forse piĆ¹ tardi." He handed her a small pile of cash as she rung him up.
"Everyone in this country is insistent upon getting trashed. Tourists are incidental," Gokudera said, laughing quietly, secretly impressed that his lover had picked up on that. Maybe Takeshi had just been lazy about learning languages? The bomber shruggedāprobably not. Italians were fond of getting a little bit drunkāubriaco was probably one of the first words the locals taught him.
He snorted as he was pulled down an alley, recognizing the part of town as one heād meant to check outāit was off of Via Roma, so there were less tourists, and there were more actual Italian shops, stores and restaurants and the like run by natives, not by ānatives.ā
In all honesty, he didnāt even notice the girl behind the counter until Takeshi started flirtingāflirtingāwith her, and what the hell, heād never even flirted with him!
And she flirted back, asking if posso interessare a qualcosa dāaltroāhe would shove a stick of dynamite up her twat and take the whole fucking store down with it. He was seething, gritting his teeth and digging his nails into his palms, but then Takeshi, fucking Takeshi, teased forse piĆ¹ tardi and oh.
"Ok, whoa, aspetta.ā Hayatoās voice was sharp as it cracked through the store, rage making the normally melodic language biting and dangerous. āChi cazzo pensi che stai parlando, tesoro? Stai cazzo miprendi in giro adesso? Sei fortunato che sto troppo acceso da quel piccolo di visualizzazione per saltare questo contatore e tagliare ti, ma , se tantounāocchiata al mio ragazzo con qualcosa di meno di disinteresse palese, .Ora, se non ti dispiace, ho intenzione di portarlo di nuovo al nostro albergoe stiamo andando a scopare fino a quando non posso cazzo supportodomani. Arrivaderci, bellissima.ā
With a glare that could have, should have been able to set the bitch aflame right then and there, Gokudera grabbed Takeshiās hand in his and stormed out of the shop, angrily fishing his cigarettes out of his pocket and lighting one up as he snarled, āHai appena iniziato a flirtare con tutti da quando sono stato via, o ĆØ che cagna speciale?ā
Takeshi snagged the cigarettes and drinks off the counter as Hayato dragged him out of the store with an apologetic smile for the enraged, embarrassed young lady behind the register.
It dropped as soon as they got outside, Hayatoās accusation ringing painfully in his ears. āI learned it from you, amore. If you flirt and smile with locals, you get things.ā He tossed him the second pack of cigarettes before packing his own, pulling one out and lighting it. It amused him that the Storm hadnāt even questioned it yetā¦
"That being said, no, actually. I havenāt been flirting with, or seeing anyone since you vanished. Iāve been too busy trying to find you, to apologize to you and bring you home.ā
He took a long drag from the smoke, closing his eyes for a second. It wasnāt really that he was angry, butā¦ āDo you really think that lowly of me? Really, Hayato?ā
"I donāt flirt with anyone. I glare at them in surly anger until they either kick me out or give me what I want. Iām not a people person, remember?ā he snapped, catching the pack and shoving it into his back pocket as he stormed back towards the main road.
Of course he knew he was being unfair, but he didnāt realize it until Takeshi stopped dead, stopped and told him plainly that he hadnāt and the guilt hit Gokudera like a punch to the gut, hard enough to wind him. He turned and looked at his lover, his face completely stricken.
"Iā¦ God, no, I didnātā¦ I didnāt mean it like thatāChrist, Take, I didnātāā he cut himself off, pulled his cigarette from his mouth and scrubbed his hand over his face, pressing his fingers to his eyes in order to staunch the tears he could feel burning there. Heād already cried enough today, thank-you-very-much.
With his metaphorical tail tucked between his legs, Hayato slunk back over to Takeshi, tucked his face into the crook of the swordsmanās shoulder, and looped his arms around him in a loose hold. āIām sorry,ā he whispered against his skin.
He sighed softly, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing the top of his head. āIām sorry tooā¦ I shouldnāt have snapped. Letās just go to the hotel, ok?ā He pulled back a bit, tilting the bomberās chin up and smiling at him warmly. āI love you. And Iām still guilty as hell that I hurt you.ā
He nuzzled his cheek, turning him so they could walk with Takeshiās arm still around his waist. All he wanted to do was lay down. Screw food, screw sleep, screw Italy and the mafia and everything elseā¦ he just wanted to be in a bed, with Hayato in his arms. He knew they were just getting bitchy because they were still emotional and stressed.
He really just wanted to prove to himself that his lover was still alive, still with him.
Hayato nodded, pulling one of his piercings into his mouth and gnawing on it a little as he stared up at his lover, pressed a kiss to his face and pulled away, letting Takeshi lead the way to the hotel. He was abnormally quiet and reserved on the walk, didnāt bother filling the silence like he normally would and instead stroked his thumb over the Rainās knuckles, smoked his cigarette down to the butt and tossed it away.
"Why did you start smoking?" he asked, watching as Yamamoto smoked his cigarette much more slowly. The bigger man had always been so adamantly against it, pushing for Gokudera to quit, so the fact that heād picked up the (admittedly) bad habit wasā¦ confusing.
A flush started high on his cheeks as the bomber asked the question heād been kind of dreading. It was embarrassing to admit it, butā¦ He finished his cigarette, tossing the butt away and looking down at him.
"I missed you." It sounded simple, butā¦ "Youā¦ it was a smell thing at first. I justā¦ I lit them because you always smell like cigarettes and gunpowder, andā¦ well, it made me feel a little less lonely, ya know?" He looked away, staring up at the cars that traveled next to them. "I started smoking them to see what drew you to them, andā¦ I just havenāt stopped." He swallowed, taking a deep breath and trying to curb the tears threatening.
"Tsunaāll be disappointed, Iām sure. But he doesnāt know yetā¦ I havenāt seen him since two days after you left."
Gokudera froze, his eyes wide as he stared at his lover. He stopped walking, stopped, moving, stopped breathing for a second and then suddenly he was pressing forward, curling his arms around Takeshiās neck to pull him down into a deep, greedy kiss.
"You have to stop," he said, licking the taste of nicotine out of the bigger manās mouth, rubbing his thumbs across his cheekbones, under his eyes to catch a few errant tears. "You have to stop because if you need that smell so much, I have to be the one that does that for you. If you start smoking, too, what the hell do you need me for? No way. Iām not gonna let you smoke just to remember when I was gone."
He kissed Takeshi until his lips stung and only then did he pull away, lacing his fingers with the Rainās as he elbowed him in the side and gave him a grin. āCome on, take me to bed, I havenāt gotten to do that lame couple cuddly shit in a month and a half. And I swear to god, if you tell anyone I actually like cuddling Iāll deny it and burn your baseball uniform.ā
Heād been expecting ridicule, or anger, or even guilt. He hadnāt expected Hayato to simply stop moving, or to pull him into an almost dirty kiss in the middle of the main thoroughfare. Not that stopped him from returning the kiss, crushing his lithe lover against his chest and holding him there even as the silveret pulled away and stroked his face.
Heād been expecting to be told to stop. āI will, as long as you promise to never leave me again. Not like that, not because of a fight. I canātā¦ I donāt want to have to deal with it again.ā
He could deal with the fast, sharp, almost desperate kissesā¦ the way Hayatoās new piercings dug into his flesh a bit when the Storm got too carried away, the way he clung to him as if he was just as afraid of Takeshi leaving. And he could definitely deal with that bright, happy grin that Hayato only ever gave to him and Tsuna.
"Maa, Hayatoā¦ you donāt threaten a manās baseball uniformā¦ thatās just dirty pool." He laughed, tugging his hand and quickly leading him back to his hotel.
It wasnāt one of the most prestigious places, but the single bed was made and the room was clean. A small dufflebag was the only sign in the room that Takeshi was staying, though his jacket was tossed on a chair as soon as they got through the door. His shirt followed, revealing how little the normally robust athlete had been eating, how poorly heād been caring for himself. He flopped onto the bed, holding his arm out for the bomber.
"Weāre in the mafia, Takeshi," Gokudera murmured, nipping at his loverās lower lip as he pulled away, sucking it between his own and dragging his tongue across it. He let it go as he sank back onto his feet, licking his own lips, making a show of gathering up Takeshiās taste and grinning as he watched those dark eyes watch his mouth. "Playing dirty is what we do."
The silveret didnāt miss the urgency Takeshi dragged him towards the hotel with, and though he didnāt say a word, he made sure to press himself as close as he possibly could to the brunet, pressing kisses to his neck or his shoulder whenever he could steal a private moment. It wasnāt long before they were climbing the stairs to the Rainās rented room, shoving open the door and Yamamoto was already stripping, half-naked before the Storm could even glance around.
Takeshi lookedā¦ not bad, because it was impossible for the swordsman to look bad, Hayato was convinced, but he looked thin, noticeably thinner than normal, and the bomber scowled as he tugged off his own shirts, dropping them to the floor carelessly and toeing out of his shoes and socks, leaving him in a pair of loose-fitting jeans (that had fit him perfectly well three weeks ago, but that was neither here nor there; Gokudera was far more concerned about his loverās wellbeing.)
He dropped his beanie on top of the pile and then happily crawled into bed beside Takeshi, tucking himself against the bigger manās chest, hooking a leg over his hip and his arms around his shoulders. In the brief, comfortable silence, Hayato pressed a careful, loving kiss to the brunetās throat.
"You havenāt been eating, have you?" he asked simply, pressing his cheek to Takeshiās chest to hide the worry in his eyes.
Takeshi shrugged, arms around Hayato and holding him close. āHavenāt really been hungry.ā His fingers played at the bomberās ribs, pointing them out. āYou canāt even yell at me, loveā¦ā The last almost two months had been terrible for both of them, and all the Rain wanted to do was erase it from their memories.
It wasnāt possible, of courseā¦ he knew he was going to be haunted by his loverās ādeathā and subsequent disappearance for a long time. But they could try, right? At leastā¦ well, at least consciously.
"Letāsā¦ can we just maybe let this go? Itās such a fucked up situation, but reallyā¦ neither of us did anything wrong, exactly. I justā¦ I donāt want to think about it anymore. Not if I have a choice.ā
He tilted Hayatoās face up, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. āI love you. No matter what else happens, thatās never going to change.ā
"Itās different for me. I donāt swing around a weapon the actual size of my body," Gokudera grumbled, smacking his loverās hands away and wrapping his own around his torso instead, suddenly self-conscious.
"Honestly, the sooner we put this away, the better. Thisā¦ This hasnāt been a good month," he whispered. The bomber closed his eyes against the gentle kisses, feeling a pang in his heart, a burning that felt like a sweet pain, nothing at all like the agony that had been eating at him for near two months.
He uncurled his arms, pulled his lover down and kissed him, pressing as close as he possibly could and sighing at the simple pleasure of having this again, knowing that Takeshi was here.
A groan slipped from him as the bomber pressed their bodies together again and he kissed him back, parting his lips and rolling them over so his lover was pinned to the bed. He pulled back, smiling down at him before leaning down to kiss his neck, his shoulder, his collarbone. Any bit of skin he could get his lips on, he licked and kissed as if he was reclaiming territory.
"Hayatoā¦ my Hayatoā¦" His voice was thick with desire and tears, letting his hands roam along pale flesh as he looked back up at him. He was real, he was there and not one of Takeshiās almost endless nightmares. A soft sob slipped from him as he surged forward, kissing him almost roughly.
Gokudera swallowed Takeshiās groan and gave one in return, pushing his tongue into the bigger manās mouth to greedily taste as much of him as he could. When the Rain pushed him, he went willingly, shifting around until he could spread his legs, letting the brunet fall between them and sighing as he finally got a bit of the relief he didnāt know he needed.
Heād missed the weight of the swordsman on him, heād missed his warmth and his smell and his taste and he was thankful for Yamamotoās mouth on his own, because Christ, it was so close to just tumbling out.
Except that then Takeshiās mouth was slanting off of his jaw, sliding down his neck and making the silveret arch and gasp, leaving his mouth nothing to do but form those damned words.
"T-Takeshi," he gasped, "Iā¦ Oh m-my god, mi sei mancato. Mi mancava la tua bocca, cristo, mi mancava il tuo assaggiare, mi mancava il tuo corpo e il tuo sorriso stupido e cazzo mi mancava le tue maniāā
The swordsmanās mouth cut him off as he hiccuped, choked on a sob and wrapped himself bodily around his boyfriend, the need to be near him an actual, physical ache now. He dug his fingers into the hard line of Takeshiās back and tightened his legs around the manās thighs, around his hips, crushing their bodies together and reveling in the feeling of being whole again.
Hayatoās scent, his body, his voice surrounded Takeshi, soothed him and helped fill in some of the cracks the time without him had worn into the swordsman. He knew he was crying again, couldnāt be bothered to stop as he rocked his hips down, desperate for all the contact he could get.
He was suddenly, achingly aroused; his pants were far too tight and he needed them off yesterday. He pulled back just a bit, fumbling at the button before finally just ripping it off, kicking his pants away and starting on the Stormās. Clumsy fingers made better work of his jeans, spurred mostly by the knowledge that Hayato would kill him if he ruined the only pair of pants he had at the hotel.
A soft curse slipped from him as he realized how completely unprepared he was for thisā¦ as much as he wanted to be inside his bomber, lube and condoms werenāt high on his packing priority list. He hadnāt even touched himself, far too preoccupied with guilt and the seemingly endless search for his lover to even consider it.
With another muttered expletive, he wrapped long fingers around both of their lengths, stroking gently at first, though it wasnāt long before the combination of carnal want and desperate need had his hand flying over them. He licked into Hayatoās mouth, needing to touch as much of him as possible.
Not dead, not dead, not dead, not dead, not dead
He didnāt intend to make such a nakedly wanton sound when Takeshi rutted down against him, pushed his cock against the hard line of his own and made Hayato realize how hard he was, how hard they both were, and suddenly he needed the Rain inside him. He needed his lover as close as he could possibly get, to be swept away by the swordsman, to be claimed and reminded what heād left, what heād foolishly fucked up, what heād almost lost.
Takeshi sat up and tore off his own pants, and Gokudera tried to find the words to tell him that he still carried a little bubble of lube and a condom in his walletāold habits died hard, after all, and the Storm had always been the one with the forethought to be prepared for their sometimes-unexpected trysts. His words werenāt working, though, especially not when his lover was shaking, staring down at him with open adoration and want and need that had the smaller man gasping, had him pulling the brunet back against him the moment heād kicked his own pants away from himself.
He keened as Yamamotoās hand curled around them, calloused fingers gripping their lengths and stroking and ohā¦ His eyes fluttered shut, his back arched and Gokudera sought Takeshiās mouth with his own, muffling his sob into their messy, desperate kiss.
Yamamoto was clearly just as wrecked as he wasāgone was the gentle patience that normally accompanied sex. He spared no time to try and take the bomber apart with his hands and mouth and voice and cock, not like he normally did, but this was good, this was what he needed, all hot and slick and hungry, half-sobbed whispers of each otherās names under the wet sound of Takeshiās fist jerking them quickly, and fuck, it was good.
Hayatoās hips jumped in time with the Rainās fingers, his mouth hanging open in a silent cry as his loverās tongue violated him, licked into him and left him writhing, left him burning. āT-Takeāfuck, fuckāTakeshi, please, o-oh my godāā the Storm gasped, digging his nails into the swordsmanās back as heat pooled in his belly, tightened his muscles and burned under his skin.
Laterā¦ later Takeshi would take the time to prepare him, to stretch him open, to taste him and make him sob on just his tongue and fingers. He would take the time to fuck into him, to mark him and reclaim him and let everyone know that Hayato belonged only to him. Later he would take the time to go slow, to make it last, to leave them both breathless and unable to move, passing out from bliss and exhaustion in each otherās arms.
Later, when he could think past the pain, the need, the unrelenting thrum of skin that was too tight and a heart that was too full.
In this moment, he was too far, too fast to make this anything but the desperate, animalistic rut that it was. He needed to feel Hayato cum, he needed his own release, and he needed them now; probably needed them over a month ago. He needed the reminder that they were both alive and safe, that they were together and his lover wasnāt going to be ripped away from him as soon as he woke up.
The Stormās nails in his back, the steady litany of curses and pleas and the way he stiffened underneath him were quickly overwhelming the Rain, muscles tensing as he tightened his fingers and came across their chests with a loud cry.
Gokudera couldnāt stop the pathetic sounds tumbling from his lips, and honestly, he had given up trying. It seemed like every time he drew breath, he was choking on a moan; every time he pushed one out, it was a long, low whimper, a sharp, choked gasp of Takeshiās name, a half-formed plea wrapped up in a sob.
And he was sobbingāhe was weeping, Takeshiās name like a prayer on his lips because he was here, he was here and he was the closest thing to a god Hayato had, that heād ever had and this, now, here, with Takeshi, was the only religion heād ever need.
Hayato dragged his nails down the Rainās back and arched sharply, pressing his body up against the bigger manās as he felt the swordsman shake, felt him come apart and he followed, tumbled down that precipice with him. The silveret came with a hoarse shout, clinging to his lover as he trembled with the force of it, as he wept because this, the touch of his lover and the taste of him, the weight of him and his heat, his voice and his everything was too much and not enough, it was never going to be enough.
"Takeshi," he gasped when he could finally form words again, his voice raw and open in a way it had never been before. "Takeshi, Iāgodā¦ I love youāI love you, please, please donāt ask me to leave again, I c-canātāI wonāt make it, fuck, donāt make me leave again, please.ā
It felt like forever, and not long enough, before Takeshi finally sagged on top of Hayato, heart-breaking sobs ripping through him as he tried to muffle them in the bomberās neck.
He couldnāt talk, he couldnāt thinkā¦ all he could do was cry and shake his head. No, no no no, Hayato would never have to leave, would never be allowed to leave; he was considering cuffing the Storm to his side so he never lost him again.
For now, though, all he could do was soak the pillow and his loverās shoulder with tears, shaking them both with his fear, his pain, and his overwhelming relief. He hadnāt just found his missing boyfriendā¦ it was like Hayato was somehow resurrected, like heād risen from the grave when Takeshi was sure heād lost him forever.
He hadnāt realized how messed up he still was over his ādeathā until just then.
The tears finally slowed to great, hiccuping gasps that he tried to hide with a humorless chuckle. āHayato canāt leave me againā¦ I wouldnāt survive it. I almost-ā He stopped, bit his lip hard and started to pull away. āWeā¦ we should get cleaned up.ā
Hayato held Takeshi to him as he sobbed, brokenly whispering apologies and consolations as he wept, too, though his sorrow had always been more reserved, more quiet, and he silently pressed his tears to the top of his loverās head, though there was no way to hide how his body shook with sobs.
Takeshi may not have died, but Hayato had lost him just as truly, had had to live knowing that the one person heād given everything to, the one person that he would do anything, would give anything for would rather live without him.
The bomber wept like he hadnāt in years, like he hadnāt let himself do in a month and a half, like he hadnāt cried since his mother died, since he left home, since heād been rejected and refused and turned away from every family heād known.
His breath was still hitching when his lover calmed down, but he didnāt loosen his grip at all, pressed a smattering of kisses over whatever skin he could reach as he whispered fiercely, āYou will have to knock me unconscious and leave me in a ditch in a different fucking country, one whose language I donāt speak, in order to keep me away from you for any longer than necessary.ā
The silveret tightened his limbs around the swordsman when he tried to pull away, a sharp whine tumbling from his lips as he pleaded, āJustājust wait. Just wait, please justā¦ Takeshi, just stay here. Please. Just f-for a little while longer.ā It was unlike him, he knew it, but he justā¦ he needed this. He needed this, and he wasnāt ready to give it up yet.
He was scaredā¦ heād almost let something slip that he wasnāt ready for his lover to knowā¦ maybe ever. But the soft pleas couldnāt be denied and he settled back again, tightening his grip around the smaller frame and sighing shakily against his skin. He finally closed his eyes, breathing in the strange mix of scents that always meant comfort, love, and home to him. They made him dizzy.
"Iāmā¦ Iām sorry, love. Pleaseā¦ justā¦" He couldnāt do this, didnāt want to do this. āIt hurts too much. I justā¦ I want to clean up and crawl back into bed, and just not move.ā He was so selfish, butā¦ If he laid there without any buffer time, he was going to open his mouth and ruin everythingā¦
He could not deal with it if Hayato was mad at him right now. He justā¦ he already felt fragile enough.
There was something else they were supposed to be doing too, but he couldnāt be bothered to remember what it was. His head lifted and he nuzzled his loverās cheek with his nose, a very tiny smile on his lips. āPlease?ā
Yeah, that was what he neededāhe needed the swordsmanās strong arms to crush him to his body, let him feel the bumps and ridges of muscle and bone and remind him that he wasnāt alone anymore. Gokudera nosed into Takeshiās hair and breathed in deep, breathed in and felt his lungs loosen for the first time in weeks, felt his ribs expand and make room for the breath, for his heart, which had decided to put itself back together (slowly) and move back to its spot.
The bomber stubbornly held on until the Rain lifted his head, nuzzled his cheek, and then the silveret cracked open an eye to stare, waiting until his mouth was close enough to kiss before he moved again.
"Alright, fine," the Storm whispered grudgingly, loosening his octopus-hold on the brunet and sitting up as Yamamoto did. He reached a hand up to brush his knuckled across Takeshiās cheek, sucking one of his piercings into his mouth and gnawing on it as he swiped his thumb over the bigger manās cheekbone.
"Iā¦ Iām sorry forā¦ for leaving," he whispered. It obviously took him a lot to say thatāheād spent the first few weeks here livid, angry that Takeshi had ordered him out, even angrier that heād just gone, hadnāt stayed and fought for the man he claimed to love so much.
He hated himself for that.
"Iām sorry, Takeā¦ I love you."
That soft touch felt amazingā¦ He leaned into the brush on his cheek, smiling at the silveret and leaning forward to kiss him softly. āIām sorry for making you leave. Pleaseā¦ just understand that I never wanted you to leaveā¦ I honestly thought I was seeing things. I love you too. Always. There is nothing you can do that will make me want you to go away.ā
"Well, except haunt me when āyour bodyā is found decapitated in a tubā¦"
He allowed himself a small chuckle, despite how shaky he still was. Maybe one day, this would be a funny storyā¦ something they could tell their kids.
His hands slid underneath the bomberās back and knees, scooping him up and standing. āShower. By the time we get out, Tsuna will probably have texted our itinerary and we can think about getting some sleep.ā
He just prayed he could sleepā¦ Hayato was there, hopefully the nightmares would stay away.
Hayato grimaced, looking away and grumbling, āOkay, listen, I can explaināā only to stop, giving a small (completely manly) squeak as strong arms lifted him from the bed. He scowled and gave his lover a pointed glare despite the pleased flush on his cheeksāokay, so maybe he was a bit weak to the way Takeshi could move him around like a doll.
"I can walk, you know," he mumbled, leaning his cheek against Takeshiās shoulder despite his protests, one hand moving to rest over the fingers curled around his ribcage. He didnāt let himself show physical affection much, not like this, and for the first time he asked himself why the hell not. This wasā¦ this, the simple touch of the Rainās skin, the comfort he got from leaning against his chest, the warmth that soaked into his soul, this was something he should take advantage of more often.
When his lover started their shower and set him down, the bomber immediately gravitated back to him, leaning his back against the bigger manās chest and sighing as they stood beneath the spray. He pulled Takeshiās arms around himself and pressed back, tipping his head up to press a kiss to the underside of the swordsmanās jaw.
āMi sei mancato. Ogni secondo di ogni giorno, mi sei mancato.ā
He didnāt completely understand the new Italian phrase, but he got the jist of it at least. āIāll always find you, Hayato. I donāt ever want to do this again.ā He smiled at the sweet gesture, so unlike his usually shy and brash Storm, tilting his head down to kiss him.
He grabbed the crappy hotel soap and lathered his hands, letting them slide soothingly along the bomberās frame. Despite the warm water and very pretty picture in front of him, he found himself more exhausted then aroused, finally just tucking his head in the crook of the silveretās neck and holding him as the water poured over them. It was far too much effort to move, or to think.
It was ridiculous how much he just wanted to be held and petted and told that everything was going to be all right.
Gokudera hummed a quiet agreement and leaned back to accept the bigger manās kiss, reaching a hand up to cup Yamamotoās cheek, drawing out the kiss just a little longer, just because he couldnāt really believe it, still couldnāt wrap his mind around the fact that Takeshi was here now.
He sighed as his lover pulled away from him and soaped up his hands, dragged them along his body and even though he should have been turned on, he was more justā¦ he was so relieved, he was so tired, he was drained and it felt like Takeshiās hands on his body were the only things keeping him attached to the earth. Without his Rain, he was pretty sure heād justā¦
Hayato gave another sigh, a deeper one, as Takeshi pushed his face into the crook of his neck and held him close. The silveret placed his hands over the brunetās and pressed his face to the crown of his head, pressed a kiss to him and turned in his arms, seeming to understand that the swordsman needed this as much as he did, needed to be wrapped in his arms as much as Hayato needed it, too.
"Iām not going anywhere," he whispered against Takeshiās ear, pulling away just slightly to return the favor, soaping up his hands and dragging them slowly over the bigger manās body. Once they were both clean, he wrapped his arms tight around the brunetās waist, leaned his head against his chest and pressed a kiss to his collarbone, giving a long, slow sigh.
"Letās go to bed. Itās been almost two months since I slept more than two hours at a time."
He nodded, turning the water off and stepping out of the shower. It didnāt take them long to dry off and Takeshi tugged Hayato silently back to the bed. A quick check of his phone said they were leaving at six in the evening the following day, so he tossed it off to the side, ignoring the thud as it hit the floor.
As soon as Hayato had cuddled up into his arms, Takeshi gave a soft, almost pained sigh of relief and closed his eyes. He was asleep only minutes later, the physical and emotional exhaustion catching up to him all at once.
It was almost a full two hours later before the Rain started whimpering. He rolled away from Hayato, thrashing a bit before he sat straight up, eyes wide open but blank as a scream was ripped from his throat. Cold sweat soaked his skin and tears poured down his cheeks. āHayato!!ā
Gokudera was unused to seeing Takeshi so careless with his things, so when the bigger man just tossed his phone, just let it clatter to the floor to pull him into bed, the silveret snorted and fell with him, pressing himself bodily against his lover. He nosed into his neck, rested his lips against the hollow of his throat, and curled his arms tight around the swordsman, feeling the burn of tears at the back of his eyes, the tightness of emotion in his throat.
Heād missed this so much more than he realized.
"I love you," he said, choked it out, clung to Takeshi until he fell into an uneasy sleep. He kept thinking it was a dream, kept dreaming that he woke up without Takeshi there, woke up alone and sobbing into his pillow again, woke up with the sounds of those words, bitter and angry and spiteful and so full of hate ringing in his ears.
It seemed as though a good nightās sleep was going to avoid him tonight, too. With a huff, the bomber pushed himself out of bed, kissed the dip of Takeshiās shoulder and grabbed his cigarettes, padding out onto the small balcony as he lit one up. He didnāt notice the thrashing, didnāt hear the soft, choked sobs, but he certainly heard when the swordsman sat bolt upright, screamed his name from the throes of his waking nightmare.
Hayato jumped, dropped his cigarette and scurried back into the room, sliding back onto the bed and curling his arms tight around his lover. He stroked his hair, pressing gentle kisses to the crown of his head, and whispered, āHey, shh, Iām here, okay? Wake up, Take, Iām here, I swear, baby. Wake upā¦ Please, hey, come onā¦ā
It took him a minute, shaking violently and gasping in breath before he finally, slowly turned his eyes down, stared at the bomber next to him like heād seen a ghostā¦ or a miracle.
"Hayatoā¦ godā¦" His arms wrapped around the silveret and crushed him against his chest, trying desperately, but unsuccessfully, to curb his tears. He didnāt speak at all for a few minutes, just relearning how to breathe with the bomber in his arms. When the feeling of his heart trying to pound out of his ribs finally lessened, he laid back, pulling Hayato onto his chest and running his hands up and down his loverās sides.
He needed to remind himself that Hayato was alive, was there and safe.
"When I found outā¦ Tsuna was wrecked, and I guess he wasnāt thinking. Or maybe he trusted meā¦ I donāt know. But. He left. And all I knew was that you were gone and he was gone and I was aloneā¦"
A shudder wracked through him and he closed his eyes. Knowing Hayato would see eventually, he lifted a hand, showing a faint, jagged scar down his forearm. It looked like it had been healed for years, but it definitely wasnāt there before the bomber had left on his mission. āRyohei showed upā¦ Iāve never seen him so angry. Tsunaā¦ he doesnāt know, or I donāt think heād have let me leave in the first place, butā¦
"My nightmaresā¦ theyāre never about you dyingā¦ theyāre always about me dying and you still hating meā¦ or me being dead and you finding my bodyā¦ā
He was so tired, so sick of crying and hurting and feeling the gnawing, empty bitterness building in his chest, butā¦ How could he complain when Takeshi gave a sharp exhale, breathed his name like it was a prayer, and crushed him to his chest like that? How could he complain when he looked at him like he was everything he ever wanted? How could he possibly complain when he had Takeshi back?
He buried his tears in the bigger manās chest as he held the Rain, soaking up his warmth until the man shifted, pulled away and tugged at Gokudera until his smaller body was splayed over his own. The silveret sighed, shifted so that none of his awkward angles dug into his lover, and rested his head over Yamamotoās heart. It was stupid, it was clichĆ© and childish, but he needed to hear the strong pulse in his ear.
His loverās voice startled him. Green eyes glanced up, but Takeshiās gaze was far away so he let his eyes fall again, his heart clenching at the swordsmanās words, a sick feeling of dread creeping over him. He dragged his gaze to the offered limb and he heard the anger that buzzed in his mind, the anger and the hurt and the outrage that Takeshi would try toā¦ toā¦
Hayato closed his eyes and ignored the wetness that clumped his lashes, instead reaching out to curl his fingers around the swordsmanās wrist, bringing the bigger manās arm closer. He pressed a line of kisses down the length of the scar, rested his cheek against it and tried to hide how tears dripped quietly down his cheeksāhe couldnāt be angry, not really, not when heād done the exact same thing.
Well. Not the exact sameāTakeshi was brave in a way he could never be, courageous and strong, and though it was sick to think it, Gokudera could admit that it took that kind of strength, that kind of courage to actively try to take oneās life.
Instead, Gokudera hadā¦ Heād gotten into fights he knew heād lose with groups of rival families that heād seen out and about. He was on their turf and he knew it, but if theyād just kill himā¦ The name of the Vongola was too strong, though, and theyād always left him alive, dragged him through streets and alleys until he was out of their territory, left him there to bleed and drag himself back upright. Or heād stared at the busy traffic in Roma, in Napoli, in Salerno; heād stared and heād stepped out into the street only to have a quick passerby drag him out of the way, a quick driver swerve. Or heād drank himself into a stupor, drank well past the point he should have, drank and drank and drank and passed out in an alley or alone in his hotel room only to wake in a hospital, or in a strange room, or in his own bed with someone tending to him, helping his body purge itself of poison rather than letting him choke and die on it.
Gokudera understood the helplessness that came with losing his other half.
Takeshi never, ever needed to know that, though, so he just shushed him, pressed another line of kisses down the length of the scar and then shifted to press one to the bigger manās lips, chaste and sweet and tender. āRemind me to thank Ryohei,ā he whispered, āand to punch you. Even when Iām gone, donāt you fucking dare, donāt you dare kill yourself, idiot. If you die, whoās gonna remember that I wasnāt just some asshole with dynamite? And who will look after Tsuna and the family? You have to keep going. You have to live, please, Takeshi, Iām not worth your death. Iām not.ā
He took a shaky breath and lifted his hand, resting his palm against his loverās cheek to steady himself as he pushed up, pressing his mouth more firmly against Yamamotoās. He didnāt want to relive his nightmares, he didnāt want to think about what dream-Takeshi had said and done, so he drowned his fears and his worries in his lover instead.
Takeshi sighed, sobbed almost, against his mouth, pulling him tighter and kissing him back. He was still shaken from his nightmare, and his confession, and the niggling thought in the back of his mind that Hayato might have tried something similar and no one would have been there to stop him.
He quickly decided he didnāt want to know. There were levels of guilt he couldnāt handle.
The cellphone trilled loudly in the gloom of the setting sun, actually making the Rain jump and almost bite Hayatoās lip. He laughed a bit, leaning up to kiss him quickly in apology before rolling him off his chest to go for the phone. āThatāll be Tsunaā¦ again. Maybe he got us an earlier flight.ā
Flipping the phone open, he blinked and started laughing harder, tossing the phone gently to the bomber. Only one line had been sent, and it was obviously from their boss.
[From: Tsuna] Eat, idiots.
Shaking his head, he sat up and kissed Hayatoās forehead, padding over to grab his pants. Boxers slid on, cigarettes and lighter were slipped from the pocket and he glanced at the Storm and then towards the balcony; an obvious invitation.
Gokudera had gotten quite comfortable here astride his lover, rocked his hips down to show it, swallowed Takeshiās sigh and pressed his palms to the bigger manās face to swallow his sad sigh. He wanted nothing more than to kiss away his sadness, to touch and taste and reassure and remember what it was like to have complete safety, to be completely loved.
Of course, Takeshiās phone picked that exact moment to ring, and the silveret broke away with a soul-deep groan, pressing his face to his loverās shoulder and scowling against his skin. He took the phone as it was passed to him, groaning but smilingāleave it to their friend to care for them from half the world away.
With a reluctant sigh, the silveret rolled off of the Rain, flopping onto his back and staring obviously as the swordsman strode across the room, his green eyes burning as he watched the play of muscles under tanned skin. Yamamoto may have been thinner, true, but his body was still quite a sight to behold.
He heaved another sigh and stood, stretching and popping the joints in his back, and then stepped into his own loose jeans, foregoing underwear altogether, instead fishing around for his own pack of cigarettes and joining his lover out on the balcony, scowling again when the brunet beside him lit up.
"You really should quit, you know. Only one of us is allowed to get cancer, asshole."
"Maa, I will." Once they were home, and safe. Until thenā¦ he pulled in another lungful of smoke, feeling the trembling fading away. He shifted, moving so he could bracket Hayato against the rail, nuzzling into his neck between drags.
As terrifying as his nightmare had been, waking up to his Storm in his arms calming him had fixed something in him. As the initial mind-numbing fear had faded, he felt lighter and more focused than he had in almost two months. He pressed sweet, gentle kisses to his shoulder, smiling against his skin.
"Mmmm, what does Hayato want to eat?" He didnāt honestly care, but he really wanted to get some food in his lover - he was far too thin and it was about time that Takeshi started taking care of him properly again. "We can go out, or we can scandalize the delivery people by greeting them mostly naked." And he was going to be making at least one trip out, because he needed supplies.
Making a disbelieving noise in the back of his throat, Gokudera leaned back against the rail, resting his elbows on it and tipping his head back to blow his cigarette smoke towards the sky. It was a testament to how lost in thought he was that he didnāt realize how close Takeshi was until his arms were on either side of him, his face pressed into the crook of his neck.
Lazily, the smaller man lifted a hand and pushed it into Yamamotoās hair, curling his fingers into it and stroking his loverās scalp. The smile against his skin brought a smile to his own lips, and though he still ached, he didnāt hurt anymore. Takeshi was here, within armsā reach, and he was still in love with Hayato, just as desperately as the Storm was with him.
"Hayato isnāt very hungry," Gokudera murmured, taking a deep drag of his cigarette and, using a finger to tip Takeshiās face up to his own, pressed a kiss to his lips, breathing the smoke into the Rainās mouth as he lapped up his taste. He finally pulled away when his lungs began to burn from something other than the smoke, his pupils blown wide, and he cleared his throat, blushed and looked away, pushed his hand through his own hair before taking the last drag and crushing the butt under his bare heel.
āBut, before you get pissy, Iāll eat. Letās go grab something. Itāll be faster, you know? And I donāt want to have to wait for someone to bring us our shit. I know a place around here; pizza, fast and cheap and authentic, and the family that owns the place loves the shit outta me,ā the bomber murmured. He made no move to remove himself from the swordsman, though, and instead curled his arms around the bigger man, pressing his lips to his temple.
Takeshi opened his mouth to argue that Hayato had to eat, that he knew heād been skipping meals and he wasnāt allowed to anymoreā¦ to say anything really. But the finger against his chin startled him into silence, the press of lips against his own made him melt.
It took him a second to register what the silveret was doing and he automatically breathed the smoke in, clutching Hayato to him as his knees went a little weak and his head spun. He couldnāt tell if it was from the sudden inhalation of the smoke or the bomberās actions, but either way, he wasnāt ready for it to stop.
"Hayatoā¦" Thatā¦ was definitely a whine. His lover was talking about pizza or somethingā¦ fast and cheapā¦ another whine slipped from him and he pressed the smaller form against the balcony rail, pressing his hips tight against the Stormās. "Th-thatā¦ wasnāt fairā¦"
Honestly, Hayato had not expected a reaction that strong. He gasped against Takeshiās skin as the bigger man crushed their bodies together, squirmed between his legs to push and the bomber arched, giving a soft cry as he lifted a leg, hooked it around Takeshiās hip and pushed back.
The demand shocked a laugh, breathless and light, out of him, and he fished his carton of cigarettes out of his pocket, lit one with shaking fingers and pressed it to his lips, taking the first drag and letting the nicotine calm him a little. The second breath was deeper, burned a bit as he held it, pressed his mouth to Takeshiās and exhaled as he kissed him.
This one wasnāt shy, it wasnāt hesitant, it wasnāt cautious; this time, when he kissed his lover, it was open-mouthed and filthy, his tongue sweeping between the swordsmanās lips to taste the acrid burn of smoke in his mouth. The burn faded, the smoke dissipated, and Gokudera pulled away to take another drag before diving back in, breathing the vapor into Takeshiās lungs and chasing it with the taste of his own tongue.
He was almost expecting to be mocked for his desperate demand, so when Hayato wrapped himself around him, and pulled another one out, he whimpered, lifting him up and pressing him against the wall.
It was definitely the kisses that made him dizzy. The Stormās tongue lapping inside his mouth made his hips rock up, desperate in a way that had nothing to do with loss or death and everything to do with needing to be inside his lover as quickly as possible.
He finally pulled back as the last of the second drag faded, panting harshly and staring up at him with eyes gone almost black with need. āGodā¦ fuck, Hayatoā¦ I wantā¦ Iā¦ā At one point, he had been able to speak in full sentences, though at the moment he couldnāt remember where, or how.
He gave up on talking, carrying the Storm back to the bed and laying him down. His hands slid along his bare ribs as he bent over, kissing a line down that slender chest towards his stomach.
This easy strength, the way it was like nothing for Takeshi to lift him, pin him and hold his weight, never failed to make Hayato dizzy with need, to make him writhe and lose his breath, to make him ache.
After nearly two months without a touch of any kind, that strength was enough to make him come undone. He curled his legs around Takeshiās hips and used his added height to press down on the bigger man, sucking at the swordsmanās tongue lewdly, nipping at his lips, breathing poison between them until it was gone and only the taste of Takeshi remained.
Gokudera was panting by the time they pulled apart, his own green eyes glazed, dark and wild and hungryas he pushed his hips down, rutted against his lover with a breathy, wanton sound. āYeahā¦ Yeah, please, fuckāā the Storm gaspedāhis coherence had evaporated with the smoke, left behind nothing but a burn, a need, an ache that needed to be soothed with Takeshiās body, a hole that needed to be filled with his cock, and he clung to the bigger man as he pushed away from the wall and moved back to the bed.
The silveret sighed as he was set down, spread his legs and pulled Takeshi between them, arched up at the gentle play of fingers on his chest. His fingers closed over the Rainās, clinging to them as he tipped his head back and gave a low moan, even the brush of lips over his torsoāslow and hot and promisingāmaking his cock throb and his hips buck.
His name sounded amazing on the Stormās lips; a promise, a prayer as Takeshi moved down, nipping and licking and sucking at the flesh of his stomach. He untangled their fingers gently, trailed them down his sides and along his waist band. He undid the button of his jeans, kneeling on the floor and nosing at the silveretās hard cock through the fabric for a moment.
An impish thought overtook him and he leaned up slightly, grabbing the tiny metal zipper with his teeth and staring with dark eyes up at his lover as he lifted it a bit and drug it down. He couldnāt help the low moan as Hayatoās cock sprung free of its confines. His boxers were already too tight, damp as just the thought of his Storm beneath him made him leak precum.
His hands tugged the loose jeans down as he licked a stripe up the bomberās length. He opened his mouth, breathing hot air along his head before swallowing him down slowly.
Gokuderaās fingers moved from Takeshiās to the sheets at the Rainās gentle urging, tangling into the cotton as warm lips and blunt teeth made their way down his body. It was almost overwhelming, but the silveret couldnāt tear his eyes away, not when the brunet looked like that, so concentrated and playful, hungry and devious. Yamamoto nuzzled against his cock and Hayato arched, lips falling open in a silent cry as his hips twitched, pushed up insistently.
His breath caught audibly as Takeshi caught the tab of his zipper between his teeth and pulled down and he swore hoarsely, reaching down to run his fingers through dark hair, to curl his hand around the back of the Rainās head. The blush that burned in his cheeks, down his neck and to his chest was hot as his length sprang free of the denim, smacked wetly against his belly and drooled as his lover tugged his pants down.
"T-Takeānnh! Ohā¦ oh my god, Ta-Takeshi!ā Gokudera gasped as the Rain dragged his tongue up along the length of him, his eyes slamming shut as he struggled to remember how to breathe, much less form words.
He gave up on words when the brunet wrapped his lips around him and sank down, wrapped him in wet and heat and fuck, it had been so long, it had been too longāHayato whimpered and bucked up, bit his lip to stifle a cry as he felt the head of his cock bump the back of Takeshiās throat. Thisā¦ This was bad. There was no way he could last, not like this, not with his lover so good, so perfect, so hot and slick and tight around him, his tongue against his head and his lips around his length.
To say heād missed the taste of his lover, the sounds he made and the feel of him shaking beneath him, would be an understatement. He was shaking himself, hands running along the silveretās thighs as his head bobbed slowly up and down his length.
He could feel his muscles tensing under his fingers, feel the way he was shaking. As much as he wanted to tell him to just let goā¦ he also wanted to enjoy this. He moaned around his shaft, teasing his tongue along the underside.
His own cock throbbed with need and he sighed around the bomber, pulling off teasingly. āMaaā¦ donāt want to end the party so soonā¦ā A hand moved over and tightened around the base of his cock, keeping the silveret from losing control. He trailed his tongue down, sucking his balls into his mouth for a moment before lifting him to lick a strip across his hole. āThereās so much more I want to do to you.ā
He just hoped heād be able to get to it all before he lost his own control.
Even the slow,the painfully slow pace that Takeshi took as he sucked his cock was nearly too much for Gokudera. He didnāt realize how starved for touch of any kind (but especially this kindāhe was in his twenties, after all, his body still craved this like air) heād been until he had Takeshi here, his mouth on his dick and his hands, warm and strong and grounding, on his thighs.
Fuck, heād missed his Rain.
That moan nearly did him in, the way Takeshiās tongue flit along the underside of him, along the frenulum and over the head of his cock brought him closer, and he was honestly only one carefully-placed brush of lips away from orgasm when, of course, the bigger man saw fit to pull off of him.
"Fuckingāgoddamnit, Takeshi, come on,ā Hayato tried to growl, he did, but it ended up coming out as a whine, high and breathless, as he tugged at his loverās hair. Strong fingers closed around the base of his cock and he damn near wailed, jerking his hips up just to find that there was no relief to be had there, either. His cock spasmed in his loverās grip as that hot tongue slid down, pulled his balls into Yamamotoās mouth, and he would have come then and there but the fucking grip the Rain had on him prevented it, aborted his release and made him writhe in agonized pleasure on the bed.
By the time he came down off of that, could blink away the colors spotting his vision, he found himself spread, his legs over either one of the swordsmanās shoulders as hot breath washed over his hole.
Green eyes popped wide. Hayatoās fingers scrambled for purchase on anything, ended up twisting into the sheets and tugging as Yamamotoās tongue slid over him, silk-smooth and slick, and fuck, if that wasnāt enough to get to him the fucking Rainās filthy promise certainly was.
He tried to think up some witty comeback, some sharp retort, some snarky something but all he could manage was a whimper as he threw his arm over his face, tilting his hips up in a silent offering.
Takeshi had learned a few tricks during the time theyād been together. He knew what would the Storm up, made him splutter and reach for weaponry. He knew what calmed him after a bad day, the little things that would make his eyes drift shut and tug soft, purr-like moans from him.
And he knew the buttons to push to turn his fiery lover into a puddle of lust, loose and wanton with Takeshiās name on his lips. His tongue slid over his hole once, twice, and a third time before teasing its way inside him, lapping at him and soaking his skin.
He couldnāt bite back the soft moan at how tight and perfect his lover felt even just around his tongue. Slowly, carefully, he pressed his finger in next to his tongue, quirking the tip to run lightly over Hayatoās prostate.
Another finger slid into his wet ass, stretching him out as gently as he could. He ignored the Stormās little whines and curses; it had been far too long since theyād done anything like this and he refused to hurt him. āWanna be inside youā¦ dammitā¦ā He actually pouted a little, eyes searching the room as if lube would magically have appeared while he wasnāt looking. He couldnāt believe heād forgotten again.
Hayato understood that one of Takeshiās favorite pastimes was teasing him. Theyād been together for years, after all; the man knew all of his buttons for all of his moods, all of his likes and dislikes, every single trick and tease that drove him crazy, and liked to exploit them. Repeatedly.
Today was not a day he wanted those buttons pressed, but he realized quickly that, per usual, the swordsman clearly didnāt give a damn. He whined as the bigger manās tongue lapped at him, dragging over his entrance until the bomber was squirming, the hand on the back of Takeshiās head pulling him closer until his tongue finally slid in, pushed at his insides and made the silveretās eyes roll back in his head.
His mouth parted on a silent cry, one that was voiced when the slick muscle speared deeper into him, slicked him up so that a finger could wriggle in. When the tip dragged over his prostate the silveret had to bite down hard on his lower lip to stifle a whine, his hips jerking upwards against the stronger manās hold. It got him nowhere, of courseāhis cock was aching, drooling and throbbing within the tight circle of Yamamotoās fingers, and there was nothing he could do about it but lay there and press his fist to his mouth, muffle a sob as a second finger slid in, slicked up by his loverās saliva to stretch and push against too-long-unused muscles.
For a moment, he didnāt comprehend his loverās words at all, but then the full impact of what Takeshi said hit him, stole his breath, left him a little dizzy and a little desperate. A need burned in himāhe needed Takeshiās dick buried in him. He needed the look on his loverās face, the look of complete bliss he got when he fucked him. He needed to hear the man come apart above him, inside him. He neededā
Fuck. He needed his wallet.
"Ināohāfuuuckā" the Storm cut himself off to moan shamelessly as two fingers scissored, crooked,dragged over the length of his prostate, and he swore in three different languages as he tried to bring his focus back, remember why it was so important for him to retain coherence right now.
"M-my walletāTake, my wallet, th-thereāsāfuck, fuck, thereās l-lube and a condom, oh god, please justāfuckingāGesĆ¹ Cristo, si prega di fottermi.ā
Wallet? Wallet. Takeshi leaned up and kissed him quickly, carefully pulling his fingers out before scrambling off the bed and across the room. Pants pants pants, ah HA!
He tugged the lube and condom out, bounding back over with a bright grin and almost black eyes. The wrapper was ripped open and he moaned softly as the condom slid over his overheated skin. As much as he wanted to make this slow, romantic and loving, he didnāt think he had it in him to wait much longer.
The lube was broken open, and he slicked his fingers back up, pressing them into his lover with an urgency he had been trying to hide before. The rest of the lube went over his own cock before he pressed the head against his loverās ass.
"Hayatoā¦ fuck, Hayatoā¦ I love youā¦" He was trembling, but kept himself from just burying his shaft inside the Storm by sheer force of will. It had been too long, he didnāt want to hurt himā¦ He groaned, low and desperate as tight heat wrapped around him, panting into a pale shoulder as he finally, finally felt his hips brush against the silveretās ass.
"S-so fucking tightā¦ godā¦ Hayato, pleaseā¦ I needā¦"
Despite the heat and hunger and need burning through him (could desire take a liquid form because Gokudera was sure that was what was running through his veins now, not blood), Hayato snorted as he watched his lover, strong and dangerous man that he was, bound across the room in search of his wallet. It was like their first time all over again, honestly.
The thought brought a fond smile to his face, and when the swordsman returned to him he sat up and cupped the bigger manās face, pulled him into a kiss that started out sweet, pure and loving, and then devolved into something hot and wet and dirty as the brunet rolled the condom over himself, moaned low and wanton into his mouth.
"Takeshāi,ā the bomber gasped, falling back to the bed and arching, pushing his hips up as thick fingers pushed deep inside him, twisted and thrust. His body accepted them greedily, pulled his lover into him and god, he wasnāt sure what heād do if Takeshi was going to tease him again.
Thankfully, the brunet had mercy. He crooked his fingers once, twice, made the bomber swear as stars spotted his vision, and then pulled out once the silveret was slick. Hayato heard the wet sound of the Rainās fist on his own cock and he whined, tilted his hips up and murmured a low curse when the bigger man covered his body with his own, pressed him down into the bed and pushed his cockhead into him.
It stung, it burned in a way that it hadnāt since that first time and somehow that just made him more frenziedāto hell with going slow, to hell with taking their time, Gokudera needed Takeshi in a way he never had before. He needed that affirmation that the brunet was here, that he still loved him that he wasnāt leaving, wasnāt sending him away again.
He curled himself around his lover, pulled him in deep and choked out a cry as Takeshi sank into him to the hilt, one hand flying down to wrap around the base of his cock againāfuck, fuck, it wasā¦ it was too much. He was crying again, goddamnit, muffling a whimper against Takeshiās shoulder as he gasped, āI love you. I love youāfuck, oh my god, Iāve missedā¦ mmn! M-missed this, missed you, fuck, Takeshi,pleaseāā
Takeshiās arms wrapped themselves around the smaller frame and lifted him, turning so Hayato was straddling his lap and rocking his hips up, burying himself deeper inside his lover.
He needed this, the closeness, feeling the Stormās hot breaths and wet tears against his skin, holding him tight against his chest and listening to every punched out noise that came from him as the Rain slammed himself into him over and over.
There was no way this was going to last, no way to add finesse or call this anything more than fucking. And he needed it more than air, a fist tight in silver locks as he marked the bomberās skin with dark bruises and whispered endearments.
"I love youā¦ more than anythingā¦. Hayato, stayā¦ pleaseā¦ stay with me, I missed you so muchā¦ donāt leaveā¦"
His cock pulsed and he reached down, gently tugging the Stormās fingers from his shaft, twining them together. āLet it go, loveā¦ cum for meā¦ pleaseā¦ā He finally captured his lips in a deep, desperate kiss, letting his tongue slide along Hayatoās possessively.
There was a strange, dizzying sense of vertigo as Takeshi lifted him, lifted and turned and moved him andChrist, heād missed this. Heād missed his easy strength, missed the fact that the swordsman used it, regularly, despite how he complained about it, because Takeshi could read him like a fucking book and he knew how much Hayato loved it.
"H-haa! AhāahāT-Takeā¦ shi!" Gokuderaās cries were ripped from him, forced up and out as the bigger man fucked him, used his ample strength to pull the Storm down and bury himself deep, pressing himself as far into Gokudera as he could. Green eyes widened as an overwhelming sense of full hit him like a fucking train and he dug his nails into Takeshiās back, sobbing his pleasure and his relief and his need into the Rainās neck.
The fist in his hair stung but it was good, it was grounding, and the silveret did nothing to hide his voice as his lover pulled his head back, started sucking marks onto him that made him bite off curses and gasp, āF-fuāuck, yes, Iāoh godā¦ oh godāā
He was close, he was close, and then Yamamoto reached down, curled their fingers together and pulled his hand away from the base of his cock and the bomber was coming even as Takeshi begged him for it, his voice a ragged shout against his loverās mouth.
As the bomber tensed up and tightened perfectly around him, Takeshiās head rolled back, mouth open in an almost silent shout as he came hard enough to white his vision out. He clung to his bomber, holding him tight against him as waves of pleasure rolled over him.
It could have been seconds, or hours, or even days for all he knew, wrapped around and in his lover, surrounded by his scent and his heaving breaths. But finally, his vision cleared, his muscled untensed and he could drop his head to Hayatoās shoulder, panting harshly.
"M-maaā¦ Hayatoā¦" He couldnāt think, still couldnāt form words that strung together properly. He settled for just clinging, reminding his body, and his heart, that the Storm was really there, that all was well, and no, he hadnāt just dreamed one of the most intense orgasms of his life.
Gokudera whimpered as he was crushed to Takeshiās chest, trembling against the man that clung to him as he felt the Rainās cock twitch, throb inside him before he emptied himself. He groaned weakly as he sagged, boneless, against the bigger man, tucking his face into the crook of his neck and sucking in great gulps of air as he struggled to remember how to think.
Hayato was tingling, his fingertips were numb from the strength of his orgasm, and there was a dumb grin on his face that only widened when he heard the Rain murmur his name like he was in awe. The Storm hummed, pressed a smattering of kisses, languid and lazy and slow, against the skin before him, in a line across his shoulder and up along his neck until his cheek was pressed against his loverās.
His dumb smile widened some more at the manās confession and he brought his hands up, sliding one into the short hair at the back of Yamamotoās head and spreading one wide over the strong expanse of his back as he whispered, āI love you. Fuck, I love you so much.ā
He was sure, completely and utterly and unequivocally sure, that he would never get tired of hearing Takeshi say he loved him. His heart still skipped a beat, after all these years; his breath still caught, his cheeks still burned, his chest still felt tight like it was suddenly too small to contain his heart. Heād never told Takeshi this, of course, butā¦
Well, why the hell not? āDonāt ever stop telling me,ā Hayato whispered, tilting his head so he could brush his lips over his Rainās as he spoke. āDonāt ever stop telling me you love me, Takeshi.ā
He smiled softly, returning the soft kiss. āI wonāt. Everā¦ Iāll tell you every day for the rest of our lives.ā That sounded so close to the confession heād been wanting to make for a while, but hadnāt had the courageā¦
But it was right there, on the tip of his tongue and practically begging to come out. He knew he wanted the bomber to be his forever. It wasnāt a question. He had always been afraid that Hayatoās natural suspicions would make any hintings at āforeverā a reason to run.
But he had runā¦ and neither of them had liked the consequences. And Takeshi knew he couldnāt handle it if the Storm actually died and he never took the chance. He opened his mouth to make some sort of explanation, to rationalize what he meant.
"I want the rest of our livesā¦ Hayato, please marry me?"
"Idiot, even you would get tired of that,ā Hayato murmured against Takeshiās mouth, lazily dragging his fingers up along the swordsmanās back and into his hair, down to his cheeks to stroke his thumbs over his cheekbones.
The rest of their lives, thoughā¦ Thatā¦ Gokudera held no illusions about what the future held for him. He would die, he knew it, at the hands of one of their rival families. If he were lucky, he would die protecting Takeshi or Tsuna, giving his life for the only people who had truly accepted him as family, who had made his life worth living again.
Noā¦ No, if he was lucky, heād die alone, so that Takeshi would never have to find his broken body.
But that train of thought was too macabre, especially when he had the love of his life, his literal, actual reason for living here, in front of him, around him and against him and inside him and Gokudera leaned forward to kiss him again but his loverās words made him freeze. All of the air in the room disappearedāor, at least, he forgot how to breathe itāand his eyes widened as he leaned back, pushing himself to armās length as he stared the brunet down.
"What?" he whispered, hardly daring to believe what heād heard. No one, no one was supposed to want him forever. No one. No one ever had, and really, heād just been waiting, expecting the other shoe to drop. Takeshi was someone who was supposed to have forever with someone else. Hayato never expected to get that.
Except nowā¦ now, here was this perfect, stupid man with his perfect, stupid smile and his kind heart and his everything asking for that with Gokudera. Gokudera, who couldnāt have nice things because he broke them, without fail, and how long was it going to be before Yamamoto saw that, saw that he wasnāt worth the effort, the trouble of all of this?
"Youā¦ do youā¦ do you mean that? Do you mean it, Takeshi?" His voice was hoarse, hopeful in a way that he should have hated himself for but he couldnāt, because
"I wouldnāt ask if I didnāt mean it, Hayato. I wouldnāt do that to you." He pulled him back in gently, hands running up and down his back. "I should have done it right, gotten a ring, taken you out or something, butā¦ gods, Hayato, the thought of you being gone, being away from meā¦ of me losing youā¦
"I canāt do that again. I wonāt do that again.ā He cupped his cheek, dark eyes boring into green, begging him to understand his words. āYouāre everything to me. Absolutely everything. And I know our lives are screwed, and we canāt exactly promise to grow old and die in our sleep together. Iām not expecting that.
"I wantā¦ I want you. I want you to be mine in every single way possible, for as long as we have together. I already know Iām going to spend the rest of my life with you, Hayato. I justā¦ I want to make it official."
He leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. āSo pleaseā¦ tell me one way or the other, love, because youāre actually breaking my heart here. Will you marry me?ā
He knew. In the back of his mind, he knew that Takeshi would only ask if he was completely certain, that he would never give Gokudera the promise of forever just to snatch it away.
Itās this knowledge that made heat burn in his face, tears prick at his eyes all over again, that made his throat tight and impossible to speak through. He couldnāt speak, he couldnāt say yes, not yet, not with as full as his heart and his mind are, so he listened instead, pressing his face to the crook of the bigger manās shoulder as Takeshi promised him everything, called him everything, and the bomber wasnāt worth that, not to someone like this man, whoās remained so good through everything.
He didnāt deserve it, but he wanted it. There was only one person that he would ever give forever to, and it had always been Takeshi.
"I canātā¦ Iā" he started to make excuses, to try to make his lover see what a bad idea this was, but what could he say that Takeshi didnāt already know? The swordsman knew him, inside and out, could read him like a well-loved book, could calm him or excite him or agitate him with a look, could put up with all of his bullshit and still love him at the end of it.
Hayato sniffled and sat up to rub at his face, leaning into the gentle kiss before looking down at the Rainās chest as he murmured, āYeah, Iā¦ I want forever, with you. Itās only ever been you, Takeshiāyouāreā¦ fuck, just, yes. Yes, Iāll m-marry you.ā
āTi amo, Hayato. Sei il mio tutto." It had taken him longer to learn that phrase than any other; he had practiced for hours to make sure his normal Japanese accent was gone. His face buried in the bomberās shoulder, hiding the tears in his eyes as he clung to him. He had absolutely everything he wanted in his arms, after almost giving up hope that he could have it at all.
His body shook, more than a little overwhelmed by the thoughts racing through his head and the emotions that made his chest far too tight. He didnāt realize that he was out and out crying, didnāt realize that he was probably leaving bruises where his fingers pressed into Hayatoās skin as he tried to get himself under control.
He shouldnāt be allowed to have thisā¦ heād been so sure heād fucked everything up beyond repair and now his deepest-kept fantasy was coming true and he justā¦ he couldnāt handle it. It was too much.
"T-Takeshiā" Gokuderaās voice was shocked, wrecked, as he listened to his lover speak to him, speak his mother tongue perfectly, speak words that he ached to hear. āTakeshiā¦ Sei piĆ¹ ditutto per me, Takeshi. Sei la miaā¦ la mia vita, sei la mia ragione di vita.Siete tutti ho bisogno, sei tutto quello che voglio. Voglioā¦ voglio sempre con voi cosƬ tanto. PiĆ¹ di ogni altra cosa."
He held his Rain, his lover, his fiance close as Takeshi cried into his shoulder, hid his own tears in the bigger manās hair and pressed kisses to his temples, to his forehead and into the short, dark strands. He cried because heād been so lonely for what felt like forever, because he realized, now, that Takeshi was the only person who could fill that void, because he wanted to, he was willing to.
Hayato cried because he didnāt know how else to express the joy that threatened to choke him.
"I love you," he whispered brokenly, kissing down the bridge of Takeshiās nose until his lips clumsily found his loverās, caught him in a kiss that was in no way graceful, but made up for it in earnest sincerity. "I love you. I love you, Takeshi.ā
He kissed him back, laughing softly and pressing their foreheads together. āI love you tooā¦ I love you so much.ā He stroked his back, trying to catch his breath. āYouāre so amazingā¦ I canāt wait to get home now, so we can start making plans.ā His lips moved down to Hayatoās neck, fully intent on tormenting his fiance again.
The cellphone going off loudly from the floor made him pause. That wasnāt a text tone. It was definitely Tsunaās ringtone.
"Ugh, ignore itā¦" He started kissing him again as the phone went silent, but groaned when it went off again. And again. "Fuckā¦"
He carefully laid him back on the bed, snatching the phone up with a grumpy, āWhat?ā
Tsunaās voice easily filtered through the phone. āHi to you too. You havenāt gone for food yet, have you?ā
kianamaiart
izzy806
jacobvanloon
snowghoul
