Title - Boycott Love (because I can't escape song lyrics for a title)
Author - makemegray
Rating - Mmm....Let's go with NC-17 just to be on the very safe side
Pairing - D18, Dino/Hibari
Warnings - slash, language, Random Italian
Notes: It started with the first line and two hours later I had a complete fic. Fastest I've ever written anything so I'm sure it's trash...
Um...This is my answer to Renny's [Bad username: chavalier_wiccae]
challenge...it's kinda...not exactly what you asked for...at all? But...I just started from the first line it morphed into what it was so I tried to include the dinner part. If you want I can do another one that more closely fits with the challenge?
When he calls you by that name again, you sigh and correct him. Like always. And you're starting to wonder if it's even worth it anymore.
Starting to wonder if it's worth it to keep this painful thing
of a relationship going.
You're on the wrong side of 30 and have over 5000 people who's lives depend on your every whim.
He's barely in his 20s and he reminds you of it with every misstep you take and every tonfa to your gut that you were too slow or too distracted to dodge.
He's Hibari-fucking-Kyouya and he doesn't give a damn about your obligations and responsibilities. You know that for all the power you possess, he possesses twice as much over you.
So what if a twitch of your eyebrow could end a mans life or if whole towns worshiped you more than they did the Madonna?
He was Hibari Kyouy and for all that you were Dino Cavallone, Don, you were lower to him than the grass he'd crunched under his feet that morning.
So, for once, finally, you do the smart thing.
You stop calling.
You stop calling and he doesn't call you.
Which is really nothing out of the ordinary.
Any encounters between the two of you over the past decade have been initiated by you anyway.
Desperate and wanting the love of your fucking life to pay any sort of attention to you at all. To put any amount of pro-activity into this fucked up thing that you foolishly call a relationship in your head.
In your head where you have this fantasy that one day he'll open up and not be such an utter bastard. That some day he'll actually give a damn whether you live or die.
You're smart enough to know that it's nothing but your imagination.
At the next meeting with the Vongola, he gives you an odd look but says nothing and you conclude that you've made the right decision.
Because being used to relieve his frustration is not a relationship and you are not his lover. You are a tool. A living, breathing dildo with a sentient desire to completely please him. That he returns the favor is simply maintenance.
You sigh as he passes you and Tsuna gives you a worried look.
Fucking Hyper Intuition...
He pats you on the shoulder. Compassion, solidarity, friendship, brotherhood, pity.
You aren't sure which, but you don't want any of it at the moment. He gives it anyway and you accept because it would be rude to turn down the Boss of all Bosses when he's trying to comfort you.
So you sigh again and give him a watery smile as you both enter the dining room.
Reborn glares at you levelly and you know he knows as well.
He congratulates you on your engagement to the daughter of an allied famiglia and you want to sink into a puddle on parquet floor.
You're ashamed to say that you actually sneak a glance Kyouya's way amid the rounds of congratulations and familial pats on the back and are as usual disappointed.
Because Hibari is sampling wine and dictating to the server which bottles he wants brought up from the Manor's wine cellar.
When the commotion dies down, he still hasn't so much as glanced in your direction.
To be fair, he hasn't really glanced anywhere but the veal on his plate that he's pulverizing with his knife. Slicing into pieces with such perfect precision that it leaves you a little stunned.
Because you recognize the set of his shoulders, the briskness of his movements, the subtle shake of his head to fling his hair out of his face when he'd normally not care.
A cough from Tsuna at the other end of the table from you draws your attention and he looks just as confused as you feel.
You shake your head at Tsuna and he frowns. He disagrees. Thinks the first assumption was right.
Which is obviously not possible.
And you're in denial again. You have no clue why, you should be ecstatic.
Reborn just announced your engagement to your childhood friend and Hibari Kyouya was pissed about it.
He was very good at hiding his emotions.
It's a testament to how long and how closely you've watched him to get that far.
Besides you, only his boss and maybe Reborn even notice that somethings amiss. The former smiles brightly at you. Support.
You frown in return. Disagreement.
He frowns back. Insistence.
You wage a silent war of various glares and narrowed eyes until the rest of the table notices that both of you have been quiet for the past ten minutes.
A cleared throat and a call of 'Jyuudaime?' from Gokudera brings an end to the argument and you're forced to call a draw. You go back to smiling and you're glad that the unfashionably and disrespectfully late arrival of the Varia distracts from the awkwardness of those past few minutes.
You get thoroughly toasted that night.
Because you were pretty sure that if you hadn't, you would have ended up taking a header off the roof.
Tsuna not so subtly orders to the guest quarters and you fall asleep with your suit half on and dream.
Of Kyouya of course.
Of his fingers brushing over you, taking your clothes off, worshiping you like you'd always done him and wished he'd do you.
Of his mouth moving over you, your fingers clutching in jet black hair as you come and he swallows.
Of him crawling back up to kiss you--and for a moment you almost wake up when you can taste yourself in his mouth--but then he lifts himself and settles firmly back down onto your dick and now you know you're dreaming.
Because Kyouya would never initiate something like this.
Because he hates you and because you're a tool and because he sure as fuck wouldn't be crying out in Italian every time you hit that one spot inside him. Even if he was using it more and more lately. Even if he'd maybe done it once or twice before.
Because the words he cries out make no sense anywhere except your twisted mind. "Sto pensado sempre tu."
, when you surge up to meet him and kiss that mouth with those lips that could ruin you. "Nonla sposi lei..."
, you wrap your hand around his cock tightly. "Lo ucciderò..."
, as you come inside him, gasping for breath. Exhausted even in your dream. "Ti amo..."
, when he comes with a sigh and wraps his arms around your neck.
When you wake up, you're still in your suit and you're hungover. Soooo damn hungover.
But you crawl out of bed anyway and ignore the smirks and the snark from Yamamoto and Gokudera and the gentle concern from Tsuna and the girls.
You climb into your car and Romario knows you well enough to pass back a shot of vodka and roll the windows and not ask question.
He knows not to say anything when you're depressed for two weeks and refuse to leave the Cavallone manor.
Says nothing when you ask him to arrange the dissolution of the engagement with your sincerest apologies.
You tell him to make your excuses--disease or planned death.
(It's only years later that you find out that his excuse had been impotence and you want to shoot your Consigliere
in the head for the first time ever. Load the bullets and everything)
Week three of your depression, Romario gets seriously worried and calls Tsuna.
Your brother takes one look at you and sighs.
"Dino-san," He begins, and you really wish he'd drop the honorific already. "How long do you intend to stay holed up here pouting?"
Girls pout, you inform him haughtily. You were brooding and doing a pretty bang up job of it before people figured it would be a brilliant idea to interrupt you.
He sighs again and turns on his heel to walk out. Tsuna doesn't say another word to you for a month.
You dream again that night.
And you're pretty sure that your subconscious is staging some sort of rebellion against your sanity when you dream of Kyouya. Again.
You dream of him sitting on the side of your bed, smelling of blood and that feral scent he gives out when he's had a particularly exciting battle.
You dream that he brushes his fingers through your hair, whispers things you can't quite hear before he falls asleep next to you. Wrapped around you, completely fucking engulfing you like he always has and always will.
When you wake up, you're alone. As usual.
You start week four of your depression when Romario comes in and panics because your white silk sheets are drenched in blood and your shower is running when you are very obviously not in it.
You stare at each other until the water shuts off and a very naked Vongola Cloud Guardian exits, towel drying his hair.
He produces a box from his ruined suit, lights his ring and opens it to reveal an exact replica of the bloody one. He silently dresses and leaves.
Leaves with you and Romario gaping and almost afraid to question him lest it earn you a tonfa to the face or somewhere even less pleasant.
Because he's Hibari Kyouya and he doesn't owe you any fucking explanations.
That afternoon he sends you an e-mail with an attached text document.
The first 300 pages are a status report on all the information that The Foundation has learned about the boxes.
The last page is three sentences: I'm not sorry about your sheets or your bathroom. It should have been your blood. You are still a Herbivore, Dino."
You consider that a start.Translations:
"Sto pensado sempre tu" = "I'm always thinking about you"
"Nonla sposi lei..." = "Don't marry her"
"Lo ucciderò..." = "I'll kill you"
"Ti amo" = Does this one really need a translation? "I love you"