Thursday, September 19, 2013

An Adult!Reborn Lemon -- Burn The Night

Character: Adult!Reborn

Fandom: Katekyo HItman Reborn!

OC: [Name]

Inspiration: Reborn's badass ways~ ;3

There is nothing you can really do when Reborn randomly shows up at your apartment and drags you out for a night on the town.  Nothing you can say in the face of his suave charm and devil-may-care attitude.  And even as you hurry to tug on a long, swishy, expensive dress, you know that there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that will keep him from staying the night.  And that is perfectly fine with you.
"Ready?" he wonders, dark eyes flickering down your form.  He is a gentleman about the way he looks at you.  His eyes don't linger on one area of your body or another, but rather he sees all of you. 
He stands with one hand in his pocket and his fedora tipped back just a little, the picture of casual innocence.  But you know there is nothing casual about the way his eyes burn into yours.  They are warning you.  Warning you that you have just sealed your fate with your choice of attire.  Warning you that, by the end of the night, you will have nowhere to go but to him.
Your lips tilt up a little because he amuses you, always.  He has such a tough personality, like nails and iron and spikes.  But it is so easy to get through it all if you know how to, and you do.  You've had years of practice, of stumbled lovemaking and of desperately wondering where Reborn was or if he would return to you safely.  You are special to him: the only woman who has ever successfully held a piece of his heart.
You tip your head a little and say in an almost drawling voice, "I've been ready for about 2 months, darling."  2 months, because that was the last time you'd seen him. 
You watch his eyes flash dangerously, probably due to your addition of 'darling' on the end of your sentence.  He loathes it when you call him that and you love pushing him, always seeing just how far you can take him before he breaks, snaps, shatters.  He isn't even close to shattering yet, but you can see his resolve harden by the way his chin tilts up just a little, like a perturbed child.  You smile.
He holds his arms out for you and you slip your hand into his elbow, careful not to touch any other part of his body.  You want to.  You want to push him down and remember what you've been missing for two entire months, but something stops you.  It could be the dignified grace that always seems to follow you around.  It could be the fact that waiting will reap better, more delicious results.  Still, it could be the romantic air that has taken a hold of the both of you.  Maybe you want to see where this date will go.  It's been ages since you've had a proper date, after all.  It makes you feel young and alive and beautiful and wanted.
"What have you been up to?" you ask almost cautiously as you walk down the hall to the elevator.  Reborn doesn't like talking about his work with you.  He claims it's something about you not wanting to know anyway.  But you've had your fair share of unsettling jobs in the past, one of which lead you straight into his arms, and you aren't one of the damsels that he constantly rescues on his missions for Tsuna.  You are strong.
Reborn glances at you.  He seems to take you in, slowly.  His eyes drift over your face and his expression darkens.  It is a blessed darkness, a delicious one, one that screams out how badly he wants to kiss you, hold you, worship you.  It is so sudden that you hardly know what to do, how to act, so you settle on a reaction that comes as easily to you as breathing.
You raise an eyebrow and push forward, staring at the elevator that is up ahead.  You intend to keep walking.  You want to go on this date.  You want to feel loved.  You want a man to buy you dinner and hold your hand and make you into a queen.  But Reborn reaches out to snatch up your wrist before you can go any further, and then he is turning you around swiftly and you are suddenly pressed against his body, which is taut like a cat about to pounce.
He breathes out and you are then aware of just how close he is to you.  His lips are angled toward yours, yearning to close the distance but somehow not able to.  There is something amiss in his eyes and it shows itself in the rest of him as well.  You find yourself a little worried.  Your eyes crinkle up in a frown and Reborn sighs out again, one hand drifting to your waist to pull you closer. 
"I've missed you, amore," he whispers, and his words send a drizzling of fantastic shivers throughout your body.  He's missed you.  Missed you.  It shouldn't surprise you but it does.  Perhaps your surprise is simply stemmed from the fact that he rarely voices his emotions in such a way.
"Did you?" you wonder, voice idle, lazy.  But you don't feel idle and you don't feel lazy.  Your body is buzzing with energy, your toes are curling from the look in his eyes, and you suddenly find yourself wishing that you'd never left your apartment.  Dates are silly, useless things.  You don't want a date anymore.  You want him.
He sees the transition of your thoughts reflected quite clearly in your eyes, and finds himself smirking.  He takes a step back, just one little shifting movement, to see how you'll react.  And when you don't complain, he takes another step back, and another, and then turns on his heel, slips your arm back into his elbow, and starts back to your apartment.
Your thoughts are a jumble of incoherent desires by the time you reach your door.  You want to do so many things all at once and it drives you mad.  You want to get out of this dress and kick off your heels and sink into an emotion that you've only ever feel with Reborn.  And you want to do it now, as soon as you can, without any hesitation.
But Reborn doesn't agree with your hasty methods.  As soon as you are inside the apartment, he pushes you back against the door and holds you there with his body.  His dark eyes drink you in.  When he leans down to kiss you, it is with a deliberate slowness that makes you want to scream out in frustration.
You hate it when he plays hard to get.  That is your role and you don't appreciate it when he steals it.  So it is with a delicious pout that you kiss him back, even slower, and drift your hands gently over his body.  Two can play at this game.  You happen to be pretty good at waiting.  It's the only way you are able to get through Reborn's long absences.
When your fingers drift over his crisp white dress shirt, you tilt your lips away from his.  You watch each other carefully, jauntily, but nothing can prepare Reborn for your next move, or the blistering heat that shoots through his body as a result of it.
You loosen his tie, and in the process he is forced closer.  But you don't kiss him.  Instead, you reach behind you and ease the zipper of your dress down.  As the gown hits the floor, you take advantage of Reborn's distraction and you snatch his fedora from his head.  It is callously slips onto your own head instead, and then you are easing away from him, picking away at your remaining clothes as you go. 
Before you disappear around the corner of your bedroom, you glance back at him and almost walk back.  His eyes are deep glades of emotion that root you to the spot, shake you down, drown you.  You have to physically push down the fierce desire to go back to him, but when you do, everything is worth it.
You are not even five seconds in the dark bedroom before Reborn is suddenly behind you, lifting you up and tossing you down onto the mattress.  His body pushes yours down in the most sultry way possible, his weight like a heavenly gift that screams out in dominance, just the way you like it.  He growls in your ear, his breath fanning over your sensitive skin, before his mouth is suddenly finding yours in the darkness.
His kiss emboldens you.  All at once you feel as though you are miles away from your little apartment.  Your fingers reach up to grasp the thick fabric of his expensive suit jacket and your eyes flutter closed in complete submission.  You are his, his, his.  Two months apart has only cemented this knowledge into your head.  He can have no other, and from the way he is kissing you now, Reborn seems to be perfectly fine with that sentiment.
His lips send your body afire in the most delicious way possible.  And soon, he is moving to press open-mouth kisses down your neck, your breasts, your stomach, legs.  You whimper a little because at this point he is so close, so close to your aching core and you want nothing more than his touch.  But he is content with teasing you, and even as his thumb curves over your thigh and circles the very edge of you, you know that he will not truly give in to his primal urges until he is ready.  Which, as you know from personal experience, will not be for a while.
"Reborn…!" you moan, writhing a little in hopes of hurrying this silly process along.  You love it when he acts dominant but you also wish he would just give in sometimes.  It's not like he has anything to prove to you, of all people.  But when he just raises a sharp eyebrow and blinks down at you, you know you have to step up the heat.  Because there is only one way of moving a stubborn animal, and that is to burn him out.
Your fingers jilt down your body.  Before Reborn really knows what's happening, you are touching yourself in his stead, back arching up minutely, thumb brushing over the tender bundle of nerves.  And he leans back, hands resting idly on your raised knees, eyes flashing and cutting through the darkness as he takes in this new sight.  And to your surprise, he doesn't do anything about it.
It makes you laugh, a little.  Because Reborn is such a man, ten times more than any you have ever been with, and yet he is just like any other.  He is so easy to manipulate if you know how.  He likes to pretend that his primal urges are under lock and key but you know better, and the way he is staring openly at you shows you that much.
Your laugh breaks the spell.  Reborn jerks back into reality and clears his throat, the surprise he has just fostered quickly expelled from his gaze.  His eyes narrow down at you and his large hand comes down to encompass your own.  But, in another move that openly shocks you, he doesn't take your hand away.  Instead he eases it closer to your core, guiding your fingers inside with two of his own.  It creates such an erotic friction that you find yourself nearly drowning in it.  You lay silently gasping, staring up at your lover and then down at the strange new move that he has acquired.
Your dark eyes travel over his body, which moves to hover above you on one elbow.  He is still wearing all his clothes, from the suit jacket to his shoes, and it makes you feel a great many things.  Impatience, for one.  Erotica, another, at being completely nude while he is not.  But you mainly feel annoyed, that he can smirk down at you like that and feel so empowered just because he is still wearing his clothes.  The anger on your face must be fairly obvious, because Reborn raises an eyebrow and glances down at you, the smirk on his face only growing.
"What is it, amore?" he wonders, his voice completely casual even as he pumps his and your fingers into you.  You suppress a violent shiver and glare, not bothering to match his tone as you growl out an impatient, "I want you naked."
The corner of his mouth curls up in amusement even as his eyes flash with sinful desire.  You suppose you can't blame him.  You would never say those words in normal circumstances.  The vulgar quality of your tone also makes you cringe a little, but it can't be helped.  You watch him lean down to press a slow, delicious kiss against the skin below your ear, and he whispers out a gravelly, "Do you, amore?" 
He says nothing else and it makes you grind your teeth in annoyance, eyes flashing up to his just in time to catch his fleeting smirk.  He is clearly enjoying himself.  So much so that it makes fury rise up within you.  You want to push him down and show him how dominant you can be.  You want to tell him exactly what it was like, waiting for him, spending every lonely night alone even though it would have been simple, easy to call someone to take that loneliness away.  But you don't have the opportunity to show him this, because suddenly Reborn is wrestling your thumb away and rubbing wickedly over the most sensitive part of your core.
"Oh!" you gasp, eyes flying open in surprise and unadulterated pleasure.  Your back arches powerfully, your breasts thrust into the air as you momentarily lose your grip on everything, everything besides Reborn, who watches your reaction with desire emblazoned into his eyes. 
He chuckles lowly and it drifts over your skin, tattoos into your heartbeat as you whimper his name.  it really isn't fair, he supposes, that he is fully clothed and you are fully bare.  But it is no fun to deal with that himself, and so a moment later, Reborn is leaning back onto his knees, his calloused fingers jerking away from your hot womanhood.  For a moment, you lay there, feeling cold and still immersed in the delightful shivers that had only just been yours.  But then you realize that Reborn is waiting, and you ease yourself up onto your elbows to blink up at him in question.
He says nothing, only smirks.  His fingers silently pull off his suit jacket and he tosses it at the chair near your bed.  You watch him start unbuttoning his dress shirt and that's when you jump into action, reluctant to allow him to undress himself when you are here to do it for him.  A moment later, he is willingly allowing himself to be pushed onto his back, and you are straddling him and smirking triumphantly.
The buttons come undone in an almost lazy manner.  You are determined to give back what he gave, the teasing, the flirty gestures.  You know they will make him crazy with desire and it excites you, urges you faster.  But you stay calm, fingers slow and steady as button after button comes away.  You finally push the fabric of his dress shirt from his chest and dart a look into his eyes.  He is watching you, taking in your every action, soaking up the moment when your fingers idly brush over his bare skin, chase after his muscles, curve around his stomach.  He does nothing but watch, eyes dark with knowledge and passion.
Your lips waste little time in tasting him.  You have dreamt of this moment, this delicious shred of ecstasy in which Reborn is arching into your mouth, your touch.  He lays there in strange submission and allows your kiss to send him off into another world.  His fingers curl into your hair and he nearly moans when your nose suddenly nuzzles the large bulge of his pants.  His eyes tilt open and the sight he is met with makes him want to turn you over and fuck you till your too sore to even think of moving.
"How much did you miss me when you were gone, Reborn?" you whisper.  You voice threads into the air and him, muffled against his hard erection as you kiss over the fabric that covers it.  His hands clench in your hair but he doesn't pull you closer to him or force you in any way.  He is too intrigued by your question.  He likes where this is going, likes it when you talk dirty because you so rarely do, and he raises an eyebrow at you in a silent order to continue this train of thought.
You do, gladly, gleefully.  All his attention, every last ounce of it, is directed to you.  Your teeth brush very gently over the bulge and his fingers twitch in response.  But his face doesn't waver, his voice doesn't shake, not one little sound or whimper escapes him and it makes you want to break him.  Dash all his emotions against your passion and watch them crack and collapse.
Your voice is low, like sifted grains of glass.  "Did you pleasure yourself during the nights?  Did you imagine fucking me?  Did you come all over yourself and wish I was there to finish you off properly?"  You watch him through catty eyes that scream out in desire.  His pupils are very dilated and he is watching you through very dark, very shaded eyes that almost seem angry.  But you know Reborn well enough by now that this is not anger you are witnessing.  This is pure passion, rock hard and waiting to be released.  This is an aching need that has been building up within him for two long months.  This is what you are all too happy to unleash upon yourself.  Consequences be damned.
"Do you want me to suck you?" you whisper, and your tongue licks over the fabric of his pants, the heat of your open kiss burning through to his cock.  He inhales sharply, the only indication that he is very close to his patience limit.  There is only so much a man like Reborn can take before he throws caution to the wind.  That line is already stretched very far, but he can go a little farther.  You know this.  And you want to see just how far you can pull him before he snaps, breaks, shatters, comes.
He says nothing, nothing at all.  But his eyes are drinking you in and they seem to scream out, 'yes, yes, suck me, suck me.'  Your teeth bite down on the zipper of his pants and you drag it down.  You ease the fabric down his narrow hips.  You are too impatient to take every off properly so the pants and boxers only get to mid-thigh before you get distracted by the sight of Reborn's cock, which springs up like a hard promise.  Your gaze peers up at Reborn and your lips quirk into a smile that sends those angry eyes afire.
The teasing isn't over yet, though.  You aren't the type who just gives in, especially when sexually frustrating Reborn seems to be a hobby of yours.  You lean in to nuzzle his hardened shaft with your nose, your mouth brushing very gently over it, your tongue just barely pressing against him.  His eyes narrow because he knows what you're up to, knows exactly what you are going to say before you even say it, and he is ready.  In more ways than one.
"Tell me what you want," you murmur, and watch his eyes flutter closed for just a moment before opening with a vengeance.  You want to hear him say it.  Out loud.  But there is always a loophole, and it doesn't take much for Reborn to find his.  He knows you will enjoy this one anyway, so it is in a clenched, tight voice that he growls, "Voglio sentire le tue urla il mio nome." [1]
He watches you shiver and smirks at the sudden mess that you are.  It doesn't take much to make you into a puddle of nerves, and the fact that he can do so with his voice alone makes him very smug indeed.  You can sort of understand his words.  Your Italian is minimal but it is easy to catch on.  The meaning of the lilted language makes your body erupt into splinters of scorching fire.
You smile at him and your fingers curl around his hard manhood, falling into a slow rhythm.  It is only when you are sure that Reborn is getting annoyed with your teasing that you abandon it.  The next moment, your lips are easing around him and you are taking him a deeply into your mouth as you can.  This time, Reborn reacts.  His hips arch into you and he falls back onto the pillows with an incoherent, gratified whisper of Italian.
Your tongue races over him, tasting the pre-cum of his tip, licking at the slit, before delving back down to curl around the thickness of his throbbing member.  You are pounding inside and out, soaking wet and only getting worse as you continue to pump him.  But this is too delicious to stop, and you have waited too long for it, and besides, Reborn deserves some sort of reward for sitting through your teasing.  You increase your tempo, pleased when Reborn lets out a little growling moan and digs his fingers against your scalp. 
It is minutes later when you hear your lover order, "Smettere…smettere." [2]  And you stop to look up at him, curious.  His jaw is clenched, his hair mussed.  His eyes are melted, molten heat that drives desire into you so hard you can't possibly stop it, and wouldn't want to anyway.  His breathing is ragged and his chest rises and falls quickly, haphazardly.  You don't think you can remember a time when Reborn looked quite this sexy, this erotic, and it makes every part of you stop and then burn.  You breathe out, feeling a little delirious.
"Come here," he growls, voice tight and unforgiving.  His fingers tug at your hair when you don't respond, dragging you out of your hazy surprise and bringing you into the reality of the situation.  He is going to fuck you now.  You shiver and crawl up his form, his erection brushing against your hyper sensitive skin as you go.  The tension between you is so thick you could cut it with a knife and it is delicious, this sexual need, so much so that you all but fall into his arms.
He kisses you, arms dragging you to his chest, pressing your breasts against him as his mouth fiercely dominates yours.  You are still straddling him, but Reborn is through with being the submissive one and is all too happy to roll you over, so that you are pressed sinfully against mussed sheets and him.  You watch him through dazed eyes as his lip return to yours, kissing away every ounce of impatience and loneliness and replacing it with him, strong and fierce and yours.  His hands ghost over your body, fingers massaging your breasts and tweaking your nipples, hard and yet gentle, so very gentle.  His touch makes you burn with a fire that you haven't felt in what feels like ages and it makes you want to crash against him and let him hold you up.
His fingers sink into your core, into the wet heat that has only built since his last touch, which suddenly seems like eons ago even though it was only minutes, seconds.  He seems pleased at how much you are turned on and pulls away to press kiss down your neck.  He focuses on the hollow of your ear, tongue pressing over the skin and making you cold and hot at the same time.  You want him inside of you so badly that it physically hurts.  Every second he spends teasing you is a second lost.  You arch into him wildly, moaning his name.  Your vision flutters in an out of coherency and yet you can always see Reborn's smirk, which relentlessly teases the edges of his mouth.
You don't really know what's he's doing until he orders one harsh, rough, domineering, "Tell me what you want, mi amore."  And then you realize that he is getting you back, of course he is.  He is getting you back for all of your teasing, showing you just how he felt when you had him on his back, restraining all of your passion and saving it, tucking it away and just out of reach.
You whimper and your nails drag down his back, leaving angry red lines that will probably take days to heal.  You will feel sorry for those later on, but right now the passion of the moment supersedes any and all regret.  You can't think of anything but having him inside you.  It is a thought that quells every other and introduces a wide range of possibilities to your already narrow mind. 
You give in to him because a second more of this blissful, sweet torture will make you insane.  Your voice takes on a pleading tone that you know you will never live down, but you don't care and neither does Reborn.  His eyes dash against yours as you tell him, "You…I want you…I want you to fuck me, Reborn~"
Oh, he likes that.  His eyes are deadly pools of lust and they flash deliriously into yours when your drawl his name.  You vulgar words lend a different emotion into the air, and it is filled with burning, aching, pulsing need that takes a whole new form.  You feel nothing less that pure relief when he smirks and gives into you, pushing his cock against your lower body and then guiding it inside you.  When he hilts himself powerfully within your core, you can hardly even breathe.  Heat rips through your body and you fall, heart and soul.
Reborn takes off immediately, his thrusts quick and long.  His hips pin yours against the mattress in a series of harsh, dominating thrusts, and you are useless against them.  You wrap your legs around his hips and bite your lip, eyes flitting between closed and open, between the desire to lose yourself and to watch him. 
He holds his weight up on both his hands and they angle toward your head.  He is hovering above you and staring down at you, at your eyes, your breasts, you lower bodies.  Nothing escapes his sharp sight, nothing. 
"Oh!" you moan, nails digging into his back, his hair, his shoulders.  He is rocking your body in such a powerful way that you can hardly keep up with him.  Pleasure shoots through you endlessly.  Your back arches and you moan his name, voice verging on a scream as you fall back and succumb entirely to him.
It has been so long.  Two entire months kept you from him.  Two entire months of abstinence, because you aren't the type to stray even for a moment.  Two entire months of wondering where he was, if he was okay, if he was thinking of you.  You cannot, will not ask Reborn these questions.  But you needn't have to, because you can see the answers to them reflected deep within his eyes.  He thought of you, thinks of you, every other moment.
He grunts into your ear, back scooping over you, hand diving into your hair.  He whispers something in Italian and, even though you don't understand him in the heat of the moment, you know what he is trying to say because you can read his body.  His end is very near.  You know because of the way he is coiling over you, and the expression of his face, and the sudden quickening of his thrusts as he rams into you, impaling you faster, harder, bruising your hips.
The sight of his orgasm leaves you beyond control of your own, and when he moans out and spills his seed deep within you, you can't possibly handle yourself.  He leans back and gives you clear access to his emotions, which are usually so stoic, so wrapped up that seeing them now makes you come all the harder.  Your back arches and you moan his name like a prayer, hips rising up and pushing against him as his thrusts drag out.  His watches your ending with a slight despair that is coupled with relief, and also sadness.  But there is no need to feel sad.  He is with you now and there will be many more of these desperate moments, tonight and tomorrow and on.
And so as Reborn slowly falls to the mattress, still coiled within your heat, still lost in the moment and in you, he doesn't feel regret.  His heart beats with a strong emotion that he can clearly name, now. 
He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, exchanges a tired but very satisfied look with you, and drags you closer to his chest.  The evening lulls you into a restful, warm sleep.

[1] Voglio sentire le tue urla il mio nome: I want to hear you scream my name.

[2] Smettere…smettere: Stop…stop



    ughhhhhhh i loved this so much that its hard to try to describe. Reading it was amazing especially in the way how it almost seemed to tease us readers to the point where I started to feel it become unbearable ahaha. You threw me into this one so well that i was desperate to get to the end and it was so beautifully written and played out that i am sure its one of my favorites lol thank you so much for sharing your talent

  2. I love this so much! ��

  3. This is the best i love how it draws out making the reader impatient!!!!!!!!!!

  4. This story was great!

  5. omg okay i had to calm but i loved it.