Monday, December 23, 2013

A Xanxus Lemon -- Iron

Character: Xanxus

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

OC: Zahara, curly black hair, caramel skin, blunt

Inspiration:  Secret Santa gone awry~

Zahara never cared much for those silly Christmas games.  She liked Christmas but didn't care for socializing.  And it wasn't that she hated going to the annual Vongola Christmas party…it was just something of hindrance, getting all dressed up for nothing but a couple of drinks.  And so when her Secret Santa never showed up to give her her gift, Zahara just added it to the lengthy list of reasons why she should've faked an illness or something. 
"Here," she shoved the present she'd bought into Dino's arms and he raised a brow at her.  "I'm apparently your Secret Santa.  Uh…" she put a hand on his arm when he started to open it, and gave him a wicked smile, "you might want to open that somewhere else.  But I think you'll like it.  It's a good accompaniment to your whip."  And with that, she let out a short chortle of laughter and ducked away, feeling far too amused by his reddening cheeks.
"Tsuna," when she called for him, he glanced up from his conversation with Kyoko and smiled gently.  Zahara smiled back at the both of them, "I'm going to head out.  Thank you for the invitation."
Tsuna frowned a little but seemed to understand.  "Did you at least like your gift?  From your Secret Santa?"  and he exchanged a strange look with Kyoko, something that bordered on amusement and fear.  Zahara raised a eyebrow and said, "I didn't get a gift.  I don't even know who my Secret Santa is.  But I have the worst headache.  Kyoko, you still want to do that shopping trip on Tuesday, right?"  Zahara leaned forward to kiss her friend on the cheek, then smiled again at Tsuna and turned on her heel.  When she was gone, Tsuna ran a hand down his face and muttered, "I knew this wasn't going to end well.  Xanxus didn't even show up for the party."
Kyoko hummed in agreement and watched the curvy figure of her friend disappear into the crowd.  She wondered at the strange feeling that prickled over her skin, which told her that the night was not over for Zahara.  But the feeling dissipated quickly and was forgotten as Tsuna swept her up into a dance.
Meanwhile, Zahara made her way back to her apartment.  She was in an odd mood.  She wasn't angry, but she was disappointed.  Disappointed that the night had been such letdown, that she'd put this expensive dress on for nothing, that she'd left the house with fairly high hopes of having a good time, only to have those hopes utterly crash and burn.  She walked up to her front door and fished around for her key, but then stopped suddenly when she noticed that her door was already open. 
She slowly straightened her back and tilted her head back, pushing open the door with her foot.  Zahara was a Vongola agent.  She knew how to take care of herself.  She was expecting a break-in, perhaps to see some of her things thrown around and broken.  What she didn't expect to see was Xanxus, sprawled out on her couch like it was his throne, holding a half empty glass of wine, blinking at her lazily.  With a bow wrapped loosely around his neck.
He stared at her idly, almost as if he was wondering what she was doing there, like she was the one trespassing.  Then he apparently decided that he didn't much care, because he turned to the bottle of wine on the coffee table and refilled his glass, completely ignoring her. 
Zahara had a high patience level, she really did.  But on a night like tonight, said patience had already hit rock bottom.  So it was with no small amount of anger that she slammed the door shut, threw her clutch and shoes on the floor, and stalked over to where Xanxus was now casually observing her.
"What are you doing in my house?" she asked lowly, dangerously.  Her eyes flicked over the near empty wine bottle and she glowered at him, "That was expensive, you know."  His eyes flashed at her, probably because of the tone she was taking with him, but he didn't seem angry.  He just took another sip of wine and blinked at her, watching the storm of her fury brew over her eyes.
She glared and grabbed the wine glass, tugging it out of his hand and bringing it to her own lips.  She totally missed the strange, dark look he sent her as he watched her tip her head back and drink.  Totally missed the way his eyes dove over the skin of her neck with that hungry, aching madness.
When she was done, after she slammed the glass onto the coffee table, Xanxus gave her a dark smirk that made his eyes flash sinfully, and said lowly, "I'm your Secret Santa.  I didn't know what else to get you."  And he waited for his words to sink in, waited for the comprehension to dawn over her face.  It did, moments later when her eyes skimmed over that stupid bow hanging around his neck.  And her reaction was something that made Xanxus oddly aroused.
He liked Zahara because she wasn't afraid of anyone, because she was bold and blunt and spoke her mind.  But there was something so delicious about her now, suddenly shy and hesitant, her cheeks blossoming with pink, her eyes wide.  It had Xanxus blinking up at her in veiled interest.  And when she gave a cutting laugh and put her hands on her hips, hips that Xanxus wanted to drag over to him, it made him even more interested. 
"Really?" she asked, trying not to let her conflicted emotions show on her face.  "So you just decided you'd offer yourself up instead?  You thought I'd appreciate that?" 
The challenge in her voice made him a little annoyed.  Xanxus was usually shit at holding back his anger, but tonight he managed only a brief sneer that didn't quite reach his eyes.  He had other things to think about, after all.  Other conquests.  So he just looked up at her with those eyes, those eyes which were dark and looming and held the edges of desire, and he said shortly, "You'll appreciate it."  Like he was promising to bring her the utmost satisfaction, pleasure.  And Zahara didn't want to admit it, but those words and that expression had both her heart and her senses bounding off in opposite directions.
They stared at each other for a long moment.  Neither moved, spoke, breathed.  Xanxus blinked idly up at her and tugged at the bow in gruff annoyance, but he didn't appear to have even an ounce of embarrassment.  He was iron, molded through with intense fire that sprang up from his eyes and transferred, blazed through her.  And Zahara decided she liked that iron, that fire, liked it and wished she could emerge herself into it.  She'd already had a disappointing night.  She might as well make it better.
So Zahara raised an eyebrow and then did something that Xanxus was definitely not anticipating.  She reached behind her and tugged down the zipper of her dress, letting it swish to the floor, letting to leave her bare.  The only thing she wore was a pair of panties, stockings, and the three inch heels she'd put on earlier.  And she could tell that even through the surprise from her bold move, Xanxus liked what he saw.  He leaned forward, eyes flickering over her form.
"Well?" she wondered lightly, stepping backwards.  He jerked his eyes back to hers and she smirked, tilting her head to the side.  "You said that you're mine tonight.  So come here already."  And she turned around and began sauntering towards her bedroom.
But Xanxus was in control, no matter which way one looked at it.  He was always in control, always giving orders, and though he vaguely enjoyed seeing Zahara -- his subordinate -- calling the shots, he figured her should let her know that he was still in charge.  So it was with fairly rough hands that he stood up and caught her around the waist, heaving her into the air and over his shoulder.  He smirked wickedly when she gasped and clutched at the back of his shirt, wriggled her hips, cried out an annoyed, "Xanxus!"  But in response, he just jostled her none too gently and kept walking.
And when he reached the bedroom, Xanxus unceremoniously dropped her onto the mattress.  This time, Zahara was ready for him and didn't cry out.  She merely allowed his rough handling of her.  Her eyes were narrowed slits though, her anger torching its way through the air between them and setting his nerves afire.  He crossed his arms.
Zahara slowly sat up, slowly moved to the edge of the bed, slowly wrapped her legs around his.  He watched her cautiously, warily, like he was waiting for her to do some crazy martial arts move on him.  (It had crossed her mind.)  But Zahara only gave him a wide, very fake, smile that made him even more suspicious, and let her fingers splay over his shirt.  "I think we need to clear something up," she said, her voice cascading with light.  But her words were heavy, and there was an undertone of lust and anger in them that made Xanxus oddly aroused. 
She moved to start unbuttoning his shirt, from the bottom up.  As she did, she spoke, and her voice was iron, like him, and fire.  "You're my present.  Therefore you do what I say.  Xanxus," she rose up onto her knees as she purred out his name, hovering nearby his face.  "You're not in charge right now.  I am."  And she gave him a sinful smirk that made Xanxus conflicted, angry, aroused, confused.  Because in that moment, being controlled by her felt perfectly natural, and it went against every little thing he believed in.
But he'd fight anyway.  He'd fight her and then, when he made her realize how much she wanted to let him control her, he'd fuck her into oblivion.  He smirked and imagined that, imagined her beneath him, clutching onto him for dear life as he roughly took her, bruised her, had her.  He jerked forward, so that his breath was weaving with hers, and muttered darkly, "Really?  What's your first order then?"  He knew, knew what she'd say, knew that with his mouth hovering so close to hers, there was really only one response.  And she didn't fail him, of course not.  In a breathless voice she whispered, "Kiss me."  And he did.
His lips bruised her with finality, with the promise of an equally rough night.  Perhaps he was testing her, in his own way, battling her for dominance, for control.  But it kept shifting, changing hands.  First, Zahara would do something that would make him crazy, drift her tongue over his in that tantalizing manner she seemed to be well acquainted with.  Then Xanxus would retaliate, kissing her rougher, dragging his hands over her nearly bare form and making her arch her back and ache for him. 
Her fingers threaded into his hair.  His teeth caught her bottom lip in his.  Their breaths fluctuated, shortened into shallow little pants that could only be heard around the aching, bruising way their mouths moved against each other.  And all Zahara could think was how she hadn't realized the perfection of Xanxus's lips before now.
He growled into the heady kiss and pulled her closer, dragging her hips tightly against his and dispelling every ounce of space between their bodies.  And suddenly she could feel the entirety of him against the entirety of her.  The rock hard muscles, the coiling, flexing of them beneath her fingertips.  The blunt iron of his arousal, digging into her thighs with a strength and a power that made her feel like she was falling, suffocating, flying.  How could anyone be this hard?  But somehow, she was unsurprised that Xanxus could, that he could be as rough in his lovemaking as he was in every other matter.  That he compensated well beyond the average man.
He roughly grinded their hips together, panting harder, kissing her faster.  His fingers dug into her hips, ripped her stockings a little in his grasp, but the pleasure he forced into her was well worth it.  She was keening against him every other moment, wishing, yearning for something primal and heady and erotic.  Wishing for his flesh in hers, for his weight on her.
He nipped at her lip again and Zahara tasted that iron, the blood from his violent domination.  She didn't know why it turned her on, didn't know why she didn't push him away when she realized how rough he was being with her.  But there was something in his movements, a certain devil-may-care attitude, that held her back.  No one had ever loved her like this.  This was exhilarating, intoxicating, inebriating.  This was like she was seeing into herself and into him, like her eyes were finally being opened and Zahara could feel.  She felt areas of herself she never thought existed.  She felt emotions she never knew she had.  She felt Xanxus, rough, hard against her, showing her all these things, removing all her blindness.
"Trash," he muttered, bucking his hips against hers, "touch me."  He wasn't one for foreplay but he was so fucking hard that a little of it would help.  Help remove a bit of that searing ache, which was registering within the farthest reaches of his body, mind, soul.  He needed her and he wasn't going to wait for much longer.
Zahara opened her eyes and glared at him, pulling away from his insistent lips and growling lowly, "Call me trash one more time, Xanxus, and I'll throw you out."  Normally, words like that would make him furious but tonight they seemed to have the adverse effect.  His eyes flashed and he made a noise in the back of his throat, like he was dissecting her words and trying to decide what he thought of them.  With angry surprise, Zahara soon realized that he liked them.  Liked the rough quality of her voice when she threatened him, liked the dominatrix side of her which rarely came out.  He was aroused by her anger.
The thought made her hot, like she was burning with a fire she couldn't identify.  It wasn't embarrassment and it wasn't the dull ache of arousal, but it captured her entire body and made her pound, for him.  His lips tore back onto hers for a moment before breaking the kiss and moving down to kiss and nip at her neck.  She tilted her head back as one of his hands roughly grasped a breast and squeezed.   It hurt a little but she didn't care, because all she could think about was his cock and the fact that soon, it would be buried inside her and her world would be forever altered.  And suddenly Zahara knew what that burn was, knew where it came from and why it was invading her skin.  It was her anticipation, her anxious anticipation as she waited for him to have his fill of her body and then finally direct his attention to her core.
Perhaps she'd never wanted a man as much as she wanted Xanxus in that moment.  Perhaps she'd never want another man again after having this taste of him.  Maybe that was why she was on fire, drowning in the flames of her own need.  Maybe that was why she suddenly felt the strong desire to give herself entirely to him and let him take her on his own terms.
His mouth latched onto a nipple and he sucked, hard.  His other hand roamed down to where her stockings and panties still skimmed over her waist.  Moments later, a tearing sound made Zahara look down in surprise, and she could stop the laugh from spilling over her throat.  She would have scolded any other man but Xanxus, Xanxus could do whatever he wanted for all she cared.  He could tear her stockings, he could rip her panties, he could stab her very heart and she'd let him, she'd let him.
He peeled the fabric away from her and pushed her roughly down.  She fell onto her back, naked as the day she was born and looking up at him with eyes that told him she wanted him to fuck her.  And as much as he wanted to do the very same thing, there was something else on his mind that he'd been thinking about for a very long time.  Much longer than tonight, though he would never admit it.
He smirked down at her and crawled onto the bed, in between her legs.  His lips and teeth caressed the skin of those legs as he pulled himself closer to her, leaving angry red marks in his wake.  And all the while Zahara watched him, knowing what he was planning and trying to be ready for him.  But really, nothing could have prepared her for the sight and feel of those rough lips of his on the most sensitive part of her. 
She gasped and moaned loudly, immediately arching her body and pushing her hips forward.  He caught those hips and pushed them down in one smooth, powerful movement, not letting her raise them again.  His tongue was dominating her, his teeth nipping at her even now.  And though it hurt a little, the pain from his touch was nothing compared to the pleasure, which skyrocketed through her and left her drowning on the mattress.
He'd wanted to taste her for longer than he could remember.  It was perhaps one of the first things he realized about her after their initial meeting years before.  Perhaps the first erotic desire he had since obtaining his high title in the Vongola.  He'd always wanted to lay her down like this and run his tongue over her and watch her moan and try to make him go faster, faster, until she was spent and wasted and still wanting more of him.
She tasted like heavy musk and she filled his senses and made his cock twitch and made him realize that he was still wearing all this clothes.  But he couldn't think about anything but her wet, hot core against his lips.  The way she rocked into him and tangled her fingers into his hair and pulled him closer.  The way she was muttering nonsense and how it sounded vaguely like his name but he couldn't tell, couldn't tell because he was too focused on how good she tasted.  And he wanted to fuck her, wanted to pin her down to that mattress and never let her get back up, wanted to bruise her and incinerate her and destroy her and rebuild her. 
"Trash," he muttered, smirking wildly with eyes that screamed out every last inch of his passion.  He raised his head and tore his shirt off, tugged harshly at his pants.  Zahara could only watch with blown, dilated pupils, her chest heaving, her expression turning to that fury that made Xanxus's erection only grow that much harder. 
"I told you…not to call me…that word - " she was cut off by the sight of him pulling the rest of his clothes off in one harsh, angry move, and then she couldn't breathe.  Because the sight of his cock, the incredible size of him, the way he was curled up and obviously pounding for her with the precum of his desire shining over his tip, it made her own arousal spike and crackle through her like lightening.
"Trash," he growled, crawling up her prone form.  His eyes flashed and hers fluttered as his member skimmed over her thighs and finally pressed against her stomach.  His breath mingled with hers and he said lowly, "I'm gonna fuck you.  I'm gonna fuck you so hard that you'll never walk again."  And Zahara thought she was going to die.
He grabbed her thighs and jerked them up against her body, his gaze flickering over her form.  When he looked back at her face, his eyes were melted spikes of desire and adrenaline, and Zahara felt like she was going to explode before he even touched her.
He was not gentle, but she wasn't expecting him to be.  He lined himself up and shoved himself into her, sheathing his cock inside her in one fluid movement that had her gasping, arching, shattering.  He was even bigger now that he was inside her.  She could feel herself stretching farther then she ever had before.  And she knew, knew that after this, sex would never be the same.  She would always feel incomplete, always empty, always searching. 
He groaned loud and low, feeling her heat wash over him.  It was sinful, delicious, and he rocked back into her again, and again, until he was setting pace that was a rough and demanding as the rest of his personality.  He pinned her to the mattress, caging her in with his muscled arms, feeling her hands reach for him and grab onto him, splay out over his skin.  And all the while, Xanxus watched her body arch and pound, watched her chest jerk from his harsh movements, watched her expression and listened to her moans and knew that it wouldn't take much to make him come.
He leaned back onto his knees and caught her waist with two large hands, heaving her up suddenly against his hips.  She stared at him with heady, fiery eyes that dragged him into delicious darkness.  Her hands went up above her head and she clutched at the headboard, fingers white from her grip.  She watched him thrust into her, watched the length of his erection bury itself again and again into her flesh.  And it was like nothing she'd ever felt before, this growing satisfaction.  It was blurry like the edges of this passion, but Zahara knew that it was instinctively Xanxus, and she loved it, loved the harshness of it.  Never wanted it to end.
She cried out and he thrust harder, bruising her with his dominating hips.  She was flexing around his cock and Xanxus knew that she was drawing closer to her release.  "X-Xanx-us, o-oohh-haa!  Mmm!" Her fingers clutched harder and her body slowly began to unfurl around him, tightening, grasping at his flesh as he pulled it in and out of her, shattering around his thrusts.  
And she was a sight, a sight like no other.  All spread out for him and calling his name and coming with an intensity that he'd never seen before, all because of him. 
He jerked forward suddenly, his hand clutching the headboard as he leaned over her.  His pace was racing now, and he was going too fast for her to even consider matching him.  This was domination like Zahara had never experienced, and even as her orgasm came to a halting stop, she felt another one clinging within her, unraveling like knotted thread.  "Oh!  Xanxus, X-Xanxus, I'm going to -- again - !"," she cried, and the sight of her was so fucking erotic that Xanxus felt himself burst as well, and with a low, growling moan he began to shatter.
"Fuck," he muttered, thrusting harder, more insistently.  He cursed again as she arched her back and pressed her breasts against him.  Nothing could stop them now, not anything, and they both jerked to a finish that left them hanging adrift in space, somewhere very very far away.  It was phenomenal.
They came back slowly.  Zahara blinked up at Xanxus in exhaustion, amazed at how good she felt, like she was immersed in a sort of numbing bliss.  He let out a long sigh and rolled onto his back, body splayed out as he closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath.  They stayed like that for a long time.  And then Xanxus muttered, "Come here."  And Zahara was vaguely pleased that he hadn't called her 'trash' again. 
She shifted, moving to his side, and was surprised when one muscled arm wrapped around her and dragged her against him.  She watched his close his eyes and sigh out again, looking like the epitome of relaxation and laziness, like it was perfectly natural to be stark naked on her bed.  Zahara smiled a little and shifted closer, pressing her face against his neck and laying a hand out over his chest.
And quietly, in a tired voice, Zahara muttered against his skin, "Let's do that again sometime."  And her preposition made Xanxus smirk gruffly.  He tightened his hold around her and she chuckled a little, pleased that he hadn't outright denied her. 
As she lay in his arms, Zahara decided that those stupid Christmas games weren't actually that bad.  She smirked, closed her eyes, and enjoyed the feel of his body pressed against her warmly, pleasantly.




  2. Could you make one for Belphegor?

  3. Oh my //nose bleeds// o3o
    I don't know what it is about Xanxus, but his dominating roughness is just woah~~ I love this! <3

  4. Damn, this is the best story with Xanxus, which i read! It is really awesome! I envy Zahara so much...
    Can I kidnap him? :)

  5. Hey um.. I think someone may have stolen this and put it on wattpad
    Unless thats you in which case you can ignore this

  6. OMG! That was awesome and so HOT.

  7. This was super AMAZING!!!!!