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“Fuck, Xanxus, right there—”
Squalo’s voice cracked into the pillow, fingers clawing the sheets like he was about to rip them apart.
Xanxus’s low chuckle rumbled against his ear. “Deeper?”
“Yeah. Deeper. That’s it—”
“Greedy tonight. You’ve been snapping at everyone lately, but now you can’t get enough when someone puts you in your place?”
“VOIII less talking, more—ah—”
Entire body jerking as the heavy pressure shifted forward, Squalo got pinned harder into the mattress. “Oh shit, yes. Just like that—”
“Spread your legs a little more.”
“Boss… fuck, you’re crushing me—”
“Good. You need it.” Xanxus’s touch slid down Squalo’s back. “When’s the last time anyone touched you like this?”
“Never—damn it, harder—”
“You sure you can take it…” Xanxus’s voice drops an octave. “…scum?”
Nodding frantically into the pillow, Squalo’s hips twitching as the crushing weight shifted. The sound that tore from him was a broken, embarrassing moan he’d deny under oath, a full-body shiver ripping through him as heat flooded every nerve.
“You’re so fucking tight I can barely get my fingers in here.”
“Shut up, like it’s my fault you’re so fucking big—I can’t—!” Squalo’s toes curled hard against the sheets as pleasure-pain sparked down his spine.
“Relax. Breathe, idiot,” Xanxus muttered against the back of Squalo’s neck, hot breath dragging over sweat-slick skin. “Let me work it into you.”
Squalo shuddered hard as the pressure eased for a brief second. “Don’t you dare fucking stop now!” he snarled, voice cracking. “You gotta go all the way—!”
Repositioning himself, Xanxus bore down again with renewed force.
“—fuck, that feels so good…!” Squalo gasped. “Don’t pull back—give me more, Boss!”
Xanxus let out a low, mocking chuckle, lips brushing Squalo’s ear.
“You’re taking it well. I thought you’d fight me harder than this, shark.”
“Deeper, yeah, like that—shit—harder!”
“Fuck, push back against me.”
“Ahhhhhhhhhh hummmm!” Squalo’s voice broke into a long, shameless groan, his whole body going taut as white-hot sparks burst behind his eyes and his breath hitched in ragged gasps.
“That’s it. Let me in all the way. You’re gonna feel so much better after this.”
“Xanxus, I’m losing it—”
Squalo’s mind was a mess. How the fuck had they ended up here?
-☁️🌕☁️-
Squalo stood in the doorway of Xanxus’s room, arms crossed so tight he was probably cutting off his own circulation. He’d been so thrown off when Xanxus offered to help him last night and by whatever insane trick the bastard had pulled back in his room (was that just his natural body heat, or had he been using his flames?) that he still couldn’t quite process what was happening. The facts were, he’d woken up more relaxed this morning than he had in fucking weeks, but now he couldn’t help getting nervous about this.
Quite honestly, Xanxus was starting to scare Squalo, and that was saying something.
“VOI, you said come here tonight!” Squalo shouted at his boss. “I’m here. What the fuck do you want?”
Xanxus didn’t even look up from the chair he was sprawled in, tie gone and shirt half-unbuttoned. “Strip.”
Squalo’s brain promptly stopped working. “Excuse me?!”
“Shirt off. Lie face-down on the bed.” Xanxus cracked his knuckles, ominously.
“Xanxus, if this is some kind of—I’m not—we’re not—”
“Shut up and get on the bed before I throw you there.”
Seriously, what the fuck was Xanxus’s problem? Squalo muttered every curse he could come up with on the spot, but obeyed anyway, because arguing with Xanxus when he used that tone was like arguing with a loaded gun, and he was sure to end up on the losing end. So, for the sake of getting this over with and going on with his decaffeinated but now slightly more rested life, he yanked his shirt over his head, leaving himself in just his joggers, flopped face-down onto the bed, and buried his face in the pillow like it could hide the fact that his ears were on fire (in case his hair didn’t conceal it all).
Much like he had last night, Xanxus climbed onto the bed, knees bracketing Squalo’s hips. The mattress dipped again as he reached for the nightstand. A drawer rattled open, followed by the sharp pop of a cork. Squalo’s head jerked up. “What the fuck is that?”
“Some oil,” Xanxus answered, voice low and smug. “We’re gonna need it to get you nice and relaxed when I get my fingers in you.”
Squalo’s soul left his body, but before he could protest, he felt oil being squeezed between… the sides of his back. Two large, absurdly warm hands landed there, spreading it up to his shoulders and down to the small of his back.
What followed was, without question, the best damn back rub of Squalo’s life.
The first press of Xanxus’s hands was firm enough to punch the air straight out of his lungs. His thumbs dug deep into the meat of Squalo’s trapezius, rolling and kneading the knotted muscle like he was wringing water out of a sponge and tenderizing steak at the same time. Xanxus’s palms slid down his spine, heels grinding along every stubborn knot while his thumbs circled, palms flattened, and the occasional elbow drop forcibly realigned Squalo’s skeleton.
Squalo just… melted.
How much time actually passed was anyone’s guess. Certainly not Squalo’s, who had completely lost track. He knew he was babbling, running his mouth far more than he should have, but he couldn’t help it. It felt too fucking good!
It took even more time and even more of Xanxus’s godly hands on him before Squalo’s brain finally caught up with reality.
“Wait… you’re… massaging me?”
Pausing with his hands still planted on Squalo’s lower back, Xanxus chuckled, dark and amused. “You really need more sleep if it took you this long to figure that out, scum.”
That was it, Squalo had officially lost his mind. Since last night, he’d been half-convinced the chamomile tea had been straight-up poisoned and this was all some fever-dream hallucination, because there was no universe where Xanxus voluntarily played masseuse for him. Convinced it wasn’t real, he tried to flip over and escape whatever the hell this was.
Xanxus simply dropped his full weight on Squalo, pinning him like the world's most obnoxious, heat-radiating weighted blanket.
“Stay down.”
Squalo’s voice came out muffled and pathetic. “But—!”
“You’re finally loose, aren’t you? Don’t ruin it, ungrateful trash. I don’t do this for just anyone, you know.”
Well, shit. That was the problem, wasn’t it? Xanxus really had been nothing but helpful these past twenty-four hours, and the realization was deeply unsettling Squalo. No way his boss was actually a decent boss… right?
In any case, Squalo muttered quietly into the pillow, “Felt… really good. Thanks.”
Over Squalo, Xanxus let out a snort. “I know it feels good. You were mewling like a bitch in heat the whole time.” Squalo sputtered on his own spit. “Now shut the fuck up and let me finish.”
“I… better not. I might actually fall asleep here—”
“So what? My bed’s not good enough for you, scum?” Xanxus was already at it again, working into the tightest parts of Squalo’s back, the weight and heat of his hands at odds with their soothing effect. “You that desperate to crawl back to your disgusting herb-stinking room?”
“No, Boss.” Squalo’s eyes were already sliding shut, traitorous body melting again. “But if anyone hears about this—”
“I’ll tell them you begged for it.”
“VOIII—!”
“Shhh. Sleep.”
-☁️🌑☁️-
After a few more minutes of rubbing and kneading, Squalo was out cold, snoring softly.
Xanxus stayed right where he was, still straddling, still pressing down.
“…Tch. Look at you,” Xanxus muttered, something uncomfortably close to fondness twisting in his chest as he stared at the relaxed, slack-jawed expression on the shark’s sleeping face. “Finally quiet.”
Carefully, Xanxus lifted himself off, though from the way Squalo was dead to the world it didn’t look like he’d be waking up anytime soon. He peeled off his own shirt and slid into bed beside him, one arm draping over Squalo’s waist.
Guess the happy ending Xanxus had planned would have to wait for another night.
No issue.
People might not believe it, but Xanxus was actually a patient man.