"Oi, Knuckles."

The priest turned on his heel to look back at the young lord, his muttered prayers stopping short. "Lampo, what happened to you?" His guttural voice displayed curiosity instead of the horror any other might have spoken with.

The green-haired teen paused and looked down at himself. His white tunic was streaked with dirt and his dark blue tights were torn in places, revealing bleeding flesh. He sighed regretfully. "Vongola sent me to war. I've just returned to tell him that the enemy is retreating."

"YOU HAVE BEEN AT WAR?" Knuckles looked at him with wide honey eyes. "Why did I not know of this? I could have extremely prayed for you!"

"I guess it slipped my mind to tell you." He looked away, pale blue eyes mirroring that it might have been a little more than that.

He decidedly didn't tell Knuckles that Giotto had all but kicked him out the front door when he had whined that he might possibly be changing his mind about leading a war. He also didn't tell him that, up until that day, he hadn't known of it himself.

"THAT IS EXTREME!" Knuckles slapped a hand on his shoulder, ignoring the young lord's wince. "I thought you were out purchasing milk this whole time!"

Lampo stared blankly at him. "I've been gone for seven months."

"… Huh…" Knuckles scratched his temple. He looked from Lampo to the bible in his hands and then back. "… I will pray for you now!"

"Goodness… I've already returned th- OUGH – !"

The former boxer was now dragging him down the hall, his bandaged hand tight around Lampo's delicate wrist. "Where are we going? You should know better than to handle a lord so roughly!"

Knuckles literally threw him through a doorway into a random lounging room, the door clapping shut behind them.

Lampo luckily landed on a well-placed couch; that, or Knuckles had thrown him excessively far. Considering how far the piece of furniture was from the door, the young lord chose the latter and shivered at what that could have meant for him had the fixture not been there.

A bolt slid into place and then they were locked in by the priest's own doing.

Lampo carefully edged up the couch and onto his feet, slipping behind the furnishing. "Knuckles… whatever praying you are thinking of doing, I will do just as well without it." His pale blue eyes widened when the man stripped out of his Catholic priest wear.

His hand went up to the collar of his tunic, holding it protectively. All too suddenly, Knuckles was there, a small grin on his lips as he looked down at the first thunder guardian. "Let us pray, Lampo!"

"W-what does getting naked have to do with p-praying?" Lampo was pushed into a wall, Knuckle's one thigh pressing between his own. "G-goodness…"

Knuckle's grabbed both his wrists in one hand and held them above his head. "We are going to pray like lovers TO THE EXTREME!"

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

"I don't understand why I'm here. I never agreed to be one of your 'guardians', Giotto." Alaude walked at the side of the Vongola Primo. His icy blue eyes were sharp on the other man, his pastel blonde hair swaying slightly with every step.

Giotto offered a patient smile. "I know, Alaude." By his tone alone it was obvious that this was a reoccurring argument that he had long since stopped getting riled over. "Nonetheless, I would like to thank you for how you have helped us."

"Tsch. I don't need your gratitude. Unlike you, I have things to do and I would like to get back to doing them."

Giotto turned his head to look at his frowning cloud guardian (or so they had dubbed him though he still had not openly accepted the title) and lowered his eyelids over his fiery orange gaze; he allowed his lips to curve more softly and for the flame in the direct center of his forehead to diminish for the first time in a very long time.

He took his gloves off and slipped them into a hidden pocket located in his sleek black cloak. "Alaude, if I may be so forward…" His bare hand caught on the other man's tie, tugging it free from his trench coat. "I think you will enjoy this sort of… 'gratitude'."

The secret intelligence bureau leader narrowed his eyes which had sparked with understanding and something darker, headier. "Is that so, Giotto? And if I don't?"

The Don gave up on trying to hide the fact that he was leading his lover of three years to his bedroom and instead let himself be shoved into a randomly placed closet. When the door was forced shut behind them, there was no light to illuminate their actions. "Than I suppose you will have to exact your own sort of gratitude from me."

Even in darkness, Giotto knew his strongest guardian was smirking. "I was planning on doing that to you anyway."

"Of course you were."

Hands somehow found their destinations and stripped them both.

Giotto's fingers played with the handcuffs hanging from a loop in Alaude's slacks before wandering up his back to where a gun rested snugly in its shoulder strap.

Alaude was finding a number of weapons himself, including a dagger kept close to the Don by a thigh holster. There was a pistol at Giotto's lower back.

Lips found lips without mistake. This was obviously something the pair had done often, something well-practiced and almost a perfect skill and yet there was no boredom, no laziness that suggested that they were tired of this passionate act.

"A-Alaude…" Giotto arched as his guardian slipped into him, his eyes sliding shut with the pleasure and pain of being penetrated. "Alaude…" He gasped.

"Giotto." His strongest guardian growled back. "Don't call my name unless you have something to say." There was a mocking edge to his voice, a tone that stated that Giotto could call his name all he wanted and there would be no repercussion.

They began a rhythm. Alaude pushed forward and Giotto pushed back. Alaude tortured Giotto's chest with his tongue and Giotto's nails bit into his back as he panted into the man's hair.

And always Giotto was whispering his lover's name. "Alaude… Alaude! A-Alaude!" Whispering it because everyone knew what would happen if you spoke in a loud voice near Alaude, a man known for his solitary and silence.

Giotto came a moment after feeling Alaude's seed beat his prostate, body tensing and inner muscles rippling around his guardian's length. "A-Alaude!"

"Giotto…"

They took long, long moments to collect themselves, just lying against each other. "… So, Alaude…" Giotto swiped his tongue over his lips, a smile curving them even in their pitch black surroundings. "Do you accept my 'gratitude'?"

Alaude released the Don and felt around for his clothes. "No."

"Oh? Than however will I express my appreciation of everything you have done for us?" Giotto wasn't so quick to search for his clothes, taking a minute longer to bask in the sensation of feeling his lover's seed slip down his inner thighs and wiping away his own orgasm from his abdomen.

The door opened, spreading light on the two figures.

Alaude had successfully found his pants but the rest remained scattered on the floor. His icy blue eyes were focused predatorily on Giotto's lazy sprawl.

A leer that would have made any lesser man piss their pants and run home screaming for their mommy was directed at the Don. "If you would follow me to your room, Giotto –" He obviously wasn't asking. "– we will go over the details together."

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

Asari Ugetsu sat with his legs folded beneath him, his lips on his flute and his fingers dancing over the slots. Music, soft and gentle, flowed from the instrument, so beautiful that anyone within hearing had the urge to pause and reminisce on better times elicited by the harmonious melody.

"I thought you gave it up."

The melody breathed to an end, in no way abruptly or sudden. Asari opened his eyes from where they had fallen and placed the flute in his lap. With open friendliness, he turned his head and smiled pleasantly at his guest. "Ah. Giotto gave me this as a gift!" He brushed his fingers along the instrument. "It is mine from before; I am surprised he managed to find it."

"You shouldn't be." G. pushed himself away from the entrance into the Japanese man's room and took a seat next to the rain guardian on the bed mat. "Primo would never be so callous as to make his guardians choose between their passions."

"Ah, but he did force Lampo into war."

"The coward had to grow up one way or another." The right-hand man instantly defended his long-time friend.

"Hah hah! I wasn't insulting Giotto, G.; I would never be so cruel."

"Hmph."

A silence descended.

"… If I may request such a thing, I would like for you to play with me."

G. sputtered, cheeks flushed bright red.

"You have such a dirty mind, hah hah!" Asari poked his forehead. "I was requesting for you to play the piano as I play my flute."

G. batted his hand away, scowling in the opposite direction. "Of course I knew that! I was thinking of a woman I had slept with recently and your words brought up fresh memories." He spoke smoothly yet his face was still flaming and he was pointedly not looking at the Japanese man.

"Is that so?" Asari's voice had gotten lower, a teasing murmur. "May I ask what you and this woman did together?"

"We slept together! What, do you want the dirty details?" G. continued to argue with a cool, level tone that dishonestly said that he was in control of the situation.

"If there are any, please."

"What do you mean, 'if there are any'?"

"Hah hah! Is it not obvious, G.? I do not believe your tale."

"Why is that?"

Asari's hand slipped onto his lap, his touch as gentle on him as it was on his flute. "When I said 'play with me', you developed this."

"Again, I was remembering a very passionate night with a woman!"

"Than why have you not tried to beat me for touching you in such a way?" Asari was too shameless, watching G. from the corner of his half-lidded eyes, a soft smile on his lips. "Please forgive me for such, however I consider you a liar."

G. gave up the fight for the lie. "If you do not stop touching me like that, –" He instead began in a low voice that bordered on a growl. "– I will play with you and no musical instruments will be involved."

"I accept those conditions." He was left with no time to consider – had he wanted to consider, that is – changing his answer before he was being pressed into his bed, his flute to one side of the mat and G. bearing down on him as such was his element.

And just like that, such as it was rumored, the gentle and calming rain was turned into a violent maelstrom by the touch of the storm.

---

Author's Note: You read that right. I just made a story on the Vongola Primo family. And, yes, Knuckles was indeed molesting Lampo.

Do you all love me nonetheless?