Sweetly Incomparable - 4827

Sweetly Uncomparable



Sometimes, when my duty as the - not quite - Vongola Decimo gets too hard to handle and I'm so frustrated I just want to scream or cry, I journey down to his workroom. It's full of what I see as junk but what he sees as wonderful things just waiting to be dismantled and put back together in a much better and useful - if more complicated - way. I go there because his job is calming, his routines soothing for some odd reason that I can't comprehend nor explain.
Today, however, being in that room with him is not enough. I need something more, and the tears begin to spill because I don't know how to make it - my fears, worries, and stress - all just go away.
But then, almost as if he knows what to do and that it is needed, I am enveloped in his arms. Surrounded by a blanket of warmth and comfort, everything else just melts away, unimportant and to be dealt with at a later, much later, time. And then he does something that truly blows me away.
It's my first kiss. Is it his too? I can't help but doubt that because even though he may seem like he's only ever focused on machines and the like, he is kind, sincere, and good-natured. He's also very handsome, and because he is from the future, older than me. It's a wonder he hasn't found a significant other already, seeing as how he's free to roam around because he is no longer locked in the Millefiore Melone base and obligated to follow their orders.
Am I falling for him, my male mechanic and friend? Maybe. Maybe some part of me has always been intrigued, has always wondered what it would be like to be in the position I was in right then. Does he feel the same? He couldn't, could he? Someone so intellectual, so skillful and brilliant as him could never have these feelings for someone so naive and moronic as me, Dame-Tsuna.
Maybe the kiss is only to comfort me, but as he deepens it, that thought is quickly swept away by a wave of pleasure.
He tastes like strawberries. Sweet, artificial strawberries, but it's so wonderful I can't bring myself to care about whether the lolli-pops he loves to eat are sweetened with real or fake fruit. He also tastes like something else, something that I immediately register in my mind as distinctly him. His own unique flavor.
And as our mouths move together, mold together perfectly, and our tongues wrestle with one another's, I find myself vaguely wondering if Lambo's kisses would taste like this, like the grape candies he is so fond of.
Then it's all forgotten and thrown out my mental window as he does something - I don't even know what it is - that sends me over the edge and into a pool of sugary bliss.
I part from him and my moan of his name fills the air. But it is quickly muffled when our lips connect once again and his lean, taller body continues pressing deliciously against my smaller and less matured one.
Screw that, I tell myself. Because no matter if Lambo happened to be an amazing kisser - which I had no intention of finding out - his kisses would never, ever, be able to compare to Spanner's.