Awaited Night (NNSecretSanta2022)The life of a mafioso can be anything, except boring. The constant feeling of adrenaline running through his skin, knowing how the world was under his fingers, controlled by his own will and ambitions.

And honestly It felt amazing. Just what he always wanted since he was a young man.

Now he was the owner of one of the biggest empires of weapons and intel of the world —or at least of England— the man felt he had everything he needed.

A good life, all the money he wanted, and so much more.

However, there was something lacking in that apparently perfect life Mr.Mole —how the man ended up being recognized around the globe— constructed from zero.

And as ironic as it seemed to be, the only thing he believed at that point of his life still missed was: company.

Yes, no matter how surrounded by his underlings he could be, people who would never bat an eye in order to follow his orders and wishes, ready to please him in every aspect and need of his life, the man needed something more.

Something wilder.

Something uncatchable.

Someone who would not hesitate in trying to kill him every time he had the opportunity, every time they crossed eyes; every time they met.

When was the last time he felt like that

A bewilderment feeling, not knowing how to deal with the idea that the simple presence of that man in his life could have taken him to a one hundred and eighty degrees of changes, a rollercoaster of emotions that made Mr.Mole feel vulnerable under the simple idea of having the guy close to him, playing the game of the cat and the mouse he liked so much, feeling the strong edge of the guy's knife against his skin every time he tried to kill him.

He loved it. He loved the burning feeling that a simple obsession with a man like him could make him happier than any money he has ever gotten.

And all because of how nostalgic the beautiful moon was making him feel, reflecting in his eyes, the intensity of her light making him to yearn for someone by his side —not anyone tho—, reminding him of the intensity of that sight that never got enough, always wanting for more and more, driving him to yearn for the same things as him.

He wanted the same; he only wanted him, he needed him.

Now, even.

While the moon was rising in the sky, blessed by the veil of stars surrounding her, the mafioso drank his wine from a luxurious cup he remembered got as a truce gift the last time he visited Mr.Swifts and they didn't end up trying to kill each other.

Days like that, when the moon was full, were made to reflect on the life Mr.Mole was having till today, with good scenery, delicious food, a wine of excellent quality, and sometimes good company. All of them were present, except, of course, the last one. Relaxing in the commodity of his chair, the mafioso let the fruity red liquid go through his throat, filling his insides, making him warm while a subtle smile adorned his lips when a presence introduced itself, all that time hidden by the shadows of the night.

A sharp edge was pressed against the neck of the man, and a whisper filled his head as if an autumnal breeze caressed his skin, giving him the shivers of his life even though it was already spring. Thanks to the introduction, the owner of the home left the cup back on the table, and leaned his head back, to meet the fierce eyes of the man behind him.

Then he smiled at him .

"Didn't know Demi let her trustful dog be free around the neighbor's garden" Not that it was a surprise for him; the dog knew very well that if he was allowed to be running on the insides of his mansion was only because Mole permitted it. It was part of that game, Mole's little trick every time he was yearning for the company of the one who had the desire to end his life.

The strength over the man's neck was reduced when the mismatching eyes of the pursuer saw the sly smile of the man under him. It was nerve-racking every time he visited him—almost feeling nude at mercy of a hungry predator .

Why was he always willingly falling into his trap

"Why didn't you stop me if you knew it" He had to know it, though.

"Why would I You suck at this, puppy. I know you didn't come to kill me” Not this time.

You know, pretending to hate him and all that adorable habit the mercenary had . Sometimes it was amusing remembering the past when Hound was really determined to kill him.

Nowadays It was more a formality, even an excuse , to meet him.

And he was okay with it.

But Hound didn't like that answer, this time going back to putting pressure against the flesh with his knife, a thread of blood dripping from Mole's Adam's apple; the mafioso not even flinching at the grasp of the possible death so close to him.

He couldn't explain the adrenaline filling his insides when he was so close to kicking the bucket by the hand of that dear guy.

Mole's smile only became stronger with the seconds passing, his pointy teeth and the golden one almost shining by the moonlight reflecting on them.

"What are you waiting for, Puppy" Wasn't that the moment he had all in his hands to kill him Wasn't that one of his orders from the beginning from Demi "Don't you want to finish this once and for all" His hand grabbed Hound's wrist, making the contact between his own skin and the knife even more intense, the hand of the dog tensing at the image of Mole's neck so close to being cut for real—and he hated to feel so vulnerable in his presence.

But don't be mistaken. Mole and True Proof weren't on bad terms per se, but the fewer people were in the business, the better for both of them, and since Mr.Swifts was too of an escapist and an expert in making other people's disappear —or explode— without even trying it, the Mole was always a better target for her, the existence of her beloved dog always the trump card under her sleeves.

But none of them guessed that Mole was also planning to use Hound as his own master plan, making him the biggest obstacle in their rivalry; Hound was only a man who ended in the perfect moment for Mole to be obsessed with wanting to make him his and take what seemed to be one of the proudest belongings of True Proof.

Hound frowned at Mole's implications, the older man knowing that the assassin had his pride when it was about doing the job. The way his eyes were fixated on his own was enough to prove how frustrated the assassin was with not being able to put an end to that situation.

Instead, his eyes wandered around their surroundings, surprised when in front of them —just where the extra chair was empty— another cup was placed.

"Waiting for someone" The younger man arched an eyebrow inquisitorially at the owner of the home.

"Well, yes... You"

"As if" Hound rolled his eyes, deciding his pride wasn't ready to be hurt that night. He was ready to leave through the shadows just like he came before, but Mole had a different plan, and you see , when the man focused on something, he would hardly leave it till he achieved the goal.

Not even looking at Hound, his golden eyes too focused on the moon as a witness to their meeting, the man squeezed the dog's wrist, the only needed gesture for Hound to waver his conviction.

"Stay"



• • •




Hound didn't know how things went from him getting close to Mole in a new attempt to kill him (lies), his hand so close to his neck in an attempt to finish once and for all with the guy making him completely crazy, to now sitting on his lap, kissing him. He wanted to blame the alcohol he unwillingly (lies again) accepted from the mafioso, but a mere cup of wine wasn't even close to putting him in a drunk state, not even tipsy, and he also knew that it was the same case for Mole, not even being a tickling on his belly. And still, like that, he liked how his lip felt so perfectly natural against Mr.Mole's.

The scent of wine passing between both tongues, their hands trying to find the perfect place to grab the other, and their bodies resisting the need of letting out all both of them were hiding for so many months already with every visit that ended in that kind of exchange between the man the loyal dog of one of his biggest rival in the world. But there was no amount of excuses enough to stop them, to stop Hound's tongue caressing the pointy teeth of Mole, to stop Mole's lips catching Hound's lower one between them, letting a series of sighs escaping in a battle that far from the usual dominance both of them always wanted to seize, now they were accomplices of a bigger secret none of them was determined to let the winds and moon know.

For the first time in their entire sessions of kisses and touches, the mafia guy caressed the side of Hound's face, where all the little scars —some of them even made by his lovely hand— met with the big one on his cheek. But it wasn't enough, as Mole's hand unbothered by the almost unnoticeable resistance Hound did set free his head from the commodity of his hoodie, Hound's white strands of hair elegantly falling over his shoulder when the other claw deprived him of the elastic band.

That was when they stopped kissing.

Then mafioso grabbed a silky strand of hair closer to Hound's face and kissed it instead, never taking his eyes off the owner of it.

"Beautiful"

Hound was ready to fight him back, arguing that he didn't have to pretend to care about him—a few kisses and touches didn't mean they were... a thing . Mole was a flirt by nature, and he was sure many others had passed through the same as him. But him Falling for his attempts to wrap him around his finger

He would never.

He couldn't be caught by those naughty fingers.

But the assassin let himself be pampered a little bit more by the hand and lips of the guy under him, going against his moral code. Mole traced a line of kisses all around his cheeks, chin, and lips, descending to give a mark on his neck, Hound being sure that under a different situation —was he still trying to blame the lack of alcohol on his blood — he would never allow him to manhandle him as he was doing it.

But today Maybe it was oka—

Ring ring.

The mobile of Mole rang over the table, the man lazily grabbing it without breaking any kind of contact he had with the mercenary sitting on his lap.

When he pressed the screen to answer, the words from a well-known female voice came to his ears.

"Return my dog "

Mole chuckled and surrounded the waist of the Mercenary making the contact of their chests even more shameless than before, just as if Demi was present looking at them—ready to pierce him in order to get back what was hers.

"Hm, are you sure he is still yours You never know when a dog can bite the hand of the one who feeds him" Or even be abandoned when a kinder owner appears. Mole was very aware he wasn't kinder nor better than Proof, but he really was determined to take Hound out of Demi's hands; sooner or later the guy would be his.

A sigh and almost heard rolling of eyes —really, he could almost picture her doing it so loud— came from the other side of the line.

"Just send him back, Mole" Then the call was over.

Mole left his phone on the table, giving his full attention to the dog on his lap; Hound looked at him back, knowing what his following words would be.

"Momma wants you back, puppy"

"I see" He stood from the comfort of Mole's legs, fixing his hood back over his head, only that this time, his white strands were freely dancing with every move he made. His face was still blank as always as if seconds ago they weren't making out till their lungs were asking for the air back inside of them. But a hint of scarlet was painting Hound's cheeks, the only proof he was still affected by the heat of the moment.

"Interesting, you came without her permission" But Mole did want to do further research on Hound's lack of habit.

Something that, of course, the dog didn't find attractive to answer, giving him the cold shoulder.

"So that's how it is, uh" Mole chuckled; he knew he was right, he knew Hound couldn't be too far from him. That the man was regularly coming back for more and more by his own will.

What was at first only a need to test his power and finally overpower the mafioso, now was only an excuse to meet his lips again. Mole's seduction tactics were stronger than his desire to make him disappear.

Hound was ready to go back, to vanish from everything that happened that day. But Mole stopped him for a second, grabbing his wrist, just before he could meddle between shadows and darkness, his other hand holding him by his stomach too, so close that Hound's tensed by that action.

The shorter one slightly turned back, only to be received by a pair of lips kissing the side of his neck, slowly whispering something against his ear, a thing that would run through every fiber of his skin, even when he was back at his own home, by one side of the woman who gave him a roof and life again.

"Next time bring fewer clothes"

What number of surprises would he find the next time he and Mole meet again

His blood was burning to find it out.