Chapter Text
Loud. It’s too loud, and everything is sticky. The bar top, the air, the torn vinyl stool he’s sitting on, the outside of his glass. It’s not like any bar he’s ever been to; the ones in expensive hotels, ones with private booths, ones that have a man playing a grand piano in the corner. It’s dirty, it smells, and he hates it.
The worst part is, Illumi’s presence here is completely unnecessary. He’s not meeting a client. He’s not following a target. He’s not gathering information. He doesn’t know why he let Hisoka pick a meeting spot, but he knows he’ll never make that mistake again.
It was a foolish attempt at being flexible, a professional courtesy. People are more likely to bend to his will if they feel a mutual respect, and what Illumi needs to ask could very well change the trajectory of both of their lives, for better or for worse.
If asked, Illumi would describe his relationship with Hisoka as professional.
They’re allies.
They do jobs together.
They have sex sometimes.
They never kiss.
That would be crossing a line. It would be unprofessional to be that intimate. If it was anyone else, maybe Illumi would kiss them, they would part ways in the morning, and never see each other again. It would be so easy. The overarching problem is that from the first time, two months ago, it was obvious he didn’t want to disentangle himself from Hisoka. He didn’t want to have sex with anyone else. Maybe his parents had fed him too much poison over the years, and now he could only crave what would ultimately kill him.
***
It was Killua’s thirteenth birthday. His first birthday away from home. Illumi called to ask where to send his gift, and to wish him a happy birthday, wherever he was. Killua never responded.
Hisoka noticed his sour mood. They’d completed a job and returned to Hisoka’s apartment. Illumi had a hotel room lined up, but in a moment of weakness, he decided he’d rather not be alone. If he couldn’t be with Killua, well, Hisoka was a poor stand-in, but a stand-in nonetheless.
“Alright, out with it.” Hisoka said after watching Illumi sulk on his couch for the better part of an hour, unspeaking, with his arms crossed. “Why are you so upset?”
No one ever asked him that. His family ignored any semblance of upset, unless it hindered his job or training. If it did, well, then he’d really have something to be upset about. Still, it’s best to lie. Emotions are a weakness easily exploited, especially by people who use words just as much as they use their fists, people like Hisoka.
“I’m not upset.”
“Then why are you here?”
Illumi had glared at him, but Hisoka just kept smiling. He’s always smiling. Illumi has never understood it.
“I hope you haven’t come for some… emotional support.” Hisoka said, slowly dropping down in front of the couch, knees between Illumi’s flats. “I’m not so good at that,” he said, head tilted, hand running up the inside of Illumi’s thigh. “There are other ways I can make you feel better,” he’d whispered, resting his chin on Illumi’s knee, golden eyes sparkling with something wanting and reverent, like a nun before Jesus.
And like he’d been told as a young child, Illumi vocalized the only thought in his head; “I was born wrong.”
***
Because it was a fact. He was cursed from the very moment of his birth. He was six years old when he heard Zeno and Silva discussing it, Illumi sat at the top of a stairwell, their voices carried clearly.
”I know you only want sons, but what you’re doing with Illumi seems extreme,” said Zeno.
”That man said my firstborn daughter would be cursed.” Silva said, voice hushed.
Zeno had laughed. “I didn’t raise you to believe kooky shit like that, did I?”
“He said her eyes would always be empty. Everyone would know, her father is the reason she doesn’t have a soul.”
“Bah!” Zeno exclaimed, and Illumi could hear him slap a hand against Silva’s broad chest. “I don’t believe a word.”
“Have you ever looked into Illumi’s eyes? Really looked?” Silva’s voice had dropped even quieter, as if recounting a paranormal experience.
“Can’t really bring myself to, no.” Zeno replied after a weighted pause.
“Then do not question my parenting. Illumi will be an exemplary assassin. He’s no heir, but he’ll be a great asset to the Zoldyck name.”
“And what does Illumi have to say about it all?”
“He said he wants to. He wants to be a son, and when we have another child, a big brother.”
“Well, then. Just don’t come crying to me if you have another girl.”
***
Illumi couldn’t tell Hisoka the full truth. It’s family business. Zoldyck secrets are not to be shared. Luckily, Hisoka didn’t ask, he just assured Illumi that whatever he meant by that, it wouldn’t change anything.
And it didn’t. He let Hisoka take his pants off and leave bruises and bite-marks from the insides of his knees all the way up to the crook of his thighs. By the time Hisoka got to his pussy, he was panting with half a mind to start begging.
“So wet already,” Hisoka marveled, the pad of his finger lightly dragging up from between Illumi’s sopping folds up to his clit, featherlight. Illumi couldn’t help but whine pathetically. “All for me, Illu? Fuck.” He growled, and Illumi could feel his legs stutter upwards just from the heady desire in his voice.
The perfect opportunity for Hisoka to grab Illumi’s thighs, grip nearly bruising, and place them over his shoulders. Illumi hooked his ankles together to quell his trembling, but it barely did any good as Hisoka had finally pressed forward between his legs.
It was all too much. Illumi forgot his name, felt like he was walking on the surface of the sun, found himself sobbing and convulsing on Hisoka’s tongue. When it wasn’t swirling around his clit, all around him, it was inside him, hot and wet.
Like Hisoka knew he was just on the cusp, his vision narrowing, he pulled away to pull himself out of his pants and stroke himself to the sight of Illumi breathing heavily, drooling and desperate, leaking onto his couch.
“Hisoka,” Illumi sobbed. He was so close. “Please.”
Hisoka had just laughed at him, a bit breathless, cheeks lightly flushed. “Ah, so polite,” he whispered, lifting his free hand to press two fingers between Illumi’s parted lips. Illumi accepted them, danced between and around them with his tongue, felt more spit roll down his chin. “Such a good boy,” he said, slipping his fingers out of Illumi’s mouth, chuckling at the way Illumi unconsciously chased after them.
Then two spit-slick fingers were at his entrance, pressing inside, curling against a spot that made Illumi cry out and tighten his legs around Hisoka’s neck, pulling his head forward. Hisoka took it in stride, closing his mouth around Illumi’s clit as his long fingers thrust in and out.
It was the orgasm that did it. Electricity rolling through his body, whiting out his vision, seizing his muscles almost painfully. His head felt like it had hit concrete; ears ringing, out of body, brain scrambled.
When Illumi came back into his body, he realized he was still sobbing, shaking, and Hisoka was watching him with a smile on his face, hands rubbing the outsides of Illumi’s thighs.
And it kept happening. In shared hotel rooms, Illumi’s face pressed into a pillow, Hisoka’s hand on the back of his neck, holding him down. Against a wall, Illumi’s legs wrapped around Hisoka’s waist while a targets body grew cold in the corner. In the back of a chauffeured car, an unlucky butler with his eyes glued forward. It had grown addictive and dangerous. Something had to change.
Two days ago, Milluki had asked Illumi to come to his room after a job. It was strange; Milluki never did that, it had easily been a year since he’d been in his brothers room.
”What is it, Millu?” Illumi had asked. He was tired and just wanted to collapse into bed.
Milluki was facing his screens, shoulders squared defensively. “Papa is starting to question the faulty camera excuse.”
Illumi blinked a few times. “What are you talking about?”
Milluki turned around in his expensive gaming chair, grimacing, arms crossed. “Papa wants to see the footage from your last job. You’re lucky I reviewed it first,” he’d scoffed, turning back around to click around a couple times, bringing up security footage.
A camera in the corner of the targets hotel room. The target was on his knees. There’s no audio, but he’d been pleading for his life. Then, the video showed Illumi throwing pins, the targets body crumpling in on itself, distorted on the floor. It was the begging and crying that turned Illumi on, and he’d presented himself to Hisoka like a dog in heat. Shucking his pants down around his ankles with his face pressed against the wall, ass in the air, his back arched in the way he knows drives Hisoka crazy, makes him fuck him harder. And Hisoka had. He’d pressed against him, already hard, and proceeded to fuck him until Illumi was a soaking wet, shaking, crying mess.
“Oh.” Illumi said. “I will pay you to delete the second part.”
Milluki’s eyes sparkled a bit. There must be a new figure he wants. “Fine. Just— can I give you some advice, aniki?”
Illumi nodded.
“Think up a good excuse for why you’re fucking the psycho clown. Papa will find out eventually.”
***
“You’re late.” Illumi admonishes Hisoka as soon as he sits down on the creaky barstool next to him.
“Couldn’t choose what to wear for our date.” Hisoka says, nearly singing.
Illumi shoots him a withering glare. “I would appreciate it if you were serious. I have something important to talk to you about.”
“Oh?” Hisoka raises an eyebrow, still smiling.
“We need to play pretend.”
“Play pretend? What are we pretending?”
“That we’re in love.”
Hisoka’s grin widens, eyes lighting up. Illumi breathes a sigh of relief at the enthusiasm, even though he knows he shouldn’t. There’s no use getting feelings mixed up in this. It’s just practical.
“Why the sudden change of heart? I mean, obviously I have no problem with it, you know how I feel about you.”
***
It was two weeks ago. Illumi was recovering from a particularly hard-hitting orgasm in Hisoka’s bed. Hisoka was playing with his hair when he said, “You know I love you, right?”
Illumi blinked over at him, brow furrowed. “You don’t mean that.”
Hisoka had actually looked a bit hurt. “I do, though. Everything about you. Your power, your body, your face, how mean you are to me. I love you.”
“I don’t love anyone besides my family.” Illumi had quickly answered.
Hisoka smiled fondly, then laughed. “I know, baby. I don’t mind. Just needed you to know where I stand.”
***
Illumi hands over an envelope. Hisoka takes it and untucks the top. He fingers through the cash inside, eyes widening.
“How much money is this?”
“Half a million Jenny. You will attend a family dinner with me. You will behave yourself. Afterwards, you will speak to my father privately and ask for his blessing.”
“I see.”
“Choose a nice engagement ring,” Illumi finishes his drink and stands. “I will send you more information later.”
Hisoka frowns. “You’re leaving?”
“I hate this bar. Choose a better meeting spot next time. Goodbye, Hisoka. I will send you more information tomorrow.”
“Wait,” Hisoka nearly sputters, grabbing at Illumi’s arm. “I want something in return.”
Illumi blinks slowly, turning back around. “What?”
“I want you to kiss me.” Hisoka grins widely, taps at his chin with the hand that isn’t around Illumi’s wrist. “Like you mean it, love.”
Their relationship has always been give-and-take and Hisoka’s request isn’t too outlandish, Illumi reasons. If this charade has any chance, they will have to kiss eventually.
“Okay,” Illumi says, leaning in slowly. Hisoka closes the gap, hand departing his wrist to grab at the back of Illumi’s neck.
Fireworks explode behind Illumi’s eyes when their lips meet. He can feel Hisoka smiling against him as he tilts his head, tongues meeting, pressing, sliding against each other. It feels desperate. It feels like everything right and wrong. Birth and death all at once.
Kissing Hisoka may be more dangerous than the sex.