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“Why the long face?”
Hisoka said, eyebrow quirking, body reclined back, like he owned the apartment and wasn’t merely renting it.
His casual grace almost irritated Illumi, he could hear himself dragging his long fingernails less than absentmindedly along the side of his pants, feeling the tips catch ever so slightly upon the expensive fabric. A futile outlet.
His ridiculous demeanor always had annoyed him.
“You’re here.”
Illumi replied, looking at the state of the room. Unkempt. Unsettling. Clean, but, in a rushed effort. The idea would be touching if he didn’t already know that the lopsided state the furniture has been left in was some attempt to get a rise out of him.
“Blame me?”
Hisoka shot back, voice singsong, playful. He looked like a smug cat, excited to play around with it’s prey. The fact he had draped himself along the top edge of the sofa hardly helped the image.
“I see you’re no longer rooming in the celestial tower.”
Illumi gingerly sat down on an armchair, ignoring the way Hisoka slunk off the back of the couch to perch himself on the edge closest to him. Too close.
He was attempting to minimize the contact between himself and the chair, (was that a blood stain or a food stain?), much to Hisoka’s mirth, Illumi knew he wasn’t going to laugh for fear of driving him off, but could hardly appreciate the sentiment.
“I am. I’m in a lot of places, Illumi.”
Hisoka practically purred, leaning into him. Illumi can only look behind him, to some kind of insect climbing up the wall.
“If that could explain the state of this one, I might excuse it.”
Illumi said plainly, and this is when Hisoka giggled, some deep sound, as unnerving yet cheerful as the strange room around him, from the floral window coverings to the corduroy furniture. The sound might’ve sent a chill up his spine if he was someone else.
Hisoka only moves in closer, closer still to Illumi. At this distance, he could easily slit his throat.
“Illumi, dear, I’ve seen you sleep in holes in the ground.”
At some points, before this, he’d wonder what Hisoka wanted from him, with his voice amused, low, flirtatious, body close, eyes dark with something. The man loved to toy with people, he knew, would do anything if he’d get some form of enjoyment out of it. Yet, that behaviour was still unacceptable of a business relationship. So was his own behaviour.
Illumi had always thought he knew what he’d wanted from Hisoka, before they lapsed into whatever this was. Assassins did not have friends.
“I wasn’t aware we were supposed to be camping.”
Assassins didn’t have friends, but Hisoka’s leaning in, his big hand on Illumi’s slender shoulder, lips brushing against his own, as if pausing, waiting for permission, and it’s all a game, Illumi won’t give in. He feels Hisoka grin, looks up at his eyes, and the sight make him freeze.
Hisoka’s playing with him, that much is obvious, but the way he looks at Illumi is serious. If he were he anyone else, that kind of gaze would be maybe terrifying.
“You’re always so fun to take apart, Illu.”
He sighs, and Hisoka takes that as an invitation, hand sliding up from his shoulder, up his neck, to fist in the hair at the back of his head, uses it to guide him into the kiss, deeper, and the way Hisoka’s unreasonably long tongue trace over his teeth makes Illumi’s eyes roll into the back of his head.
The scratch of Hisoka’s nails against his scalp and the pain from the tension made him uneasy in the best possible way. Until Hisoka moves back, but doesn’t let go. Keeps them close.
“Go shower."
Illumi pants against Hisoka’s lips, feeling facepaint smudge against his cheek when Hisoka pulls away, hand still strongly holding onto his hair, half closed eyes looking down at him, smirk pulling at the edges of his lips.
Assassins couldn’t have friends, but father, mother, taught him nothing about lovers. They had each other. Illumi was confident he could have this.
“I got you dirty too, Illumi, shouldn’t we shower together?”
Hisoka muttered into Illumi’s ear, and the intimacy made him suppress the instinct of distancing himself, even before a gentle pull to his hair before Hisoka let go both drew his head away and reminded him of the kind of situation they were in.
Illumi knew this wasn’t quite friendship, he could deal with this. Have this until he grew sick of it, or Hisoka grew bored. He’d probably have a fight, then. never hear from Hisoka afterwards, would probably be holding his head, or heart, or a portion of his spine. Those were the kind of power games they played.
“No. I only need to wash my face. I bathed before I came here.”
Illumi curtly replied, watching Hisoka stand up, waltz over to the bathroom door and pull it open on it’s creaky hinges, a way of beckoning Illumi into the room with him. It was going to be a good night, the energy was there. He needed this, Hisoka.
He was quick to chastise himself for such a thought. This was a physical release, nothing more. He had no attachments or ulterior personal motives for these sorts of actions with Hisoka. Underneath Hisoka. Letting Hisoka use him however he wanted, and it would satisfy them both. Hisoka, memories of hands running down Illumi's sides and making him shudder.
Hisoka, with the rivulets of water trailing down his broad body in the glass shower.
Illumi made an executive choice to stop salivating, walk over, walk through the door. Ignore the steam wavering in, thickening the air, clouding up the mirror, closed the door behind him.
It was terrifying what Hisoka did to him. Was doing to him.
Illumi looked in the mirror, splashed water on his face to try and remove the offending smear of face paint, scrubbed at it with his hands, until it was gone. The yellowing porcelain fixture was nearly offensive to his eyes, the mildew along the edges of the room, yet he couldn’t do anything, couldn’t think about anything but the marbled glass just hardly obscuring Hisoka’s body.
He wonders if his anxiety was showing on his face.
It’s too late to check, Hisoka’s slinking out of the shower, and Illumi’s turning to look.
Hisoka’s moving so slowly, he knows Illumi’s trailing the movement of the muscles in his body, and he’s toweling off in languid movements, and Illumi wonders if this is some sort of seduction.
His mouth is going dry, anyways.
Mother would say Hisoka’s a classical beauty, if she saw him like this, beneath the thick veneer of makeup and product and carefully crafted clothing. Illumi was disturbed the first time he realized he liked Hisoka both ways. Hisoka and his thin waist, mesomorphic body shape, Illumi’s own body was narrow, slim, and though he was anything but, next to Hisoka he nearly seemed fragile.
He did take after his mother, after all.
Hisoka’s now got the towel hanging around his neck and Illumi’s suddenly boxed in by Hisoka’s hands on either side of his body. He can’t focus on the way the drab lighting fixture shook at that force, only the way Hisoka is focused on him, face hardly inches from Illumi’s own.
He could feel Hisoka’s breath on his lips.
“Quite the voyeur today, does looking at me excite you?”
Hisoka says, golden eyes looking right at him, and Illumi can’t help but feel like he’s being trapped by a snake, about to be crushed to death.
He means to voice so, and something else comes out instead.
“You’re naked.”
Hisoka laughs, presses his body closer, and it’s dangerous. Illumi’s breath catches in his throat at the sound, and he can’t think of anything but Hisoka’s warm body on him, the sound of his voice, his breathing.
He has his mother’s form, thin, waifish. Terrifying flexibility. If father’s strength could be compared to a tiger, he and mother were spiders, they slid in rather than slunk through.
“Of course.”
And Hisoka’s kissing him again, like he wants to devour him, eat him whole.
She taught him how to use things such as sex appeal or lust to his advantage, yet, it was hard for him to catch on. Mother was elegant, eloquent. Less methodical, more intent. Perhaps Hisoka would be a spider too.
“How many people do you do this with?”
Illumi gasped out when Hisoka moved back for air, shifted to the side to nose at Illumi’s temple. He was probably smelling his sweat, trying to find his pulse underneath his tongue. Illumi's suppressing a shiver when he feels Hisoka scrape his teeth against his collarbone.
“You’re the only regular.”
Hisoka’s assuring him, and he doesn’t have to say anything for Illumi to know that it’s because everyone else ends up dead or scrambling out of the city to get away with their lives. Doesn't have to do anything to keep Illumi here.
Illumi was a little too awkward, stiff, to draw in many women. Hisoka, now Hisoka drew in everyone. He was a whirlpool, a maelstrom, of danger and attraction and death and Illumi knew he for certain was swept away, pulled under the surface into Hisoka's depths.
He hardly realizes his arms are around Hisoka’s waist before Hisoka’s pressing closer to him again. What a thin waist. Here they were rutting like dogs and all he can do is think of Hisoka's body caging him in.
“Laundry since?”
Hisoka’s dropping his head to bury his face in Illumi’s neck, as if in affirmation, breath ghosting over his pulse, and Illumi’s quick to shove Hisoka off him, causing him to stagger back into the shower wall.
The way Illumi forced him to back off was horribly sudden in comparison to how they moved against each other so far. The real potential behind the achingly slow movements they had both fallen into.
“No biting my neck.”
He says plainly, and Hisoka doesn’t stumble, or stutter, his movements are dangerously fluid and Illumi remembers the time he doubted he’d see this sort of movement outside of his family, outside of the men revered as gods.
“If you say so, Illu. Self-conscious?”
Hisoka’s taunting, and Illumi knows he just wants to hear it, just wants to piss off Illumi, and it’s always like this. It makes his blood boil.
Hisoka would be a black widow spider. Maybe some kind of vicious, vain animal.
“I don’t have the benefit of your deceitful texture to disguise your ‘lovebites’, Hisoka.”
Illumi says, stepping forwards, not breaking eye contact. This was some kind of battle for control, too, who would get more worked up. Who ruffles the other’s feathers better. Hisoka was grinning at his response.
This whole scenario was sick, or even twisted maybe, and he wanted it, it was perfect. Hisoka must love it too, or, love toying with Illumi. That must be it. Hisoka was the ultimate thrill seeker, and that’s what it was to him.
“You do love it when I bite you.”
Hisoka’s looking up into his eyes through thick lashes, wet hair mussed around his head, forming a crown backlit by that cheap light bulb.
Hisoka always made him slip up, and he hated it.
Illumi kissed him, this time, and Hisoka smelled like some horrifying, sickly sweet berry body wash, some shampoo, and his smell, just, Hisoka, kind of musk, kind of metallic, like face paint, like blood. It was intoxicating, in more than one way. It was heady, and Illumi enjoyed it almost as much as it made him feel ill.
Hisoka parted his mouth nearly immediately inviting his tongue in. Illumi was all too aware of Hisoka’s overly sharp canines, wondered if those were cosmetic, his own doing, or if he was born with teeth to tear chunks out of flesh like he loved to with his hands. An inhuman beast in humanoid form.
“Illu, you seem tense.”
And Hisoka’s the one to step away, out of the bathroom, leave Illumi standing there, breathless. He wonders if Hisoka played these games with anyone else he brought back here.
If Hisoka had even brought anyone here but Illumi, it can’t have been more than a few weeks since he’d moved in. Somehow that thought was taking control of his mind, getting Illumi to forget his other priorities, other jobs, anything but the fact he might be special to Hisoka, a man driven by boredom and bloodlust and lust alone.
Illumi obediently walks to the bedroom, sees Hisoka reclining, no, posing on the sheets, waiting for him to undress.
The idea of this being routine would disturb him more if Illumi could focus on anything but how he came here to forget the world around him, everything but Hisoka. How dangerous that was. How preposterous it was that he could be drawn so deep into a man, not even a colleague, that everything but the contact between them failed to matter.
He didn’t want to consider he might be getting attached.
And Illumi chooses not to, chooses to strip himself in a refined matter, fold up his clothes and leave them on a stool which clearly didn’t belong to this room. Hisoka must have brought it over in anticipation, knew Illumi’s habits.
Hisoka’s kissing him as soon as Illumi tries to straddle him on the bed, they’re always kissing, it feels. Hisoka’s sitting up, scooting backwards like Illumi’s weight means nothing, one hand on his lower back, and the other fumbling in a drawer beside them.
Illumi keeps his hands on Hisoka’s broad shoulders, and the difference in breadth between them made some kind of warmth pool in his stomach, heart flutter in his chest, and this was weakness. This kind of pull he’d hoped he’d never feel.
Hisoka’s hand on his lower back is his anchor when Hisoka’s leaning up, forcing him closer. Illumi’s eyes slide shut, mouth drops open in a gasp when he feels their lengths slide against one another.
“The usual?”
Hisoka’s asking, and Illumi can only half hear him, too busy paying attention to the friction between them, the sound of a cap opening, the thick, artificial smell of some terrible bubble gum flavoured lube Hisoka had always favoured.
Soon there’s two slick fingers trailing over his perineum, the cold making him shiver, and how Hisoka was taking just so much time to get on with it, taking so much time to take Illumi apart.
The two fingers are poised around his entrance, and Illumi’s still shuddering when Hisoka’s squirting on more lube, taking his time just rubbing and teasing Illumi, like they had all day, like he’d spend all day on this if he could. It was a little too wet, when Hisoka slid both fingers in at once, all of a sudden, stopping when Illumi involuntarily clenched around them in surprise and twisting them inside of moving deeper.
Sometimes Illumi hated how sensitive he always felt, how Hisoka loved it.
He moaned, at Hisoka’s movements, and then Hisoka keeps going, working the lube deeper into Illumi applying more every so often, and they were just using so much more than they usually did for a quick fuck, because Illumi liked the pain and they both liked the raw friction and Illumi would try and protest, say something’s wrong if he wasn’t clinging to Hisoka’s chest, trying to find a way to ground himself against the feeling of the pressure against him inside, pushing at all sorts of places and making him feel full in a way he was ashamed to like so much.
The pace eventually turned faster, harder, when Hisoka appears to have deemed Illumi slick enough. Illumi’s panting, moaning by the time Hisoka puts in a third finger, curls them in, spreads them out and Illumi can hardly take the feeling of Hisoka playing with him so roughly, Hisoka who just hums amusedly any time he draws a whine out of Illumi or Illumi can’t help but clench down, tense, wail, while Hisoka’s fingers are still slipping inside him, the excess lube making it easier for Hisoka to fuck him open on his hand.
Hisoka’s other hand is on Illumi’s hips, but, it’s not doing anything, and Illumi wishes the contact of their skin, even like those kind of gentle, idle touches, wouldn’t make him so worked up. Hisoka just stays like this, forces Illumi to stay like this for a while, keeping his legs spread wide, ignoring his cock while Hisoka’s fingering him, trying to draw noises from his throat and make Illumi desperate, rutting against his stomach and his hand.
And Hisoka’s fingers leave abruptly when the hand on his hips is reaching for something, and Illumi’s desperate, so desperate to have some kind of contact again, but Hisoka’s talking to him, in his ear, only the low tones, the lust make it through and none of the meanings of any of the sounds do.
He’s so wet, Hisoka made him so mortifyingly wet and it had to be for a reason, maybe the reason Hisoka’s hand was out to grab, and Illumi stills when he feels something being slid down his lower back, something a little too big compared to Hisoka’s fingers pushing at his entrance.
Illumi knows what Hisoka must’ve pulled out, there was one thing he always liked using with Illumi in particular.
He doesn’t care about Hisoka’s toys mostly, just knows he has a lot of them, probably the only thing he’d bother spending money on. He just knows about one of them, and judging by the plush silicone he feels sliding into his body, rubbing up against anything, everything that makes him squirm, it had to be that one.
It had to be the slightly visually offensive, too thick, too long lilac vibrator Hisoka said he reserved particularly for Illumi. It’s softly ridged all over, phallic, but hardly, and Illumi’s squirming when he’s remembering how it is. How it makes him feel, how it stretches him too tight and the quick, pulsing kind of vibration makes him clench down and whine. How Hisoka would tease him with the ‘head’ of the vibrator and Illumi could hardly believe something so oddly shaped could affect him so much.
Hisoka’s fucked him with it before, even without turning it on, something about the shape, the way it stretched him and held him open made Illumi want to moan, cry out, arch his back, and right now he’s struggling on it, not sure whether he wants to get closer or get away because the way it was being forced into him, forcing him open it was humiliating, uncomfortable.
It’s just too big, right now, and Hisoka’s just sliding it in, still, deeper, stopping to apply more lube so Illumi could take it, and Hisoka can’t possibly feel it but Illumi feels himself spasming, a little, cock beginning to twitch as Hisoka pays him no mind, just keeps going, and Illumi feels full, so full, stretched tight and when he tries to shift, move awau he’s noticing Hisoka’s hand isn’t just resting on his hip anymore, it’s gripping it, tightly, and he can’t even move.
Usually, right now, Hisoka would pull it out almost entirely, slide it back in, all the way, oh so slowly, make Illumi take it again, and again, until he felt loose and everything down there felt like a complete mess, but Hisoka’s just pushing it ever so slightly deeper until he turns it on using a button on the base.
Illumi can’t anticipate, can’t hold in his scream, can only minimally arch his back, let his head fall forwards, eyes wide open, panicked, hands clench tightly over Hisoka’s shoulders and Hisoka had to be enjoying this.
“You’ve got to get yourself a vibe, Illu.”
Hisoka purred, voice thick, using the palm of his hand to hold the large vibrator deep in Illumi’s body. He could hardly deal with the feeling, against him, inside, it was maddening, the sound of the buzzing and Hisoka’s taunting and his own thin gasps.
Illumi can’t stop his eyes from rolling back into his head, body from jerking when Hisoka pulls it out so just the bulbous head was left inside.
“You really love it, you’re all flushed .”
Hisoka’s pushing it back in, slowly, and Illumi’s head is spinning, it’s more obvious than ever before just how thick it is, how big it feels as Hisoka’s easing it in and out, smoothly despite how he can feel himself clenching down, trying to stop the toy from sliding out.
Illumi couldn't deal with how every little ridge and bump rubbed against him just right and how sensitive everything made him feel and how Hisoka was relentless, absolutely relentless in maintaining control of every part of this situation.
“Or do you just want to keep using mine?”
And Hisoka’s pulled it out entirely, and Illumi ends up whining before he can stop himself, isn’t sure what to do, his nails are digging in deep to Hisoka’s shoulders and the tip’s still vibrating, still pressed up against his entrance. He just feels so empty, so vulnerable, so desperate, can hardly hear the words Hisoka has to tell him, is still telling him, probably speaking for the sheer reason of trying to get under Illumi’s skin.
“You don’t do this to yourself, do you.”
Hisoka sounds like he’s pouting, and Illumi can’t hold in the relieved sob Hisoka coaxes out of him. Draws out of him as he pushes it in slowly, right to base before pulling it out completely, repeating, changing angles again, and again. Illumi feels like he might shake apart, from the pulsing feeling inside him, can’t do much else other than cling to Hisoka, feel his hardness against his own, brush against his belly every time he squirms.
“It’s rude not to respond when you’re being asked a question, my dear Illumi.”
Hisoka’s chastising him and Illumi can’t suppress his panicked cry when Hisoka pulls it out again, keeps it out. He can’t even look up to see the sick kind of satisfaction in his eyes. It was always somehow wrong, even if he came back to Hisoka every time because he liked being taken apart.
“I don’t touch myself.”
Hisoka’s laughing, lightly, and his hand is moving again, and Illumi would push back if Hisoka’s other hand on his side wasn’t holding him still. Hisoka’s still shifting around, trying to find the perfect angle.
The pressure inside, pushing out, was nearly uncomfortable for Illumi, his body was slender, that was the best word, yet somehow it only made everything better, how the thick vibrator nudged at him inside, stretched him open.
"Coming here instead? How interesting."
Hisoka's still moving differently, but, it just rubs against this one place and Illumi ends up screaming, tossing his head back, and Hisoka just holds it right there.
He's whimpering, soon, hands tensing and relaxing because he doesn't know what to do, and Hisoka's hand on his hip is holding onto him nearly as hard and he knows he can't just move from it but he's trying anyways since Illumi's sure he's going to go insane if Hisoka tries to make him stay like this.
"Hisoka."
He says, like a whisper, like a prayer and his chest feels tight and his head is spinning and he knows Hisoka’s can’t possibly be more than halfway done with him.
Illumi notices his nails, the kind of pressure around them, he's had to have broken skin by now and he might beg but the mixed sensation of being pinned down and held down and pushed up against Hisoka while there's something big inside him, pulsing against his prostate and making some intense, tight feeling pool in his lower stomach. He's sure he could see the toy like this, through his stomach, held up so deep inside him and it’s putting so much pressure against everything inside him and he’s clenching but it won’t adjust itself, not while Hisoka’s angling the base and it's just right and he just can't take it, but he doesn’t have any damn choice.
All he can do is moan and whine and beg and there’s so much shame in this weakness, yet, it’s what he craved enough to come here for even right now, in the middle of the day, it still made him shut his eyes, as hard as he can, trying to brace himself against the pleasure wracking his lithe frame, tearing into him.
He was supposed to use this stuff to his advantage, and in a way, Illumi’s certain this counts as an advantage to him when Hisoka finally lets up, starts fucking him again with the vibrator, slow, so slow, keeping the angle so every time Illumi feels a jolt of something run up his spine.
It’s electrifying. It’s so much better than anything, everything else. Illumi’s feeling his mind going blank, his thoughts started to get knotted up with the signals everywhere is sending through his brain because Hisoka’s body on his, the pulsing of the toy inside him, it was growing to be incomprehensible.
Hisoka pulled it out, turned it off, and Illumi’s trying not to recognize, notice the pleading whimper he gives when Hisoka pushes him off his body, feeling cold and dejected on Hisoka’s damp sheets, hardly having the mental strength to hold on.
“Now just stay put, I need to get something ready before we can have some more fun.”
Hisoka whispers in his ear, positioning Illumi, moving around the bed. Illumi just barely able to notice Hisoka’s hands arranging him so he’s on all fours, closing around his wrists and pulling them towards the space on the top of his bed, no headboard, just some structural wall, unadorned, shockingly plain compared to the rest of the apartment.
"You know my bungee gum, right, Illu? Both the properties of rubber and chewing gum, super strong? It's a very versatile ability."
Hisoka was talking, chin leaning on Illumi's shoulder, and Illumi could hardly breathe, hardly pull enough air into his lungs to recover, still shaken up by the way Hisoka had been fucking him with the toy, body still limp.
"You're intending to use it on me."
Illumi breathes out, trying to hide how desperate he feels. How he's shuddering. How empty he feels without anything inside him after the vibrator and Hisoka's fingers. He didn’t care what Hisoka was planning, just wanted him to get on with it already, whatever he wanted to do to him. If it was a battle of will with Hisoka, he’d been prepared to raise a white flag for what might be days or hours or minutes or seconds, however long he’s been like this.
And Hisoka’s moving fast at that confession, and Illumi’s hardly able to realize that Hisoka had lurched forward, pulling his body up, supported by wobbly knees, harshly binding Illumi’s hands together, and that shackle against the wall.
He’s struggling, eyes flying open, Hisoka, the bastard, that horrible, he can’t of, no, what was he thinking? This was a terrible idea, and Hisoka’s got one hand covering his mouth and nose, the other around his midsection, forcibly stopping Illumi’s thrashing.
“Don’t try. The wall’s concrete, running all the way down the building. You can’t break free Illu, it’s a structural pillar, isn’t that riveting?”
Hisoka’s voice is dark, rich with anticipation. Warm hands let go of Illumi to trail from where his wrists were trapped against each other, against the cold wall, the air around them, and Illumi shivers, feeling Hisoka’s much blunter nails drag against his skin.
They even discussed this last night, Illumi’s certain this came up, somehow, it was too much for him to be prone like this, when all of his instincts demanded he free himself, it was distracting, it was disgusting, but the idea was making him squirm and Illumi can’t tell if that’s somehow good or bad anymore.
“We agreed no nen.”
He gasps, twisting in his restraints, trying to feel what range of motion Hisoka has allowed him, and suppressing the shame in the fact that he’s trapped, completely stuck at Hisoka’s mercy. Hisoka had no mercy.
“You said you weren’t going to use any, I didn’t say a word. Feel like ruining our fun, Illumi?”
Hisoka said, while Illumi realized Hisoka had both his hands on his inner thighs now, forcing them wider, that Hisoka himself was sitting between them, and the realization made Illumi’s face burn.
He was Hisoka’s to play with, to use, in these moments.
“Hisoka.”
He said, nearly being cut off by his own inhale as Hisoka quickly repositioned himself, pulled Illumi’s body off the bed, legs over his upper arms, shoulders, and Illumi’s trying to ignore the kind of rush it’s giving him, in anticipation.
Hisoka’s only rimmed him once before, and he’s torn between how disgusting the act truly is, and how good it feels, thinks Hisoka likes to see the conflict in his body, that he knows the little edge of discomfort is what makes Illumi feel terrifyingly hot, aroused in ways he can’t understand or explain.
But, Hisoka’s leaning in and Illumi can feel his breath, but also quickly notices how different it was from last time, when they covered each other in blood and scratches and Hisoka’s gently licking into him, as in in apology for hurting him, and Illumi’s trying to squirm, can’t.
It feels too good, and it makes him feel like he’s going to lose his mind, just from Hisoka’s tongue inside him, teasing his entrance and lapping at him like he can’t get enough of Illumi.
He’s flexible, and it’s all meaningless when Hisoka’s just continuing at his leisure, and Illumi can’t do anything, he has no leverage, can’t use his hands, can only moan at the wet feeling of saliva joining the mess in between his legs, dripping down, and every time something’s about to get too far, Hisoka’s mouth leaves to lap it up, any exhales of his making Illumi shiver, his body feel too warm, the knot in his gut feel too tight.
Illumi feels like he’s going to come, like he’s right on the brink with Hisoka’s tongue inside him, after everything Hisoka’s done to him, and it’s growing too fast, too hard, and Hisoka has to be noticing the way he’s whimpering, Hisoka always does, always keeps him on the edge, worked up, but not enough, until he’s done with him.
“You want it to hurt, right? Take off the edge?”
Hisoka murmured to Illumi, and Illumi swears the voice ghosted over his skin like it was the only draft in a room full of still air, ticking in between his legs and making him whimper. He needs something to cut into the intensity before he reaches his breaking point. Hisoka was being too gentle with him today, even if he had him all tied up and held still and helpless.
“Yes.”
Illumi replied, and he was begging, and he knew it, and it made everything somehow feel better, worse, the feelings mixing around inside him feel so much more strong than they did before because Hisoka could do whatever he wanted to him, and Illumi wouldn’t be able to resist.
“Illumi, you’re beautiful, and I’m not going to give it to you.”
And the sound of Hisoka’s deep voice made his heart thrum, body pulled tight between the wall and where Hisoka’s face was buried in between his legs, feeling beaten, somehow, taunted, and this is it, the desperation.
Hisoka’s not talking anymore, he can’t. There’s no fucking way he can when he’s licking into Illumi, and he curls up his toes, it’s all he can do, but Hisoka’s arms around his legs are just too strong and he’s shaking his head, lets it fall because sustaining this kind of intensity was torturous.
Hisoka’s tongue is in pretty deep and something inside Illumi’s wondering if this is why Hisoka insists on that god-awful bubblegum scented lube but it can’t surface, not when Hisoka’s shifting Illumi’s weight, using a hand to gently stroke the sensitive underside of his cock.
His head is spinning from the sheer amount of things that are happening, that he wants to say, and Hisoka’s returned to gently lapping at his entrance, hardly dipping inside, and the muscles in Illumi’s arms are screaming as he’s trying to struggle upwards,
Between the realization that Illumi’s helpless, absolutely powerless like this, and Hisoka’s soft tongue, he’s moaning, twisting in his restraints, and nothing exists but the two of them.
“I’d say you’re wet enough, wouldn’t you agree, Illumi?”
Hisoka’s pulling away, lowering Illumi back onto the bed and it’s all he can do to stay up, Hisoka’s hands on his waist, Hisoka between his thighs and Illumi’s just too aware of everything, how his breath is coming in short little pants and the way his cock’s hanging heavy underneath him and the tight, tight feeling coiling up in his stomach and Hisoka, lining himself up to finally, finally fuck him.
He doesn’t wait for a response, pushes in, and Illumi’s squirming at the feeling of something solid entering him, and he’s not as thick as the toy but he feels so hot, and Hisoka’s wasting no time anymore, not going slowly, quickly settling into a brutal pace that would have Illumi’s elbows buckling and falling down if he had the chance to move them from where they were affixed.
Illumi can hear the sound of Hisoka fucking him, some gross, wet, noise that made his ears feel hot and mouth feel dry and it only sounded worse when he clenched down, did anything. He could feel it dripping out, getting pushed around inside him as Hisoka viciously thrust in, and Illumi couldn't handle the feeling of everything happening to him. The lube making letting Hisoka fuck him as fast, as hard as he could, though Illumi couldn't stop himself from rocking his hips back into the harsh thrusts, trying to get Hisoka in deeper, make him come, get some kind of friction that he couldn't feel through all the wetness inside.
Hisoka’s moaning, now, and Illumi swears he can feel the sound in his bones when Hisoka slides a hand down, and pulls forcefully, changing the angle in a jerky fashion, and Illumi screams as Hisoka rubs against that one spot ever aggressive thrust in and drags against it every time he pulls out, and Hisoka seems to like it.
Illumi’s trying to curl his hands into fists, dig his fingers into his palm because he just needs to hold on a little longer, though Hisoka’s so deep inside with his other hand now pulling at Illumi’s hair, forcing his head up, needy moans from his throat.
It can’t last long. They won’t last long like this.
Hisoka appears to have reached his limit, pulls hard on Illumi’s hair as Illumi feels some warmth bloom deep inside him, makes him clench down and shut his eyes and try to futilely hold on, and Hisoka’s still thrusting into him, horribly strong, the bed frame is creaking like it might give out.
Hisoka just hardly appears to have the presence of mind to slide his hand around Illumi’s length, jerks it hard. And everything inside Illumi is spilling over.
Illumi’s shutting his eyes, scrunching up his face as his body spasms in probably his most intense orgasm yet, and Hisoka’s hand is still on him, harshly stroking his cock all the way through, drawing it out, even when Illumi’s swears he’s completely done and Hisoka manages to force one more spurt out, making him feel like he’s going to collapse from the tremors, shuddering through his body still.
Hisoka’s hands are slowly trailing all over his body, and Illumi can’t hear anything over his own heartbeat, his body going completely relaxed, limp, falling down as much as he can and getting goosebumps from where Hisoka’s fingers are trailing, over his arms, then down to pinch at his sensitive nipples, smear the warm come against his stomach and Illumi can hardly hear the mumbled bits of praise Hisoka’s spouting while exploring his limp body.
Eventually, Hisoka slows, then stops. Pressing a kiss to Illumi’s temple, one hand by his head, and the other rubbing his abdomen, in an oddly tender, possessive motion.
“Enjoy yourself? You did so well, Illu.”
Hisoka murmured into his ear, body crouched above his, and Illumi wonders if he’d still feel so drained if he didn’t exercise before he came here.
If Hisoka would’ve made up the difference, anyways.
The aches had been drained from his body, all he could do was lie there, limp, in front of a man who was as close to a wild animal, apex predator, abstract ideas of chaos and destruction any person could reach.
Yet, apart from the pull in his arms, the soreness in his wrists, Illumi can’t remember feeling this relaxed, not for a long time. The pounding of his heart hardly mattered.
Not in the midst of a killer, either.
Hisoka’s gaudy pink duvet remained on the floor.
That was the difference between them, from these polyester sheets to the Egyptian cotton he’d never allow himself to dirty in this manner back home. He was an assassin, in his blood, in his job, his life, and Hisoka surrounded himself in death, lies, no motive, no straightforward solutions or ideas. Broad, powerful, versus lithe and finely built. Wild card, duty, the comparisons were practically spinning around in his head.
Hisoka was chaos, unlinked to anything but the circles in which he had to run in by his nature, the connections which he kept for curiosity.
Ilumi wondered who he was to Hisoka, and why he let his guard down.
Hisoka wouldn’t kill him like this. Hisoka wasn’t his family, yet, he felt attached to him. The same disgusting interest that made him feel like his stomach was churning and heart was palpitating.
This was an opening. His eyes slid closed. This was weakness.
Hisoka released his bungee gum, weight shifting, sitting up to release Illumi’s hands himself, take his thin wrists in his warm hands, rubbed them gently. Illumi hardly noticed he was sighing until he heard it.
This was dangerous.
He felt Hisoka’s lips brush against the top of his hand, felt Hisoka release his hands on his chest, and all he could do is breathe.
Illumi’s is almost uncertain why he came here, night after night.
The smell of mothballs, blood, dry-cleaning, all so artificial, metallic like the lingering taste of face paint on both of their lips.
Transmution nen, they had that in common, but, Illumi doubts he was such a liar, such a trickster. He couldn’t be someone hiding half as many things as Hisoka was, but, he couldn’t deny how deceit was how he lived, how he drifted through life. It was in his job description.
It was how they survived.
Illumi wonders if mother knew. If father knew. If his precious Killu suspected him. Milluki probably did, but wouldn’t dare. Milluki likely knew about Hisoka, and Hisoka had that effect on people.
Besides, Hisoka wouldn’t kill him like this, this was an opening for an assassin, one their family often took. Hisoka wasn’t an assassin.
And, how insane. He trusted Hisoka to defend him.
Hisoka probably trusted him to defend himself. Illumi didn’t dare believe Hisoka would ever leave himself defenseless.
He opens his eyes, and Hisoka’s golden ones latched onto his stare, reclining in front of him.
“I have to leave now.”
Illumi says, wincing at how broken up and raw his voice sounded. How Hisoka eyed him up and down, smirked at him.
This man was a predator, and Illumi was addicted.
“So soon?”
Hisoka said, and the breath Illumi drew in was like inhaling smoke, rough on his throat, thick in his mouth.
He had what he came here for, he felt like everything down to his bones was drained, he’d be fine for a week or so, he had fewer urges, great ability suppressing it. Always was good at trying to ignore that he wanted to see Hisoka. Assassins did not have friends. He should feel nothing, and be ready to kill him in an instant, any fraction of a moment at all.
And oh, he was. especially if Killua was involved. He’d cut off all his fingers, first. Gouge out his eyes. See him suffer, though he’d probably smile the whole way through. Masochist. Monster. Dangerous. So fucking dangerous.
“They expect me at home.”
Illumi replied, about to get up, before a strong arm pulled him back into the bed. He’d had enough of being strong armed, literally. Hisoka truly was some kind of petulant, capricious fool.
“I can make some complications, Illu.”
Yet, somehow he calmed at those words. Ignored how wet he felt in between his legs, how his body felt sticky with sweat on Hisoka’s damp sheets. Hisoka was just trying to play with him, yet Illumi didn’t mind taking him on his word.
“...Can I stay longer?”
He hears himself ask. Illumi was terrified of how he was defying his own decisions, his own logic, how Hisoka always managed to make him slip up. All these things, and yet he was still able to register some kind of comfort in feeling Hisoka running his fingers through his sweaty hair, his presence by his side, regardless of how he was now sitting up instead of lying beside him.
“Of course.”
Hisoka’s voice was as chirpy as ever, and Illumi hardly noticed him standing up and off the bed until he’s being picked up in a bridal carry. Against all his pride and instinct, he just let Hisoka move him.
Funny, Illumi never saw himself as a gambler.
The shifting steps Hisoka takes, the rocking motion, it should bother him more. He should stand up, put his clothes back on. Yet, he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to leave Hisoka’s side, right now. It’s a terrible moment of weakness, but, like a moth to a flame, he just wants to be near him.
Eventually, Hisoka’s lying down on the couch, Illumi sprawled on top of him, and it’s disgusting, they're both wet with various things, and they’re both nude, and everything inside him should be revolting instead of getting ready to settle in while they wait for the midday sun to pass.
A shoddy window was open. Still no clouds in sight.
Illumi wonders when he started to enjoy being so careless.