Chapter Text
“I mean,” Machi began, scratching her head dubiously, “I could take you, but I honestly don’t think it’s your scene.”
Hisoka leaned back in his uncomfortable metal chair. He had his feet propped up on the edge of a large ceramic pot, in which sat a cheerful lemon tree that was dappling Machi with afternoon light.
Hisoka looked sort of smug, sort of indignant, an eyebrow raised at Machi in question.
“You don’t think I can handle it?”
“You’re just…” Machi struggled with the right word. “Doesn’t matter. If you want me to take you there, I can.”
“Not like I’m going to have sex the first time I go,” Hisoka pointed out.
“That’s true,” Machi mused. A waiter set down two cappuccinos in front of them.
“Thanks,” Hisoka said absently.
“Just don’t go into this like you usually do,” Machi warned. Her serious little face was all pinched, the fluffy front of her pink bangs dusting over her eyes.
“How do I usually go into things?” Hisoka asked amusedly.
“Like a bastard.”
“Hey now--”
“You think you’re better than everyone you meet and you don’t care if people know that. It’s inappropriate and it won’t fly there, especially not with him.”
“Mmhm,” Hisoka said, but he wasn’t listening, scooping a fingerful of foam off the top of his cappuccino.
It looked, on the outside, like a very normal nightclub. It was less seedy than most places Hisoka was used to; the front entrance was well-lit and the doors were painted oil-slick black. There were two bouncers at the front and they both had earpieces in.
Hisoka was made to show ID and then he and Machi were in.
“The front is more or less a normal club,” Machi said, raising her voice over the music. She wasn’t wrong. There were a few high tables where people were standing, but it was mostly booths, and in the center, a bar with a wraparound counter.
“The back half is where there are actual scenes, and there’s private rooms.”
“Let’s go there, then,” Hisoka said, shoving his hands in his pockets and leading the way.
When they had met outside of Machi’s apartment, she had given Hisoka a reluctant look-over.
“You’re wearing that?”
“I wear this outfit all the time,” Hisoka said, indignant.
“Yeah,” Machi said sourly, “I know.”
She took the lead now, pushing ahead of Hisoka and hopping over the velvet rope that blocked off the front of the club from the back.
They had to go through another door, this one also guarded by a bouncer who was sitting behind a wooden desk.
“Hi Machi. If either of you have a bag, I’ll need to check it, otherwise, you’re good to go.”
“Thanks!” Machi called. She let Hisoka open the door and hold it for her.
The first thing Hisoka noticed as they walked in was the temperature. It was noticeably colder in this part of the club, and darker.
There were still booths but there were also low couches with coffee tables, and then, in the center, sort of like a strip club, there was a stage. And it was occupied.
A blonde woman in a tiny black dress was bent at the waist, brushing back a dark-haired man’s bangs and pulling his blindfold down to make eye contact with him, her own brows furrowed with single-minded concern.
He nodded dazedly, expression slack, and then croaked out an unintelligible word that Hisoka took to mean he wanted to keep going, because immediately after, the woman pulled away and reclaimed her spot on a black sofa, where another woman, in a black sweater and a skirt, was waiting.
She had on glasses and there was a tiny pout to her expression, that the blonde woman kissed away with all the fondness of a lover.
The man she had left behind was slumped against a pole built into the ground, his arms bound behind it. He was wearing underwear--black briefs--and nothing else, and there was a spreader bar at the middle of his thighs, forcing them apart.
The blonde woman distractedly fiddled with a remote as her companion adjusted herself to straddle her, tiny hands digging into short, silky blonde hair.
A few feet away, on the miniature stage, the man moaned. His head knocked back and his thighs jerked against the bar keeping them open. Hisoka had never really seen something like this happen in public. He’d done his foray into sex toys--vibrators and the like, even bondage--but it all felt benign and unnecessary, like he was putting on some show for people who weren’t there.
There were certainly people here. Most of the patrons of this club were watching the man, if not openly, then out of the corners of their eyes as they drained their glasses.
“That’s Chrollo,” Machi said, smiling.
“Him?” Hisoka asked incredulously. He was inarguably attractive--well-built, a darling face from what Hisoka could tell around the blindfold--but he didn’t seem very intimidating, didn’t seem like the kind of person who would present any real challenge for Hisoka.
“He’s only really like that for Paku.” Paku was the blonde woman, Hisoka realized, who had an arm wrapped around the dark-haired woman’s waist, kissing at her neck reverently.
“And that’s Shizuku.” Machi had told him about both of these women, at length, hearts in her eyes.
“Shalnark is somewhere around here,” Machi continued, head swiveling. “Fei and Phinks are at home, I think. They don’t come here as often ‘cause they’re a serious couple now and all they do is watch movies or whatever.”
“Okay,” Hisoka said absently, still watching Chrollo. He could see the outline of his cock through his underwear, and additionally, he could see the vibe attached to, making a small rectangular imprint. His hips were rolling half-sloppily as he grew closer to orgasm.
Hisoka sort of wanted to take a seat right there and watch, but Machi was already dragging him to the table where the two women were.
“Hisoka,” the dark-haired woman said quietly, studying him as he sat down. The blonde woman swiveled her head and fixed Hisoka with a wary look. She had dark, angled eyebrows and a sort of hawkish expression.
Hot, but punishing.
“Machi has told us a lot about you,” Paku said. Shizuku’s hand snaked over Paku’s lap and grabbed the remote. She turned it up with a sort of cruel curiosity, like she was performing an experiment on a rat.
Chrollo, a few feet away on the stage, cried out, metal rattling as he jerked against his restraints.
“Likewise,” Hisoka said.
“How much longer?” Machi asked, propping her feet up on the table and slumping back against the couch cushions. Her gaze kept sliding from Shizuku and Paku to Chrollo.
“Few minutes, tops,” Paku said, snatching the remote from Shizuku’s hand, who immediately went onto her phone.
Hisoka spent the next five minutes casually getting to know Shizuku and Paku, who, though very different, worked well together as a duo, bouncing off each other with a practiced, married ease. As they talked, Chrollo grew progressively louder.
He came with an attractive, restrained spasm, head lolling forward, groaning like he had been punched.
The leather straps around his thighs for the spreader bar were digging in so tightly that Hisoka was amazed he hadn’t broken skin.
Paku and Shizuku watched with gleaming eyes, and at a second glance, Hisoka realized Machi was doing the same thing.
They let him sit there for a few minutes, chest heaving in the aftermath. The vibrator was still going on, clearly, because he was making these quiet, hurt sounds, hips jumping with oversensitivity.
It was Shizuku who finally put a stop to it, sliding the remote out of Paku’s hand and flicking it off. Chrollo sagged in relief, stomach rippling with each breath.
Paku and Shizuku freed him from the spreader bar and the built-in pole in tandem, working together like they had practiced. Paku peppered kisses to the high points of Chrollo’s cheeks and slowly, gingerly pulled off the blindfold, pressing his eyelids closed with her thumbs.
A robe was draped over his shoulders and sloppily tied at his waist, and then Shizuku and Paku got on either side of him and hoisted him to his feet. He stumbled at first, and then righted himself, eyes fluttering open like a newborn calf.
He had lovely eyes, eyes Hisoka would expect usually to be very clear, river-water-colored, but dark. They were hazy now, like a smoke screen had been pulled over them. He wavered in one spot, and then Paku was gently guiding him to one of the private rooms to lay down, Shizuku in merry tow.
“I should probably go, too,” Machi mused, but the way she said it was forcibly cavallier. She was practically vibrating with eagerness as she cut through the crowd, going the same way the first three had gone.
Hisoka watched her go, mildly amused, and found himself an empty seat at the bar.
In the distance, he heard the loud, slightly invigorating smack of leather against skin. Somewhere closer, someone moaned.
The club itself wasn’t as voyeuristic as he had expected. There was some pda, some couples engaging in “scenes” as Machi had referred to them as, but none were as intense as Chrollo’s, and even that seemed tame, based on the videos Hisoka had watched.
“What can I get for you?” The bartender asked. She was really, very pretty, leaned forward on the bar, a short black bob cutting a line across her cheek.
“Surprise me,” Hisoka said. The woman smiled, cheeks rounding, and then she whirled around and began to prepare a drink in a highball glass.
In the few minutes it took for the drink to be made, Machi reappeared, looking suspiciously ruffled, and a little redder.
“Sorry to leave you like that.”
“I’m a big boy.”
“Sometimes,” Machi said with a sigh, sliding into the seat next to him and slumping forward onto the sticky bar surface.
“Machi, what can I do, baby?”
“Literally anything,” Machi mumbled into her arm. “So tired.”
“Will you be offended by a Sidecar?”
“Not even a little bit.” The bartender got to work, pausing Hisoka’s drink to rim a cocktail glass with sugar.
“What’d you get?” Machi asked.
“Dunno, she’s surprising me.” Machi let out a knowing scoff.
“You know you’re here for Chrollo, right?” Yes, Hisoka did know that, but Chrollo wasn’t exactly impressing him right now, with his big doe eyes and pink cheeks.
“Yeah,” Hisoka said eventually. A drink was slid in front of him. The bartender smiled very knowingly at him, and then went back to making Machi’s cocktail.
“Don’t judge a book,” Machi said.
“I’m not judging any book,” Hisoka replied, sipping his drink and finding himself pleasantly surprised.
“Just give him a few minutes and he’ll come out and you can talk. Don’t drink too much, he doesn’t like that.”
“You’re kidding,” Hisoka said, half-incredulous.
“Nope. He’s very big about being clear-headed and all that, especially with this stuff.”
“Sounds like a drag, Machi.” Machi did a funny little laugh, like she sort of agreed with him.
“He’s unorthodox, but I really think you’d get on. Just talk to him, and then you can make your decision.”
“Hm. What are you so tired for?”
“The girls,” Machi said with a fond expression, “have just been a lot.”
“Shizuku and Paku?”
“They have better stamina than I do, in every sense.” Hisoka laughed into his drink.
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“Hm--” Machi’s phone buzzed.
“Oh, Chrollo’s at one of the private booths in the back. Come on.” Hisoka took his drink with him, ignoring Machi’s dirty look, and followed her to the back of the club, where partitioned booths were hidden behind curtains of raw silk.
Machi poked her head through one curtain and Hisoka heard a light, masculine laugh, and then Machi was holding the curtain fully open and ushering Hisoka inside.
He sat with a thump and set his drink down.
Chrollo looked a little different.
He was wearing a suit jacket over a black sweater and his hair was slightly damp. He was typing something on his phone, and with the shift of his sleeve, Hisoka could see rings of red around both wrists, but it looked like they had been soothed with lotion, kissed with red-painted lips.
“Hisoka, right?” Chrollo asked, putting his phone face down on the table.
“That’s me.”
Chrollo’s gaze drifted to Hisoka’s drink, and his mouth twitched, but he didn’t say anything about it.
“Machi’s told me you wanted to get into some scenes.”
“I’m just bored,” Hisoka said with a shrug, leaning back in the booth and staring at Chrollo through the ends of his bangs.
“Bored,” Chrollo echoed.
“Sex is boring.”
“You have a lot of sex?” Chrollo asked.
“Do you?” Hisoka shot back, smiling.
“I do okay. Why’s sex boring?”
“It’s not very challenging.” Hisoka took a sip of his drink, took note of the way Chrollo’s gaze followed his mouth.
“Is that your first drink?” Hisoka made an exasperated sound.
“Machi told me you’d--”
“I don’t want to have a conversation you won’t remember.”
“I’m three sips into my first drink,” Hisoka drawled.
Chrollo wasn’t un-charming. There was a slightly infuriating tilt to his smile, a gentleness that seemed both very genuine and disarmingly false.
“So you like to be challenged.”
“Yes,” Hisoka agreed.
“What do you do for a living?” The question was so out of left field that it almost tore a nervous laugh from Hisoka.
“Really?”
“I’m curious,” Chrollo said with a shrug. Hisoka took another, longer sip of his drink and sighed.
“Look, you’re super cute, and I can tell you’ve got a thing going on--” He gestured to Chrollo’s suit jacket, “But I just want to have some good sex, that’s all.” Hisoka’s next sip drained the glass in one go. He set it down with a little bit of bite and then leaned back into the booth and waited for Chrollo’s response.
He had his head tilted, lips pursed.
“Yeah, okay. Let’s talk about preferences.” And then he reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a little black leather book, and clicked a nice-looking pen.
It was all at once both incredibly endearing and irritating.
Hisoka leaned over the table and watched from upside-down as Chrollo made three columns on a blank page and wrote yes, no, maybe in them.
“Let’s start with things you definitely want to do.” Chrollo looked up at him, a little bored.
“I don’t think I know all the names,” Hisoka said, fishing an ice cube out of his empty glass and crunching on it.
“Okay,” Chrollo said, mouth twitching. “I’ll rattle off a list, then.”
“Off you go.”
“Impact play.”
“Sure,” Hisoka said. “Wait, that’s like spanking, isn’t it?”
“Among other things.”
“Yeah, yes,” Hisoka said, chewing his ice enthusiastically. Chrollo actually smiled and then wrote it down.
Hisoka had expected his handwriting to be sloping cursive, something a little stuffy and self-important, but it wasn’t that at all. He wrote like a very gentle father: clean, blocky letters in all capitals.
“Have you tried edging, or--”
“Okay, wait,” Hisoka said, holding out a hand. Chrollo regarded it with a mystified expression. “For no, put any human waste, including vomit. No roleplaying. No drugged sex. And I don’t like it when people whisper in my ear, it makes me itchy.”
“Okay,” Chrollo said, writing that all down. Hisoka watched him put: NO EAR WHISPERING - ITCHY?
“No tickling. Don’t know if that’s a thing, but no. And I don’t like feet.”
“Sure,” Chrollo said.
“Well--okay, put feet in the maybe column, but don’t get too excited.”
“Alright.”
“For maybe, also put lingerie and all that stuff. It’s not really my style but I’m not viciously opposed to it. And anal.”
“Anything anal, or just sex?”
That seemed to stump Hisoka. He paused, lips pursing in thought.
“Well, usually during sex, I’m the one--you know--doing the fucking.”
“Yes,” Chrollo said encouragingly.
“But I’m not scared of it or anything. I just don’t think--”
“We’ll put all of it under maybe , then,” Chrollo said, a little gentle.
“And for yes, I think I like overstimulation. I don’t know about edging but put it there anyway. I’ve only ever done it to myself accidentally, you know.”
“Right.”
“Bondage? You can put that down, too.”
“What about gags?” Chrollo asked, and the way he asked it, a little bit like he wished Hisoka was wearing one right now, made Hisoka want to laugh.
“Yeah, why not?” Chrollo wrote it down and then sighed, reclining in the booth with his arm thrown over the edge of the leather backrest.
“There’s definitely lots more to go over, but I don’t want to overwhelm you.” Hisoka bit back a scoff. “Let’s exchange numbers and I’ll send you a few other things as I think of them.”
“Okay,” Hisoka said, surprised by the quickness of all this, even though it had been at his urging.
He knew it wasn’t like dating, but he figured there would be a little bit more discussion, a little bit more of the “getting to know each other” part. But then, Hisoka had always been told he was an easy personality to get the gist of.
“It was nice meeting you,” Chrollo said seriously, holding out a hand.
“Mhm,” Hisoka replied, taking it and squeezing as hard as he could. He was taller than Chrollo was, bigger, actually, all around, which was both pleasing and a little disappointing.
“I’m going to be heading home, I’ve had a long day.” Chrollo said it with a sheepish smile.
“I bet,” Hisoka replied.
“But you’re welcome to stay. I know Machi was planning on sticking around.”
At the sound of her name, Machi poked her head through the curtain and raised both eyebrows.
“Were you outside the whole time?” Chrollo asked lightly, though his mouth was turned down at the edges.
“Yeah,” Machi said, picking at her nails. Chrollo opened his mouth and then closed it.
“Fine,” he said eventually. “I’m going home.” He bobbed his head again at Hisoka and then pocketed his black book and moved to leave. Machi dug her hand into his hair and ruffled it.
His shoulders came up and Hisoka saw his ears redden just a little.
“Bye, Chrollo.”
“Bye, Machi. Bye, Hisoka, talk to you soon.” And then he was gone, cutting across the dark labyrinth of the club, bidding pleasant farewells to people as he went.
“Can we get another drink?” Hisoka asked. Machi looked him over, eyes narrowed.
“It went okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re not getting cold feet?”
“They’re blazing hot, don’t worry.”
“Then let’s get a drink.”
Machi and Hisoka spent the rest of the evening there. Hisoka got the bartender’s number, just in case Chrollo didn’t work out, and Machi made him pay for all of their drinks.
Chrollo texted Hisoka that night with an additional, very long list of terms. Hisoka had to look half of them up, but he wasn’t daunted.
It was the last one that really got to him: would you be open to eventually doing things in public? Like at the club? Voyeurism isn’t for everyone, so I understand if the answer is no.
Hisoka had been at a loss for a response.
Eventually, he went with, i’ll let you know after we’ve fucked a few times :)
Chrollo had replied graciously, insisting that Hisoka took his time, that he was free to change his stance on anything he was comfortable with at any time.
It was overkill, Hisoka thought, but it was nice.
A weekend blew by before Hisoka got the next text.
Chrollo: would you be free to come over tomorrow night?
Hisoka: sure
Chrollo: here’s my address. Please shower before and make sure you’ve had some food to eat and some water to drink. No alcohol.
Hisoka: okay <3
Hisoka took a very thorough shower and then stood in front of the mirror and stared at himself for a few minutes.
His skin was still pink from the shower, but otherwise, he looked okay. He considered putting on makeup, but he figured it would probably rub off at some point, if things went well.
Chrollo had told him to come at seven. It was half-past six. If he left now, he’d be twenty minutes early, which would probably be inconvenient.
He got changed as quickly as possible and flew out the door.
“You’re early,” Chrollo said, skipping into the lobby of his apartment building with his hands in his pockets.
“Ah, really? Sorry.”
Chrollo looked him over, lingering on his face, on his gleeful expression. Chrollo looked freshly-showered too, hair slightly damp and pushed back. A few strands of his bangs fell over his eyes.
He was wearing slacks but no suit jacket, just a sweater.
“You look nice,” Hisoka said honestly. Chrollo looked down at himself and blinked. On anyone else, Hisoka would see it as false modesty and would nail him for it, but he had a feeling Chrollo really was surprised to be complimented.
“Thanks, so do you.”
Hisoka was wearing raw Japanese denim, of course he looked nice.
“Let’s head up.”
Hisoka followed Chrollo into the elevator and leaned back against the furthest wall, watching as Chrollo turned his phone on to check the time. He looked nervous.
“ We’re going to start very simple today,” Chrollo said, lifting his head to meet Hisoka’s gaze.
Ah, not nervous, then. Anxious.
Anxious, Hisoka figured, to get started.
“Simple?” He asked as Chrollo led him into his apartment. It was one of those newly-renovated old buildings, so it had crown molding and herringbone wood floors, but also a smart fridge and glass walls for windows.
He had an immaculate white linen couch that was sullied by a fuzzy pink and yellow cartoon blanket. Chrollo cleared his throat and folded it, and then went down the hall to presumably throw it in his linen closet.
“Would you like a glass of water?” He asked, returning from the hallway.
“I’m alright,” Hisoka said. Chrollo rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.
“Bedroom, then?”
“Yup.”
Chrollo’s bedroom was plain save for the built-in bookshelves dominating one wall. He had had bookshelves in his living room, too, scaling the walls like mold, hundreds of books shoved into teak wooden shelves.
His bedroom had lower ceilings, and by virtue, less room for books, but he had done an admirable job of compensating for this.
The shelf extended the entire length of his room, stopping at the corner where the window met the wall.
“Big reader?” Hisoka asked, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning back to get a good look.
Most of the books were thick and impressive, but there were some children’s books, too, old and painted pastel.
He had about four copies of the Quran, and about twelve copies of the bible.
Chrollo cleared his throat.
“Hm?” Hisoka asked, turning on his heel and realizing he had been totally distracted. Chrollo was standing next to his bed, fiddling with an adjustable lamp head built into his headboard.
“Hisoka, why don’t you take off your clothes and set them here,” He said, gesturing to a tufted leather armchair in the corner of the room. As Hisoka stripped, Chrollo took off his shoes and sat on the bed, leaning his weight against the pillows at the headboard.
Hisoka pulled off his sweatshirt and Chrollo nearly sighed out loud. He was handsome , even as he kneeled over and kicked off his jeans with the care of a child.
“Underwear, too?” Hisoka asked.
“Might as well,” Chrollo said simply. Hisoka shed his underwear and stood a little proudly, totally naked, his cock half-hard against his thigh.
“Come here,” Chrollo said quietly. Hisoka obliged, settling onto the bed where Chrollo had gestured. Chrollo took him by the shoulders and turned him so that he was facing away, and then pulled him back until he and Hisoka were chest to back.
For a moment, Hisoka was tense, neck straining to keep his head up, knees bent and pressed together, and then Chrollo kissed the side of his neck and hooked his ankles around Hisoka’s, dragging them apart very gently.
Like a switch had been flicked off, Hisoka relaxed, settling against Chrollo properly, his temple to Chrollo’s cheek.
“Comfortable?”
“You gonna tie me up now, or whatever?”
“Not today. I said we’d start simple, remember?”
Hisoka made an assenting sound. Chrollo leaned to the side and took a pump of lube from his bedside table.
“We’re just going to talk,” Chrollo said, warming up the lube in his hand.
“I’m good at that,” Hisoka breathed.
“Are you?” Chrollo chuckled.
“ Ah, Christ--” Chrollo wrapped his slick hand around Hisoka’s cock. He instantly swelled to full hardness, thighs relaxing apart even more, head tilting back.
“What are we gonna talk about?” Hisoka asked after a full minute, voice sounding considerably less sharp.
Chrollo rubbed his thumb over Hisoka’s slit, feeling a kiss of delight as Hisoka groaned. He pressed another kiss, wetter, a little less chaste, to his cheek.
Hisoka turned blindly and met him with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. He was a good kisser, if a little forward.
“What were you like in school?” Chrollo asked as they pulled away.
“School?” Hisoka laughed. It petered out into a sigh as Chrollo adjusted his grip.
“Mhm.”
“I did pretty terribly.”
“That’s surprising. You seem very smart.”
“My teachers really wanted me to get tested for-for ADHD or whatever. One of those things, you know.” Hisoka’s legs were spread lazily, not an ounce of self-consciousness. He was looking down at Chrollo’s hand as it moved up and down, scrutinizing, as if after all this was done, he was going to write a tidy review of Chrollo’s technique.
“Did you?”
“No,” Hisoka said with a scoff.
“Parents didn’t believe them?”
“They were foster parents. I don’t think they wanted to deal with that stuff.” Hisoka’s stomach flexed as he sighed, head lolling ever so slightly, so that Chrollo could see the lovely slope of his nose and the pout of his mouth.
“I see,” Chrollo said softly.
“But I was a bad kid,” Hisoka admitted, shrugging a little. “I was overly competitive and too energetic and I made the other kids cry all the time.”
“You were a kid,” Chrollo said into his shoulder, twisting his wrist at the same time, watching as Hisoka’s thighs clenched.
“I knew what I was doing,” Hisoka said amusedly after he gave himself a moment to recover. “I just liked causing problems. Still do.” Chrollo wanted to say, seems like a cry for attention, but this was only their first time, and he didn’t want to sour it by pointing out unflattering things about Hisoka.
“Could you move your hand faster?” Hisoka asked, a little petulant.
“No,” Chrollo replied.
“Ugh,” Hisoka said, going limp, like a dog refusing to walk on a lead. Chrollo took extra care to slow down his stroking after that, rubbing his thumb over the head, his grip as tight and hot as a vice.
Hisoka was finally starting to react to it: breathing out these tiny, honest moans, eyes closing. He was unabashed about taking pleasure in things, which was both refreshing and disarming.
Chrollo was so used to people biting back moans, screwing their eyes shut, all those little tells that said, this feels good but I don’t want you to know it.
“Hisoka,” Chrollo said suddenly as his hips kicked up, cock sliding through his hand in a slow, wet drag.
“Mhm,” Hisoka replied, and for the first time, his voice sounded distant, like he wasn’t all there.
“We didn’t talk about this explicitly at the club,” Chrollo went on, tightening his hand, watching in satisfaction as Hisoka’s stomach rippled, as his thighs clenched around nothing.
It was getting to him, slowly but surely.
“We didn’t... hn... talk about what at the club?”
“Do you like pain?”
Hisoka’s whole body jerked, a singular motion that sent heat racing through Chrollo’s stomach, hitting his groin and staying there. He picked up the pace just a little on Hisoka’s cock--incentive, he supposed, for Hisoka to keep going, to be honest with him.
“Yeah, I like it,” Hisoka whispered, to Chrollo’s complete unsurprise.
“But?” Because Chrollo also heard a but in there, tucked at the end.
“I don’t like it with everyone,” Hisoka settled on breathlessly. “Sometimes people think-- fuck, fuck go faster.” Hisoka’s whole body arched, back lifting off of Chrollo’s chest, head digging into his shoulder. He was strong, stronger than Chrollo, and he knew this, and he wielded it in cleverly subtle ways.
“Keep talking,” Chrollo said a little smugly.
“Sometimes people think they can throw their weight around, just to-- ungh --rough me up.”
“And you don’t like that,” Chrollo concluded.
“I don’t like people who think they’re better than me when they aren’t.” It was startlingly genuine for their first time together and Hisoka seemed to realize this because he fell silent after, ears flushing red, thighs twitching like he wanted to close them.
“That’s understandable,” Chrollo said softly. He wanted Hisoka to keep talking, but in his eagerness to listen to him, he had sped up his hand, and it looked like Hisoka was getting close. He was making soft, distant moans, head tipped all the way back over Chrollo’s shoulder. His mouth was nearly against Chrollo’s ear. He could hear every errant breath and sigh, every sound.
“I get it,” Chrollo went on, hand moving faster. Hisoka rolled his hips upward, dragging his cock through Chrollo’s fist with a deliberate angling. Not for the first time, Chrollo thought of what Hisoka would be like in bed if given free reign.
“You want people to earn it.”
Hisoka whimpered like he’d just been caused pain. There it is, Chrollo thought, feeling smug.
“M’gonna come,” Hisoka gasped a second later.
“Was I right?” Chrollo asked, slowing his hand, loosening his grip, watching in delight as Hisoka groaned pitifully. He tried to curl forward, in on himself, hands jumping from the bed to Chrollo’s thighs, but Chrollo held him firmly in place with an arm barred over his waist.
“Yes, yes, Christ.”
If Chrollo had been counting, that would have been Hisoka’s third time cursing that night. But, it was his first scene and Chrollo was going to go easy on him.
“Okay, good.”
Chrollo picked up the pace again, using his free hand to come under Hisoka’s chin and hold his head in place, against his own shoulder. Hisoka strained against the hold for all of two seconds, before going even limper than before.
Every breath he took came out as a moan. His hips jumped powerfully, belly roiling.
“Close, close, close,” Hisoka mumbled.
“Good, Hisoka, almost there.”
“Chrollo--” And then he came.
The aftershocks lasted longer than expected from what was basically a garden-variety handjob. His whole body kept twitching with pleasure, even as he sagged back against Chrollo, spent.
Chrollo still had his hand pressed against Hisoka’s chin; he could feel the barely-there whimpers coming from his throat.
If he reacted like this to a hand on his cock, then he would be unbelievable with everything else.
“ Jesus Christ, you’re good at that,” Hisoka panted after a minute of silence. Chrollo felt his lips twitch. Four.
“You curse a lot,” he noted, mostly to himself.
“That’s barely cursing,” Hisoka replied drowsily. He was already sinking into the bed, eyes fluttering closed, letting all of his weight drape over Chrollo.
“Don’t fall asleep on me, now,” Chrollo said softly, straining to grab the packet of baby wipes he kept on his bedside.
“Ah, I feel good.”
“You did very well,” Chrollo agreed, pulling out one wipe and running it down Hisoka’s stomach.
Hisoka flinched at the coolness of it and then relaxed once more.
“It was just a handjob.”
“Like I said, I always start simple.” Chrollo wiped the cum off Hisoka’s stomach and his own hand, before grabbing a new wipe and very gingerly running it over Hisoka’s softening cock.
Hisoka stiffened and Chollo was about to apologize before he moaned against Chrollo’s ear.
“You’re not supposed to like that,” Chrollo said chidingly, but secretly, he was very pleased. It bode well for whatever future scenes they would do.
He heard Hisoka snort.
“Am I supposed to get you off now?”
“You’re not supposed to do anything.”
“Yeah, okay, fine, but do you want me to?” Chrollo laughed, low and thrumming. Hisoka could feel it against his back.
“I don’t need to get off every time, don’t worry about it. Today was about you.” As he said it, Chrollo slid his hands up Hisoka’s limp arms, squeezing at his biceps before sliding back down.
It was a casual attempt at aftercare for what was a casual attempt at a scene. Hisoka seemed to be enjoying it, though, his head dropping to the side, soft puffs of air escaping his nose.
He had an insanely perfect nose, sloped just the right way. In fact, he was insanely perfect-looking all around, an odd hybrid of feminine and masculine features that seemed to suit him just right.
His eyes were hooded, like Paku’s, but sort of angled--cat-like--and a brilliant gold. They were half-opened now, glimmering with satisfaction.
When Machi had first told him about Hisoka, it had been done with a reluctant grimace.
“He’s--ugh, you’ll like him, I think. He’s unbearable, Chrollo, but he’s really handsome, I guess.”
“You don’t seem like you like him very much.”
“He’s like that, by design.”
That had been what piqued his interest. How could anyone be unlikeable on purpose? And then he had met him and had decided right off the bat that Machi was wrong. He didn’t necessarily like being disliked, he just liked being tested, and the people who didn’t mind that, he took to.
“Chrollo?”
Hisoka’s voice sounded hoarse, like he had fallen asleep. When Chrollo looked down and saw bleary, barely-there eyes, he realized he actually had, and the thought was sort of endearing.
“Hello,” Chrollo said.
“M’gonna get up. I don’t think you want me spending the night.”
“If you want--” But Hisoka was already dragging himself upright and sliding off the bed onto unsteady feet. He stretched, like a cat, showing off a ridiculously tapered waist, and then he stumbled to where his jacket was draped over the chair and dug through the pockets until he pulled out a small leather pouch.
“Wanna smoke?”
“Cigarettes?” Chrollo asked with a wrinkled nose.
“With these teeth?” Hisoka asked, lifting his upper lip and flashing a white smile. “No, weed.”
“Oh, no thank you,” Chrollo said very primly. Hisoka’s eyebrows shot up.
“What? Why not?”
“I don’t do drugs.”
“ Drugs, it’s weed, first of all, and we already did our sex thing. It won’t cloud your judgement if that’s what you’re scared of.”
“I’m not scared,” Chrollo said with lowered brows.
“I’ll roll one and we can share.”
They went out on the balcony, Hisoka back in his clothes and wrapped in one of Chrollo’s blankets.
Chrollo was hilarious with smoking. He held the joint very daintily between his fingers and his first drag had induced a frankly adorable round of coughing.
“You don’t do this very often, do you?”
“I told you,” Chrollo said, taking a second, ginger drag, holding it in his lungs like he had seen Hisoka do. “I don’t do drugs.” He turned to hand Hisoka the joint, but Hisoka pushed his hand back.
“Another,” Hisoka whispered. Chrollo blinked and took the end of the joint between his lips again.
Slowly, Hisoka touched the tip of his fingers to a spot just under Chrollo’s chin, and as he took a drag, Hisoka’s fingers followed.
It was a strange experience for Chrollo: his throat burning on the inside as smoke travelled down it, and his skin burning on the outside as Hisoka’s fingers left a searing trail in their wake.
Hisoka’s fingers stopped right at his chest and pressed in, into the bone. Chrollo finally forced himself to look at Hisoka, properly, and found a gleeful gaze, bursting with self-satisfaction. Chrollo wanted to smack that expression off of him, or maybe fuck it out of him, whatever came first.
“Do you feel it?” Hisoka asked, peering into Chrollo’s eyes. He was too close. Chrollo could see every errant freckle, every short, dark hair of his eyebrows.
“What is it supposed to feel like?” Chrollo asked, finally exhaling. He found himself whispering, just to account for Hisoka’s closeness.
“Slow,” Hisoka purred, “heavy. If it’s really strong, you won’t even be able to move your arms, won’t even care to blink. But this stuff isn’t that intense.”
“I feel slow,” Chrollo whispered.
“That’s good.”
“My head kind of hurts.”
“Water,” Hisoka said, sliding a glass closer to Chrollo’s limp, curled-up hand.
Chrollo drained it in one go and then sighed, slumping back into the chair with a dazed smile. For a few minutes, they sat there in companionable, post-coital silence.
“We’re gonna do this again, right?” Hisoka asked. Chrollo handed him the joint and watched him take a slow, expert drag.
“I would like to,” Chrollo said.
“And we’ll actually do stuff?” Chrollo laughed, head knocking back against the lounge chair.
“I told you. Today was just about us getting to know each other.”
“Well, you got to know me,” Hisoka grumbled. Chrollo wanted to say, well, that was the point , but he bit it back and instead reached for the joint dying between Hisoka’s fingers.
“Come back this weekend,” Chrollo said, exhaling a plume of smoke, “and I won’t go easy on you, scout’s honor.”
“This weekend…” Hisoka mused. He actually would be busy, and on top of that, a very reliable hookup of his was in town.
But then he remembered the feeling of Chrollo’s hand on his chin, holding his head in place, and he felt a shudder run through his body that wasn’t from the biting wind.
The joint spluttered out and wordlessly, Hisoka held his lighter to it.
Chrollo took a long drag, going cross-eyed to try to look at the end of the joint igniting again.
“I’ll be busy,” Hisoka settled on. Chrollo scoffed.
“Then consider it a break from the chaos.”
“Okay, this weekend.”
“This weekend.”