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Somehow, Gon had gotten Ging’s signature on a consent form to get his ear pierced.
He’d gotten it in his head that he wanted to get his ear pierced after truly noticing Kurapika’s for the first time; even though Kurapika had tried to talk him out of it and Leorio had lectured him, it was firmly planted in Gon’s head. And just like the arduous journey to find Ging, nothing deterred him once he was set on a goal.
Once Gon found out he needed a parent’s consent, he quickly set to work finding Ging again, which was much easier a second time. Once the initial chase was done, Ging dropped any pretenses. He wasn’t interested in meeting up, but he wasn’t going to dodge Gon this time either.
Killua hated to admit it, but he was caught up in Gon’s hype too. The idea of a cool new piercing was exciting to think about, and he found himself staring in the mirror, wondering where he would get it, or if he would get more than one. If Gon was going to get one in his ear, Killua was going to take it further and get something cooler than an ear piercing. But if they weren’t careful, they’d end up in a contest, and their entire bodies would end up pierced by the time they came down off the adrenaline.
That was, of course, if the piercer they chose didn’t have a way of detecting fraudulent signatures. Killua and Gon stood outside one of the many tattoo and piercing parlors in downtown York New, gathering their full courage to walk inside. It had skull and naked women decals in the front window, which made Gon pointedly look away. He was clutching his paperwork with Ging’s legitimate signature, and Killua had his paperwork with the forged signature of his father.
They chose this shop because it was one of the only ones who didn’t require their parents be present—which was obviously impossible for both of them to achieve. But this lax rule either meant the shop didn’t care much about the possibility of minors forging signatures, or they had some other means of detecting forgeries. They hoped it was the former—this place looked shadier than the others, but it wasn’t rough enough to guarantee they wouldn’t be discovered and kicked out. They didn’t want to choose one so rough that the needles wouldn’t be sterilized.
They wouldn’t have to go to these lengths if Killua had parents that were even the slightest bit understanding. He was sixteen, and he wanted a piercing. It was normal. But his parents believed strictly in keeping a professional appearance for all of their children—who would work as assassins in the public eye. Tattoos and piercings weren’t socially acceptable to many high-roller clients, so the Zoldyck children weren’t allowed any visible body alterations of any kind.
“Killua, are you sure about this?” Gon said, “what if they call the police?”
“I highly doubt—”
“Maybe we should try to ask your parents to sign it. I know they’re assholes, but maybe they won’t care? It’s just a piercing, and it’s not permanent! You can take it out.” Gon motioned with his hands as though he were standing in front of Killua’s parents, trying to win his case.
“Gon, if they won’t let my pins-and-needles brother have any tattoos or piercings, even though he can physically alter them from his body with nen, that’s proof of how strict they are.”
“Maybe he never asked?” Gon said, voice slightly hopeful.
Killua had never heard him ask or want anything like that, and he didn’t really want to think about Illumi’s preferences either way. But even if Killua thought they might let him get it done—he didn’t want to go home and hang his head asking permission for something. He was never going to be in that position again. He’d do whatever he could until he was eighteen to avoid needing them for anything. “They aren’t going to let me. Either we try this now or we’ll have to wait until I’m eighteen.”
Gon frowned at that, and touched his earlobe. He wanted this badly, in the passionate way that only Gon was capable of craving things with an ache. The thought of them having an encounter with the police was probably running through his mind—him weighing the risks against his wants. “Okay,” he said slowly, “lets—” He stopped, squinting hard at a building across the street.
By the time Killua looked over, there was nothing. Just an old tea shop. “What? What is it?”
“Hisoka.” He said, “I’m absolutely sure I just saw him.”
“Oh no.” Killua gulped, feeling his palms start to sweat. “Are you sure?”
Gon nodded firmly.
If Hisoka had ducked out of sight instead of confidently strolling over to them, that could only mean one thing. “Gon, we should go. We can come back tomorrow.”
“What’s wrong? I don’t think he’s going to bother us.”
Killua grabbed his hand, tugging insistently to get him to start moving his green boots. “Just come on.”
They scrambled onto main street, heading back toward their hotel when Gon said, “oh. I bet he’s going to tell on you. He and Illumi are friends, right?”
Killua swallowed hard, crossing the street on a green light, a car slamming to a stop and the driver laying on the horn. They had to hurry back to their hotel before Hisoka or Illumi saw which one they were staying in. The sheets of paper fluttered, unused in their hands.
That night, Killua woke to a hand with long, thin fingers gripping the hair on the back of his head roughly. It felt as though his hair was going to rip out, and as his eyes searched wildly in the dark, he had barely opened his mouth to let out a yell before he felt a needle embed itself in his neck. The muscles on his jaw slackened immediately, and it felt as though his throat might collapse any second with no control over his muscles from the neck up. His brain went hazy, as if that were a giant muscle that had gone slack too.
Illumi’s long arms cradled him with ease, and with breakneck speed they were out of the hotel room before Gon could even start to stir. Illumi was already fast, but Killua hadn’t been picked up by him in so long he hadn’t realized just how fast his brother moved. It was so taxing to keep his eyelids open when they kept wanting to fall closed.
He closed his eyes.
His eyes burst open with a start, and he gained back the use of the muscles in his head all at once. It felt like receiving an electric shock to the head without the pain—all of his muscles contracting and reacting to being revived suddenly. The needle was gone from his neck.
“Hmmm, was this the right place?” Illumi muttered to himself, cocking his hip in the dim glow of a neon sign that read ‘tattoos’ above a large mirror. “It’s so—dusty.”
He was sitting in a leather chair, the glow of the neon sign falling on the familiar decals of the parlor’s window. “What the hell was that ability?” Killua still felt a dull hum in his head, as though his muscles were creaking back to life.
Illumi turned around, a smile on his lips, as if he happened to run into Killua on a social call. “Do you like it? I modified my Needlemen technique—by trading the benefit of controlling their actions, I can control and restrict the consequence of permanent incapacitation. Essentially leaving me with an incredibly potent tranquilizing ability that lasts until I remove the needle.” He touched a finger to his lip, “or, I guess if their muscles remain limp for too long and they die.”
Great. His brother had gotten even more stupidly powerful since he last saw him. And this one gave him the ability to kidnap him anytime, anywhere, within a second. “So, if you brought me all the way back home my lungs would have collapsed before we arrived?”
“Killu, you’re sharper than that. I localized it to your head so I wouldn’t have to worry about your heart or lungs failing. I suppose I could have taken you home, but there was no point.” He sounded too chipper, as if they were having a pleasant conversation. “I wanted to see what was so great about this place to make you choose it, but it’s disgusting.”
“God, is that what this is about?” Killua had a sinking feeling that this wasn’t what this was about at all, but he couldn’t just back down. “I didn’t choose it, okay? It was the only place I could go. Happy?”
“Right.” Illumi said, his voice having suddenly gone cold and hard. He pulled out a wadded-up piece of paper from his pocket, not looking at it before tossing it at Killua. It hit Killua’s temple, bounced off, and hit the ground. He didn’t need to look at it to know what it was. “It is the only place that would let you forge Father’s signature.”
Of course he was taking this personally. He couldn’t just be upset that Killua was breaking the rules, he had to take it personally that their father’s sacred signature was forged, and that Killua would dare choose a place like this to defy them. Killua wanted to roll his eyes back into his head. “Look, there was no way Mom and Dad would have said yes—”
“You will apologize to Father.” He said, entirely ignoring Killua in favor of his mental self-flagellation. He ran a hand through his hair, long strands falling in front of his face with reckless abandon.
“Let me go and I’ll get busy right away with my letter set. I’ll write all night until I get the perfect draft.” Killua crossed his ankle on his knee, leaning back in the leather chair. His head had stopped humming, and it was a quiet night to be in his boxers in an abandoned tattoo shop with his criminally insane brother. Only in Killua’s life would something like this be taking place. He hoped Gon wouldn’t wake up and panic. The last thing Killua needed was Gon getting himself killed by storming Kukuroo Mountain in some daring rescue.
Illumi was standing over him in a moment, black hair falling on Killua’s legs. Illumi was the only person he knew that could make bending down look so unnatural and uncomfortable. Black eyes roamed over Killua’s face. “Your eyerolling, sarcasm, and flippant attitude is negatively affecting your features.”
Killua rolled his eyes, as exaggerated and hideously as he could. “I’m sorry for getting uglier. Is that what happened to Milluki—too much sarcasm?”
Illumi frowned. “Don’t speak badly of your brother.” He grabbed Killua’s chin, squeezing hard.
“Just leave me alone. I’ll run back to the hotel with my tail between my legs, and I won’t think about expressing my individuality ever again.” Killua tried to smack his hand away, but it didn’t budge. He tried to turn his head away from Illumi’s grasp, but his neck felt as weak as it had been with the needle’s effects when compared to Illumi’s strength. Part of Killua had let himself believe that being sixteen had given him some kind of advantage that he didn’t have before—that maybe they were more evenly-matched now. But Illumi would have had to have stopped improving for that, and that wasn’t likely. He was still leagues above Killua.
Illumi squeezed his chin roughly, tilting his head up so he couldn’t look away or dodge those dark eyes. “No, you won’t run.” Illumi said, the command ringing out through the empty shop. “Tell me where you wanted to get your piercing.”
“That’s not—” Killua felt like he was being tossed into an abyss every time he had to stare into these eyes—it was like they were holes that lead into the blackness that was his manipulator’s brain. Why that black place cared about anything other than swift and strict enforcement was beyond Killua’s comprehension. “It’s none of your business, but—I don’t know. I hadn’t decided. It doesn’t matter. You caught me. Game over, you won.”
Illumi let go of his chin, and Killua’s shoulders relaxed. He hadn’t known he was tensing up, but Illumi’s intensity was still too much for him. “You have been away from home far too long. You’re beginning to sound like Hisoka. It’s not a game. Not everything is a game. This is what the world does to weak-minded people.” His fingers travelled the path of Killua’s jawline and pinched an earlobe between his thumb and index. “What kind of earrings would you wear?”
“Don’t touch me.” Killua said, trying to sound assertive and failing miserably. He shifted, and the chair squeaked under him.
Illumi didn’t hear him. His fingers moved up the edge of Killua’s ear, pinching here and there on his ear as if his fingers were needles. “Orbital? Industrial? Daith?”
“What are you, some kind of amateur piercer—?” Killua couldn’t help but squirm, his bare toes curling to suppress the sharp intakes of air through his nose. No one touched his ears, not even Gon. He couldn’t stand it. It tickled. He let out a snort, feeling his face burn in embarrassment. “Stop—fuck off! Either punish me or let me go.”
Illumi removed his hand. Dread settled in Killua’s guts at the thought of having invited punishment. But just as he was bracing for some needle to be shoved into his skin again, Illumi stood up. Feeling suddenly cold, Killua pressed his knees together, exposed and cornered even though Illumi had increased the distance between them.
There was silence as Illumi walked behind him and starting rifling through things on the counter. The sounds of metal clanging reached Killua’s ears and a cold sweat prickled his skin. In this dim lighting, hearing the sounds of tools, he had to repress thoughts of their family dungeon.
The exit was less than ten feet away. He wanted to make a run for it—but Illumi was faster than him. It would undoubtedly make things worse if he tried to run.
“These needles aren’t properly stored.” Illumi said quietly, but the emptiness of the room carried his voice. “The counter is filthy.” He slammed a drawer shut, the sound echoing off the scuffed hardwood floors. “These people are the amateurs.”
Was he really bothered over the “amateur” comment? Seemingly done with rifling through the shop equipment and setup, Illumi retrieved a metal case sitting by the front door. It had a hexagram engraved on the surface, and a code lock on its seal. He set it down in front of the leather chair, quickly inputting the code with nimble fingers. Expectedly, it opened to reveal needles of all sizes snugly secured. The lining of the case was a red satin. Of course it was needles. Why wouldn’t it be?
“Okay, okay. You clearly aren’t an amateur. That’s a great—uh, collection! Very professional and organized.” Killua slid down in the chair, his bare foot landing on the cold wood floor while Illumi still had his head down. Maybe if he could just slip out while Illumi’s hair was blocking his peripheral vision, he could get enough of a head start to hide in a nightlife crowd. “I’ve learned a lesson today—”
He wondered vaguely if he would get splinters by walking barefoot on this cheap, scuffed wood before his thoughts were interrupted with the firings of sudden pain. He thought “splinters” and tried to yank his foot from the floor, but it was stuck. He was stuck to the floor, half-slumped off the leather seat, pain telling him to run, even though he couldn’t budge. His foot was on fire, pain scorching every thought before he finished thinking it. He looked down, seeing the head of a long needle sticking out from the top of his foot an inch and a half away from his big toe. Blood was running down and through his toes, dripping gently onto the wood below. He froze, afraid to move his foot and damage himself further. He felt bathed and interrogated by the neon lights as he looked to the ceiling.
“You knew that wouldn’t work.” Illumi said simply, seemingly calmed by Killua’s new injury—or that he was now pinned safely to the floor. Suddenly, there were cold fingers on the surface of his searing foot, stroking the tendons raised under his skin. “I avoided everything that could damage function. Just don’t move and you won’t tear your muscle.”
Killua had had pain worse than this before, he tried to remind himself. It wasn’t that bad. Just pull the needle out and show him that you won’t be intimidated. Instead, he founds his lips and voice uttering a small, “thank you,” and then failing him.
Illumi hadn’t harmed him like this—so swiftly, so unflinchingly—in a long time. Mostly he’d hovered around as a threat, never striking. Killua hadn’t been physically hurt by him in four years. His heart was hammering in his head more than it had any right to. His body had no right to react like this to such a minor wound. It was probably his fault—he’d gotten so cocky. He’d been mouthy, snide, and vulgar, practically daring Illumi to do something. Now he had done something.
“I know this pain is nothing for you. Just bear it. I can’t worry about you trying to run off before we’re done.” Illumi’s hand travelled to his ankle and up his leg as he slowly rose to his feet. The fingers ghosted up and disappeared after reaching his knee. There was a hand on the arm of the leather chair, a weight creaking down on it, and even though Killua had his eyes closed, he could feel Illumi leaning over him, looking him over carefully.
A few ticks of a distant wall clock passed between them.
“Killu,” he said, voice controlled and even, “I’ll pierce you. You’ll see—it will be much better than these amateurs would have done.”
He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was. Killua opened his eyes, watching the green neon glow bathe Illumi’s long black hair as it fell over him. Illumi’s eyes weren’t locked on his, but on various places on his head—ears, eyebrows, nose, mouth—as if he were imagining steel hoops and studs all over him. Was this some new, sanctioned form of torture? “But, Mom and Dad—”
“They don’t need to know.”
The pain in Killua’s foot was completely drowned in his own panic then. This wasn’t Illumi. Illumi didn’t defy or hide things from their parents. Illumi certainly didn’t break rules premeditatedly. What was happening? Where had his brother gone, and who was this unpredictable man hovering over him with a satin case of needles? All bets were off now. Anything could happen, and it was even more terrifying than knowing his foot was pinned to the floor with a needle. This wasn’t the brother he grew up with. Something was severely wrong.
The metal case lowered onto the instrument table next to the leather chair, and whatever had been on the table before all clattered to the floor. Illumi shifted through it as if he had all of the time in the world—as if they were home, having a day off together to laze about however they wanted. Killua tried to remember if he’d ever seen Illumi with this case before, as if it mattered or would prevent what was about to happen.
Killua tried to sit up a bit, the tug in his foot making his skin crawl. He tried not to think about one of his body parts being pinned to the floor with a needle. “We both know you don’t mean that. You don’t need to do this. Surely a needle through my foot is enough for one lesson, you don’t want to defy Mom and Dad anyway—”
He pulled on black latex gloves and removed a thin needle from the case. Killua felt his back stiffening. “It’s more important that you learn to follow through with your decisions. This isn’t a game. You came to get a piercing and didn’t even know what you wanted, because you’re impulsive and thoughtless. You’ve backpedaled and said you’d give up on getting a piercing at all—this shows your will is weak, and you’re unable to implement and defend your own decisions.” He leaned in close to Killua’s ear—so close Killua couldn’t see his face anymore—and lowered his voice, speaking achingly quietly, as if they weren’t alone. “Allowing you freedom was supposed to fortify your will, but you still crumble at the slightest pressure. You belong to that boy instead of to yourself.”
“That’s not—” He felt the needle hook through his lobe and back out again. There was a slight burn, but it was nothing compared to the pain in his foot. It was like a pinch. Illumi’s fingers fumbled with something metallic, and there was the sudden cold of an earring secured in his ear with a butterfly-back clip. His hand went up instinctually and fondled the earring, feeling the points of a star jutting out. It matched the design on Illumi’s case.
Illumi nudged his hand away with an elbow, “your hands aren’t clean. You’ll infect it.”
“Thank you…” he said quietly. Hopefully this would be it, and Illumi would let him go now that he’d been pierced and had followed through in this situation with grace. His foot was still bleeding and he was starting to feel lightheaded—but maybe it was just from thinking about an object pierced through his foot.
But Illumi moved to the other ear, using another needle of the same size. The familiar click of the butterfly-back came rapidly, and Killua was sure it was the same size and shape of earring as the other one. It felt as though he was being marked. But he kept quiet, knowing that more protests or asking to leave could go bad quickly.
This seemed to earn Illumi’s approval. From his pocket he pulled some bandage, and in an instant the needle was ripped from Killua’s foot. It was covered in blood, and Illumi’s black gloves glistened wet in the neon lights. The bloodied needle clanged down next to the case, Illumi kneeled, and Killua felt the sting of antiseptic—where had he pulled that from?
The bandage was tight and perfectly wrapped; Killua lifted his aching leg as if to prove to himself he wasn’t pinned to the floor anymore. Illumi grabbed his foot, and Killua wondered if he could feel the hammering pulse in his wound. The blood on the black gloves stained the white bandage with streaks of red as Illumi placed his lips on the top of his foot where the wound was.
There was the impulse to kick him, but Killua breathed in through his mouth and out through his nose. Illumi was clearly getting something much more out of this than instilling fear or teaching a lesson.
This time when Illumi trailed his fingers up Killua’s leg, the chill of the black gloves leaving smears of blood made Killua shiver. This time, Illumi didn’t stop at his knees, and Killua watched as the gloved hands got closer, and grasped onto the fabric of Killua’s boxers. Illumi’s dark eyes appeared over the horizon behind his pale knees as he tugged them slowly down Killua’s hips.
“Illumi—” his words came out strangled and pathetic, unable to stop himself from glancing over at the bloody needle that had just come out of his foot. It seemed as though this was Illumi’s tradeoff for taking the needle out of his foot. An option for exchange that he’d never had when he was younger. The fabric slipped out from under his ass, and the cool air sent ripples of gooseflesh on his legs and arms.
Maybe this wasn’t an exchange at all, and Illumi would stop, without consequences, if he shoved him away. But Killua didn’t want to consider that. His stiffening cock didn’t want his brain to tread that possibility.
Boxers off, Killua looked down to see the impressionist painting that was his body from the waist down. His half-hard dick even more with no blood on it.
Neither of them moved for a moment, their breathing filling the room like the oxygen was in limited supply. It was enough for Killua to start feeling sober about his brother jacking him off in someone’s place of business, and he grabbed the waistband of his boxers back from between them.
Illumi let the fabric go and stood up, as if that were enough to deter him, until his voice rang out, “let’s see where else we can pierce.” And pulled off his bloody gloves, replacing them with new ones.
Killua had barely began to pull his boxers up when Illumi was over him—straddling him—with another needle in hand. Boxers not fully covering him, he could feel Illumi’s clothed ass brushing against him. There was something much more aggressive and energetic in his movements than when he’d pierced Killua’s ears.
Was Illumi really trying to seduce him, or was he oblivious to this unintended consequence? Somehow Killua couldn’t imagine him intentionally seducing anyone, and especially not by sitting on their lap. But he didn’t have time to consider it for long when Illumi ran a finger across his bottom lip. Killua turned his head away, trying to look anywhere but directly at Illumi or his needles.
“Your lips are dry,” he said, pressing the side of his wrist into Killua’s chin to pin his head down. Bone pressed against bone, and Killua knew his jaw would dislocate before Illumi would give a single inch. “Don’t move or it will be crooked.”
There was something about Illumi’s body over his that made him start to sweat. He was in a blue silk shirt with embroidered, pale yellow flowers cascading down the left shoulder. It was more casual and ordinary than Killua had seen him wear in a long time—with dark grey pants hugging close to his calves and thighs. The same thighs that hovered above his mostly-nude lower half.
No. He couldn’t think about that. He was about to get his lip pierced—and who knew how many more since Illumi was particularly energetic and unhinged. He had to find a way out of this, especially now that his foot was free. “If you’re so pierce-happy and don’t care what Mom and Dad think, why don’t you have any?”
Illumi stopped at that, looking slightly taken aback. His expression was back to its old emptiness, but there was still a furnace burning somewhere in the back of his eyes. The same furnace that had been burning full-force behind Killua’s knees. “I pierce when I want, wear it for a while, and then heal it up before going on any kind of assignment.” He paused, a small smile on his lips at Killua’s bewilderment. “You’ve never seen me with any. Yes, it wouldn’t have been a very good influence if I’d allowed you to see.”
This was just like the friend rule, Killua thought bitterly. Illumi allowed to have the freedom he wanted while denying it to Killua.
“I was going to show you eventually, when you were older,” Illumi continued on, face much closer to Killua’s lips than a moment ago. Much closer than need be for a piercing. There was a faint smell of lime on his breath. He receded rapidly into the thoughts, daydreams, fantasies that he seemed so eager to get to. “You were going to come to me and ask when I’d gotten my piercing, and I’d tell you that I did it myself. And that I would do yours too.”
As if he couldn’t take it any longer, he moved his free hand into his back pocket, pulling out a small container of lip balm. Popping open the cap, he gently pressed it to Killua’s bottom lip, miming for him to press his lips together and spread it. “It would be somewhere quiet and pleasant, maybe outside, instead of in this—place.” The man who’d put on the balm on his lips suddenly evaporated, and he pressed harder on Killua’s chin to steady him. “I was waiting until you were older, but that’s gone now.” He pulled out Killua’s lip, putting the needle through much more slowly than he had the two lobe piercings. “Because you’re already worldly.”
Killua’s mouth filled with drool, the needle briefly clanging against the front of his teeth as it exited the flesh below his lip. He tasted a bit of blood, but the pain was nothing. Nothing compared to what he’d been through, or even the residual pain in his foot. The black latex fingers inserted themselves back between his teeth and held his lip out as the jewelry clicked. His tongue touched the latex, the taste and feel of it making him recoil.
Instead of withdrawing when the stud was firmly in place, Illumi ran his gloved fingers over the bottom row of Killua’s teeth. Killua’s mouth was filling with drool; he wanted to close his mouth and swallow. The smell of latex so close to his nose was starting to turn his stomach. “Your teeth did straighten out on their own, didn’t they? A retainer may have straightened them a bit more, but Mother couldn’t bear the thought.”
The corners of Killua’s teeth caught on the latex with small snaps.
Killua pushed his forearm away firmly and slowly, closing his mouth to swallow before he choked on his own spit. Both of them froze, looking at each other. Something oddly intimate hung between them, much more so than with either of Killua’s earlobes. Killua ran his tongue against the backing of the stud, feeling the jewelry move around in his swelling skin. Were his teeth crooked? He’d never noticed before. Illumi didn’t withdraw or move, still leaned in close to his face, as if he wanted to run a finger over every tooth in Killua’s mouth.
The slapping of Illumi’s gloves being ripped off filled the space between them, but neither looked down at him removing them. Illumi brought a naked hand up to his mouth again, forcing two fingers past his lips and hooking it on Killua’s lower row of teeth. There was no struggle, and Illumi’s hand brought the slight taste of the lip balm that had gotten smeared on both of them.
Killua sealed the fingers in his mouth, closing his eyes and feeling a rush in his veins from the stimulation. There was a slight pain from his new piercing being minutely moved around, and a warmth from Illumi’s thighs creeping down to his lap. The fingers crept past his teeth and pressed gently on his tongue. He instinctually created a vacuum, swallowing his spit and feeling the heat rise to his face. There was a shift, the chair squeaking as Illumi’s body lifted up off his. There was a moment of disappointment, and Killua shifted his hips in frustration before suddenly feeling Illumi’s hand on his erection.
Killua moaned behind Illumi’s hand, brain feeling hazy like the tranquilizing needle was back in his neck. His head swam with thoughts of how this happened—the kidnapping, the banter, the needle in his foot, the blood all over his legs, the piercings—how did it get to this point? How did things escalate from talk of how straight his teeth were to Illumi’s hand jerking him into a sweet oblivion?
He could barely think, let alone figure it out. It had been so long since he’d gotten any kind of stimulation, and Illumi’s grip was perfect. If there was one thing this bastard could do well it was use his hands. Killua was having a hard time not coming right then and there, the backs of his calves and thighs sticking uncomfortably to the leather chair with sweat as he shifted and thrusted up into Illumi’s hand.
“I’m—going to—” he managed to breathe out from around Illumi’s fingers, drool running down his chin from opening his mouth.
Illumi pulled his fingers from Killua’s mouth, saliva dripping down the front of Killua’s tank top and leaving dark wet marks. Killua thought for a moment that Illumi would wipe his hand off on Killua’s shirt, but instead he switched hands, gripping Killua’s erection with his wet fingers and increasing his speed.
Killua could hear the dull hum of the neon light sign as he came a second later.
Covered in his own sweat and drool, sticking to some foreign, probably filthy, leather chair in a shady tattoo shop. His brother hovering over him, cum on his hand—Killua felt dirtier than he ever had after orgasming. He’d feel guilty even if his surroundings were pristine, because there was a dirty center in him that was eating this up like a starving pervert.
Illumi slid off him, and Killua let his eyes stay closed as his brain bathed in the endorphins. There was the sound of water running, and Illumi washing off his cum in someone’s business sink. They’d never know Killua’s cum, which had been jerked out by his brother, was lodged in their drain.
Whenever he interacted with Illumi these days, their list of shared dirty secrets grew longer and longer. Suddenly he felt exhausted; he pulled up his boxers, wanting to crawl back into the hotel bed.
But Illumi’s weight was back on him again, clearly not done with him. Killua wanted to groan loudly and shove him off—or better yet, make him carry him back to the hotel bed he’d whisked him away from. This time, Illumi lifted Killua’s shirt, as if to compensate for Killua having pulled his boxers up. Oh no—he was readying to pierce again. This time lower than Killua’s lips.
“Wait a minute—”
Illumi responded by pulling on yet another pair of black gloves. Just how many did he have with him? Why was he so intense when he’d just gotten Killua off? Surely he wanted to take a second to react, gloat, taunt—
And that was when Killua noticed the unmistakable erection in Illumi’s tight grey pants. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was too concerned about himself and his own situation to have thought about Illumi reacting in such a way. But it was normal, right? It would have been weirder if he had jerked Killua off and hadn’t had any kind of reaction of that type. Illumi was just going to keep using his body as a pin cushion in order to relieve his sexual frustrations.
Killua saw his way out.
As Illumi picked up another needle, Killua grabbed the waist of Illumi’s pants, pulling him close enough to unbutton and unzip, revealing a silken pair of emerald trunks. In shock, Illumi dropped the needle back into the satin case unceremoniously.
Finally, Illumi was the one taken off-guard.
Granted, he had every reason to react that way. Killua had never touched him before. Killua had never touched any man before, save for the blind and feverish mutual touching sessions he rarely shared with Gon on hot nights when neither of them could sleep. But those didn’t require any brave initiation or eye contact by anyone. It didn’t require skill, either.
Illumi bent his head, all of his hair falling between them as Killua touched him gently through the fabric. It seemed even this much was making Illumi surrender—not only give up on his goal of piercing Killua’s torso, but also on retaining any kind of composure and control in this situation.
Killua kept touching, not knowing quite where to go from this point. Finally getting up the nerve, he tugged the fabric away from Illumi’s dick clumsily, laying eyes on it for the first time in dim lighting. Warm—really warm skin beneath his fingers. Heat was practically radiating, making Killua sweat all over again. He could only think of the heat as he continued to try to touch Illumi from the awkward angle he’d been forced into.
But after some time, it became apparent he had no idea what he was doing. His hand wasn’t as skilled as Illumi’s, and a limit had already been reached for how close his repetitive motion would get Illumi to orgasm. And he seemed to be getting impatient too, his eyes opening above his pink cheeks. Killua wanted to close his eyes—he just wanted to go back to sleep. He still had dried saliva on his chin, and his lip piercing was throbbing dully.
Illumi had enough. He brushed Killua’s hand away, grabbed him by the shoulder and the back of his shirt, and pulled him until he got up. He tried to resist—but Illumi was strong and forceful—and turned him over onto his knees.
Oh, god—what was he planning to do?
“Stop—no—wait—”
Illumi yanked the waistband of his boxers, dragging them down his ass and letting them rest in a puddle at his knees.
“Illumi, no—what are you doing—” Killua squealed, panic seeping out in his voice. His hand scrambled blindly backwards, clutching at air, trying to grab his boxers and pull them back up.
Illumi caught his hand, pushing it back to the armrest of the chair. But he didn’t stop there—curling his fingers around a needle the size of the one he’d shoved through Killua’s foot and hovering it above the top of Killua’s hand, as if threatening to pierce it straight through and pin him to the armrest. The same fate his foot had suffered.
Showing he understood, Killua squeezed the armrest with both hands, restraining himself from fighting back. He didn’t move when Illumi left briefly, returning with what he assumed was some bottle of lubricant in his hands.
Surely Illumi didn’t really plan to insert himself into—
His nose was shoved into the leather on the back of the chair, his hips raised higher, but he didn’t move his hands from the armrests. He braced himself for violation, although Illumi had never done such a thing before, it was clear that it he was worked up and refusing to back off or compromise in his needs being met. He was in rare form tonight.
But no violation—not finger or erection—came. Instead, a slick, cold sensation was between his thighs, and a heavy citrus filled his nose. Liquid soap? Illumi must have taken it from the counter, having used it when he washed his hands. It dripped down his thighs, but the cold didn’t last long as Illumi’s erection began rubbing between the flesh of his two legs. He felt Illumi’s hands on the sides of both his thighs, putting steady pressure to keep them together to create decent friction.
A heavy, shaking sigh slipped from Killua’s mouth at the realization that he was being spared the unpleasantness he’d suspected Illumi would give him. This wasn’t bad—maybe a little humiliating, but it was starting to feel nice. Warm, like a massage on his inner thighs. The citrus overpowered all smells in the room just as the increasingly insistent, rough sounds of Illumi’s body slapping against his overpowered all sounds.
He found himself moaning into the leather, shocked at himself for being so aroused again so soon, and from something like this. But tonight was a strange night, surreal and otherworldly, as if this tattoo shop was unattached to the world that held their hotel room and the sleeping Gon. In this world, there was just he and Illumi, barely brothers, only lust and a power struggle constantly coursing between them. Their shared history was soap between Killua’s bloodied thighs.
A familiar hand reached around and gave him the attention he needed without the thrusting ceasing or slowing. Rather, it seemed to be getting faster, along with the hand. Killua thought it was impossible for him to be so close again so quickly, but apparently this alternate world was to blame, because he was ready to blow in a few moments of quick, desperate stroking.
He pressed his forehead into the leather, looking down into the darkness between his legs, and he could see the head of Illumi’s dick peeking out from between his thighs with each thrust.
“Illumi,” he groaned, shuddered, and came again—even harder than the first time. He told himself it wasn’t from the sight of his brother’s dick between his thighs, but that pervert’s hunger quaked in his guts again as he rode out another amazing orgasm made possible by those slender fingers.
This seemed to tip Illumi over the edge, because he followed Killua into orgasmic bliss like they’d held hands and walked through the gates. Killua felt his black hair tickling his shoulder blades as he slumped over, his still-stiff cock resting in the haven of Killua’s warm thighs. That was great for him—but Killua’s ass was freezing, and his dick was growing cold now that Illumi was no longer holding on for dear life.
They slowly unpeeled themselves from each other, and Killua looked down in shame at the cum he’d left on the black leather seat. But something in this room had softened, as though getting Illumi to orgasm had solved the situation. No longer a reason to worry about needles through his hands and feet.
“I’ll have to get my nipples pierced another time,” Killua joked while unsticking his own thighs from each other. He never, ever wanted his nipples pierced, he decided. He never wanted another piercing in his life—he wasn’t sure if he even wanted all of the ones he had now. This was the equivalent of a parent catching their child smoking and making them finish the entire pack to teach them a lesson. Killua had to admit it was damn effective.
“Never go to another piercer but me.” Illumi said seriously, packing away his needles back into the satin case.
Killua was shocked that he said it so bluntly. Finally the truth came out in its entirety; it only took—well, all of that for it to come out fully. “Should have just said that from the start.” When Illumi shot him a glare, Killua held up his hands, quickly tacking on, “I won’t though. I promise, okay? You’re the only piercer in this world for this flesh.” Illumi kept packing up, satisfied with that response. “Although it will be a bit hard to explain to Gon. He wanted his ear pierced, and he’s not going to want to give up on it.”
Illumi made him get up as he cleaned the cum off the leather chair—just enough so no sample could be collected, not enough to respectfully disinfect. There was clearly a lot of contempt still present for the poor people who had almost gotten to pierce his little brother. And Killua was able to stand on his own two feet for the first time all night, his bandaged foot still aching dully.
Illumi must have noticed his slightly-off distribution of weight, because he picked Killua up in one motion, case in his other hand, as they walked out the door. He left it unlocked, which almost certainly wasn’t the way he’d found it.
They were back in the hotel bed in no time, Illumi pulling the covers up to his chin like Killua had been left incapable after getting needles through both of his hands. He wondered how many of his extremities Illumi would have stuck needles through to get what he wanted. He’d really be a pin cushion if he resisted as much as he’d wanted to. But he was too tired to think of that now, and his eyes closed before Illumi had gotten to say anything or leave the room.
When Killua awoke, the memories of that other world came flooding back to him. He couldn’t even remember how much he and Illumi had cleaned and how much they’d clumsily left for someone else to deal with when they opened. Clients would come, sit on that leather chair, and never know how the sweat from his thighs made him stick to it. Or how Illumi had barely cleaned up the cum. There was probably still a bloodstain on the floor from Killua’s foot, and their instruments scattered to the floor where Illumi had knocked things over resentfully.
Whatever was left, they’d discovered it by now.
“Killua!” Gon yelled as soon as he saw his eyes were open. “Killua, did you pierce my ear—oh man, this is exciting! How did I not wake up? Thank you! This is so much better than risking getting thrown out by police. But you could have done it while I was awake, you know.”
Killua’s hazy morning vision gave way to see Gon admiring his pierced left ear in the mirror. The same earring that Killua had in his ears.
“You didn’t have to rip up my permission form up either—what if I wanted to get another one done? Ging’s not going to be happy if I ask him to sign another one.”
He pressed his palms to his eyes, but couldn’t get the image of Illumi piercing Gon’s ear out of his head. He had been so offended by the very idea of Killua stepping foot into a shop that could alter his body, he had been willing to go this far. Incredible. It was impressive that Gon hadn’t woken up, but he wasn’t sure if he was impressed by Gon’s ability to sleep or Illumi’s ability to pierce.
Maybe just a little bit, there was a negative feeling brewing in Killua’s gut about Illumi having pierced someone else. He gingerly touched his two lobes and the lip piercing, feeling each point of the hexagram and thinking about Illumi’s piercer case. No one else was allowed to pierce Killua’s body.
This made them even, he supposed. He almost went to some stranger, and Illumi pierced Gon in the dead of night to keep Killua from having to make excuses.
It was way too early to be talking so much, but Gon always kept going and going when Killua didn’t feel like speaking after waking up in the mornings. “You just had to outdo me though, didn’t you? I mean, it’s fine. At least we didn’t end up competing, huh? I was a bit worried I’d walk out looking like Gittarackur if we started competing.” He laughed, having no idea how close he was treading to a ledge with dangerous waters beneath him.
Killua hoped to go back to sleep despite Gon’s motormouth running so early in the morning. He was absolutely exhausted, and wasn’t ready to answer questions about his bandaged foot or the dried dots of blood peppering his legs. He could still smell citrus soap, and realized how badly he needed a shower. He turned over stubbornly, telling himself he’d get out of bed whenever he damn well felt like it, not a minute sooner. On the nightstand was a tube of lip balm.