Chapter 1: Prologue: Pariston's Something Old, Something New
“I’m glad you came out with me to this gallery opening. I hate going into social situations like this.”
You barely registered the voice of your best friend at your side as she spoke to you. “Yeah. I hate going to these things too,” you told her with a small laugh in your voice.
“You used to come to stuff like this all the time, didn’t you? When you worked for the Hunters Association?”
Your throat tightened, and you struggled to swallow it down to respond. “Yeah. But it’s been half a year since then.”
A tingling sensation started in your fingers and you clenched them into a fist to keep your hands from shaking. It was already hard enough to keep breathing past the growing tightening of your throat. Slowly you steadied your breathing; in five seconds, hold, out five seconds. You were determined to not have a panic attack in this gallery.
The show wasn’t even particularly large. The room had only four partitions set up to divide the area and provide more art space. The artist was up and coming so the dress code had been business casual and up, but nothing like what you used to attend when you did work at the Hunters Association. Which hopefully meant that a very specific person wouldn’t come.
“I’m going to go to the other side of the gallery for a moment. I’ll meet you back over here in a bit, okay?” you told your friend. “I just need a minute to think then I’ll be much better.”
She nodded, and even though she looked a bit sad she let you go.
You felt fortunate that she understood. You hadn’t gone out a lot in the last six months and had become a shut in since your… health termination from the association. Being in public made you shake uncontrollably for a while, then it became an issue only if you were in high class areas or near the association headquarters, and now it had gotten to if you were directly triggered. No one asked you blatantly what was wrong with you, and you kept blanketing it with the excuse of still recovering from your mental break of too much work.
But it wasn’t that simple.
At the opposite end of the gallery the crowd was much thinner and you felt like you could breathe a bit better.
‘I just have to distract myself,’ you thought looking up and into the painting that you randomly had selected to distract you from your growing sense of panic.
The painting was an abstract of a spring day. The sky was blue and calming, and the dew on the flowers sparked hope. You did another round of cycle breathing as you stared at the slightly blurred landscape to ground you again.
“Pariston, these ones are especially lovely!”
The simple mentioning of his name made your blood turn into sludge in your veins. Your vision lost all color and the blue sky of the painting was suddenly dark and cloudy in front of you. Surely there was more than one human on this planet with that name. Surely.
“Hm? Oh, the landscape pieces? They do seem to be especially well done.”
You couldn’t breathe.
Your heart constricted in your chest as if a large hand was gripped tightly around it.
Suddenly it was just like back then: you couldn’t see, hear, or speak. You could feel the gag in your mouth, the straps too tight against your face and pinching the soft skin. Vision was blacked out by the blindfold secured over your eyes and the only thing that you could hear was your own heart beat pounding in the white noise. Suddenly one of the ear pieces was lifted, and a voice that was too close too suddenly spoke, “How are you feeling?”
A muffled reply was all you could muster. The gag completely rendered your words useless as you tried to beg, plead, pray.
His low chuckle tickled your ear as a hand touched your waist and you jumped at the unexpected touch. “I told you that if you let any other man touch you again that I’d break you.” His voice was warm like the sun. And in the darkness it drew you into him even though you knew you were just a moth and he intended to light you on fire.
But as you leaned back into his chest he was suddenly gone. The ear piece slapped back into place and his hand was taken from your waist. Once again you were left in the darkness. The only thing you could feel was a tear slide down your cheek as you searched for his presence again by swaying as much as you could with your hands tied above you.
As expected, you came up empty. Unable to find him in your sensory deprived hell.
If you could hear the riding crop whistling through the air towards your thighs you could have prepared, but as it slapped hard into your sensitive flesh you jerked back in shock. You screamed around the gag as it came across your back.
A hand was on your shoulder and someone was saying your name.
Your eyes snapped back into reality, sight and color returning- although very dulled. “Sorry?” you heard your voice say, though you didn’t even feel your lips move to say it.
“Ah, it is you!” the sweet warm voice filled your ears and you had to fight the urge to lean into it all over again. “What a surprise seeing you here.”
Somehow managing to keep your body from trembling into literal pieces on the ground you turned to face Pariston. His hair was even more beautiful than you remembered, and the flame in his eyes that once flickered intensely for you was still there in the warm brown. But not as bright as it had been before.
“Y-yeah. A surprise to see you too,” you managed as you took him in with hungry eyes.
“Do you know her Pariston?”
The sweet voice pulled your eyes away from Pariston’s face with a snap. A woman stood next to him in a nice dress, it was the perfect level of sophistication without trying too hard. Surely he had picked it out for her. It went too well with his suit for it to have been chosen any other way.
One look at her and you knew her voice wasn’t a ruse. This young woman was sugar. Pure, innocent, and unsuspecting.
Vaguely you heard Pariston’s voice introduce the two of you, but your mind couldn’t grasp her name. Even if you focused on it, it slipped away from you like water. His eyes were on her now, that hungry flame somehow reeled back in as he looked down at her, “We used to work together at the association.”
She looked at you with wide eyes of excitement. “Oh, I work there currently! I’m surprised we never met.”
“She left about six months ago. That was before you moved up into your position.” He was speaking for you, and like you weren’t even there. In some ways it was like nothing changed.
“I got sick,” you said suddenly which alarmed her just a bit.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said in a voice that made you feel like she genuinely meant it.
Pariston slipped a hand onto her waist and pressed his lips to her forehead in a chaste kiss. “I’m going to get us some drinks. Red or white wine?”
“Whatever you’re having!” she chirped back to him with a smile.
He grinned at her response and released her. “I’ll be right back. You two talk.”
She nodded with a tinge of pink on her cheeks and he went to walk away, but before he turned around one of the display walls he stopped and looked directly into your eyes. A slow, calculated, grin spread onto his lips. Your legs quivered feeling his hand slide down your body and to your thighs as he grinned down at you.
“Did you work with Pariston long?”
Again your eyes snapped to the woman, and when you looked back up Pariston was gone as was the illusion of his touch.
Why did he leave the two of you alone? Surely he knew that you would try to warn her. That you’d grab her and run with her. Make sure she never saw Pariston again.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” you said in an automatic response. “Sorry I… was just so surprised to see Pariston here. He doesn’t usually attend galleries this… low class.”
“I asked him to come. I was surprised he said yes.” She shifted a little with a sense of embarrassment. Part of you wanted to strangle her for bringing him into the same room as you.
Part of you wanted to strangle her for being his.
“I worked with Pariston directly for a few months. I moved into a position near him about a year ago so we spent a lot of time together.” It was true, you had only really worked with Pariston for such a short time, but he had worked his spell over you with a quick effective ease that made you sick to think about. “How long have you two been… working together?”
“Oh. I don’t work directly with him really… But we’ve been seeing each other casually for a few weeks now.” A finger found its way into her hair and twirled the strand. You felt sick.
‘Run,’ you said in your head. ‘Run now. Quit your job. Run away!’ “It seems to be going well,” you responded with a smile. But that wasn’t what you had tried to say.
She nodded with a fresh pink to her cheeks. “He’s very… understanding.”
In your head you could see Pariston gripping your thighs.
“But a bit assertive.”
He forces your legs to spread apart.
“It’s kind of exciting.”
A long finger enters into you with a thrust that is too fast and you gasp.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m just a bit tired,” you heard your voice respond and you felt like you needed to throw up. It was just like before. You couldn’t control your words or your thoughts. It was as if six months of your life hadn’t just passed with an agonizing slowness and you were back where you started.
“(Y/N), are you still recovering? That’s too bad. I had hoped you’d be back to your old self by now,” Pariston’s voice said with a heavy lace of concern as he appeared next to you with a drink offered.
‘Don’t take it!’ you screamed at yourself. ‘Throw it into his face and scream at him for what he did to you!’
The other woman took her drink to hand with a muttered thanks. You took yours robotically. “Oh yeah you got sick. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ask you so many questions.”
“I couldn’t handle the work,” you replied with a forced smile. “It just took too much out of me and I had a break down. It’s fine. I did my best.”
Pariston took his place by his new woman, a step back so even out of the corner of her eye she couldn’t see his face. Couldn’t see that he was eating up your discomfort with a dessert fork.
“I’m sorry. That sounds so hard,” she said with a sincere voice of sadness. She gripped her cup as if she didn’t know what to do with the sympathy she felt. But it was nothing compared to what you were feeling for her.
“Thank you. It’s okay. Pariston made sure I was taken care of when I was released from my position.” You screamed internally. A long and ragged scream. Why had you said that? Why had you helped paint him in a positive light? He had taken care of you because he wanted to be sure you never spoke a word against him, even as he tossed you into the garbage like a broken toy.
You sipped the wine, begging for it to be poisoned. Begging for it to end your life.
“That’s so sweet!” she looked up at him with big admiring eyes and he smiled down at her. You could see her melt.
“I always take care of the people around me,” he told her in a voice so gentle that you were amazed she didn’t fall into his arms like in a romance novel.
He brought a hand to her cheek and caressed her carefully before leaning down and kissing her gently. But as he did so he didn’t close his eyes, instead he looked directly at you. Like a predator that devoured his prey and stared down anything that would try to take it away. You stopped breathing until he finally let her go.
Her face was blazing red now. “It was nice meeting you!” she said before turning to walk away, trying to hide her embarrassment and growing excitement from a total stranger.
One more chance. You only had this one last chance to warn her. Even if Pariston heard at least you would have tried. At least you would have done something. “Nice meeting you too!”
Your heart sank.
Pariston laughed: rolling, warm, mocking. The fire that you had flown into and burned up in- literally- in full blaze in front of you again. “She’s cute isn’t she? My little ingénue.”
He didn’t even look behind himself, he just knew that she wouldn’t turn around or question his spending a few extra moments for an ex-colleague. She didn’t have the paranoia that someone would take him from her. Not yet.
In one step he closed the distance between the two of you and put a hand on the side of your face. Instinctively you leaned into it, as natural as breathing.
With a gasp you caught yourself and went to move back out of his grasp but his fingers were already in your hair, and holding tight. “You remember our agreement, right?” His voice was a scalding warning. “You promised me you’d be a good girl. And you know what will happen if you break a promise to me.”
You didn’t want to respond. You didn’t want him to have the pleasure. But his eyes closed in his cat like way of expressing happiness. Your silence had served as answer enough for him. “It really is a shame you aren’t back to your old self. I do hope that one day, you will be.”
A shiver ran through your body as fast as a strike of electricity and you couldn’t stop the soft sigh that escaped.
Then his hand was gone. As easily as he had overtaken you with his body, he just as easily took every piece of warmth it had to offer and you suddenly felt very cold. “You should get your hand looked at. You look like you might be bleeding. Please take care of yourself.” The fake concern fell from his lips so easily. And with a wave he was gone.
You watched him go, unable to look away until he was completely swallowed by the growing crowd of art lovers.
“There you are! I was getting worried,” your friend called from the crowd, coming at you from the very spot that Pariston had disappeared into. “Are you okay? It’s getting a bit crowded… (Y/N), is that blood? Hey is your hand okay?”
In a daze you looked at her finally, not quite sure if you were looking at anything before that. Her cold hands took your empty one and lifted to show that your nails were embedded into your palm. You realized you hadn’t unclenched this hand since you first started having a panic attack. The entire time your nails had been sinking into your own flesh millimeter by millimeter. A slow trickle of blood was flowing down your knuckles and had stained the hem of your dress. Lifting your fingers you finally felt the pain spread over you.
With a hazy grasp on reality you realized that the only reason you were standing was this pain. These small four focal points that had grounded the shreds of sanity that you still had in the presence of uncontrollable fear. And with the pressure finally released your grounding was lost. With a audible crash your sanity shattered all over again and the world went black.
You didn’t even feel the pain of your body hitting the ground.
Chapter 2: These Things (Pariston Hill)
Sometimes the only way to move forward, is to remember how you got to where you are.
The last thing you remember about your nights with Pariston are fresh in your mind after running into him at the gallery.
Chapter Warnings: PTSD, Sexual Edging, Bondage, Loss of time, Mental instability, Mental hospital mention, Thought of self harm (at very end)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
“I’m home!” Pariston called into the large condo as he took off his shoes at the door.
You stiffened and quieted your breathing enough to hear him move throughout his home. He had a routine he liked to keep- not that he always did, he liked to keep you on your toes. He’d take off his shoes, leave any work he brought home in his office, pour a drink while he was there, enter the bedroom and take off his suit jacket, put it on the back of the chair that was across from the bed, and sit sipping his drink.
Today he did most of the same routine, only he was in his office much longer than you expected. And you shifted on the bed so that your legs were slightly more comfortable, but no amount of squirming could ease the pain in your limbs.
When Pariston entered his bedroom he already was without his suit jacket and he had something in both hands. He sat in the chair which granted him a perfect view of your body: laid out on the bed, arms folded over one another and tied above you to the headboard, legs tied to the headboard as well in a series of knots that kept them propped up. Other than a pair of pink, lacy panties you were naked. Well, unless you counted all of the ropes.
“Did you miss me?” Pariston asked. It was hard to see him over your own body, but you could just barely see him if you lifted your head a little.
He took a sip of his drink, not looking all that convinced. “Hm. I’m not sure I believe you. My feelings are hurt.”
“I missed you so much,” you pleaded, shifting your hips.
“Good girl,” he praised. He revealed the other item he was holding to be a small remote. With a click a soft buzzing sound filled the room and you shivered as the wireless vibrator shook against your clit.
You couldn’t remember when he had put it there. Had it been there all day? Time had become hazy.
Pariston’s room was painted in eggshell and a mellow gold that made it feel open and inviting, but you had been in it too long. So, it just felt like a swirl of bright color as the sun lit it from the large windows. It was disorienting your sense of time since you weren’t sure when you had last slept.
“You’re distracted,” Pariston said in a voice that didn’t sound amused. “Do I need to try harder to keep your attention?” Another click made the vibrator enter into a pattern sequence. First the vibration was low, then it jumped to a higher level for a few seconds before lowering back down and staying low for quite sometime before going high once more.
You lifted your hips in surprise at the sudden increase in sensation, eyes blinking against your drifting thoughts that you couldn’t seem to grasp for more than a few seconds.
How many days had you been in this room?
Pariston stood up and came to the bedside to look down at you. It was easier to focus on him when he was next to you, no matter how tired your mind was.
A bead of water rolled down the outside of the glass, and he held it over your exposed stomach so the cold droplet splashed onto your skin. The cold made you squirm more as the vibrator continued its rhythm on your clit.
You barely noticed because of how much your mind was swimming, but Pariston wasn’t smiling. He was merely watching on with a half curious, half bored look. He reached out with the glass and ran the cold outside against your inner thigh and you bucked with a small groan. Your body felt hyper sensitive to every single touch.
The glass passed down your thigh, over your underwear and to your other thigh and you strained your arms in a feeble attempt to free yourself in a moment of horny insanity.
He took the glass back and sipped it as he walked away from the bed towards the door. “W-wait! Pariston, where are you going?” you asked, wishing desperately you could close your legs to push the vibrator against your body more directly.
“I’ll be back. Don’t even think about orgasming before I return,” he responded with a tone of complete seriousness.
Another click of the remote before he left dropped the toy back into a constant, low, and slow vibration. Even if he hadn’t ordered you to not cum, you never would be able to off of that low frequency. But the constant movement kept your body on high alert, unable to calm down and recover from the feelings of arousal.
You groaned as you tried once more to move your hips in some way that could help, but your limited movement was made it useless.
The door to the bedroom opened and the vibrator stopped, which together woke you up from a half sleep you had drifted into after waiting for Pariston for an hour. Or so you thought, but a look around the room gave away that it had to be much later since the sun had completely set. How long had you been conscious and waiting? How long had you been asleep?
Pariston was on the bed now, rubbing your leg with his big strong hands. He worked slowly from the thigh down to the ankle, being sure that the blood flow was going smoothly. His warm hands moved from one leg to the next, repeating his methodical message. And even though it was to keep your legs alive and as healthy as possible, just his touch made you wet again. Need and desire was all that coursed through your veins as you mumbled to him, “Pariston, please. Please touch me more.”
Usually he loved to goad you. Call you names and tease you, but he wasn’t now. He didn’t say anything as he untied the rope of one leg from the head board and moved it to the post at the end of the bed. Just as slowly and thoughtfully he did the same to the other leg.
You could actively feel yourself go mad, trying to brush against him as much as you could with your legs and he caught it with a hand. “My my. You really have become a dirty slut, haven’t you?” he asked as he slid the hand over your inner thigh and brushed against your pussy with two fingers. “You’re already wet and I have barely touched you.”
A whimper and a nod was all you could muster and Pariston slid his fingers under the pink fabric to rub your skin directly. You moaned and lifted your hips to push them deeper, wanting him to just fuck you already. Fingers, cock, mouth, anything. You had been on edge for so long.
Pariston slid one finger under the vibrator to touch your clit directly and you cried out in pleasure. Even two solid rubs had you almost coming, but he knew and took his hand back immediately.
You hated this teasing. It was consuming you and possibly driving you literally crazy. “God,” you groaned as he looked down at you, “Fuck me. Please fuck me. I’ll do anything you want me to do.”
Now finally a small smile slid onto his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He leaned over you and brushed his lips over yours so softly it was almost like he hadn’t touched you at all. “No.”
He stood up from the bed and walked towards his closet as he began undressing and you watched with hungry eyes. What you wouldn’t give for him to let you finally orgasm. You had meant it when you said anything. Mentally you were lost and you just needed a tiny piece of anything to come back from that mental break.
If only you could actually sleep, or finally cum. Something to help you regain some ground.
A wet slick sensation on your pussy made you startle. You could see Pariston’s golden hair below you and you realized he was licking you very carefully. A flick of his tongue against your opening had woken you, but he slid his tongue up your clit and then around your labia in a slow movement meant to just drag out the pain.
The room was getting brighter again. Morning light?
There was a taste in your mouth of something sweet, maybe fruit. Had you eaten?
Your arms were now tied to your torso and they still felt like they had mobility. But how could he have done that without your noticing?
“Pariston,” you gasped as he licked you again and you could feel your thighs start to tense, you were getting close to an actual orgasm.
And just before you were finally there at long last, he pulled back and you couldn’t help but to scream. “Pariston, please! I can’t take this any more!”
In vain you hoped the feeling of the cold air on your wet pussy would be enough to send you over that ledge and into some kind of ending. But that would have been too fortunate.
“You can’t? But you’ve been doing so well for the past three days. Don’t you think you can hold out for me just a little longer?” his hand brushed your forehead clear of stray hair before he kissed your forehead.
It took your exhausted mind some time to realize what he had said. “Three days? I’ve… been like this for three entire days?”
“Don’t you remember? Don’t worry you called into work sick. No one knows why you’re really out. Well, no one but me,” he muttered as he kissed your lips before standing up from the bed and going to get dressed. He had been naked save for his boxers and you hadn’t thought fast enough to see if he was hard under the loose shorts.
You took a deep breath staring up at the bed canopy trying to think. What did you need to do or say to get Pariston to finally release you from this hell? Had you upset him? You couldn’t remember.
“Come on… Don’t you want to fuck me?” you asked him, hoping to appeal to his needs to finally be free yourself.
“We can’t all be out sick from work,” he teased opening the bedroom door, fully dressed in a blue suit. But he had just headed towards the closet and his morning routine was long and very specific. Had you lost more time again?
“Don’t worry, I’ll be home after work,” he smiled big this time, the large and too friendly smile he used when he was playing an especially fun game.
You cried out his name as the bedroom door shut but he left all the same.
Somewhere in the condo a clock ticked slowly, and you watched the shadows in Pariston’s room move slowly around his room. You were left completely alone with your thoughts. Had you really been here three days? Had you eaten? Had you showered? Pariston didn’t like you to be dirty so surely you had.
Turning your head you could smell your hair and it smelled nice. Floral but not overly so. It confirmed you had indeed been bathed somehow. But you didn’t remember it.
You blinked, and your face was in the bed, hands tied individually to the headboard, hips in the air, and possibly a spreader bar on your ankles. The way your hands were tied gave them some ability to move and you put them to the bed to try and push yourself off the mattress.
You froze and looked around what of the room you could see. It took several seconds to realize Pariston was in his usual chair, positioned perfectly behind you so that he could see your ass and pussy completely open to him. It was hard to tell for certain, but you were pretty sure you were completely naked still.
“Do you think you’ve been good for me?”
“Y-Yes.” Your answer was somewhat muffled from being half buried in the mattress.
Pariston’s hand ran along one of your ass cheeks and your body trembled in need- and a bit of fear. He had just been sitting in his chair and now he was close enough to touch you. “I’m not so sure,” he said. Quickly he spanked you hard and you cried out. “You keep questioning me. Do you not trust me?”
You licked your lower lip, reveling in the pain. “Of course I trust you, Pariston.”
“Will you be a good girl for me?”
He spanked you again, even harder this time and you managed to bite back the cry. “I don’t believe you.”
Before you could reply he hit you again and you almost screamed from how hard his hand hand come down on your flesh. “I trust you! I love you! I’ll be a good girl for you! I love you so much, Pariston!” You were crying from how much you were trying to convince him, tears flowing down your face into the sheets and making the side of your face uncomfortably wet.
Finally, you felt Pariston’s cock enter into you. A wave of relief washed over you, even the pain from moments before seemed less as he slid into you but stopped half way and you wiggled in frustration. He slapped your other cheek and you stopped wiggling. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked in a frustrated tone.
You shook your head and mumbled, “No.”
He pulled out and you had to bite your lip to not start begging again or attempting to move your body. But spite your attempt to be good you felt the bed move as he left you alone on it again and you heard the door to the bathroom shut. Shortly after the water turned on.
You cried harder into the bed, sobbing as your bottom stung and your knees shook with the effort to hold your position.
When would this end? When would he finally be done toying with you?
Slowly you opened your eyes, feeling like for once you had actually woken up from rest and not a fever dream. The bed under you was uncomfortable and you sat up with your heart hammering in your chest as you quickly realized you didn’t recognize the room you were in. The plain white walls were nothing like Pariston’s eggshell and gold. Standing the stiff gown you were wearing moved around your body and you felt itchy. As you gripped your hand to your arm you noticed something on your wrist.
Strapped securely was a hospital band. It had your name and a number on it printed clearly. Anxiety crashed into you like a tsunami as you looked around the room in a panic. Bare white walls, two simple beds, no extra things in the room that weren’t needed for sleeping, the door leading into the room as flush to the wall and there was only one small window in it.
The reality of your situation made you sick and you fell to your knees, hand firmly over you mouth as you held back the desire to vomit. The asylum was coming to life around you as you cried again. This time you were quiet, pushing your eyes into your hands as you sobbed.
A mental break from too much work, you were told. They had found you in your apartment half crazy after your caring boss had called in for a welfare check. A week of not being at work was enough to make him be concerned since you were usually so dedicated and punctual. You could have hurt yourself if he hadn’t helped you.
What a good boss.
The taste of the alcohol helped you slip back into the current moment as you sat in your apartment remembering the last time you had seen Pariston Hill before today. You had moved to avoid his gaze, changed your number, and you even had changed your hair. But today at the art gallery he proved none of that mattered.
You should have left the city. Maybe even the country.
Another sip of alcohol and you were back in present day entirely. You weren’t in his room tied up for days or in the mental asylum trying to convince the people around you that you weren’t crazy.
You were in your small apartment, drinking alone, nursing your wounded hand, and thinking about how much further you could run.
Remembering everything that had happened to you made you depressed, the hope you had worked so hard to build was crashing down around you. Maybe it would be better to die than to continue to live like this.
You looked up to the kitchen island where your knife block sat.
Draining the glass you stood up and went to it.
The chopping knife was still sharp from when you had done maintenance on all of your knives before the incident. You hadn’t had the energy to cook much after everything had happened. As you drew it out you could see how sharp the blade was as it glimmered.
It would be so easy.
“What am I doing?” you asked aloud as you dropped the knife to the counter with a loud clatter.
Putting a hand to your forehead you cursed and turned around throwing the empty glass against the far wall. It shattered into a million pieces with a crash that felt loud enough to wake the world. The dark and cold depression slipped off as a burning rage over took you.
He had broken you. Kept you locked away for days as he completely ruined you. Your life was in shambles.
And now you were thinking about giving up? Letting him truly win?
You went to the window that looked out into the darkened street, your reflection barely visible in the cold surface.
This time was going to be different. You were a hunter too, and it was time that Pariston Hill knew what it felt like to be prey.
Series title inspired by band of the same name.
Chapter title referencing song of the same name.
Chapter 3: Written in Blood (Hisoka Morow)
Tired, beaten, and abandoned has only made you more determined than ever to be stronger.
Perhaps spending some time in Heaven's Arena will toughen you up, and- if lucky- provide an ally that can help you in your plan for some sweet revenge.
Warnings: PTSD flashbacks, sexual descriptions, mental manipulation, fem dom
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Heaven’s Arena was bustling as always. People coming in droves to see the fights, loud arguments about match outcomes, money exchanging hands under tables and over them. It always held a level of intimidation for most people. One had to stand strong or get run over, both in and out of the ring.
To be a hunter you had to know how to use nen, but before you hadn’t really trained it. You didn’t have a real ability. But in four months, you had finally managed to create an something special that was sure to bring Pariston to his knees.
But now it had to be tested. You had to know for sure that your long game would end up worth it. In two months, it would be the anniversary of your hospital stay. And there was nothing that would separate you from celebrating in one very detailed way.
The intercom in the locker room buzzed to life, “Ilari and Adra please report to the 190th floor, arena A.”
You took a deep breath in through your nose and out your mouth- luckily not gagging on the smell of sweat and ego- as you stood and adjusted the elaborate mask that you had been wearing during your time at Heaven’s Arena. It was a pain to keep on at all times, but it was important. If any word of you and your ability drifted back towards Swardani City, Pariston would know about it. He had his little rodent ears planted everywhere. A disguise was necessary.
A few eyes in the room blatantly followed you as you stood and left. It was hard to tell if they were cautious of you or weirded out by the mask that left only your lips exposed, the rest was am artistic display of feathers and scrolls.
To be fair you could hardly blame them. It was quite the mask.
Working your way up to the 190th floor hadn’t taken you too long, but you had suffered a few losses as you overcame some mental blocks. And as you walked onto the arena floor you still got a little… nervous? Excited? Both?
The loud roaring of the crowd would have gotten your adrenaline going if it wasn’t already coursing through your veins providing a crazy high of energy. Somehow your heart beat steady in your chest as you positioned yourself on your side. But it was hard to keep your hands from sweating as you watched your opponent walk in opposite you.
He had golden blond hair, tied back at the nape of his neck so it looked shorter when he approached. Just the color made a flame of anger well up in you, but you squeezed your hand closed to calm it down. There was no reason to lose it on this man as much as you really, really wanted to. Luckily, he was quite tan and muscular so the resemblance to your favorite rat were brief.
“This is the last battle Ilari and Adra both need to advance to the 200th floor! Will we see the quick and light Adra advance, or the methodical and strong Ilari?! Let’s find out! Begin!”
Just hearing your nickname filled you with a sense of power, and the nen that you could feel flowing over your skin became more intense as you entered a defensive stance.
As the fight began, you could feel a familiar sensation of being watched with a level of dark interest that made every hair on your body bristle. It was so distracting that you almost took Ilari’s first blow to the stomach, barely managing to catch it with your hands and brace yourself against it.
“Take your time,” you told him, brushing your hands over his in an almost flirtatious matter before pushing his arm away and quickly dodging around to deliver a heavy blow to his kidney.
Ilari looked angry, but not as if much damage had been done. The referee called out how many points had transpired but you didn’t even comprehend it as you moved away, easily dodging your opponent’s next move.
Your chest heaved with your panting breath as you stood on the edge of the ring, Ilari laying at your feet. It had taken more energy than you would have liked to admit, but he had been a very willful opponent.
“With 12 points after knockout, Adra advances to the 200th floor!” the announcer called in her excited tone. The audience went wild and you straightened to at least appear more dignified.
He hadn’t even managed to disturb your mask.
But during the entire fight you had been quite distracted. As you exited the arena you attempted to look around and find the source of that intense interest that had grown into bloodlust with each blow dodged and exchanged during the bout. But it slipped away and was gone before you even made it down the arena steps.
It shouldn’t have been that weird. People that liked to fight came to Heaven’s arena for that specific purpose. For many people money was just a bonus. But even still, that exact level of attention made your skin crawl very specifically. There was something underlying the normal ‘desire to fight’ feeling. There was something… sexual.
You knew that people looked at your body in lust, humans were just like that. There wasn’t a person around that didn’t have this problem. But they weren’t so aware of it like you were. You could feel it any time a gaze lingered a second longer than intended. Their desire radiated off of them like a heatwave. In the past you could at least constantly ignore it.
But this type of sexual desire was different. Even though the person had to have been at a great distance from you, it had been so heavy and dark that even in the middle of the arena it slipped around you like a constrictor. And now with the fight over you could feel that sexual energy directly inside of you. Now you realized that was why you were so put out, your muscles so stressed from fending off this feeling. Just brushing against that kind of high dark sexual energy made your body tremble with fear and need.
Pariston had trained you well. After every single fight, the adrenaline rush had made you wet and craving physical touch. It had been almost a personal hell to know that the reason you had to touch yourself in the shower every time was because of him.
This shower was the worst so far.
Usually you could imagine someone else, the person you had just fought or someone that you had been attracted to in the past. But not this time. That energy had been more similar to his than others you had experienced.
But now, in the shower with your back pressed against the tiles and your hand rubbing your clit with vigor you tried to think of anyone other than Pariston- and you were failing. The feeling of his marble shower wall against your back, his hands on your body, how he always made the water hotter than it needed to be.
Keeping your eyes open ruined the experience so you had to close them, but it made it too vivid. Pariston’s hand under your chin, making you face forward as he bit your neck. At first, they were almost gentle, little nibbles by your ear lobe. But as he moved toward your shoulder each bite came down with more purpose and a trail of deepening bruises would mark you for days. It made you gasp. His hand moved against your pussy with a level of force that hurt, but you needed that pain after the build-up. That sensation was what you craved as he slid three fingers into you and your legs spread to take him in.
It didn’t take long for you to cum, and after you sat on the shower floor, letting the warm water wash over you as you cursed Pariston’s name and tried not to cry.
To make matters worse: it wasn’t enough.
The sensation of your own fingers moving against you left you in want. Even after coming off your orgasm you could feel your body scream with need and craving. The feeling mixed with frustration finally crushed your resolve and warm tears streamed down your face, mixing with the shower water.
You hated Pariston so much.
In the four months of your training you had finally started to build up your abilities. But they were so specific, you needed a more direct way to test them. The arena fights had taught you some things, but a direct willing participant would tell the most. Give you the most information. Let you know just how easily you could execute your plan.
You were unable to find this perfect, willing participant. But luckily, he found you.
After two fights on the 200th floor you were informed of a request for a fight. The lady manning the desk stared at you as you held the form a bit shocked. One person had requested you before this, but even you paid enough attention to be surprised when the lady answered your innocent ‘who?’ with ‘Hisoka.’
You knew less of how Hisoka fought than you would have liked for someone with such a strong string of victories already building up. He only had one loss, and that was because he hadn’t even bothered to go.
But still, you filled out the form. Accepting Hisoka’s time and date.
The two weeks leading up to the fight were gone quickly, each day you looked at the calendar during your nen training and thought about your next step. The plan was just as important as the end game. You had learned the hard way that the preparation and lead in, was just as important as the climax.
But now waiting to walk into the arena again you suddenly remembered the dark, sexual bloodlust you had sensed before. Something inside of you warning about that feeling, calling your memory to it as the announcer introduced Hisoka. That was your cue to enter into the room, and you tried to push back that intuition that was clawing at your mind for attention.
“And on this side, we have Adra!” Again, a sense of pride and power welled up in you as you approached the steps. “She has two wins, zero losses! So far, we haven’t seen her take on someone of Hisoka’s bloody caliber. Can she survive against the Magician?”
Stepping fully into the ring to look at Hisoka you really took in his appearance. He was extravagant. His brightly colored magenta hair drew your eyes to his face, where his yellow eyes stared intensely at you. As a smile curled up the corners of his lips the feeling of bloodlust struck you, and you almost literally tripped on the last step into your place.
Immediately you recognized this feeling. The overwhelming presence that had left you in tears on your shower floor after your floor 190 match. Now it wasn’t filtered through the bodies of the crowd and instead it stood directly in front of you, and it took conscious effort not to tremble. He looked nothing like Pariston, he dressed nothing like Pariston. But that overwhelming feeling of dark desires was thick enough to choke you. The look in Hisoka’s eyes said that choking you out might very well be a viable option as he licked his upper lip and took a relaxed stance when the referee called the match to begin.
You reacted slowly, as your mind tried to get into fight mode and shake the feeling building up inside of you. As you fell into a defensive position you attempted to pep talk yourself, ‘I have to focus. I can’t get distracted.’
Hisoka hadn’t used your hesitation to take initiative. Concern started to well up that he would also be more defensive than offensive, and you’d be forced to take the first move. It had happened before, but it wasn’t preferable to you and your current style. But after another moment he must have decided something, and he pulled out a playing card from seemingly nowhere.
As soon as you saw it, your feet started to move, arcing around the arena to make hitting you with a projectile more difficult, but also to observe him from every angle. How he held his body, if there was any point that felt like an opening for a feint.
But Hisoka had his own plans of how to play. He tossed a card in your direction and you could see his pink nen attached to it. Easily you dodged the card and the nen- confused at what had been the point of that attack- but you kept moving. If you stood still you would be a prime target. Though there were tapes of the fights you could acquire, you had elected to go in blind so what Hisoka could accomplish if you stood still even for a second was a mystery.
Two more cards flew at you as Hisoka moved in a strange, but elegant dance to keep you in his line of sight for aiming. Luckily you had trained up your speed and dodging the most, so moving in a way that required him to continuously turn and disorient for just a moment was helping you to slowly dodge in a little closer before backing up again.
Finally, an opportunity presented itself and you feinted a kick to the left side of his face and allowed him to grip the leg as you slid your right hand to his back. The feeling of excitement that came off of Hisoka and resonated through your hand made you feel more awake and aware, he was enjoying dragging out the fight. “Take your time,” you commanded as Hisoka looked over his shoulder at you. His momentary confusion presented the chance for you to slip away from his grip and back up.
With any luck, the manipulation command to ‘take his time’ would help him slow down or become too sloppy in his desire to drag things out. But it affected everyone differently. Ilari had gotten too cocky and had tried to take you down in an overly drawn out battle, which even his usual methodical practice couldn’t support. That was how you had managed to out play him with a faster tactic.
But somehow you felt this would be different.
Even from the regained distance you could feel Hisoka’s excitement and bloodlust intensify. Perhaps, encouraging him to take his time had only fueled that darkness inside of him. You shivered.
The desire to fall to you knees and let Hisoka do whatever he wanted to you passed through your mind and for a brief second you struggled to realize that desire was your own. An ingrained response that had been stroked and imprinted into you over the course of six months. You couldn’t move. Your body felt frozen and even though your brain could comprehend what was happening, you couldn’t even make your mind try to get back into the fight.
He lifted his right hand, and only then did you notice the pink nen was still active and it connected the two of you. You cursed realizing that there was a strand for each leg, you had been careless. “Shrink,” he said just loud enough you could hear.
There was no way you could have really braced as the nen activated and ripped your feet out from under you. Your back hit the concrete arena hard as you lost your balance. He was dragging you towards him with the ability, watching as you were forced to come to his beckoning hand. There were too many thoughts screaming in your head all at once: excitement, fear, lust, anger, dread. You couldn’t collect yourself to react before you stopped sliding at his feet.
Hisoka was an imposing figure anyway but standing above you with his intimidating height made you breathless. “We have plenty of time to play if that is what you want,” he said with a low chuckle, releasing his nen as he did so. He brought a leg back and kicked you hard, sending you skidding across the arena again and knocking the wind out of you.
The referee and the crowd were already background noise, but now you couldn’t even hear them through the blood rushing in your ears and your mental voice panicking.
You weren’t ready for this.
You wanted to be, but you weren’t.
Your mind had been so strongly triggered that focusing and getting back on your feet felt impossible.
The rest of the fight was a blur. You had managed to stand somehow, the game of cat and mouse continued. And Hisoka had indeed taken his time. Just when you thought you had dodged his nen or managed to break it, he would show he had another card- sometimes literally- up his sleeve and trap you. He was careful not to land too many points too quickly. You had gotten in one more hit to his side, but it hadn’t been worth it. He used the opportunity to spin you and slam you to the ground on your back.
And that was the last thing you could remember of the encounter.
“Fuck,” you mumbled remembering Hisoka’s grinning face as you laid in bed, finally conscious and trying to recall what had happened to you.
How much time had passed you had no idea. When you woke up the room was incredibly dark, and you felt disoriented. As you laid in the bed recounting the fight your eyes adjusted to the little bit of light that came in from outside and you could at least see the vague furniture of the room.
Now that you had relived the encounter as much as your brain could withstand the after-fight high was sneaking into your limbs and towards your center. ‘No,’ you mentally pleaded to your body as you curled into yourself on the bed, your side throbbing with pain as you did so. ‘Fight it off. Please.’
“You’re awake already? Impressive,” a pleased voice spoke from the dark causing you to jump and sit up. Naturally, the sudden movement sent a fresh wave of pain as you scanned the dark to locate the person in the room with you.
Hisoka stood in the doorway, a glass of water in one hand casually as he leaned on the frame. “I would have thought that blow would have knocked you out a bit longer. Pity.” The level of teasing in his voice was apparent, and your center curled inward as the growing feeling of need started to build more dramatically.
You couldn’t help but to notice how good Hisoka looked standing there, his biceps highlighted in the moon glow. His earrings caught a little of the light and shone next to his neck. You imagine reaching out and touching them.
“What are you doing here?” you asked him, rising from the bed to stand in an attempt to feel less vulnerable. It helped some, but not a lot.
“Well,” he gestured with the water glass as he lazily looked around. “It would be a little weird to not be here seeing how this is my room.” On the word ‘my’ his eyes slid back to you in a predatory manner.
Many of the arena rooms looked and felt the same. It wasn’t odd that you hadn’t noticed right away. But now you felt like a total idiot.
You put a hand to your forehead amazed at yourself when you realized you were touching your own face. “My mask…”
“Oh yes. It’s out in the living room,” Hisoka responded.
Your heart picked up. “When did it come off?” you demanded looking at Hisoka and taking a step towards him.
His pupils contracted as you moved closer. “If I had known that taking off your mask was the way to get you to lose control, I might have done it sooner,” he teased with a fresh smile.
“When did it come off?” you asserted again once you were directly in front of Hisoka. You could feel his body heat as he looked down at you, water glass still in hand.
“Hmmm… I don’t remember.”
“Did it come off during our fight?”
“Before I left the arena?”
“Hisoka,” you said strongly this time as you grabbed his wrist, “Tell me when my mask came off.” Your nen rushed him quickly in your agitation, forcing a command that probably didn’t need that much energy.
“When the paramedics checked your vitals in the first aid office,” Hisoka answered. Immediately after he blinked, looking a bit taken aback. After a moment he recovered and laughed. “You’re a manipulator.”
You let go of his wrist and he offered the water out to you. In a grumpy huff you took it and sipped it, letting your anger slowly trickle out as frustration trickled in.
Months had gone into you building yourself up, being more confident in the face of men that thought they could get the best of you. And this joking magician had managed to get under your skin quickly. You just wanted to punch him or push him down and straddle him.
You took two steps back and drank more water to try and purge the last thought.
“Our fight makes more sense now,” he said as he placed a hand under his own chin while watching you.
“There is more than you know,” you replied. It was hard not to feel restless under his gaze, so you turned from him as if investigating the room.
“Oh?” The lit of interest in his voice was noticeable as he raised an eyebrow.
This is when it struck you. A test subject, a willing partner you could gauge. Hisoka’s curiosity could be fed, his desire could be stroked and manipulated.
“Are you curious?” you asked moving towards a mirror that was on the opposite wall. You sipped the water as you walked, trying to both buy some time to find the words as well as draw Hisoka further into his own interest.
“Maybe a little.”
Stopping in front of the mirror you looked at yourself. Somehow you looked put together spite how on edge you felt, and the fact you had just taken a big loss in the arena. Even though you didn’t feel totally confident in what you were trying to accomplish: your eyes looked set, firm, resolved. In the past your reflection was just a way to be sure you looked the way you wanted to on your way to work. Not something you really thought about.
Other than when you were dressing up to look nice for Pariston.
The thought filled you with rage again as you could almost see that version of you in the mirror now. She touched the lipstick on her lower lip, making sure it was lined up perfectly. The nervousness in her eyes as she turned made you sick. If you could reach back through time you would, scream at her to get away.
But you couldn’t change the past. And the phantom image in the mirror smiled and took a deep breath before turning away to meet up with Pariston, slight fear he would still find something she had missed. Finding something that wasn’t perfect.
You turned to Hisoka and smiled. That wasn’t the person you were any longer.
“Okay. I’ll tell you my ability on one condition,” you told him casually crossing your arms under your bust, holding the glass by the top to accomplish this attempt to look as confident as possible.
Hisoka stood up from the doorway and grinned back at you. It would take time to get all of his tells down but this one was easy. His form was comfortably relaxed, a hand casually on his hip as he tilted his head just ever so slightly to one side. He was intrigued. “Oh? What is the condition?”
“I will explain my ability to you, and you will let me use it on you. You seem like a man with a strong resolve. I’m dying to really try it out on someone that could put up a good struggle.” You straightened your stance, showing with your body language that you were serious, but not overly eager. You didn’t want Hisoka to go all out in a mental battle, you weren’t sure you could win even if you pushed your persuasion power to its current max level.
But you sincerely did want to test it on him. There was no way to know how effective it really was otherwise.
Luckily you had gauged his personality correctly. His eyebrows lifted just a little once more and his eyes were trained on you, unmoving. He was excited for the opportunity to take on something interesting. “Wouldn’t it be more advantageous for you to not tell me your ability?”
“Yes. But then I can’t properly test it, could I? If you know what I am going to do you can struggle against it, and I can know how effective it is.”
“Alright,” he said lifting a hand to urge you on.
You started to walk towards him, examining his every movement for any sign of change. Being cautious that he wouldn’t change his mind and wrap you up in his nen again.
When you were about three feet from him you held up the water glass and activated your hatsu. Little flecks appeared in the liquid and Hisoka tilted his head as he looked at them. “I’m actually a specialist. When I touch a person I can feel their desires. Then with manipulation I can channel my nen into them and get them to do what I want through those learned desires.” He didn’t move at all as watched you in his predatory way. But even as he looked down on you, you remained confident. It just made you feel more determined to make Hisoka bend to your level.
“The first level brings the desire forward so naturally that the target doesn’t realize that they are being manipulated. It feels like their idea,” you sat the glass of water on a nearby desk. “The second level has a possibility of alerting the target that it isn’t their idea at all. Especially if I don’t play on the desire correctly, or word the command just so.”
Slowly, you reached your right hand to the side of his face, being sure to go at a pace he wouldn’t misconstrue as an attack. You were careful just to take in a little of his desire, a warm and black curling sensation slid into your fingers and down your arm. He wanted something specific from you. “Tell me what you want to do to me.”
That had been a mistake.
“I want to let your ability grow until you can use it flawlessly. Then, I want to have a fair fight. When I win, I’ll decide if I kill you, or let you live while you watch me choose.”
You swallowed hard against a choking feeling in your throat. Hisoka wasn’t touching you, but you could feel hands all over your body. They gripped hard, burying into your muscles and threatening to tear you apart.
“I see,” Hisoka said as he touched your hand on his cheek. “You have to have a long contact for it to work.
“My ability works best when the touch is more intimate, actually,” you said with a level tone.
“Hmmm. Quite the useful ability.”
Hisoka had known the base of the ability but he hadn’t been able to stop his mouth from telling you what he had actually been thinking. That proved it worked. But the way he spoke wasn’t natural to him. You hadn’t worded the command correctly and had forced him into a level two manipulation. And now you felt your control slipping. “Try to get me to do something else,” he muttered. It felt like he was waiting for you to show weakness so he could pounce on you and rip you to shreds.
You couldn’t let that happen. You couldn’t be the prey again.
Putting an arm around him you pressed your body to his, one hand still on his cheek and you opened yourself up to take in more of his desire. A brave move in an attempt to gain the upper hand again.
But it was the worst possible move you could have made.
In your greedy haste you hadn’t protected your own mental stability, and Hisoka’s strong desire’s hit you like a tidal wave.
You lost your sense of self as inky black and purple tendrils closed in around you. Momentarily you were blind by the darkness. Hisoka’s body and hand were still tangible against your skin, but you couldn’t see him as you were sent reeling.
The sexual desires you were already combating were intensified as the need for blood and pain racked your body. You were practically salivating as your heart slammed against your chest and your hips pressed into Hisoka’s with such a strong need that you forced him backwards and onto the floor.
Only the sound of his surprise brought any of your visual sense back. He looked up at you from the floor clearly having not expected your sudden shift in attitude. You hadn’t either. How did Hisoka handle these desires every day?
You remembered him telling you to get him to do something else and feeling a high you had never felt before you straddled his legs and leaned over his body, both hands gently on his neck. “Hisoka,” you commanded, and his pupils dilated, “take my shirt off with your teeth.”
He moved with a slow precision, pushing himself off the floor with his elbows as he observed your reaction. You wondered what he saw, because you felt powerful. Even during a victory in the arena, you had never felt this way. Your skin hyper sensitive but in a pleasing manner, every shift of clothing as Hisoka slid out from under you made you feel warm. Each heart beat was steady, but you could feel it so distinctly as he put his hands on your hips and took the hem of your shirt into his mouth.
The entire time you had kept your hands on him- you didn’t need to, the order had been issued, but it felt nice to cradle his head in your hands. The idea that you could just snap his neck at a moment’s notice flitted across your mind and you grinned petting his cheek bone with your thumb.
Carefully, Hisoka lifted the shirt from your stomach and dragged it upwards. To get the garment off you had to move your hands from his face, but you didn’t want to just yet. You saw him pause as he had the same realization. Yellow eyes looked up at you, waiting with bated patience for you to make the task easier. He leaned in closer, making you lean backwards and finally you let his face go and lifted your arms.
Keeping his slow, meticulous pace, Hisoka slid your shirt over your arms and entirely off. He took the garment from his mouth and looked at it before looking back to your face. You thought about making him tell you what he was thinking, figuring out thoughts was a challenge since they didn’t always reflect in the desires you could pick up, but decided against it. Some mysteries were fun.
“Toss it,” you told him with a level tone of authority, though you weren’t touching.
He did so, and you sat back to observe him. His muscular arms caught your eye with the movement and you could feel yourself purr.
Had you ever done that before?
You untucked a leg from under you and ran it against Hisoka’s side, putting a finger to your lips in thought. “Undress.”
He took his top in both hands and ripped it apart without a thought and you were both delighted and a bit perturbed. The command had been too vague. Hisoka’s own desires to play with his toys and also get what he wanted fluxed every second, so the desire to undress and be an inch closer to his goal had been stronger in that moment. “Undress slowly,” you tried again and the tension in his arms lessened noticeably.
“You should have been more descriptive,” he teased while moving to stand.
Unlike during the fight, being under Hisoka’s form made your body practically burst into flame with excitement as you followed each movement while he removed his white pants with a teasingly slow speed. You could feel very clearly that you were wet already. Between the enjoyment of the show, taking in Hisoka’s own desires, and the fight; you were surprised you could keep things going as they were. Part of you just wanted to throw him down and ride him for hours.
But this was too much fun. Now you understood more clearly what it was like to watch someone do what you told them. It was exciting, it made you feel powerful, and you didn’t want it to end too soon.
This was a feeling you could get addicted to.
He dropped the white fabric next to him, a hand casually on his hip as he did so. Now all he wore were his earrings, and it was quite a visual feast. You followed his neck down to his strong collarbones, his chest that was taught as he shifted to look at you again. Now you really were drooling just a little as you looked at his cock and thighs.
He chuckled, and you looked back to his face as he ran a hand casually through his hair. “What?” you asked curious and not at all offended.
“You look really pleased,” he confessed.
Only by him pointing it out did you realize a satisfied smile was on your lips, one finger brushing the lower one as you devoured him with your eyes. “I am,” you said in praise and Hisoka visibly shivered. “Come here,” you told him, beckoning with one finger as you brought both of your knees up to lean backwards.
Just like in the fight, you saw a slow drag of his tongue over his lips as he knelt back down on the floor and half crawled back to you. Using your left arm for support, you touched Hisoka with your right. Dragging fingers down his neck as you traced the path your eyes had just taken. “Hisoka, tell me,” you commanded, “is my power working?”
“Yes,” he replied closing the distance, his body hovering over yours but not quite touching.
“Do you want me to use it on you?”
“Yes.” This answer had a more of a breathy sigh to it.
“Could you resist me if you didn’t want me to?”
“Only with great effort.”
So this was still around a level two for Hisoka. While he wanted this interaction, he didn’t want it so easily that the level of effect was lower. This test was indeed proving useful. You were starting to feel like you could gage the level based on how you felt when you touched him too. Of course, you could be exerting too strongly in your high desire. A level one possibly would have gotten you just as far.
“Kiss me, only if you want to,” you commanded as your finger tips touched his thigh at last.
His lips pressed into yours with such vigor that you lost your balance and smacked into the floor. Your back screamed in pain from when he had knocked you unconscious by slamming you into the arena. But it only added to your growing sinister pleasure as Hisoka’s lips smashed into yours again and again, teeth biting at them when his tongue wasn’t darting out to lick yours.
You opened yourself up to take in more of his dark desire and a fresh wave hit. It wasn’t as strong as the last time, but it helped spur you on and you found the willpower to keep the game going a bit longer right as Hisoka’s hand found your waist band. “Not yet,” you told him as placing a hand over his and he frowned.
The look he gave you as he pulled his face back could almost count as ‘pouting’. It only made you smile. You brushed your legs against the bare skin of his sides and he hummed a little enjoying it. “However you wish: take my bra off,” you commanded and he grinned again.
Hisoka pulled back and gripped your waist, sliding you to him on the floor. A rush of excitement washed over you as he slipped an arm around you and lifted so you were sitting up again. You could feel his cock push against you as he lifted you off the floor and placed you onto the chair that sat next to the desk. It was hard not to notice that even kneeling in front of you he was still so tall.
He kissed the crook of your neck, and you titled your head away so that he would have an easier time doing so while his hands rubbed your shoulders and down your back to the bra band. Nimble fingers made simple work of unclasping the garment and grasped you around your ribcage to rub his thumbs under your breasts. Again, you made no move to assist in his task as you kept your arms down by your sides and hands gripping the seat.
If he minded your lack of responsive touch, Hisoka didn’t let on as he kissed and licked his way down your chest to your cleavage. You watched as he slid one strap down to reveal one breast, nipple erect and sensitive. He licked it and gently blew making you shiver. His breath was cold on the wet skin and he cupped it in one hand before continuing to lick, nip, and roll the little bud in his mouth.
The other hand made work of getting the bra off, depositing it also to the floor. He was acting further than what you had ordered through your ability, but you didn’t mind as his free hand touched your calf, gripped tightly, and ran up to your thigh. Instinctively you spread your legs further and he took the hint to keep going all the way up to your pussy. Just before he could apply pressure you pet the top of his head and he stopped both actions to look up at you.
“Now you can take my pants off,” you told him. You didn’t use your ability this time. You were curious what he would do. Since you weren’t making him, he could ignore you and find ways to tease as retaliation.
But he didn’t. Now you were sure that Hisoka was enjoying your orders as much as you were giving them. He sat back, hooking his fingers into fabric of your pants and sliding them off as you lifted your hips to allow him to do so. You admired his restraint as he did not take off your panties.
“Good,” you praised him, taking his face into both hands again and pulling him towards you to give him a kiss of praise. He leaned into it, eating up the words as both of his hands rested on your thighs. “Do you like it when I touch you?” you asked after the kiss.
A low, sexual chuckle came from Hisoka as he closed his eyes and ran his nose over your earlobe. “That wasn’t a command.”
“No, it wasn’t,” you agreed, shifting so that you sat more towards the edge of the chair. “But do you?”
He hummed next to your ear. “Make me tell you.”
You sighed and put a hand onto his chest and pushed him back so he sat on his heels. “Brat,” you lightly scolded him. But he just grinned in response and you imagined pressing a heel into his thigh.
Running just the index finger of your right hand up his throat to his chin you tilted your head as you looked down at him. “Hisoka,” he hummed again, “Tell me if you like it when I touch you.”
“Very much,” he confessed.
“Do you like it when I praise you?” It was a softer command. But Hisoka answered with a nod. Perhaps if the wording wasn’t strong the target wasn’t obligated to respond quite so adamantly.
The next request you wanted to give, you had to word very carefully. “Hisoka, I want you to pleasure me with your mouth. If you do well I’ll touch you. If you exceed my expectations I will praise you.” Only the first sentence had been a command, the rest was just sweetening the pot. The concern had been that if you had said ‘eat’ in any fashion that would leave too many gruesome possibilities. But the wording still had to be sexy in nature to keep the flow of play.
You took your finger away from him, placing both hands on each side of you to lightly grip the chair once more. Now you were not touching him in any way, and Hisoka desired it. You felt that when you had commanded him to respond, but now you had drank in so much of his need you could feel it without the physical contact.
For the first time you saw him hesitate. It didn’t seem as if he was fighting off the ability, but you regarded him on the ground before you, curious to see how he would continue. With him kneeling his cock was in plain sight and you held back the idea to touch it just to stroke a reaction.
Since you were distracted you jumped just a little when Hisoka’s mouth met your inner thigh. Your skin felt like electricity was running under it at high voltage still, so each little movement felt stronger than you could remember such touches being. His hands moved your legs apart as his mouth moved up your thigh with small kisses and nips.
Gently, he gripped your panties and slid them off your legs. You were still riding the high of Hisoka’s desires, feeling the power of being in charge, so it was easier for you not to feel shy or tremble as he licked the spot where your leg connected to your body. All your electrified nerves screamed as his touch but you kept quiet.
He hadn’t earned the praise yet.
A slick lap at your pussy made you shake just a little and he did it once more before he pushed your legs fully open so that he could run his tongue from your entrance to your clit. He acted with practiced patience, making each slight brush against your body very purposeful.
You had been eaten out several times, but this was different. And admittedly unexpected. If anything you were expecting something fast and a bit hard, but Hisoka was being so gentle with a mellow pace that you could feel yourself becoming slowly drawn closer to the edge of the chair until you physically couldn’t move any closer.
A breathy sigh escaped your lips and Hisoka’s yellow eyes flashed up. The sigh was some kind of sign, and he picked up his pace. You felt the build up towards an orgasm so clearly you could almost touch it. You wanted to lean back, become lost in the sensation, but you liked being able to look down and watch Hisoka work. From time to time he would glance up and knowing he was watching for telling signs of approval only made everything more exciting.
Finally, you couldn’t keep up the hard ass poise as strongly and you whispered, “Hisoka, yes.” You hadn’t touched him, but by the gods you wanted to.
One finger brushed against your opening. Hisoka hadn’t been told he couldn’t, and he was still using his mouth, so you allowed it. But as he slid that finger into you and slowly curled it against your insides you couldn’t keep your hands on the side of the chair any more. One kept grip on the seat to steady you, but the other caressed the top of Hisoka’s head and he let out a ragged breath against your slick clit which made you groan.
Keeping control to drag out this game was starting to slip. You just wanted to fuck him. Push him off and finally straddle him as you had been imagining for what felt like years now.
A second finger entered into you and cried out as he moved his fingers inside of you fast. The lewd noises of your wet body being moved by his fingers made you feel a little dirty, but that was a freeing feeling. The feeling of not caring that you felt dirty, horny, greedy mixed with the rising sexual pleasure and you clutched Hisoka’s magenta hair tightly between your fingers as you finally came with a soft cry.
He pulled his face away but continued to gently stroke you inside as you rode your orgasm, vision a bit hazy as your body shuddered with the release of dopamine. You swallowed and tried to regain your senses, taking in Hisoka’s pleased grin. He slid his fingers out and you almost whimpered at the loss of his body inside yours. “Did I please you?” he asked licking the fingers.
Some part of you wanted to be embarrassed. The entire time you hadn’t once thought about Pariston, but now a small copy of his voice was in the back of your head berating you for how you had behaved like a horny whore.
You clutched the chair so tightly your fingers hurt.
“You did please me,” you said with a smile. For the first time your voice hadn’t held the same strength it had before because of that bead of doubt inside of your head. And as pleased as Hisoka looked to be praised, he had heard the turn of your tone. Something in his face fell just slightly and that was how you knew he had noticed.
Your heart picked up again as a bit of misdirected worry started to build up. If you couldn’t regain the momentum it would end. Or you’d lose the control. Or maybe Hisoka would leave. Or maybe-
Hisoka moved so quickly it had almost made you dizzy all over again, but he was suddenly between your legs and kissing your lips. One hand pushed your face into his and he bit your lip hard enough to almost draw blood before he resumed his forceful kisses. “Command me again,” he said with a pause before pushing his mouth to yours again before you could respond. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”
In his own way, he was praising you. You had been performing in a way that he was enjoying, he wanted the game to continue. Even without a fresh hit off of his dark desires and lust it made you feel energized. You didn’t know Hisoka really at all, and hadn’t seen any of his fights, but you had heard the rumors around him. How strong and bloody he was. The fact this manic man that could have killed you so easily wanted you to continue to push him and tell him what to do made you feel powerful all over again.
With your right hand on his cheek you firmly pushed Hisoka’s face away so that you could breathe and use what might be your last charge of dominant energy. “Hisoka,” his eyes flashed in a way that you had already come to know meant the command was working, “pin me to the wall and fuck me until you come.”
You were completely certain that tomorrow you wouldn’t be able to even sit up without wanting to cry, because Hisoka had responded with such intensity. Completely opposite of his slow teasing build from before: he took you into his arms, barely giving you time to wrap your limbs around him, and slammed you against the nearest wall so hard that you let out a sound of pain as your poor back was abused for the third time in a single day.
Not surprisingly, this only urged him on as he bit at your throat. The press of his hips to help pin you against the wall made it very clear that Hisoka was incredibly hard. You wondered idly if it was painful for him as his hands spread you open for him. You dug your nails into his shoulders as he rushed into you. All pretense of his teasing was gone and now he was just left with his raw, hot need. You knew you could slow him down if you wanted, but you didn’t.
No, you needed him to be like this. Fuck you so hard and fast that the demon in the back of your head would be drowned out by his groans as he slipped out of you before slamming into you again. The power behind each thrust was somewhat painful and you loved the feeling. Each bite brought a fresh ache as Hisoka covered your throat and neck in his marks. “Adra,” you shivered hearing him mutter your chosen name, “be loud for me.”
It was a request, even if he said it without pleading. He craved your praise. “Hisoka, if you stop I’ll kill you.” He groaned.
You muttered praises and threats into his ear as he buried his face in your neck and hair. When you scratched your nails down his back he brought himself into you so hard that you moaned in pleasure and pain while your spine screamed from abuse.
Even though you had orgasmed once the pleasure was more than you had anticipated, and you felt a fresh one wash over you as Hisoka moaned your name and thrust into you one last time. You could feel your insides warm with his cum and your thighs shook from the exhaustion of clinging to him while he bruised you.
His back shook under your hands and for a moment you thought he might drop you from his own sexual exhaustion. A last lone kiss pressed into your neck and he wrapped an arm under you, keeping you from being able to lower your legs to attempt to stand. You were slightly thankful that he carried you back to his bed because you couldn’t be sure you would have been able to. Your legs felt like jelly and your pelvis throbbed with the same sensation of a fresh bruise.
Hisoka collapsed on top of you, head resting on your breast. Later you would learn it was a side effect of your ability. Targets used up a lot more energy following commands than they would normally since their entire body used resources to make each request become reality. But as Hisoka laid on top of you- his weight pressing into you providing a sense of satisfaction- you didn’t really mind. It was oddly comfortable and allowed you to play with his hair while you came back slowly from your high to your normal self. Somehow spite everything that had happened his star and tear were still perfectly in place, but his hair had become a mess.
It was somewhat sexier that way.
After some time, it seemed that Hisoka had drifted into a kind of sleep, and you were starting to get drowsy yourself. As you drifted, you smiled remembering how it had sounded when he had moaned your name.
Short for Adrastia.
‘She who cannot be escaped.’
With that last thought you drifted to sleep, blissfully free in the security of that last thought.
Series title inspired by band of the same name.
Chapter title referencing song of the same name.
Chapter 4: Out of Control (Chrollo Lucilfer)
With the help of Hisoka, you have managed to test the range of your power and push your limits further. But there is always more to learn, and more ways to use an ability.
Now, on the day of your one year anniversary since you left the association, and Pariston had you committed, you are back in Swardani City. The city that is home to the association and a certain Pariston Hill. Slowly your plan advances towards your revenge, but a new ally will have to be gained for true success.
Warnings: PTSD flashbacks, sexual descriptions, mental manipulation, fem dom
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
“One large caramel macchiato!”
If someone wanted to make a lot of money fast, all they would have to do is open a coffee shop near the business square in Swardani City. The constant flow of foot traffic in and out guaranteed that the owner's child wouldn't have to take out any school loans. You’d put money down that they could all become doctors without debt.
You were staring into your coffee, fingers of your right hand relaxed against the warm ceramic, enjoying a moment of pure content serenity. The sensation of the heat stabilized your nerves while your other hand gently caressed the book, flipping a page and getting a whiff of the paper and ink smell as you did so. Each movement was so familiar that it almost made you feel completely relaxed. The smell of freshly baked goods filling your nose, the sound of the bell announcing customers, the feeling of the table under your arms, the taste of the coffee in your mouth. It was all a part of a life you knew once, something that used to make up part of your daily life.
But, you hadn't read a single word. Eyes scanned each line as if you were engaged, but there was no comprehension to it. Just an empty masquerade as you waited like a patient fisherman for the lure to bob. It all was just a part of the setting of your trap.
The city had taken you back so readily two weeks ago. It was like you had never left, nothing was different. Businesses were the same, the streets had the same smell and landmarks. Like the world had stopped and waited for you to come back. Held its breath and watched for your anticipated return.
The grocery store you used to visit once a week hadn't even reorganized their inventory.
Moving into an apartment in the same part of the city as before had been the simplest thing you had done in months. The hardest part had been filling the apartment with things. When you had left the city, you had sold off all of your possessions minus a few items that could fit into a suitcase. But now it was a chore to stock the kitchen with dishes and silverware. Creating a television set of life around you.
As you sat a bowl of fruit on the kitchen island you wondered when this had stopped being ‘normal’ for you. Would it ever feel normal again?
But there was no pain. Whereas before you had felt an ache in each muscle, ligament, and joint from basic living now you felt… nothing. The level of excitement that rose into your chest as you placed the last of the freshly washed dishes was new though. The excitement of what this was all for.
The prize that was to come.
Even coming to the coffee shop where you used to come daily had been so easy.
Why had any of this seemed so hard six months ago?
The bell on the door chimed probably for the millionth time, but this time it was different. If asked you'd never be able to explain to a non-hunter why. It was just part of having hunter senses. You could feel it in your soul when a target had come into your range. Feel it in every nerve when they nipped at the bait.
“Good morning, Mr. Hill! Your usual?”
“It isn't still morning is it? Goodness. Will this Monday ever end?”
His voice was jovial. Light hearted and warm. Sweet nectar for unsuspecting butterflies in search of nourishment to suck from, before being consumed by the carnivorous plant underneath.
Your heart picked up just a little, but you kept calm, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and artfully tilting your head to one side as you “read”. For a moment you wondered if your makeup had been perfect enough, and you had to fight the built-in urge to touch your lips and make sure that you hadn’t gotten even the slightest smear outside of your lip line.
Maybe some things were built in so deep that they hadn’t changed either.
Pariston finished his transaction at the register and began looking over a nearby painting that was marked as sold. Somehow this was the part you found the hardest. The waiting when your hunt was within sight. But you were determined to stay steadfast in your plan.
Another page turn.
For whatever reason this drew his eyes toward you at last. You could feel his gaze like a weighted blanket heavy on the shoulders, threatening to crush you if you breathed incorrectly.
He called your name and your heart pained in want. First you looked up with just your eyes, as if to be annoyed by the distraction from your reading. But upon realizing who had called you, you sat up straight and viewed him full on. It was all part of the act, but you had done it so beautifully. “Pariston! Or er… Mr. Hill… good morning.”
He smiled and lifted a hand in greeting. “Good morning. May I sit with you?” All of this was so in place with everything else that it made some part of you want to be sick, but the part of you he had trained was absolutely aching to please.
Shuffling coffee cup and book, you made room on the small café table as Pariston sat across from you. “Oh sure. If you have the time,” you responded, though he hadn’t waited for your verbal affirmation.
“I can always make a little bit of time for an old friend, right?” He asked as one large hand came across the table and rested on your own.
“Is that what we are?” You asked with a trace of obvious hurt, looking to the floor.
His hand gripped yours tightly, just shy of enough force to hurt. “Of course.”
Slowly you looked up at Pariston, allowing your power to activate through his touch. It was just a trickle, but you clearly felt his surface level desires. He was interested in your bait. He was nibbling.
You wondered if a broken toy had ever recovered and managed to not shake apart in front of him. Like you had the first time.
A long sigh escaped your lips as your thumb brushed one of his fingers before you jerked your hand away, catching yourself. That spark in his eye that had been so dim six months ago was getting brighter already. “Sorry,” you apologized. But what exactly you were apologizing for wasn't clear. Pulling your hand away? Having tenderly stroked his finger?
“It's perfectly fine,” he said sitting back with an unreadable smile.
“Here's your coffee, Mr. Hill,” a friendly male barista said as he sat a to go coffee cup on the table. “Also, we sold two paintings. Could you take this to her for us?” The barista produced an envelope for Pariston to take.
“Not a problem! I'll take it over this afternoon. She'll be thrilled,” he chirped, taking the envelope and putting into his breast pocket.
The barista nodded and as he left you looked at the large canvas that had a tag under it boldly stating “SOLD” that Pariston had been looking at earlier. “You deal in art now?”
He laughed. “After that little gallery trip I grew interested. The artist that puts her work up here is very talented and needed a patron, so I thought I would give it a shot. I'm hoping to set up her with her very own show soon. Small at first, but still.”
“And what of… your ingenui?” With the question you shyly looked back to him, breaking eye contact to look at your coffee cup before seemingly forcing your gaze back to his again.
The right corner of his lip ticked. It was almost unnoticeable. “Sadly, she moved departments and works out of the city now. So…” he sighed dramatically as he opened his hands to show them empty. “Might be why I decided to try help out. Since I am once again unattached and slightly less busy.”
You bit your lower lip, staring at him as if lost in thought before finally responding, “I see.”
Pariston’s phone rang in his pocket and he stood up with a new smile in place. One that held interest and secrets. “Duty calls. You really do seem to be back to your old self. Let me know if you have any interest… in art.”
With a sincerely pleased smile you nodded. “I promise to let you know.”
He waved goodbye and left the shop as he answered his phone. You felt that pang of want again, and as you sipped your coffee you imagined stepping on Pariston's smug face. Squashing the man who instilled such disgusting desires inside of you while simultaneously squashing the desire itself.
You wanted to ruin him so badly.
The chime of your own phone pulled you out of your pretending to read- not wanting to leave immediately after Pariston- and you opened to reveal a message.
[I believe I have someone that you will want to meet. ♡]
[Oh? What makes you think I want such a thing?]
[You said you needed resources. ◇]
[You have my attention. Where to meet?]
[I can't just give you information for free you know. ♡]
You laughed under your breath.
[Who said anything about expecting free information? Send me an address.]
You finished your coffee and stood but stopped when a thought came to you.
[And bring some rope with you.]
You stopped at a canvas that hung near the entrance to the shop. It had the same artist name as the one Pariston had been admiring. The paint on it was pained, there was no other word for it. It cried to you and absentmindedly you reached forward and touched the label that boasted the artist name, price, and the name of the piece.
The sound of your phone chiming from Hisoka responding with an address brought you out of your thoughts. Perhaps some fresh artwork was exactly what your new apartment needed, you decided.
“Hisoka, you are such a needy slut, aren’t you?”
A shaky, excited grumble came from the man, but nothing more in the way of response. The fact that he couldn’t even muster words, even though his mouth was completely free to respond, made you grin in joy.
The rope he had so dutifully brought with him was tied around his wrists and anchored to the headboard of the hotel room he had chosen The shame of the situation was you were making him kneel on the bed, so his head was bowed, and you couldn’t see his facial reactions as you ran a gloved hand down his back, lash marks glowing red against his pale flesh. The sensation of the velvet glove rubbing against the tender marks must have been too much for him to focus an answer.
“You were so talkative earlier,” you purred, as you pressed your chest to his back and wrapped your arm around him to run your naked right hand over his chest, sipping in a bit of his intoxicating desires. The familiar dark tendrils of his desires wrapped up your arms like friendly snakes and you felt refreshed. His lust for sex and pain was too tempting to not taste. Your senses felt like they literally shivered as the urge to cause him more pain made your other hand twitch against his back.
Your body was pressed so close to his that it would be far too easy to overdose on his desires if you weren’t careful. Testing with Hisoka had taught you that you could use your abilities with any of your flesh, but only after they had been initiated by your right hand. And the commands and sensations would be weaker than what you would get if you used your right hand. You had to focus your ability into contact points so as to not overdose.
Keeping your body wrapped around his so that you could continue to bring your fingers lower on his body in an agonizingly slow gesture, you egged him on further. “I thought you said you had a new playmate for me?”
Your pinky brushed against the tip of his cock that was already so hard it was standing at firm attention. He sighed and titled his hips to encourage your hand to sink just a little lower. “Not yet, Hisoka,” you chided with a laugh, “I want at least something. Give me something to praise you for.”
A low growl like noise rumbled in his chest and you wondered how much he was tempted to break the ropes and take over. But that was part of the game. Since you weren’t using your strongest power on Hisoka he was free to do what he wanted, which included not breaking free. He took in a breath, turning his head between his raised arms to grant him a peak at your face.
“Fine,” you sighed pulling away and picking up the crop once more. Shifting to the side you brought the leather down on his back with a satisfying smack and Hisoka looked to the bed again, groaning. You hit him one more time before laying down on the bed so you could look up at his face. His face was flushed, and eyes closed as he took in the various feelings of lust and pain. “You’re being very stubborn today.” Your tone was light, playful. A sign you were having fun.
A sly, arrogant smile came to Hisoka’s face as he opened his eyes to look down at you. “Maybe you just aren’t trying hard enough.”
You frowned. “I suppose that is also a possibility.” Why weren’t you more excited to hurt and push Hisoka around? After having seen Pariston again you thought you would have been much more excited to do so, but… part of you still felt off. That feeling of him lingering just behind your consciousness had returned.
His muscles were tight above you as his body heaved lightly with each anticipating breath. Just seeing him straining like this, the appearance of him being unable to move or truly react was enough to get you wet. But it wasn’t enough.
Reaching next to the bed you produced a bottle of lube. Not looking at Hisoka, you spread some onto your right hand. “There is something else I want to try today. You’ve been such a good Guinea Pig so far. Let’s experiment, shall we?” Closing the bottle, you dropped it to the floor carelessly as you moved your fingers against your palm to completely coat your hand in the slippery fluid.
With a lewd grin you looked back up to see Hisoka watching your every move with blatant curiosity. His own excitement at being played with betrayed his usual air of confidence as a hungry need to be dominated displayed plainly on his face.
With a single finger you ran a slippery tip around his cock and you could see his breath catch. His skin was a bright pink under your touch, so hard it had to be painful. Starting at the tip you rubbed your forefinger and thumb slowly down his length, pressing your thumb against the underside with extra stress. Hisoka’s head lifted as much as he was able, each of his muscles tightening with strain. “Don’t cum yet. I haven’t started,” you said from your much more comfortable laying position on the bed.
“I can take your desires, feel them,” now you gripped his dick with your entire hand and began to pump it along him. “But… can you feel mine?” you asked as you altered the amount of pressure each finger applied while continuously moving. Focusing on your surface level desire, absolute need for the information Hisoka was promising you imagined it flowing from your hand into his skin. Your desire to take Pariston down. To make him scream.
Hisoka hollered, eyes shut tight once more as his hips rocked against your hand. “Do you feel my desires, Hisoka?” you asked.
“Y-yes,” he managed shakily, body practically shivering under your touch.
“So it does work. Fascinating.” Hisoka mumbled something, and you shifted so you were half under him now and looking up at him would be easier while your hand worked. “What did you say?” As you asked you released him, pre-cum already coating his tip.
“Chrollo,” he said with a gulp of air.
“Chrollo?” you parroted, not following him. “This is the name of the person you think will be of use to me?”
His eyelids slowly slid open, amber eyes staring down at you completely clouded in desire. You had left him so close to a climax. “He leads the Phantom Troupe.”
Your heart clenched in your chest, eyes wide at his words. “They’re real?”
Your shock gave Hisoka a place to stand on high and mighty once again, and that arrogant grin came back. “Very much so.”
The pitch-black spider on Hisoka’s back had been impossible to ignore when you had tied him to the bed. It had seemed familiar in the way a vague bedtime story brought up memories you didn’t exactly have. The possibilities of this revelation washed over you and you gently cupped Hisoka’s dick once more. “You can help me meet Chrollo?”
Just the feeling of your touch was enough to warrant another noise of pleasure as Hisoka nodded. “Easily.”
Now you felt true excitement again. Gripping his dick you moved slowly, staring into Hisoka’s face with a cat like pleasure. “Good boy, Hisoka.”
His eyes managed to stay open this time and you watched his face relax in pleasure as you quickened the pace. Again, his hips moved in time with your hand and you squeezed him tightly picking up the pace.
It wasn’t long before he came, long white ribbons rushing free as Hisoka moaned with his orgasm above you. Admittedly, you hadn’t thought about your position when you had laid beneath him to watch, and his cum landed on your chest in warm pools. You sighed, releasing his flaccid dick to look at your hand covered in lube and cum. “I suppose I should have expected this. Look you made a mess of me.”
“I can do worse than that,” Hisoka laughed, already a hungry look growing in his eyes.
Your body clenched at his words, and you contemplated waiting for Hisoka to be ready for another round of games. But time was ticking. This wasn’t really a time to be fucking around.
Sliding out from under him you wiped your hand onto the bed before untying Hisoka’s hands. “If this Chrollo is as useful as you claim, maybe you will get the chance.” Your words held a teasing promise that Hisoka was quick to react to.
Once his hands were free he sat up and wrapped his arms around your body. “Or maybe I’ll just take my chance now.”
“But that won’t be as fun,” you pointed out brushing your chest against his so as to smear his own mess back onto him. “Will it?”
He thought about this, bright eyes eating up the view of you in just a bra and panties, covered in his cum. “How about a compromise?” you asked leaning your face close to his, “come clean me off in the shower.” One of his eyebrows raised as you kissed him, running your right hand over his bicep to feed your desire into him again.
As you pulled away his arms somewhat reluctantly released you and you slipped off the bed towards the bathroom. “I suppose a compromise will have to do,” he responded behind you. You only laughed in response.
Hisoka had been good to his word and set up a meeting with Chrollo that same day. He might have already done so before the fun time in the hotel, it was hard to be sure. But either way, that evening you met Hisoka on the edge of town so he could lead you to the elusive leader of the Phantom Troupe.
Out of the city you had been cautious, but now you were downright paranoid. Pariston had a lot of enemies, but he still had supporters. Each time you left a building you went first to a logical place for you to visit, a store, home, anything that could be considered in the norm. And then you had to slip away from that building, using all of your nen training to be sure you weren’t being tracked or followed.
Even if you were sure you weren’t being followed you took long, complicated routes to where you were going. It was a bit annoying, but you knew it would be worth it.
In your bag you had a mask with you, uncertain if you should bother putting it on at this juncture or not when you met Chrollo. He might not trust someone he couldn’t see the face of. And the odds of him reporting back to Pariston of all people was dirt low. But it made you feel better to have it with you.
Hisoka was patiently waiting for you at the agreed upon place just outside of town, playing with his cards as he tended to do. “You really did take your time,” he commented, putting his cards away when he saw you.
“I try not to be sloppy,” you joked, earning a smirk from the magician as he began to lead you down the road.
The walk was long, but pleasant. As the sun sank the insects started to buzz and chirp their mating songs. The air was cooling off with each inch of sunlight lost, but the growing chill didn’t make you uncomfortable. The slight nip of chill always made you feel more alive, and even this meager amount helped you feel more awake and alert.
So far it hadn’t felt like you were being followed or watched, and Hisoka saying nothing helped you to feel more secure in that. Even if he didn’t have a chip in your game with Pariston, it served his personal interest to help you for the moment. That was as much guarantee as you could ask for from the man.
As if hearing your thoughts, he spoke, “We’re entering their territory.”
Almost immediately after he spoke you could feel eyes on you, watching your approach. If Pariston’s gaze earlier in the day had been a weighted blanket, this feeling was a heavy mutter. You could feel it because you had been working so hard to sense such things, and even then it was hard to catch. They were better than you.
It took a few more blocks, but finally Hisoka stopped outside of an old home. What had once been a finely painted home with ornate handrails, was now a looming dark presence of peeling paint and darkened windows. Yet even now, a shadow of its former glory, it was beautiful. Even if the style was a bit outdated.
Some part of you realized Pariston would hate it. This old, dirty house. He had always been one in favor of modernism. Despite the fact that he had managed to intrude on your mind again, the realization made you smile.
“Go on in,” Hisoka instructed, gesturing with one arm across his body in his usual theatrical way.
Without reacting to Hisoka, you walked past him, feeling the eyes that had been watching you slip away. Either they were on the move, or they didn’t feel the need to continue observing once you were close enough to the house. It didn’t really matter to you anyway. Boldly you opened the door to the house and entered, Hisoka following in after you and shutting the door firmly behind.
The inside of the house was much the same as the outside, wallpaper that had been decorated with a pattern of scroll work was peeling and had lost color with time. Carpet that had been plush and loved now full of dirt and grime. A spider ran across the door frame to your right and out of sight, fearfully escaping the presence of humans. “If I didn’t know better Hisoka I’d think this was all a set up,” you mused as you moved down the hall on instinct.
“It’s a good thing you know better.” His tone had been his usual teasing one, and you couldn’t help a quiet laugh.
A broken set of stairs spiraled up to the second floor, but you took a right into a sitting room instead of going up, again purely moving on some sort of intuition. The sitting room had red wallpaper, and even with its age you could still get a sense of the deep burgundy it had once been. It probably had complimented the dark hard wood of the house beautifully.
But none of that mattered as your eyes landed on a figure sitting behind the abused desk. A candle lit his features as he read a book, the title obscured due to the shadow. You stared at him a moment, admiring his beauty. His aura was that of someone that should provoke caution, much like Hisoka, and yet you felt curiosity as you noticed a cross like tattoo on his forehead, perfectly displayed since his hair was slicked back away from his face.
So far everyone you had met on this revenge war path was extra as hell, but you were kind of enjoying that fact. They were all so different from Pariston’s perfect suits and well-maintained environments. Maybe that type of insanity had been part of the draw of the hunter’s association when you had joined years ago.
Maybe you had just forgotten.
“Chrollo, I presume?” you asked, not waiting for some sign from the man to speak.
He looked up from his book, face passive and showing no sign of displeasure of the interruption. “You presume correctly,” he replied, straightening his back in the chair. “And you must be Adra.”
You nodded taking a few steps closer to the desk, enough for the candle to help illuminate your outline. You weren’t sure if he could clearly see your face, but you weren’t yet in a rush to make it more apparent to him. “I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You meant it sincerely. If this really was the leader of the famous Phantom Troupe you were coming into contact with a ghost. The pleased tone of your voice seemed to come across as intended because a faint, enigmatic smile appeared. “I was led to believe that you might be interested in a business deal.”
The book shut with a soft snap and long graceful fingers placed it upon the dusty desktop. “I’m not so sure that you will have something of equal value to offer. Although, Hisoka informed me you used to work for the Hunters’ Association.”
With a chuckle you spread your hands open in front of you, and immediately dropped them. Pariston had done that same action at you today. “I have no love for the association. My information is yours.”
Chrollo sat back in the chair, a creaking sound coming from the wood in protest as he rested his face on his hand while watching your every move. The way the warm candle light flickered across his face made shadows dance around his eyes, it was almost entrancing the way he looked. “I’ll need a way to verify your information.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it viable.”
“You seem eager.”
“I have a specific goal in mind, and I will stop at nothing to see it complete.”
This retort made Chrollo fall silent, his dark eyes moving from you to Hisoka behind you. If Hisoka made some gesture, you had no idea. He made no sound if he had done so. “Would you go as far as to kill for what you want?” As he asked his eyes slid back to you and away from Hisoka.
Counting to five you breathed in, held for two seconds, and released. Confidently, you took another step towards the desk but stopped as a gun was suddenly aimed at your temple from your left. With a roll of your eyes you lifted your hands to the sides of your head. “You can search me for weapons if you want. But I’m not here to fight.”
“It’s okay,” Chrollo said, and the gun slowly lowered, silver flashing in the candle light as it was dropped back to the person’s side.
You chanced a quick glance at the person who had threatened you, only seeing that it was a woman with blonde hair. “Thank you,” you stated, as your gaze slipped back to her boss. Even you weren’t sure if you were saying it to her or to Chrollo, but it didn’t really matter.
The high stakes were already starting to make the familiar swirl of desire build inside of you. A line of lust already starting to run through the back of your mind. While it wouldn’t be noticeable on the outside, you still tried to push it to the back of your mind so you could focus.
With another two steps you were within the glowing pool of light the candle provided, the warm yellow lighting your face completely. Chrollo hadn’t looked away from your approaching shadow the entire time, so now that he had a clear view of you, he looked directly at your face, taking in the details. “I’m willing to do whatever necessary to get what I want,” you finally responded.
“Your help can make my plan a secured success, but even if you turned me down I would still find a way. I know the rumors and reputation your troupe has. If you want something, you take it. So I am sure you can understand the weight of my resolve.”
“I do,” Chrollo responded, his hand falling to the arm of the chair. He thought in silence for a moment before leaning forward and snuffing out the candle on the desk. The loss of the light made the room especially dark while your eyes adjusted. “Pakunoda, would you please?”
As the room came back into focus you clearly saw the tall blonde woman approach you from next to the only window in the sitting room. Her face was deadpan and unreadable as she came to your side and placed a hand on your shoulder. Instinctively you wanted to pull away, but the fact this was obviously a test kept you still. “Do you still work for the Association?” she asked.
You looked back to Chrollo, locking eyes with him. “No.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“You’re better off telling us yourself.”
The way she had phrased that made your arm muscles tense. Perhaps her nen power gave her the ability to detect lies? Could she dive into your mind and find the truths? Had she already? If she could she was doing you a kindness by letting you say the answer yourself. Potentially such a power could hurt.
You sighed. “Someone hurt me, he hurts a lot of people. I want to hurt him back.”
Even though you had seen Pariston yourself almost twelve hours ago, someone saying his name with the level of certainty the way Pakunoda had made your stomach twist into an angry, sickening knot. “Yes. He is vice president of the association.”
“Do you want to kill him?”
“I don’t know yet.”
A pause. “You don’t.” The tone of her voice had a tint of shock in her realization.
It wasn’t a question, but you felt spurred on regardless. “I know pretty much everything up to that point.”
“You’ve been thinking about this very deeply for a while.”
“Almost every minute of my life for six months.”
“That’s enough, Pakunoda,” Chrollo said. “For now.”
Her hand squeezed your shoulder once before slipping away and you wondered if it had been a warning, sympathy, or something else.
“Satisfied?” you asked sensing Pakunoda returning to her previous position.
He smirked and stood up for the first time. “I’m sure you know already, I am never satisfied. That is why we do what we do. Once you have that which you were lusting after, you start looking for something else to become obsessed. The need is never satiated.”
You couldn’t help but to frown at his words. “I can’t say I am the same,” you said plainly, and Chrollo looked at you with apparent intrigue.
“To work together I’d like to know your abilities. I’m assuming you can use nen?”
“If I tell you would put me at a disadvantage, though yes. I can use nen.”
With a collected sense of ease, Chrollo rounded the desk and leaned on it, palms resting on the wood. Nothing about his body language made you feel the need to be tense, but everything about the situation and the knowledge of who you were dealing with did. And that level of intensity made that swirling lust tighten and grow. You fought to shift your weight so your thighs would push together more firmly and provide a bit of pressure on that growing sense of need. “I know the abilities of everyone I work with.”
“Do they know yours in return?”
“Yes.” If the constant badminton game of conversation was annoying Chrollo, he wasn’t showing it.
“Then, I will tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
“You aren’t one of us.”
“No, I’m not. I have no guarantee that you won’t dump me dead by the side of the road in an hour. I have no promise that you will even help me, even if you say you will. But they do. They know exactly how they stand in relation to you. They know your rules, and they have earned your trust. There is no way I could ever have that level of rapport like they do. So, this is the least I can ask and the least you can give me to reassure me of any level of comradery.
Even if it is temporary.”
Chrollo looked to one side of the room. You couldn’t be sure if he was looking at Hisoka or someone else as you had kept your attention on him entirely. You could feel other people in the room, but they each had made an effort to blend in with the environment as best they could.
“Hisoka.” The ‘hmm’ in response let you know instantly that the person Chrollo had been looking at was indeed Hisoka. The tone was too iconic. “Do you know Adra’s ability?”
“Yes,” he responded with a tone of pleasure, and despite yourself you couldn’t help the tiniest of smiles. “I think you’ll find it…. Interesting.”
There was a suggestion in his tone that you didn’t quite follow, but now wasn’t the time to mull it over. “Leave us alone for a moment,” Chrollo ordered the room at large.
You assumed that he hadn’t meant you, so you remained planted in the same place as quiet footsteps filed out of the room around you. The absence of the faint feeling of other people in the room made the sitting room feel larger, and Chrollo somehow more threatening. “I hope this is a positive sign,” you half joked and Chrollo gave you an entertained smirk.
“It is. While I know all of my associate’s abilities, they do not all know each other’s. If they choose to tell one another, that is their business. Otherwise they only find out once they have a job together generally. I figured it was the least I could do to, how did you put it? Give you a sense of comradery.”
The pure realization of that action made you pause. Stupidly you hadn’t thought about that. If asked you wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to find out about your ability, every good hunter knew you kept that to yourself as long as you could. And even if you used the ability around others, it didn’t mean they always understood it. Verbally explaining an ability was much more detailed. “Thank you.”
“You first,” he instructed with a nod of his head.
This you hated, naturally. He could go back on his word to tell you his ability. But, you had come this far. Even if he turned on you, at least you could say you tried. “I can sense the desire of others through touch. The more intimate the touch, the deeper I can reach.”
“That is interesting. And?”
Your intuition was sparking, like little pops of low flowing electricity along your neck. He would know you were completely lying if you said that was all. Besides it wasn’t a very useful ability on its own. “I can make people feel my desires and wants.”
In an attempt to cut off any further questions you reached your right hand towards Chrollo. Why he stood and put his hand into yours, you weren’t sure. But you took advantage of it, turning his hand so that the palm was down so that you could grasp it and lovingly run your thumb over the top of his hand. Even this didn’t seem to bother him in the least.
More of a test, and a bit as a tease, you focused on how Chrollo was making you feel. The surface level desire of lust and interest. Mentally you thought about what it would feel like to push him onto the desk and straddle him. Through your ability you fed more of the desire that fueled such thoughts and Chrollo’s eyes widened as the feelings slipped into him.
You took a half step closer to him, running your hand up his arm to his shoulder. As the level of intimacy grew, you could focus on your desire for information and aide. Something that you didn’t want to express in words, or really at all, in fear of coming off desperate. But it was now or never to convince him.
The fire in your very soul burned so brightly when you thought about how much further your plan could advance with the help of the troupe. The perfect plan you had been thinking about endlessly in the dark for more hours than you had bothered to count.
A long, low sigh slid from your lips as you imagined a flow of these needs go from your hand into his creamy skin. Suddenly you snapped back into the moment and remembered yourself. Your goal. You had moved closer to Chrollo at some point in the exchange, only two feet of air kept you apart. “It’s a manipulator ability,” you muttered, as if he wouldn’t know that on his own. “Won’t you tell me your ability now, Chrollo?” you asked, with an underlying hint of a command.
On your power scale, it would only be a level one command, something he would never realize was a command and could ignore if he so chose, unless any part of him wanted to tell you. Then he would be prompted to tell you more easily than before. And potentially the feeling of your own desire to know would help to spur him on as well.
“I am a specialist. I take abilities,” he replied with a low, somewhat distracted tone.
Your hand snapped back and with a single step you were halfway across the room from the man. Retreating like a cat from a predator that was bigger and potentially too dangerous to face. A low rolling chuckle came from Chrollo as he slipped out of the slight mind fog of your projected desire. “That’s a smart reaction.”
If he had taken yours, you weren’t sure how you would know. As a test, you surrounded your index finger with nen, and felt a bit more assured as a faint glow shimmered. But it still wasn’t certain you had your ability. It was hard to know what to expect when you didn’t know how his own ability to take worked. “Don’t worry,” you looked up to Chrollo again as he spoke, “I didn’t take yours. Not yet anyway.”
Subconscious, you gripped your right hand with the left. “Not yet? That is rather threatening, don’t you think?”
The amused look hadn’t left his face as Chrollo relaxed against the desk once more. “It can always be returned.”
“Excuse me for not finding comfort in that.”
He chuckled again. “Even in the face of uncertainty,” he mused. “What is it you had in mind for my troupe?”
“What are you doing here!? Wow I haven’t seen you in…”
“A year,” you replied with a smile to the bubbly teal haired woman that was working the reception desk of the Hunters’ Association. You had barely remembered her name, but luckily a little name plate on the white counter proclaimed her Eix just in case you hadn’t remembered. “Yeah I had to take some time off to recover. I’m sure you heard about the whole ‘overworking’ thing. But I think I’m ready to have a job again. Something… lower though maybe.”
Eix nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! Did you bring in your resume with you?”
“Naturally,” you responded with a joyful laugh, sliding the thick paper item towards the woman. “I saw on the Hunter site there was an opening in the mail room. That is pretty low down, a bit further than I had wanted, but if that is all there is I’d even take that.”
“Man, mailroom. I never had to do that job, but I’m sure it wouldn’t be that bad, right?” she replied looking over your resume. “Don’t worry I’ll make sure this gets to the right people. Maybe we’ll find somewhere more suitable than the mailroom.”
“Thanks, Eix. I appreciate it.” You were being so sincere that it almost physically hurt, but you weren’t sure how much more of the normalcy of the conversation you could keep up for much longer.
In some level of fortune Eix’s next words were cut off as someone else approached the desk to ask a legitimate question, and you took the opportunity to wave a goodbye and head for the glass doors out of the building. A sense of someone watching your every step curdling your stomach as you went.
The apartment had been easy. The coffee shop had been easy.
The association had been torment.
It was taking everything inside of you, every trained mental coping mechanism you had built up to enter the building and not fall apart. The memories of Pariston holding the door open for you. Talking with you all the way to his office. His hands sliding up your skirt in the elevator as you protested, fearful that someone would see. But he had never heeded your concerns and fears. Even when he called you to his office in the middle of the workday and you emerged half an hour later, praying no one noticed your knees were red.
As you pushed the final door to freedom open the sun on your skin made you realize just how cold you had been standing inside. The fresh outside air on your face felt like life itself and you truly never wanted to go back into that building again.
But you would have to.
It was part of the plan.
The commute back to your apartment was almost enjoyable, even though your stomach still felt like it might join you in your sunshine revival. Purposefully you hadn’t eaten, but even so it threatened you.
As your front door shut behind you, all you could dream of was tea. Some soothing jasmine to cure your ill and ground you once more, mentally secure the fact in your mind that you were safe. That you were in control.
But you hadn’t gotten further than taking your shoes off in the entryway before you were stopped again, seeing a figure in black staring at the freshly hung canvas in the living room. “I didn’t know you ever went out in the day time,” you commented to Chrollo, moving directly to the open kitchen to put the kettle on for tea.
Somehow you knew your audacity to make such statements amused Chrollo and he didn’t respond to the comment as he continued to stare at the painting. “Interesting piece. What is it called?”
“Snare. A local artist made it,” you answered honestly. “Do you like jasmine tea?”
“I do, in fact,” he replied, and you set out two cups next to the teapot. “I can see why you are drawn to it.” You licked your lips and turned the stove top on silently before putting leaves into the tea basket. “Pakunoda can see the truth to any question she asks. I’m sure you’ve surmised as much for yourself.”
“I did. So,” you started as you set the kettle on the burner before swiveling around and leaning on the kitchen island to look at Chrollo, who was still observing the painting, “am I to assume she told you all my dirty little secrets then?”
Finally, Chrollo stopped looking at the painting and turned to look back at you. You noticed his hair was down. Brushed, but left to naturally fall around his face. It did make him seem more ‘everyday’, and you could only assume that was why he had done it. An attempt to be less iconic as he moved about the city in the day time. Hunters were frequent in Swardani, and they all were the kind to be eye catching. Blending into the common man was useful in avoiding their gaze as well as avoiding being noticed by normal civilians. Even his attire was average.
“She told me what was necessary.”
You wanted to ask what that was. Had she seen Pariston tie you up in his bedroom for a week? Had she seen how he had driven you to almost literal insanity? Had she seen all the times before that when he had physically hurt you?
And what of all that had she told Chrollo?
“When I saw you two days ago you said you would consider my plan and let me know if you would be a part of it. I guess you’ve made your decision since you’re here then?”
He nodded, making his way to the kitchen island. “I believe we have enough to gain from helping you to make it worthwhile.” You couldn’t help your heart picking up its pace in complete joy. Something must have changed on the outside as well because Chrollo smiled. “My only condition,” your heart sank at the words, “Is that it will have to wait a month.”
“A whole month?” you asked as Chrollo came around the island into the kitchen and you straightened to face him. “Why?” Honestly it didn’t bother you, but the curiosity as to why Chrollo had picked that time frame specifically was almost palpable. Though you weren’t quite sure why.
“I have a previous engagement to attend to,” he stated, stopping in front of you.
Just to use the ‘inconvenience’ as a bargaining chip in the future, you pretended to think it over for a few seconds before nodding. “I can make that work.”
Chrollo extended his right hand to you and you stared at it. “Then it is a deal.” You didn’t move to take his hand, knowing that most likely however he took abilities, it required his right hand. Most specialist abilities did. “If we’re to work together, you’ll have to trust me at least a little.”
His smile in this every day look was charming. He was almost another person entirely. You could feel he was the same, but visually it was such a change that it made you want to trust him. You had very little choice if you wanted his help, charming looks or not. With a firm grasp you clasped your hand into his and he shook it once solidly. But his fingers remained curled against yours tightly after. “I want you to use your ability again,” he said, with amusement when you had looked at him in confusion.
For the first time you felt a bit intimidated. Before you had been cautious, knowing Chrollo and his associates could derail your plan- or kill you but, that hadn’t been as concerning. But as the Phantom Boss stared into your eyes, hand clasping your right, you experienced the first feelings of intimidation you had felt in a long time.
He didn’t know about your specialist ability- or at least if he did somehow know, he had heard about it from Pakunoda and not yourself, which would be more concerning- but perhaps the intimidation stemmed from that knowledge.
But you had already had a nerve-wracking day, and spite was welling up in your heart. “Surely you have enough desires to fill ten people. Why do you need mine?”
“I’m intrigued. Feeling someone else’s desire was… new. I’m sure you know already how strange it can be. We go our entire lives only knowing our own wants and minds. But you can peek inside a human’s dark place with a touch. We’re selfish creatures, and we tend to keep our desires in furthest depths of our hearts. I want to see that again.”
Somehow Chrollo just talking about desires that way had gotten you excited. Had you activated your ability on accident while he spoke? Was it just that twisted part of you that had grown from your trauma that found the entire concept of what Chrollo said unbearably sexy?
You swallowed and nodded. His fingers relaxed so that you could move your hand again. “Can I touch you however I wish?” you asked. He merely nodded, observing your calculating gaze.
Idly, you wished you had seen Hisoka the night before. Taking just a sip off of his crazy brazen desires always made you feel bold. Figuring that Chrollo would have to do, you instead took your hand from his and seductively slid it to his neck. His flesh felt cool compared to your warm palm, but it was a pleasant contrast.
By now you were accustomed to how quickly the sensations would slide along your arm and to your brain. The rush of desire felt like a dizzy spell that washed over you when you stood up too fast. So far you hadn’t stumbled from the effect, but every time you wondered what it would take to knock you down.
This time was no different. As you drank down some of Chrollo’s desire the feeling of dizziness pricked its way up your arm and into your head in the form of a creeping deep blue. His immediate desires came to you and they were all tinged with a lusty need. Lust for knowledge, lust for objects, lust for thrills, lust for so many things.
Lust for you.
You blinked in slight shock as you felt that desire wash over you and Chrollo tilted his head forward a little. “I don’t feel anything.”
Had you planted that lust there two days ago when you had shared with him your desires? Or were these his own wants? It was impossible to tell. “Put your hands on me first,” you instructed.
Amused once more he placed both hands on your waist as you slid your free hand to his chest. A small wave of excitement rushed from your toes up as your eyes closed so you could focus.
Imagining it like images passing from your mind, through your hand, to his mind you thought about the burning inside of you to hurt. The pain you wanted to cause the one that had hurt you. Even just thinking about it made you excited. Your breath quickened, and a feeling of throbbing lust twisted to life between your legs.
Not controlling the thought process, you were back to your desire to take Chrollo in your excitement. Pushing your kitchen island free of clutter and feeling his hands on your body. His hand cupping your ass and pulling your hips into his. The feeling of his erection against your pelvis as his mouth covered yours in a hungry need.
His hand dug into your hair, pulling it so hard that the pain made your eyes immediately open to realize that your day dream of desires was mostly reality. His hand was actually gripping your ass and pulling you into his body, his mouth moving against yours in a way that left you pressing against him in delight.
“Chrollo, I want you to fuck me,” you muttered, hands going to his pants and undoing the buttons.
His eyes slid open and you could tell he was already under the influence of your ability, though you had issued no command directly. Was sharing your desire enough to cloud his mind and open him to your orders more easily? The slight dazed look in his eyes said it was. “Take my panties off,” you commanded and reluctantly his hand released your hair and ass.
Both hands slid down the sides of the skirt you had worn to give a professional appearance just hours ago. “On your knees,” you commanded when he came into contact with your skin. Obediently he dropped to his knees immediately. “Now take them off.”
Long, dexterous fingers slid up to your hip, gripping the band of your panties and dragging them off. You were too hot, too ready, it felt agonizingly slow. You lifted your feet so that the underwear could be freed and moved to the side. As your feet touched back down Chrollo slid a hand up the outside of your leg and you shook under his touch. “I can still feel your desire in my body,” he mumbled.
“Yeah? What does it feel like?” you asked as he coaxed your legs to spread by pushing against your inner thighs with both hands.
He was quiet, watching his fingers slide against your labia and slowly they grew wet from that tame level of contact. “It feels like I’m not awake or asleep. Some half dream,” he finally responded. Admittedly he sounded half asleep, his voice was low and distracted.
“Does the feeling of touching me seem like a dream?”
“No. This feels real.” As if to emphasize the point he pushed his fingers up to touch your wet clit and you bit your lower lip. “Perhaps as my… supplier you are my anchor,” he said, standing to his feet with the energy of someone who was drunk and had an idea they very much wanted to try, but with less swaying. “My anchor to reality in the dream.”
Your hips rocked against Chrollo’s steady hand. Already you were sure you could climax like this, but it wasn’t enough. You could feel your body beg for him to be inside of you. Focusing up you brought your hand against his face, brushing his hair from his eyes as your palm rested on his cheek. “Chrollo, tell me what my desires are making you want.”
He looked almost frustrated- brows furrowed, and eyes narrowed. “I want to please you,” he finally said, moving so close that he felt like he was looming over you, one hand still cupping you and moving his fingers in some pattern you had yet to figure out but was causing your breath to quicken.
Your left hand gripped the counter behind you as you leaned backwards into it. Chrollo’s words were rolling around in your head, “I want to please you.” The memory of Hisoka’s low and seductive voice asking, “Did I please you?” The fingers of your left hand were so tense, gripping the granite countertop so hard that they were starting to ache. ‘Yes, I want you to yearn to please me,’ a voice said in the back of your mind. ‘I want your body to ache for my touch so badly you beg me.’
The kettle behind on the stove screamed and you felt your mind snap awake, like you had been dreaming with Chrollo before and now you were back in reality.
But it didn’t feel like reality. Your senses felt sharp, each press of Chrollo’s body to your own was distinctive and different, the smell of his skin was sharp enough that you could pick him out from any other human in this moment. His eyes were still dreamily looking into your face, open and ready for commands.
“Stop,” you told him without using your power. Your voice had been strong, but not reprimanding, and his hand immediately went still. With a gentle guiding push, you moved his wrist away from your body before moving around him to turn the stove off, taking the kettle away from the heat of the stove.
You didn’t have to look at Chrollo to know he was watching you, curious where things were going to go next- possibly suffering as he waded lost in his and your desires that swam through his head. But you left him to suffer as you poured the hot water into the two waiting cups and the teapot.
“If you please me, I’ll make sure to return the favor,” you said while picking up the two cups of pure hot water. Chrollo lifted his head up just a fraction, and you could see it was a sign of interest. You shot him a look over your shoulder as you walked past him towards the living room, trying to urge him with a look to follow you.
With a soft clank you sat the teacups down on the side table before sliding the coffee table to the side of the room. It was obvious by the way he watched you that Chrollo had no idea what you were up to, and that was fine by you as you beckoned him with one index finger to come closer.
You ran both hands over his chest, over his shoulders, then clasped them behind his neck. As you sidled your body up to his, he instinctively put his hands on your hips. Your heart felt steady in your chest, though you couldn’t be sure how it was maintaining its steady pace, and every one of your nerves still felt sharp. This had happened with Hisoka too. Was this what you had heard some hunters call ‘hunter space’? Where everything seemed so clear, each move of your prey was as easy to determine as your own breath?
Chrollo kissed you, pulling your body into his like a gentle lover. You brushed your fingers on the nape of his neck, each of the desires he had been feeling were just as strong. The temporary break from your touch hadn’t yet diminished anything.
Rubbing the base of his skull with your fingers, you encouraged those feelings. Your desire and want for him to please you. How you wanted him so badly to do what you wanted.
“Adra,” he mumbled when you pulled away.
“Yes, Chrollo?” you asked with an air of superiority, like one would respond to a sweet child.
You busied yourself pulling his shirt up and over his head, making him break contact so you could complete your task. “What have you done to me?” he asked when he could see your face again. He put his right hand to your face and your heart squeezed in fear again.
“Exactly what you asked,” you responded. “Chrollo, you won’t take my power, right?” As you asked you ran your hands down his back, staring into his dark eyes before turning your face to kiss his palm sweetly.
It had been a command in disguise of a question, and he responded, “I am not sure I would want it.”
You laughed. “Finally something you don’t want, hm?” A small, lazy smile came to his lips. It really was as if Chrollo was still dreaming or perhaps intoxicated. “Do you still want me?” To emphasize the question, you pressed your pelvis into him again.
A heavy breath answered, and you smiled. Earlier you had gotten the button on his pants open, but they had remained on his hips until this point. Easily you zipped the front open and knelt while you pulled his remaining clothing off. It was tempting to lick his dick, just to get his reactions, but you had another game in mind so instead you pressed your palm to the underside of it and rubbed against the sensitive extremity on your way to standing up once more. His hands gripped your shoulders as if he needed steadying. But perhaps it was just how he was still anchoring himself in his ‘dream’.
“Lay on the floor,” you told him, giving him a reaffirming squeeze before letting him go. He managed a curious look at you before he did as he was told, while you retrieved the two teacups. They were much more tolerable to touch on the outside now, but the water was still uncomfortably hot.
With a foot you pushed Chrollo’s right hand out to the side, then standing over him- one leg on each side of his body- you carefully kicked his left to match. “Perfect,” you praised with a ghastly lewd grin. Chrollo looked from one hand to the other and by the time he looked at you, you were on your knees. You kept your body high enough so that while your thighs touched his sides, your slick pussy didn’t brush against him at all.
You were still dressed, other than the panties he had already removed, so as you leaned over him to gently place the warm tea cups in each of his palms, he got a nice shot down your blouse to your breasts. “Here is my game,” you announced, keeping your body low over his as you looked down into his face. “I’m going to ride you, and you must keep the teacups exactly as they are right now. If they spill, I’ll stop. And if that isn’t punishment enough… well I can always think of something extra. But if you can keep them on your hands without spilling any of the water, I’ll ride you until you come. Does that sound fun?” Teasingly you slid a finger down his chest, swirling it right over his heart as you waited for his response.
“I’m interested,” he confessed, lifting his fingers on each hand up then back down in sequence as if testing the cup’s balance. “This shouldn’t be very hard.”
“Hm,” you replied as you sat up once more and took his dick into hand. “That sounds like a challenge.”
Your skirt had slid up to accommodate the spread of your legs, but it still hugged you in such a way that your pussy was just peeking out from below the fabric, and Chrollo could barely see what you did if he strained his neck. Slowly you rubbed his dick along yourself, using your hand on the top side to keep him steady. Naturally you were using your right hand to hold his dick still, just in case you felt inclined to add a few desires or commands for extra fun. Your left hand was on his lower stomach, helping to steady you as you rocked your hips.
His eyes slid closed, and you wondered if the only thing that felt real to him was your body rubbing against him. He couldn’t grip anything to stabilize now. His hands pinned by the weight of the warm liquid would help to aid in his feeling of listlessness. He was powerless to help himself regain control or a sense of security as he drifted through the sea of desire he was still lost in.
As a test, you lifted your hips and positioned him at your opening before tilting your body and sliding him against the outside of your body once more and his right hand flexed around the tea cup making the liquid wobbled inside of it, but none escaped to the sides. “Careful,” you warned raising your hips once more, “You got close that time.”
A very apparent frown let you know he was not amused by your double meaning and with a low chuckle you at last slid him inside of you.
The feeling of being filled as you moved your hips down made your fingers dig into his stomach. Intentionally you let out a groan of enjoyment as you lifted up and down a few times, not falling all the way into his pelvis just yet. Chrollo wasn’t watching, whatever he was feeling in his daze was too distracting for him as he kept his eyes closed while you moved. Only his fingers gripping the teacups tightly in both hands let you know he was feeling each movement.
“Come on now, Chrollo. Won’t you make some noise for me?” you half commanded, half requested as you leaned down and ran your right hand over his throat.
His eyes slid open to watch your expression as you moved your hips down completely with a decisive bounce. A noise that you decided sounded something like a ‘gah’ finally escaped against his will and you felt pleased. “That pleases me,” you praised, pressing your thumb to his throat and running it down. “And you said you wanted to please me, right?”
Quickly now, you bounced your hips up and down earning groan from Chrollo as his eyes closed again. A warm building sensation grew with every noise he made, no matter how small or slight it was. You sat up again and moved your hips against him, coming down fully with each grind of your body. Every time you felt a rush fill you, again and again.
Before long your own moans of pleasure added to Chrollo’s. His grip on the teacups never lessened, but as you came down particularly hard one started to tilt towards the ground.
“Careful now. You’re about to spill,” you said in a husky voice. Sincerely you hoped he didn’t spill now, you were so close.
The hand corrected itself immediately and you mumbled a word of praise as you kept your pace. Chrollo was close too you were sure, as he started to lift his hips just a few inches to meet your thrusts and you could feel that tiny movement help him hit a spot that almost made your legs buckle under you the third time he hit it.
You groaned his name as you watched his face while you came, pressing into him and holding it for a moment while the feeling of pleasure exploded inside of you. Each nerve felt like it released some tense feeling that had been coiling up tight. The surge of dopamine in your mind was a special high and you relished it.
But as you held still and enjoyed your orgasm, Chrollo tried to move against you as best he could, begging you with his body to keep going. “I didn’t forget you,” you said sweetly, taking a fresh breath. “You’ve performed my game this long, you will get your prize.”
Using both arms to support you on either side of his body you situated yourself in a way that would allow you to move quickly and clamp your inner wall as much as you could while you came down. You had been so distracted with your own pleasure that his watching you had escaped your notice. It wasn’t clear when he had started to watch your every move, but now as you moved him inside of you again and enjoyed the feeling of orgasm being dragged out by your movement you were painfully aware.
The warm water shook in the cups as Chrollo fought to control his hands while you moved. You were sure the thought of dumping the cups and grabbing you was strong, but the knowledge you would stop was too close to the front of his mind. But as he lifted his hips again you could feel his release inside. You let out a low sigh as you waited out his orgasm, feeling the muscles in your legs twitch with the pain of stress which caused them to tremble.
As you leaned to take the cups from his hands, you lifted yourself off of Chrollo’s dick, and the air against you made you shiver.
Chrollo sat up once freed, which startled you as you held the two cups carefully, so the well-preserved water wouldn’t spill. His eyes were bright, aware, focused. Had the completion of his desire freed him? Was it the fresh hit of dopamine? You weren’t sure. But as your bare ass rested against his lap you did your best not to feel exposed since he had returned to his competent self.
“Was it what you expected?” you asked, unsure of what else to say.
“No. It was… nothing like what I expected,” he confessed. His eyes were no longer clouded, but he was staring right at your chest while he thought, though it didn’t seem like it was intentional. Your chest just happened to be in his thinking space. “I think you lied to me.”
You gripped the cups tightly. Had he figured out that you could issue commands? He shouldn’t have been aware of that as everything you had done fell within a level one power level. You never had even breached a level two surge of power. “Lied to you about what?”
The dark of his eyes looked so directly into yours that it made you feel pinned down. “If what I felt of your desires are to be believed, I don't think that you can be satisfied. In this, or in your revenge.”
Series title inspired by band of the same name.
Chapter title referencing song of the same name.
Chapter 5: True Romance (Pariston Hill)
Things are starting to fall into place with all of the outside forces, but there is still more to be done with the target himself. Having to act as your own bait you prepare to be alone face to face with the one and only Pariston Hill once again.
Warnings: PTSD flashbacks, attempt rape of reader character, non consensual sexual touching of reader character, date rape drug description of reader character, NSFW, mental manipulation
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Phones, keyboards, clicking pens, the smell of coffee and whatever crazy dish a gourmet hunter had brought to work that day. It was all so familiar, but in the way of a distant memory. The feeling was akin to that sensation one got when a specific cinnamon, peppermint, and paper smell-cocktail hit their nose and suddenly they find themselves transported back to when they were five on a holiday morning that had almost been completely forgotten until that moment. Something so close to you and yet no longer apart of who you are now.
The association office was exactly like that.
Normally the office was kept at a temperature that most people could tolerate including you, but for your first week back you had to bring a light sweater with you every day to hide the goosebumps that were almost a permanent installment on your flesh. Your nerves were on high alert, screaming in the back of your mind that this area was DANGER. But no matter how loudly your body rebelled, you pushed past it and hit the copy button on the machine again and again.
Somehow you had been assigned as an office assistant upon applying. They hadn’t even interviewed you, merely emailed the offer. And somehow you were placed on the floor Pariston frequented. Not the floor his office was on, but the floor below where he had to make constant visits to oversee many different projects. It was this very floor where you had met him for the first time.
As you picked up the papers from the out tray the hairs on the back of your neck raised noticeably and the realization about how in the presence of the literal Phantom Troupe you hadn’t been as on edge as you were in a fucking office almost made you laugh.
But you knew why. All too well you knew why.
Pariston hadn’t made his presence known to you yet.
You had been here an entire week and never even spotted so much as a cufflink of the vice-chairman. It was unnatural.
The signs of his presence were around. You came back from getting yourself coffee and someone asked you to make copies of a form that Pariston had just signed and dropped off. Another time you could still smell his cologne in the conference room you had to set up for the next meeting. His chuckle flowed down the hallway to your ears, but by the time you arrived he was gone.
He was doing this all on purpose. Playing with you indirectly and keeping you on your toes. You hated that it was working, hated more that you had to let it be a little visible. The appearance of being both ‘healthy’ and ‘slightly broken’ at the same time was exhausting. The light sweater was a dead giveaway to the man that you were uncomfortable. And the second week you left it at home, telling coworkers that you had adjusted to the climate-controlled environment again.
To make matters worse, there was no one readily around to play with. Chrollo had left shortly after the deal was stuck and Hisoka left a day later, leaving behind half teasing promises of more playtime in the future. You weren’t stupid- anymore- and you were fully aware that you might never seen Hisoka again. But, you had been surprised before.
Sadly, this meant that when you got home, life returning to you and the lust that had built throughout the day at the hints of Pariston finally blooming into a full need, you didn’t have a way to fix it. Playing with anyone that didn’t have a guarantee of silence meant that it could get back to Pariston. And there was no way in hell you were going to jeopardize your revenge just to get off.
But you thought about it.
Sitting at a bar not far from your apartment, you thought about it. A hunter you recognized sat at a table nearby laughing loudly with two associates. He was tall and broad, unlike your recent conquests in almost every way. Perhaps that was part of the appeal. The thought of turning this loud, cocksure, strong man onto his back and making him beg you made you a little excited immediately. And even though you reminded yourself it would be a bad idea the little fantasy grew on its own as you watched him move, and soon you were so enamored that you had forgotten you were looking at him until he noticed you and winked.
You turned back to face your drink on the bar, taking in a fresh swallow of the cold liquid to calm the heat inside of you. Shifting on the stool you could feel that familiar sensation of need between your legs. A tingling, tight feeling. It was uncomfortable.
A strong arm slithered over your shoulder with careful precision. Fingertips brushing softly as the palm dug in hard enough to force the weight of a promise into your muscles. After a week and a half in the association office, this sleazy move didn't make even one bump rise on your skin. "Hey, sexy. I saw you eyeing me across the room. What are you drinking?"
You tried to lean away, but his arm over your shoulder held you still. A nice upper cut into his nose would have freed you, he didn't seem to consider you a threat so it'd be easy to do. But remembering your situation you held off. Maybe it would get back to the vice-president. And you still needed as much illusion of a soft spoken female hunter as you could get.
But it was unbearably difficult in this moment.
Visibly you swallowed and looked up at the man through your lashes. "I didn't mean to. I just… zoned out. It was a long day."
He smiled and leaned his hip into your side. Truly your lust was the cause of this punishment. "Now, now. None of that. It’s Thirsty Thursday after all!" He lifted two fingers at the bartender and pointed to the two of you. The bartender nodded and got to work on your next drink. You kept an eye on the drink in progress- unsure of this bartender’s alignment in this silent struggle- until the man leaned onto the bar and obscured your view.
"Haven't I seen you around before?" He asked.
"Maybe… I mean I work in the city," you muttered before drinking your original drink to completion.
"Oh really? Where?"
Leave it to a beef headed hunter to not recognize another hunter. Or he was playing stupid for some reason. “Well… where do you work?”
He laughed, “I work everywhere! I’m a hunter.” He said in that voice tone that suggested you should be impressed. Which only confirmed that he had no idea that you too were a hunter. With a practiced movement he took out his hunter ID and flashed it in front of your face, literally. He sure was a rude man. He hadn’t even noticed you dodging his question since it gave him an opportunity to show off. “See? Not everyone can get one of these,” he boasted. You memorized his ID number to look up later and see if he just got lucky that year.
All kinds passed the exam though, you supposed.
“Impressive,” you said pushing your glass away and trying to stand, “I should go. I have work tomorrow.”
“What? But your drink is here,” he pointed out as the fresh glass as it was placed on the bar, the old whisked away in a flash.
The condensation on the glass gathered in large droplets that collected onto the bar top, pooling to create an inviting highlight of water around the base. You didn’t trust this glass. While you were shopping at the same grocery store and getting coffee at the same cafe, this was a new bar. The security blanket of knowing a bartender wasn’t something you had just yet. “Really… I shouldn’t. So no thank you,” you muttered, dodging out from under his arm successfully.
But he had been prepared for this maneuver and with two quick steps he was in front of you with his glass in one hand and the one intended for you in the other. “Come on. The night is still young!” His determination was evident, and no matter how you tried to dodge him it was obvious he was going to follow you like a sick puppy. “I’m just being nice!”
Those words made you silently rage as other people in the bar looked at the two of you. He was intentionally making it seem as if you were the rude one for ignoring him. It was causing a scene, which was exactly what you hadn’t wanted.
Maybe just a sip wouldn’t hurt, depending on what was in it. Maybe you could power through it.
These of course are foolish thoughts. But as you took the drink in hand he cheered to you, and you brought the glass to his automatically. His grin seemed too wide, unnaturally so, as you brought the glass to your lips. The bright whites of his teeth made you pause as he drank and suddenly you felt like gravity had shifted. No longer was it pulling you down, as was normal, but it felt as if you were being pulled sideways.
The drink hadn’t even made it to your lips yet. What had he done? Had he spiked your first one while you were paying attention to the bartender? You had taken this muscle-head too lightly.
But even as these thoughts flashed in a blurry haze across your mind you realized more liquid was pouring into your mouth. As if on an autopilot your arm had moved and now you were drinking what could quite possibly be a second spiked drink.
Everything happened so fast, but also slowly. The man asked you something, and you felt like you understood it because you nodded and he laughed. Though your glass wasn’t empty yet he took it from you and placed it upon the bar with more care than you felt like you could have acted with in this moment.
A blink and his arm was around you, helping you to dance to the song that was too quiet to hear from the bar speakers. Hadn’t it been loud enough to mask the conversations that were only ten feet from you before?
Heavily you leaned into his chest, feet moving now that gravity had somewhat righted itself again. Everything about this felt so wrong, but you couldn’t dredge up the motivation to do anything about it.
A hand gripped the sides of your head and your gaze was lifted up and his mouth smashed against yours. The kiss was sloppy and not at all enjoyable, but your limbs didn’t feel like they belonged to you as they rested on his shoulders completely useless. Groggily you remembered the feeling of Hisoka’s hungry lips against yours and you sighed in want, which the man took as a sign of your enjoyment and kissed you again.
A blink and the sounds of the city surrounded you. The wind was moving just enough that you could feel its touch on your face as you looked around, trying to recognize where you were. But it was impossible. The lights were a blurry mess, a painting in the museum where you had seen Pariston.
Fingers dug into your side as you started to lift to one side and you only then realized the man was walking next to you, arm wrapped around your waist to support you and keep you moving. His face shifted to the smiling Pariston and adrenaline pounded through you. “No,” you said firmly, although a bit mushy, pushing against his side to free yourself. Unlike the bar you were using your strength now. Focusing your nen into your hands as you shoved.
For just a moment you were free and stumbled into a nearby mailbox, gripping both sides of the object for stability as you shook your head. You tried to imagine sand on a beach, running hands over it to clear away the writing and make a clean slate, but nothing changed. Your head still felt swimming and the colors of the city both too bright and too dim at the same time. It was as if you were surrounded by suns of every color, but their brilliance couldn’t penetrate the encroaching darkness. Nothing came into focus no matter how hard you tried.
A blink as your ass slid over a stone wall, exposed thighs scraping painfully against the amalgamation of minerals. The man’s nails bit into your legs as he pressed himself against you. “static you’re so static just listen static Don’t worry. I’ll treat you right. static” Listening to him talk was like trying to tune into a radio station you were too far away from. But the meaning of the words was clear. Behave, or I’ll hurt you.
“No!” you screamed it this time, the word was clear and rang in the air as you pushed with all of your strength.
A blink and your head fell backwards, gravity reversing again. You were falling backwards in darkness, the smell of city streets blurring into the smell of water.
The deep black reminded you of Chrollo’s eyes as they watched you. Unreadable and full of secrets that you wanted to push your fingers into and dig around for treasure.
You had felt so powerful as those eyes watched your every move, waiting.
It felt like you fell for several minutes, and when you stopped a soft bed cupped you gently.
At last you were beginning to feel more grounded. The world didn’t seem to be changing as fast as it had been. The feeling in your head was more akin to being drunk now. Everything was somewhat blurry, but understandable, and you felt cold. Were your clothes sticking to you with dampness?
An unconscious groan rumbled out of your chest. With harsh persistence your clit was being worked causing little waves of pleasure to wash over you as your head rolled on the pillow underneath it. Things still didn’t make sense you realized. Things were still wrong.
With effort you managed to lift your head to look down the length of your body. Your clothes were a mess, ripped open with a crazed haste, and the man was between your legs. A scream was working up your throat as you watched him stroke himself as he also worked you, trying to get you wet enough.
A guttural scream of rage ripped through the room causing the man to jump. Finally able to move with more direct grace you sat up and brought your fist against his face.
You felt the flesh against your knuckles, a sense of success flashed through your mind, but in the next moment you were on your back again. Each breath was labored, and it took time to settle in that his hand was around your throat. You tried to focus but couldn’t. His face. Pariston’s face. His face. Pariston’s face.
A tear fell down your cheek, letting itself be known to your brain only because of the feeling of warmth that was quickly followed by cold that was so telling of tears. “Paris-ton,” you muttered, like a prayer in a dying man’s throat.
You squeezed your eyes closed.
“Pariston,” you said again. Feeling the revenge you were working so hard for slipping from your fingers. You could almost see it. Gold strands of hope sliding over your palm and into the darkness once more.
“I have you,” a warm, strong voice said in the dark.
The smell of lilac and musk. So familiar. A scent that made you feel at ease, even as part of your mind screamed. But you were too tired to hear it scream. Too tired to listen to that voice. You just wanted to be comforted and live in that bright feeling the smell brought. Silken sheets, eggshell walls, and white marble showers. So warm and inviting.
Your eyes opened.
The room was familiar and yet completely new. The walls were not eggshell, but basic rental creme, and the smell of lilac and musk was faint and quickly fading.
It was your apartment. You were home.
As realization hit you like a literal brick, your hands scrambled over your body. Did you still have your phone? Were you tied up or shackled to the bed? Where you wearing clothes?
No, no, and somewhat. While your outfit from the previous night was gone, you were wearing underwear. Slipping a hand into them you felt yourself, unsure what exactly would tell you what you feared to know. But there was no normal soreness that happened after sex. You sighed, relaxing your shoulders into your bed for a moment while you took in a slow breath.
The front door clicked closed in the next room and you jumped from the bed, ready to fight someone off if you had to. And unlike in the bar, you were fully prepared to use all of your powers. No fucking around this time.
But, no other noises came from the small apartment other than the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. Dead air hung with a physical weight while you patiently waited for something to happen. Unwilling to wait for danger to find you first, slowly and quietly you made way to the door to look into the half kitchen half living room beyond the frame and saw no movement. There was no one by the front door either. Your heart wasn’t convinced though, it was working so hard in your chest it physically hurt.
You pushed your hand into your hair, trying to steady your mind with a physical touch as you looked around the room for any sign of what had happened. After a second glance you saw it.
Sitting on the kitchen island was a note.
It didn’t have any nen radiating from it but still you approached with caution until the neat writing was completely readable.
“I suggest you be more careful from here on out. I won’t always be able to save you.
He had been here. In your home. He knew where you lived.
You expected he would know where you lived, but having it disclosed to you in this manner made your blood turn to ice in your veins and you snatched the note from the cold countertop. It took everything inside of you not to rip it to shreds, burn it in the kitchen sink, flush the ash down the toilet. But you wanted control. Control over your reactions, especially now.
The corner rumpled in your harsh grip as your hand shook with rage and fear. Why? Why had you let this happen? You could have used your nen on that man. At least enough to save you. Enough so that Pariston wouldn’t have had the chance to save you.
But wait. How? How could Pariston have ‘saved’ you? It was all a blur and becoming even more so as the seconds ticked by, but you vividly remembered another bedroom. The very real moment of that man stroking you and preparing to take you.
How would Pariston have known… unless he had organized it?
In disgust you dropped the note, cupping your face in your hands. He had made a move. You knew he would. You had been sloppy. So confident that you had already rigged the chess board for the game to start, that you didn’t notice him move a pawn into place.
Feeling nauseous you turned back to find the note, deciding to rip it up after all, but stopped seeing another message on the back.
“Keep my gift”
The memory of your shredded clothes around you as you lay upon the strangers bed flashed in your head as you rushed to the full length mirror you kept in your bedroom.
The silver surface in sight you rushed to it, putting hands against the wall on either side as your chest heaved. Through the mess of hair that had flown into your face you could clearly see the white undergarment set. White straps hugging your hips and crossing at the sides in a delicate pattern. A matching bra with a ribbon connecting each strap to form a choker at the throat. It was wrapped so gently around your neck you hadn’t even noticed it at first, but now staring at yourself you felt oddly… collared.
It was very Pariston.
It was very much a statement.
If waking up to Pariston's gift wasn't enough, you also had to work that same day, luckily it was Friday. How did you used to have an office job five- sometimes six- days a week? Even when there was hunter work to be done, it was boring and exhausting.
Only two weeks had passed and you still had two more before Chrollo said he'd be available to assist with your plan. Now was the time to keep moving pawns while your big pieces were in standby, but some part of you had lost motivation. Pariston's bold statement was a hard to swallow pill that you kept choking on.
Even though it was maddening in several ways, you wore the lingerie set to work. It required you to wear a light weight turtle neck top, without sleeves as you had ditched the sweater, to hide the soft choker ribbon. When you stood the ribbon pulled against the back of your neck. In your head it felt heavier than you knew it was since the standard bra straps took most of the weight of your breasts.
But you knew.
You knew Pariston's ego would be in need of a nice stroking today. After all, he had saved you. He'd want gratitude.
Throughout the entire day you waited, uncertain when but your faith in the perceived event never wavering.
And finally around 3 in the afternoon it happened.
As was fifty percent or more of your job, you were at the copy machine. While you had been on alert all day this was naturally the one time it slipped a little and the slight jump and tensing of your shoulders when you sensed Pariston behind you was genuine.
"I'm glad you made it to work," he said in a low, pleased tone. It didn't go over your head that he was alluding to your previous "sickness" as well as what had happened last night, but you knew it best not to bring that up.
You shuffled your feet, pushing the copy button as you stared intently at the digital screen. "I don't know what you mean," you said it plainly, but the air of embarrassment in your voice was painfully evident.
The door to the copy room closed with a soft snap and you concentrated on every muscle to keep from shaking. Against your will you could feel yourself getting wet already. Even after a year you couldn’t stop a deep part of you from reacting to him, even though you were trying so damn hard.
Carefully you looked over one shoulder to see Pariston at last. For the first time in his territory.
His hair was still brushing his shoulders in a golden shine, today's suit was white with silver pinstripes, undershirt a light blue to make the silver pop, and his tie was a complimentary creme. An outfit that on any other person would be gaudy, or somewhat tasteless, but as always it looked completely natural on him.
He looked… perfect.
He smiled, seeing your eyes peeking back at him.
You could feel your heart clench in your chest and you couldn't breathe.
"How are you feeling?"
"Just fine," you lied, thinking to yourself that you'd never tell him otherwise. With a purposeful snap of attention you looked back to the copy machine and lifted the lid to take the original out and replace it with the next page. "Thank you."
There was a pause. Pariston had expected something else. Maybe for you to wobble and fall to your knees and praise him like a worshiper that wanted just a single drop of holy water to keep death at bay for one more day. And whatever Gods did exist knew, that thought had crossed your mind for a solid second. Or maybe he had been looking for more hesitation, signs of the struggle that existed inside of you even as you imagined punching him in the gut.
But you hadn't given him that. You had offered… nothing.
Pariston wasn't one to quit. One long step brought him to your back and his presence was inescapable. You tried to ignore it as you pushed the button for the millionth time, but his hands cupping your shoulders and rubbing them made you gasp.
Other intimate touches you had been ready for, but not something so tame. His long fingers worked into your muscles and slowly your shoulders sank. Without meaning to your eyes had closed, a small groan escaped.
He snickered. "Seems I still know you."
You sucked in a breath through your teeth. There were too many meanings in that simple sentence. But only one of the possibilities bothered you: did he know of your plan?
Pariston's left hand held your shoulder as his right moved from the other side to your neck and you froze in place. The tips of his fingers ran over your throat before dipping down into soft fabric of your blouse. A throaty, dark chuckle came from behind you as his fingers found the "collar" to the bra he had gifted you. "I know you," he reaffirmed.
Your own fingers dug into the sides of the copy machine as you half prayed for strength. 'Adraste, please don't let me crumble here!'
"I knew you'd wear my gift. Do you like it?” As if petting a well behaving cat, he ran his fingers around the collar.
The action made you shiver and that horrible feeling of being unbearably turned on was only growing. But you tried to keep it in check. You cycled through the memories of pain to ground you. Thinking about crying in the shower, the feelings of being used, how you had collapsed at the gallery. “I admit, it is a nice piece,” you said with a level tone of confidence laced with a sexual energy. Your left hand met his at your neck. “You’ll have to tell me what you think if you ever get to see me in it.” With the touch you gave him a taste of your desires, the ones you wanted to crush into dust but served a purpose for the moment. ‘Touch me. Kiss me. Fuck me. Need me,’ you told him with that touch and his fingers tensed around your throat the slightest amount.
For a second time Pariston was caught off guard. You were rarely this forward before, and when you had managed it there had still been a noticeable thread of nervousness. There wasn’t a sign of it now, and he didn’t seem to know how to react to that.
“Thank you for the gift,” you continued since he had chosen silence. With the words you moved your hips just enough to brush against him as the machine stopped and you gathered your copies, his hand falling from your neck.
Purposefully, you didn’t look at him while you did this, but after you had gathered all your items you looked at him with a pleasant smile for just the briefest of moments as you made to leave. He looked almost angry. Almost, because he was still hiding it under a mask. A mask constructed of ego and poise. He smiled and suddenly you felt sick. “You’re welcome,” he said with restrained heat.
He stepped back graciously, opening up your path out of the copy room. You didn’t look directly at him again, but from the corner of your eye you could see him keep up the smile as you walked by. Unfortunately, you had no idea what kind of face he made once you left him behind in the room to stew. You would have given almost anything to know what he was thinking. To know if he was seething with rage.
But you couldn’t know yet.
When you started at the association, you were still fresh from the exam. The job was yours already, but they wanted every person that worked in the building to have at least attempted to gain a hunter’s license. “If you are going to work here, you have to know what kind of people you are working for.” That was the reasoning you had been given. Passing had been hell. The kind of hell you were hoping to leave behind by having a nice office job.
The easiest way to advance- even in the office side of things- was to be a hunter. You hadn’t expected to pass though, and now a world of opportunity was open before you. If you trained up no job could be out of your reach.
Or so you thought until Pariston Hill had targeted you.
You were merely running an errand to the upper floor, but that single small task on a long to-do list put you on a crash course that would completely devour your life.
“Fresh from the hunter exam huh?” He had known you wouldn’t be able to defend yourself yet. “Welcome to the office. You’re a rare gem, you know that? Most people that work on your floor didn’t pass the test.” The knowledge that you could learn nen and be manipulated into using it for him and his dealings if you were groomed correctly was his strongest weapon. “I’m Pariston Hill, the vice president. I look forward to working with you.”
In a week you were moved to the floor below his office.
His smile, the warmth of his hand, the buzz of the new office.
It all meshed into a strange child’s version of a collage. Pieces of what perceived life would be like as an adult pasted onto poster board with too much glue. The pictures bubbling in places even as they moved at different speeds.
A picture of Pariston giving you the water test. Seeing the leaf spin in circles had excited you so much that in the moment Pariston’s calculating face as he watched your joy hadn’t even registered.
A picture of working incredibly late.
Another picture of drinking with office friends. So many picture memories crammed into one space it was hard to make sense of it all.
However, one picture seemed brighter than the others.
Towards the center left was a slow moving picture of Pariston kissing you for the first time. It was the magazine picture of first kisses. A dark park, the city lights blinking through the trees as they rustled in a slight breeze while he cupped your face and leaned in. Your heart beat so heavily in your chest that it made you feel sick. For the first time you had understood the phrase of ‘butterflies in your stomach’.
A chime rang in the distance and some latent part of you realized it wasn’t how that night had gone. There had been no noise like that on the slightly chilly night of your date.
Your eyes opened and blinked several times, the strange dream of memories falling back into your subconscious as the wheels in your mind slowly turned to comprehend reality again.
Why were dreams always so damn weird?
Your phone blinked a blue light next to you letting you know that the chime that had interrupted your dreams was a new message. Luckily the device had made it home with you from your horrible night out, probably thanks to Pariston somehow.
A tiny flame of hope sparked inside of you at the idea it could be Hisoka or -to a less realistic possibility- Chrollo. With a half awake haste you snatched the phone and fumbled a few times before successfully unlocking it to reveal the message:
[I request that you join me for dinner. Around 7:30pm?]
The number wasn’t programmed into your phone. But it stank of Pariston’s way of speaking. It had to be him.
[I accept. Where should I meet you?] Typing out the reply had taken nearly ten minutes of backspacing and groaning, but it was acceptable you determined.
[No need to worry about that. I’ll pick you up. I look forward to seeing you tonight.]
You left it on read for several minutes before replying: [As do I.]
Please do remember my gift.]
A little under a year ago you stood in front of your hallway mirror, touching up your lipstick as you waited for Pariston to take you on your first date. It was the same image you had seen the first night with Hisoka. And now, history repeated itself as you turned your head in several directions to view your lips, being sure that not a smudge of the carefully applied color was out of line.
You weren’t stupid. The knowledge of the mirroring events burned in your heart, eating away any other emotion you could possibly be feeling in the moment as you corrected a collection of hairs back into place behind your ear. “This is part of the plan,” you said in a sigh. It was, and wasn’t. Both a lie, and the truth.
Pariston’s attention was required, but even with your careful planning and observations you couldn’t predict everything he would do. But some things…
Somethings you could.
The strap around your neck rubbed noticeably as you straightened your posture. ‘I know you’ he had said. But you knew him too.
Your phone buzzed in your clutch and you knew without looking it would be Pariston. With a glance back over your shoulder you took the small collection of hairs back out from where you had tucked it, creating the appearance of having missed it.
It would drive him insane.
Pariston stood outside of the slick black car, holding the door open for you while sporting his iconic warm, broad smile. If you hadn’t been staring directly into his eyes as you approached, a painfully pleased smile plastered onto your own face, you would have missed the fraction of a second that the corner of his lip fell. He had no doubt noticed the stray hairs.
“Thank you,” you said, brushing the hand holding the door open as you slid in with a grace you previously had only dreamed of maintaining naturally. When the car door shut a little sliver of pride was blooming inside of you as the realization of how you had finally, finally managed to be elegant in Pariston’s presence.
The bloom made you smile so sincerely that when Pariston got into the car he took notice, a chuckle of question as the car took off which made you look at him. Immediately his hand brushed the stray hairs behind your ear, taking extra care to caress the sensitive outer ear with his thumb as he did so. “You seem to be having a good night,” he pointed out with great pleasure.
“I guess it just feels so… normal,” you said looking away as the slightest blush crossed your cheeks.
A long ‘hm’ came from Pariston as he moved a few inches closer to you on the seat. “It does, doesn’t it? Even your demur blushes are the same.”
The blush deepened and his pleasure only grew. “Look at me.” It was an order, but the kind he had started the relationship with. It was warm, inviting, maybe a little playful. But now you knew the dark center that honey hid, and your breath caught as you slid your gaze to his. “You look beautiful,” he complimented before kissing you.
It was chaste, but you started to melt immediately. Naturally you leaned into the kiss, feeling the layer of gunk that still remained from Thursday night start to dissipate at the familiar contact. Delicately you touched the side of his face, the movement a trained reaction to simple kisses.
Without meaning to, you took in his desire. A warm, deep red vine wrapped up your wrist, and it felt tangible- which it had never been before. Even Hisoka, the pleasure demon, hadn’t had such a strong desire like this. It burned your skin as it grew around and around your arm to your neck and you let out a long breath as your body filled with complicated feelings.
But one stood out as you felt your body cry for air once more. The indisputable desire for ownership.
He called your name, snapping you out of the illusion of being strangled to death by the red, thorny ivy of Pariston’s desire. “There you are,” he said seeing your eyes focus on him again as you blinked and tried to inaudibly resume breathing. “Where did you go?”
“I guess I got lost in the moment,” you said with a small, awkward laugh. Trying to resume your cool you sat back into your seat and ran a hand through the hair next to your ear, appearing to accidentally free the strand he had just fixed. “I apologize I didn’t even ask where we were going. I hope I dressed appropriately.”
He frowned, if it was due to the hair or your pulling away it wasn’t clear. But you could feel his disappointment in the air as you crossed your hands over your lap and tried to clear your head. It was unbelievably hard. Is this what addicts felt like? That just being near the vice that almost destroyed them still could call to every part of their being like a need? The drubbing in their heads of ‘just one more time’ as their nervous system shook with such immense power that you couldn’t recall a time when you didn’t feel this way. A time when you were calm, and your head was clear.
Was it like that for them?
Because it was like that for you.
A warm hand covered both of yours in your lap as you were staring at your ghostly reflection in the window, attempting to focus on some visible reminder of who you were and what you were doing. As he took your hand closest to him into his and pulled it to the seat between you he spoke softly, “Your attire is perfect, as far as I can see.”
Without thought you swallowed, picking up the hidden meaning in his words. He wanted to know if you were wearing his gift or not. “Good. I think it is a bit late to turn around and change,” you attempted to joke, still looking at the window and hoping he couldn’t see your pulse pounding.
‘You can do this. Don’t forget what you’re doing here. This is just to make him keep his guard down. If you avoided him he’d be too defensive. Remember what you’ve done to get here,’ you thought to yourself, forcing thoughts of Haven’s Arena. The blood you had poured onto the floor- some of it yours, some of it not- and the harsh lessons of combat you had to relearn in the forms of bruises and points.
Just as you were forcefully summoning the image of Chrollo laying on your living room floor, remembering that you had straddled the leader of The Phantom Troupe and controlled him for those brief moments, Pariston squeezed your hand hard enough that you looked at him out of reflex. It hurt, he had meant for it to. An unspoken warning of not giving him what he felt he deserved of your attention. “No need to change again.”
Everything he said had double meanings, or they did to you. Had he always spoken in this way?
Before you could think more on it, he pulled you into him and kissed you with force. If anyone had been watching it would have appeared passionate, a kiss full of lust and love in equal measure.
But next to him on the seat you knew it was teeming of possession.
And you fell into it.
His mouth moved against yours. Biting down on your lower lip just as you took in a breath made your lungs completely freeze. The world was hazy again, but not like when you had been drugged. Not the feeling of an oil painting that had been blurred expertly to create a starry sky. It was watercolor out of focus. The colors bled uncontrolled, red running over the corners of the page in a mess. It was impossible to see where one color began and another ended.
“We’re here,” he mumbled against your lips, keeping your face steady with a firm hand as you started for another kiss.
In the haze you had ended up on his lap, straddling him in the somewhat cramped back seat of the car. Some part of you was mortified. Completely aghast at how fast you had fallen onto his lap and drank up his kisses. But something inside of you was too strong now and you smiled at Pariston from your place above him.
‘Soon, you will look up at me just like you are now and in your eyes I’ll see the moment you realize you lost.’
“You’ve become quite brazen haven’t you?” he asked, sliding a hand up your thigh. The tips of his fingers reached out to touch your underwear and you grabbed the hand with a smile.
“No cheating now,” you told him as you shifted from his lap to the seat once more. He returned the smile, but it was forced. “Good things come to those who wait.”
The door opened next to you before Pariston could reply and you exited with the last word for the second time.
But the feeling of triumph wasn’t to last. As your feet hit the concrete, a part of your mind kept you from standing up. Instinct had again kicked in but as was par for the course when it came to Pariston, even your instinct was a bit too late to help you now.
Pariston’s upscale apartment building loomed before you, casting a shadow that was so cold you felt frost forming in your chest.
That son of a bitch had really upped the game quickly. The chess board was a mess.
“Madam?” he asked with an offered hand to you. The look on his face devoid of outward smile, but you could feel the aura of superiority radiating off of him. You took it, not hiding the look of complex emotion on your face as he helped you to stand. Somehow with the world under your feet, you didn’t feel better. “What’s wrong?”
“I just thought we were going out,” you replied, still holding his hand.
“My initial plan was to do that but, well,” he drifted off and you looked at him as he feigned innocence, going as far as to rub his neck as if discomforted. “I thought something more intimate would be appropriate.”
He chuckled at your uplifted eyebrow, taking your other hand into his. “Just a little apology dinner.”
You couldn’t breathe.
“An attempt to fix things up between us,” he continued since you hadn’t replied. “Come on,” he said kissing the back of your hands, “I’m cooking tonight.”
How did you allow this to happen? How had you ended up in the place you visited in your nightmares until only a few months ago?
You had been confident that anything Pariston threw at you wouldn’t be enough to shake you more than he himself did. But he had known that, hadn’t he?
Alone in the dining room of the high end apartment, you checked your cell phone over and over again for a text from Chrollo or Hisoka. When absolutely positive Pariston wasn’t coming in soon to check on you, you even braved a peak at the text conversations you had saved from Hisoka.
You had meant to delete them. Keep the trail as thin as possible. But you looked at them as confidence boosters when you felt yourself slipping back into your old ways. And nothing made you feel like you were backsliding more than sitting in Pariston’s apartment, preparing to eat a dinner he made you, knowing he would expect payment for his hospitality and thoughtfulness.
You read it again and again, remembering the feeling of Hisoka’s desires filling you that first time. It had happened so fast and you had felt full to the point of bursting. Confident, reckless, unafraid.
Footsteps approaching alerted you to Pariston’s imminent arrival, and you locked your phone before dropping it into your purse in a flash.
“I hope you are hungry,” his voice greeted as he entered into the dining room.
Even the callused part of you had to admit he looked extra attractive. He was without his suit jacket, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, sleeves unbuttoned, and rolled up. Seeing him outside of his normal presentation was special, a treat that you had come to appreciate during your time together. You dug your fingernails into your palm to help you focus as he laid down two covered trays, one in front of you, and one in front of his own place directly across from you.
The smell of warm protein over wrote your paranoia somewhat and your stomach pained. “It smells wonderful,” you said truthfully. “What did you make?”
Pariston snatched the lids off of the trays with a flourish, that was indeed impressive, revealing a warm plate of food. “Pomegranate duck with Greek salad and a side of gravy-stuffed duchess potatoes.”
The plate was colorful from the brown of the roasted duck to the bright red tomatoes in the salad. The potatoes were beautifully yellow and when you put your fork into the artfully raised mash gravy seeped out. “Pariston… this is impressive,” you complimented sincerely as you tasted the duck. It had a slight sweet taste due to the pomegranate juice.
He laughed as he took his seat. “Don’t forget your napkin,” he reminded you.
Automatically you placed your napkin into your lap and Pariston seemed pleased that you listened so readily.
The food was delicious, and at no point did you feel anything like when you had been drugged at the bar. Maybe he hadn’t arranged that entire mess. Perhaps you had just been too paranoid.
Pariston provided amicable conversation and somehow you both started talking about art. His recent dive into becoming an art patron provided a lot to talk about, and when he mentioned seeing you at the gallery your throat didn’t close up around the potato you had just swallowed. Everything was comfortable. You sipped some of the white wine, washing down the duck with a with something that was probably worth more than your rent.
As his hand reached out and covered yours he said your name in a quiet tone which made you hesitate before looking up at him. “Do you hate me?” he asked, looking so deeply into your eyes that you could practically feel him trying to pick your brain from across the table.
You had become so swept up in the evening- the food, the wine, how sweet he was being, good conversation- that you didn’t even hesitate when you whispered, “No. Of course not.”
The grip on your hand increased and you winced as Pariston stood. He moved around the table and pulled you out of your seat by the hand, with very little thought to if it would hurt your arm to do so. Like a practiced dance he turned on you, making you back up into the dining room wall like a retreating animal. “Par-”
“Look me in the eyes,” he commanded as his free hand grabbed your shoulder, thumb pushing into the soft muscle under the clavicle, “tell me if you hate me.” His voice had a softness to it, even as he pinned your right hand to the wall next to your head. The tone made your breath catch as his deep brown eyes stared you down, not looking away from your face for even a second. Spite the position something about it was comforting in its familiarity and a familiar feeling of sinking into a prickly warmth swam through your mind.
It took a conscious effort to raise your left hand to his exposed forearm, gripping it with the right amount of force that he wouldn’t think it was a challenge. You had to steady your mind, focus. Things were escalating too quickly to use your power with the care you would have liked, so you drew from him his desire in a rush.
Red, thorny vines covered you from head to toe. His desire entangling you literally. Each wrist was wrapped tightly, as were your ankles and throat. Though they weren’t physical they felt it on every level as Pariston’s strongest desire burned into your skin: destroy.
The rush of it was a hard slap in the face. You had started to slip back into your old pattern with him, letting him lead you through the familiar motions and succumbing to him so easily. He was determining the pace of the evening, the conversation flow, even this physical altercation you had just allowed to happen. You even had started feeling something for this monster again. Undeniably, you felt like an idiot standing there realizing that over dinner he had so easily lured you back into him. Even this more aggressive movement would have been exciting to you once upon a time. A sign of Pariston having strong enough feelings in some way that he was acting out from his norm.
And if it hadn’t been for your power, even now you might have been stuck in that cycle. Thinking this drastic move was just an act of his passion for you. That somewhere in that evil heart he loved you.
But his desires told the truth. He wanted you to break into pieces and hate him. What he wanted the most in the world was for you to be consumed with hate, because then he’d truly own you. Once you allowed yourself to truly hate him, he’d own part of you more permanently than love ever could.
People fall out of love all the time. But true hate?
True hate resisted everything. Hate would be buried with you.
You smiled, like the love sick puppy you once were. “Of course I don’t hate you, Pariston.” What made it all the sweeter was, it was true. That part of yourself you had been fighting for a year, and more intensely tonight than ever before, loved this monster.
With your hand still on his arm you drove your desire in Pariston with a push, sure that in the heat of this moment he wouldn’t notice any influence on his own desires as you told him to kiss you. Take you into his arms and make you his again.
And he did.
Just that easily Pariston kissed you and commanded you to undress right there in the dining room, dinner growing cold on the table behind him. And happily you complied. Though you had gotten accustomed to telling other people what to do, the facade of the person he had groomed easily slid out as he unzipped the back of the dress and you pulled it off to reveal the white bra and panty set he had gifted you. Now you had practice in heels, so as he rubbed your pussy through the white underwear you didn’t even wobble as you gasped his name.
Even as you let your outward self revert back to the toy he had once broken, some part of the new you was a pillar inside. It kept you steady against his movements mentally and physically. And even as you whispered his name, it was nothing like how your tiny voice pled before. It had a strength and substance to it. He watched you moan and move against the dining room wall and he noticed this change- as he noticed all things with utmost scrutiny. “You’ve become quite the dirty slut haven’t you?” he asked, fingers moving the fabric to the side so that he could touch your wet skin.
“Yes. Will you punish me for being a dirty slut, Pariston?” You looked at him through your eyelashes, wanting him to kiss you again.
“You’ve gotten too bold, perhaps,” his voice was low, guttural and deep. Some of the softness slipping off as his excitement grew.
“Earn it,” he responded before kissing you and releasing your face to grab a fist full of your hair.
In a fluid movement Pariston stood back, whipped you toward the table, and pushed you face down with a loud thud onto the table clothed surface. Fortunately he had a large table so your face didn’t go into the pomegranate duck, but a slight stabbing on your stomach said perhaps a fork still found its way under you.
His hand left your head, but you didn’t try to sit up as the sound of Pariston’s belt being undone behind you sent shivers through your body. “Did you think that I wouldn’t notice you coming back to the city exactly a year since you left?”
“No. I didn’t think you’d pay any attention to me,” you replied and received a punishing whip of the belt across the back of your thighs. It stung, but it didn’t hurt nearly as much as you knew he was capable of making it. He was still holding back. Still playing the early game again to lure you into his grasp. The darkest part of him waiting for you to slip up and completely trust him just like last time.
“Do you think I’m stupid?” Pariston asked, voice stern and somewhat distant. Just a taste of how it sounded when he was planning on being particularly cruel.
‘I hope so,’ you thought. “No,” you said.
He whipped you again and you clenched the table cloth into your hands. You had pumped enough desire into him that you knew he wouldn’t be able to torture you too long before the need to take you took over him. “What did you say you wanted from me?” he rubbed a hand down your exposed back to your ass.
A slap with his hand this time on to your ass, but it was just as hard as the belt somehow. “For?”
You swallowed, doing your best to keep your legs from shaking, your control over the muscles was being pushed to its limit by this point. “Forgive me for being a dirty slut.”
“You’re already wet. What else can you expect from a slut?”
You knew this wasn’t a question to be answered, but he gave your ass another slap anyway. He leaned over you, crushing you into the table as he did just so he could put his mouth close to your ear. “You may have gotten bolder, but you’re still the same in one way.” You looked at him out the corner of your eye, his wide lipped smile the only thing you could see. “You still get wet for me the same as you did back then. You’re still mine.”
He sat up and there was a pause before he shoved himself into you as hard as he could. Your hips slammed into the side of the table and a year long itch that had been frozen inside of you thawed all at once and diffused into you. It was like warm massage oil dripping into every crevice of every muscle. It felt better than a hot shower. And even as Pariston moved against you with a force so strong it caused pain with each push- there was no way you wouldn’t be bruised tomorrow- it was still exactly what you wanted. Even the fork podding your side just added to the feeling of bliss.
The heels didn’t offer much traction, but you kept your feet steady through the slight conscious will you had managed to retain even as Pariston gripped your shoulder to help bring you back into his hips over and over again.
There was no way to know how long this went on, every nerve that he had groomed was on fire. Pariston was either lost in chasing the instilled need or feeling kind because you orgasmed as he roughly moved against you, giving you a high to ride out as he continued to use you for his own pleasure until he came inside of you.
When he pulled out, you felt the warmth of the last of his cum slide down your inner thigh and you sighed in contentment.
You hated to admit it, even though it was just to yourself, but you felt as if something inside of you had been deeply satisfied. The heavy pain that you had carried from who you were before was at long last dissipating while simultaneously the person you had been building up for an entire year was more fired up than ever before. Because now you knew something you hadn’t previously.
The thing you thought was your greatest weakness against Pariston, that feeling of love, was your greatest strength against him. As long as you still held that horrible feeling inside of you, he couldn’t truly claim victory.
Pariston probably felt like he had already won the chess game, but you knew that now your queen was moving into place for checkmate. It was only a few more moves away.
Series title inspired by band of the same name.
Chapter title referencing song of the same name.
(I seriously implore you to listen to the song that goes with this one.)